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Updated: June 1, 2025
When the last body had been disposed of, Ortez led the way to the banquet hall, inviting all his rabble to join the feast. The banquet hall, used as it was to scenes of turbulence, never perhaps had looked upon such a throng as that. I occupied the head of my own table, strapped helpless in my seat. On either side were vacant chairs. Ortez sat at the foot.
Brevoort, silently eying Arguilla, saw through the scheme. Arguilla had determined to have both the money and the cattle. This explained his unwonted presence at the Ortez hacienda. Arguilla took a stiff drink of whiskey, wiped his mustache and turned to Brevoort. "You have heard?" he said. Brevoort knew enough Mexican to understand the question.
Riding at their head I recognized my old time enemy, my half brother, Pedro Ortez, a man of whose prowess and cruelty terrible stories were told. Right willingly would I have paused to give him fight, but for the babe. The fellow who had raised the cry now threw himself full in my way with the evident purpose of engaging me until the others came up.
It seemed that he always thought of her just before some hidden danger threatened. He had been thinking of her even aside from her presence in the patio that night when the posse had entered Showdown. He had thought of her while riding to the Ortez rancho and now he was thinking of her again . . . He raised his head and glanced around. The starlit desert was as soundless as the very sky itself.
This morning Deweese took a few men and went to the well, to raise the piping and make the necessary repairs, curbing being the most important. But while the foreman and Santiago Ortez were standing on a temporary platform some thirty feet down, a sudden and unexpected cave-in occurred above them.
He smiled. "We need say nothing about our plans. Once we get into town, all the world is ours, and we can quietly depart, leaving Philip Ortez a very pleasant memory." They both laughed heartily. Neither of them allowed for that vast portion of human character which lies beyond the knowledge of the most keen-visioned.
The calm of promised peace upon his brow was distorted by the unsatisfied expression of one who has left his work undone. So are the sins of the fathers visited upon their children, for I was no longer in doubt but that the murderer, Pedro Ortez, was the sinning ancestor of my old-time friend. Even in his presence my thoughts flew to Agnes; had she not spoken of her grandsire as being such a man?
"We're from the Olla about the cattle for your army," added Pete, no whit abashed as he proffered this bit of flattery. "Si! You would talk with the patron then?" and Arguilla gestured toward Ortez. "We got orders from Brent he's our boss -to make our talk to you," said Pete, glancing quickly at Brevoort. "How did you know that I was here with my army?" queried Arguilla. "Shucks! That's easy.
Sword in hand, I fronted them, determined, come what would, to fly no further. The evil face of Ortez shone with gratification at so unexpectedly finding me alone. "Now, yield thee, sirrah," he cried, as his men surrounded me. A quick sword thrust through the body of his horse, brought him to the ground.
When he was handlin' stock from south of the line, in small bunches, and pushin' it through fast, we was all right. The Mexican punchers was doin' the stealin', sellin' the stuff to Brent. And Brent was sellin' to Arguilla's agent which is Ortez. All Ortez did was pay for it and turn it over to Arguilla.
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