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I stepped into the deep doorway and stood there, aimless and unthinking, looking out toward where the Jemez Mountains were outlined against the southwest horizon. Presently I caught the sound of feet, and Marcos Ramero strode out of the narrow street and followed the trail into the heart of the city.
Narveo was afraid to act against Ramer, but nothing ever scared Esmond Clarenden away from what he wanted to do. Through his friendship for St. Vrain, to whom some suspicion still clung, and that lost foster-brother, Bertrand, he turned the screws on Fred Ramer that drove him out of the country. He landed, finally, at Santa Fé, and became Ferdinand Ramero.
The disgrace he holds the secret of he alone is that the father of Eloise killed his father, the crime for which the foster-brother fell. Ramero as guardian of Eloise and her property legally could have kept her here. Only a man like Clarenden would have dared to take her away, though he had the pleading call of her mother's last wish. Gail, I have told you the heart-history of half a dozen men.
I know it now; and I told him where our boys are taking Eloise. I never made a blunder like that before. Damned fool that I am!" He ground his teeth in anger and disgust, as he sat down in the doorway of the church to await the coming of Ferdinand Ramero and his son, Marcos. Out on the trail our ponies beat off the miles with steady gait.
Nor could it sanction giving the guardianship of a child to one who daringly imperils his own life or the lives of children, nor can it sanction any rights of guardianship unless due cause be given for granting them." Ferdinand Ramero smiled as the priest concluded. He was a handsome man, with the sort of compelling magnetism that gives controlling power to its possessor.
It's your only safe course," Jondo said, presently. "Jondo, why does Ramero stir up the Indians and Mexicans against Uncle Esmond?" I asked. "Because Clarenden drove him into exile in New Mexico before it was United States territory," Jondo replied. "What did he do that for?" I asked. "Because of what Ramero had done to me," Jondo replied. "Well, New Mexico is United States territory now.
The Mexicans dropped to their knees in humble prayer, and Ferdinand Ramero seemed turned to a man of stone. A hand was gently laid upon my arm and Jondo and Rex Krane stood beside us. A voice far off was sounding in my ears. "Go back to your homes and meet me at the church to-morrow night. You, Ferdinand Ramero, go now to the chapel yonder and wait until I come."
Marcos Ramero, faultlessly dressed, lounged about the gambling-halls, and strolled through the sunny Plaza, idly and insolently, as was his custom.
Mexican history states that at 9 P.M. Ramero and Del Rio arrived at Valencia's headquarters and delivered an order from Santa Anna to Valencia to retire. General Solos, however, who was present, denies this, saying that the order was qualified by one to spike the guns, destroy the ammunition, and saving only what could be safely transported. General Valencia declined to obey the order.
That priest, footing it out by that dry creek-thing they call a 'royo?" "Oh no, no! He and Jondo made up together, and Jondo's nobody's bad man even in a story. It will be that Ferdinand Ramero," I insisted. "But, say, Bev, Jondo wrote a new name on the register this evening, or somebody wrote it for him, maybe. It wasn't his own writing. 'Jean Deau. I saw it in big, round, back-slanting letters.
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