New Mexico -- Fiction; Western stories; Women pioneers -- Fiction
“After Pat left we put our haids together,” began the old cattleman,
with a long respiration. “We rounded up a lad who hed seen a dozen or
so fellers—he wouldn’t to they was Greasers—breakin’ through the
shrubbery to the back of the house. That was while Stewart was ridin’
out to the mesa. Then this lad seen your servants all runnin’ down the
hill toward the village. Now, heah’s the way Gene figgers. There sure
was some deviltry down along the railroad, an’ Pat Hawe trailed bandits
up to the ranch. He hunts hard an’ then all to onct he quits. Stewart
says Pat Hawe wasn’t scared, but he discovered signs or somethin’, or
got wind in some strange way that there was in the gang of bandits some
fellers he didn’t want to ketch. Sabe? Then Gene, quicker ’n a flash,
springs his plan on me. He’d go down to Padre Marcos an’ hev him help to
find out all possible from your Mexican servants. I was to hurry up hyar
an’ tell you—give you orders, Miss Majesty. Ain’t that amazin’ strange?
Wal, you’re to assemble all your guests in the kitchen. Make a grand
bluff an’ pretend, as your help has left, that it’ll be great fun fer
your guests to cook dinner. The kitchen is the safest room in the house.
While you’re joshin’ your party along, makin’ a kind of picnic out of
it, I’ll place cowboys in the long corridor, an’ also outside in the
corner where the kitchen joins on to the main house. It’s pretty sure
the bandits think no one’s wise to where they’re hid. Stewart says
they’re in that end room where the alfalfa is, an’ they’ll slope in the
night. Of course, with me an’ the boys watchin’, you-all will be safe to
go to bed. An’ we’re to rouse your guests early before daylight, to hit
the trail up into the mountains. Tell them to pack outfits before goin’
to bed. Say as your servants hev sloped, you might as well go campin’
with the cowboys. That’s all. If we hev any luck your’ friends’ll never
know they’ve been sittin’ on a powder-mine.”
“Stillwell, do you advise that trip up into the mountains?” asked
Madeline.
“I reckon I do, considerin’ everythin’. Now, Miss Majesty, I’ve used up
a lot of time explainin’. You’ll sure keep your nerve?”
“Yes,” Madeline replied, and was surprised at herself. “Better tell
Florence. She’ll be a power of comfort to you. I’m goin’ now to fetch up
the boys.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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