on the frontier-第13节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



owing　to　an　uneasy　consciousness　of　what　her　husband　must　feel　if

he　were　subjected　to　the　criticisms　of　men　like　Calhoun。　　She

wondered　if　others　knew　that　he　had　kept　her　in　ignorance　of　his

flight。　　Did　Poindexter　know　it；　or　had　he　only　entrapped　her　into

the　admission？　　Why　had　she　not　been　clever　enough　to　make　him

think　that　she　knew　it　already？　　For　the　moment　she　hated

Poindexter　for　sharing　that　secret。　　Yet　this　was　again　followed　by

a　new　impatience　of　her　husband's　want　of　insight　into　her　ability

to　help　him。　　Of　course　the　poor　fellow　could　not　bear　to　worry

her；　could　not　bear　to　face　such　men　as　Calhoun；　or　even　Poindexter

（she　added　exultingly　to　herself）；　but　he　might　have　sent　her　a

line　as　he　fled；　only　to　prepare　her　to　meet　and　combat　the　shame

alone。　　It　did　not　occur　to　her　unsophisticated　singleness　of

nature　that　she　was　accepting　as　an　error　of　feeling　what　the　world

would　call　cowardly　selfishness。



At　midnight　the　storm　lulled　and　a　few　stars　trembled　through　the

rent　clouds。　　Her　eyes　had　become　accustomed　to　the　darkness；　and

her　country　instincts；　a　little　overlaid　by　the　urban　experiences

of　the　last　few　years；　came　again　to　the　surface。　　She　felt　the

fresh；　cool　radiation　from　outlying；　upturned　fields；　the　faint；

sad　odors　from　dim　stretches　of　pricking　grain　and　quickening　leaf；

and　wondered　if　at　Los　Cuervos　it　might　be　possible　to　reproduce

the　peculiar　verdure　of　her　native　district。　　She　beguiled　her

fancy　by　an　ambitious　plan　of　retrieving　their　fortunes　by　farming；

her　comfortable　tastes　had　lately　rebelled　against　the　homeless

mechanical　cultivation　of　these　desolate　but　teeming　Californian

acres；　and　for　a　moment　indulged　in　a　vision　of　a　vine…clad　cottage

home　that　in　any　other　woman　would　have　been　sentimental。　　Her

cramped　limbs　aching；　she　took　advantage　of　the　security　of　the

darkness　and　the　familiar　contiguity　of　the　fields　to　get　down　from

the　vehicle；　gather　her　skirts　together；　and　run　at　the　head　of　the

mustang；　until　her　chill　blood　was　thawed；　night　drawing　a　modest

veil　over　this　charming　revelation　of　the　nymph　and　woman。　　But　the

sudden　shadow　of　a　coyote　checked　the　scouring　feet　of　this　swift

Camilla；　and　sent　her　back　precipitately　to　the　buggy。　　Nevertheless；

she　was　refreshed　and　able　to　pursue　her　journey；　until　the　cold

gray　of　early　morning　found　her　at　the　end　of　her　second　stage。



Her　route　was　changed　again　from　the　main　highway；　rendered

dangerous　by　the　approach　of　day　and　the　contiguity　of　the

neighboring　rancheros。　　The　road　was　rough　and　hilly；　her　new　horse

and　vehicle　in　keeping　with　the　rudeness　of　the　routeby　far　the

most　difficult　of　her　whole　journey。　　The　rare　wagon　tracks　that

indicated　her　road　were　often　scarcely　discernible；　at　times　they

led　her　through　openings　in　the　half…cleared　woods；　skirted

suspicious　morasses；　painfully　climbed　the　smooth；　dome…like　hills；

or　wound　along　perilous　slopes　at　a　dangerous　angle。　　Twice　she　had

to　alight　and　cling　to　the　sliding　wheels　on　one　of　those

treacherous　inclines；　or　drag　them　from　impending　ruts　or　immovable

mire。　　In　the　growing　light　she　could　distinguish　the　distant；　low…

lying　marshes　eaten　by　encroaching　sloughs　and　insidious　channels；

and　beyond　them　the　faint　gray　waste　of　the　Lower　Bay。　　A　darker

peninsula　in　the　marsh　she　knew　to　be　the　extreme　boundary　of　her

future　home：　the　Rancho　de　los　Cuervos。　　In　another　hour　she　began

to　descend　to　the　plain；　and　once　more　to　approach　the　main　road；

which　now　ran　nearly　parallel　with　her　track。　　She　scanned　it

cautiously　for　any　early　traveler；　it　stretched　north　and　south　in

apparent　unending　solitude。　　She　struck　into　it　boldly；　and　urged

her　horse　to　the　top　of　his　speed；　until　she　reached　the　cross　road

that　led　to　the　rancho。　　But　here　she　paused　and　allowed　the　reins

to　drop　idly　on　the　mustang's　back。　　A　singular　and　unaccountable

irresolution　seized　her。　　The　difficulties　of　her　journey　were

over；　the　rancho　lay　scarcely　two　miles　away；　she　had　achieved　the

most　important　part　of　her　task　in　the　appointed　time；　but　she

hesitated。　　What　had　she　come　for？　　She　tried　to　recall　Poindexter's

words；　even　her　own　enthusiasm；　but　in　vain。　　She　was　going　to　take

possession　of　her　husband's　property；　she　knew；　that　was　all。　　But

the　means　she　had　taken　seemed　now　so　exaggerated　and　mysterious　for

that　simple　end　that　she　began　to　dread　an　impending　something；　or

some　vague　danger　she　had　not　considered；　that　she　was　rushing

blindly　to　meet。　　Full　of　this　strange　feeling　she　almost

mechanically　stopped　her　horse　as　she　entered　the　cross　road。



From　this　momentary　hesitation　a　singular　sound　aroused　her。　　It

seemed　at　first　like　the　swift　hurrying　by　of　some　viewless　courier

of　the　air；　the　vague　alarm　of　some　invisible　flying　herald；　or

like　the　inarticulate　cry　that　precedes　a　storm。　　It　seemed　to　rise

and　fall　around　her　as　if　with　some　changing　urgency　of　purpose。

Raising　her　eyes　she　suddenly　recognized　the　two　far…stretching

lines　of　telegraph　wire　above　her　head；　and　knew　the　aeolian　cry　of

the　morning　wind　along　its　vibrating　chords。　　But　it　brought

another　and　more　practical　fear　to　her　active　brain。　　Perhaps　even

now　the　telegraph　might　be　anticipating　her！　　Had　Poindexter

thought　of　that？　　She　hesitated　no　longer；　but　laying　the　whip　on

the　back　of　her　jaded　mustang　again　hurried　forward。



As　the　level　horizon　grew　more　distinct；　her　attention　was

attracted　by　the　white　sail　of　a　small　boat　lazily　threading　the

sinuous　channel　of　the　slough。　　It　might　be　Poindexter　arriving　by

the　more　direct　route　from　the　steamboat　that　occasionally　lay　off

the　ancient　embarcadero　of　the　Los　Cuervos　Rancho。　　But　even　while

watching　it　her　quick　ear　caught　the　sound　of　galloping　hoofs

behind　her。　　She　turned　quickly　and　saw　she　was　followed　by　a

horseman。　　But　her　momentary　alarm　was　succeeded　by　a　feeling　of

relief　as　she　recognized　the　erect　figure　and　square　shoulders　of

Poindexter。　　Yet　she　could　not　help　thinking　that　he　looked　more

like　a　militant　scout；　and　less　like　a　cautious　legal　adviser；　than

ever。



With　unaffected　womanliness　she　rearranged　her　slightly　disordered

hair　as　he　drew　up　beside　her。　　〃I　thought　you　were　in　yonder

boat；〃　she　said。



〃Not　I；〃　he　laughed；　〃I　distanced　you　by　the　high　road　two　hours；

and　have　been　reconnoitring；　until　I　saw　you　hesitate　at　the　cross

roads。〃



〃But　who　is　in　the　boat？〃　asked　Mrs。　Tucker；　partly　to　hide　her

embarrassment。



〃Only　some　early　Chinese　market　gardener；　I　dare　say。　　But　you　are

safe　now。　　You　are　on　your　own　land。　　You　passed　the　boundary

monument　of　the　rancho　five　minutes　ago。　　Look！　　All　you　see　before

you　is　yours　from　the　embarcadero　to　yonder　Coast　Range。〃



The　tone　of　half…raillery　did　not；　however；　cheer　Mrs。　Tucker。　　She

shuddered　slightly　and　cast　her　eyes　over　the　monotonous　sea　of

tule　and　meadow。



〃It　doesn't　look　pretty；　perhaps；〃　continued　Poindexter；　〃but　it's

the　richest　land　in　the　State；　and　the　embarcadero　will　some　day　be

a　town。　　I　suppose　you'll　call　it　Blue　Grassville。　　But　you　seem

tired！〃　he　said；　suddenly　dropping　his　voice　to　a　tone　of　half…

humorous　sympathy。



Mrs。　Tucker　managed　to　get　rid　of　an　impending　tear　under　the

pretense　of　clearing　her　eyes。　　〃Are　we　nearly　there？〃　she　asked。



〃Nearly。　　You　know；〃　he　added　with　the　same　half…mischievous；　half…

sympathizing　gayety；　〃it's　not　exactly　a　palace　you're　coming　to。

Hardly。　　It's　the　old　casa　that　has　been　deserted　for　years；　but　I

thought　it　better　you　should　go　into　possession　there　than　take　up

your　abode　at　the　shanty　where　your　husband's　farm…hands　are。　　No

one　will　know　when　you　take　possession　of　the　casa；　while　the　very

hour　of　your　arrival　at　the　shanty　would　be　known；　and　if　they

should　make　any　trouble〃



〃If　they　should　make　any　trouble？〃　repeated　Mrs。　Tucker；　lifting

her　frank；　inquiring　eyes　to　Poindexter。



His　horse　suddenly　rearing　from　an　apparently　accidental　prick　of

the　spur；　it　was　a　minute　or　two　before　he　was　able　to　explain。　　〃I

mean　if　this　ever　comes　up　as　a　matter　of　evidence；　you　know。　　But

here　we　are！〃



What　had　seemed　to　be　an　overgrown　mound　rising　like　an　island　out

of　the　dead　level　of　the　grassy　sea　now　resolved　itself　into　a

collection　of　adobe　walls；　eaten　and　incrusted　with　shrubs　and

vines；　that　bore　some　resemblance　to　the　usual　uninhabited…looking

exterior　of　a　Spanish…American　dwelling。　　Apertures　that　might　have

been　lance…shaped　windows　or　only　cracks　and　fissures　in　the　walls

were　choked　up　with　weeds　and　grass；　and　gave　no　passing　glimpse　of

the　interior。　　Entering　a　ruinous　corral　they　came　to　a　second

entrance；　which　proved　to　be　the　patio　or　courtyard。　　The　deserted

wooden　corridor；　with　beams；　rafters；　and　floors　whitened　by　the

eternal　sun　and　wind；　contained　a　few　withered　leaves；　dryly

rotting　skins；　and　thon