CHAPTER XXII
“COMMAND ME, SEÑORITA!”
He ignored her a moment longer, running to the window and looking out across the plaza. The doors of the church were closed, but from the windows streamed hot lead, and from all parts of the plaza, and from the rear outside, hostiles were firing at every aperture.
“’Twill not last much longer,” he said, laughing again, and then turned from the window and confronted the girl.
“So you escaped the rancho?” he went on. “Very clever of you, señorita, though I cannot imagine why you should leave security and come to this place, where there has been grave danger. You may be glad to know that your escape caused three Indian guards to lose their lives. I had promised them death if you evaded them, and I always keep my promises. I handed them over to their chiefs—it was enough.”
“Oh!” Her cry was of horror, pity, loathing, a world of expression in a single syllable.
“We investigated the fireplace and chimney, and found an open window,” he continued. “It was beyond me that you and your duenna could open the chimney in that manner, for I thought at first, of course, that you had done so. Then I remembered the stampede of horses, knew you must have had a mount to make the journey to the mission, and realised there was help from another source. Who aided you, señorita?”
“A gambler, swindler and thief, a wronger of women and a worthless vagabond, according to the world’s estimate of him,” she replied. “Yet a man beside whom you are not worthy to crawl, Rojerio Rocha, despite the blood that flows in your veins.”
“I can imagine but one such contradictory paragon. So it was this man you call Captain Fly-by-Night?”
“It was, señor.”
“Did Señorita Anita Fernandez so far forget herself as to ride through the night, even with her duenna, in company with such a character?” he sneered. “I had it in mind to wed you, señorita, but if you have been consorting with such persons——”
“Señor!” she cried angrily, her face aflame.
“That touches you, does it? However, I am master now. As you are aware, the revolt has almost made a winning here at San Diego de Alcalá. Another quarter hour and my hostiles will be inside that church and attend to their enemies. An hour, and the mission and presidio will be black ruins, and we return to the rancho for a wedding feast and honeymoon, señorita mine. So your escape availed you nothing. Did you hope to escape me again by remaining in the guest house while the others fled into the church? Or, perhaps, did you hope I’d find you here, alone?”
“Renegade!” she taunted.
“Hard names do not injure me, señorita, in the hour of my success; and, as I told you before, you are beautiful when aroused and angry. ’Twas a pretty fight your friends put up here at the mission, and cost us many men, but there was only one end possible. Have you heard of my exploit, señorita? And that reminds me—I was accepted as a friend by the men in the plaza, so you must not have told them of our little interview out at the rancho.”
“I told them nothing,” she said.
“Hah! You had that much affection for me, then? You loved your family name that much?”
“But I regret now that I did not,” she answered.
“It would have been the same had you told. It was a great trick we played. Hah! Like fools they swallowed the bait. I broke over the hill and ran, with hostiles pursuing and firing at me. Those at the wall helped me inside, and I gasped out that I had been held for torture and had made my escape. It was a pretty bit of acting, I assure you. Then another attack—and while all were busy it was an easy matter to slip into the storehouse, put the guard out of the way and throw open the window. In my friends tumbled—to take the defenders in the rear. Poor fools!”
“I would to God I had told them!” she cried.
“But you did not, eh? Why not make the best of matters, señorita? I am master and I have said you are to be my bride. Why not surrender gracefully, when there is nothing else left to do?”
“There is something else left to do,” she answered. “There always is death waiting.”
Now she stood up and faced him, and he saw that she clutched a poniard in her hand. The terror had gone out of her face, and in its place was cool determination. Her lips were set tightly, her bosom heaved with emotion. There was no doubt in the mind of the man that the girl before him would plunge that knife into her heart. He knew the proud breed of the Fernandez.
“There is always death, and it will be welcome,” she went on. “Why should I live? Do you think, Rojerio Rocha, you ever could claim me for wife? Do you think I would mate with a renegade murderer whose hands are stained with loyal blood? Can I live, even if I escape you, with the knowledge that men and women know one of my family has done such a thing?”
“If such a thing as escape were possible, you could,” he returned, lightly. “Unless you have told them, none here knows I have turned traitor, señorita mine. They have been too busy to watch or question me since they aided me over the wall. And in a few minutes all will be dead, since that is the better way, and dead people do not talk of treason.” A pause. “But escape is not possible.”
“Then—this—” She lifted the poniard again.
“So you would slay yourself, eh? You are young and beautiful to die, señorita. It is a foolish whim.”
He did not take his eyes from hers. He knew she would drive the dagger home if he attempted to approach. Before he could reach her side and take the weapon from her, she would thrust it into her breast. He did not doubt it for an instant.
He tried to think of a subterfuge to get her close to him, so he could tear the poniard from her hand. If he could make her angry, so she would attack him, it might be possible.
“Were this man you call Fly-by-Night here in my stead, señorita,” he sneered, “I presume you would drop dagger and rush into his arms. You speak of a stain on the family name—when you have allowed such a man to rescue you, have ridden the miles between rancho and mission in his arms, perhaps——”
Her face flamed again, and he laughed scornfully.
“Captain Fly-by-Night acted the gentleman and caballero,” she replied hotly. “That is more than you have done, Rojerio Rocha.”
“You look upon me with hatred, and upon this fellow with eyes of love, perhaps.”
“Señor! It is like you to insult a defenceless girl! Did I have to give love to one of you, most assuredly it would be this man of whom you sneer. For you are as far below him, Rojerio Rocha, as the land is below the sky; and, knowing how low he is considered, that speaks my estimation for you!”
“A stain on the family name, eh?” he laughed scornfully. “I put it there, eh? What about you, Señorita Anita? So proud of your good blood and your family honour, so ready to die because they have been besmirched, eh? Hah! If there is stain upon blood and name, perhaps you have placed it there!”
He had gained his purpose now. She gave a cry of rage and rushed upon him, poniard lifted to strike. He seemed to recoil in sudden panic as she lunged toward him, then quickly turned to one side and darted forward. She guessed his trick then, and swung her arm to turn the blade against her own bosom.
But her arm was caught half-way and twisted so cruelly that the weapon clattered to the floor, she felt herself clasped to him, felt his breath on her face, heard his laughter ringing in her ears.
Then his kisses rained upon her face, as she twisted her head in an effectual effort to escape them. Shame and rage flamed in her cheeks and throat. She screamed, kicked, tried to free hands and hold him off, and always he laughed and kissed her more, and finally held her securely in his arms and looked down at her, while her eyes blazed with hatred and loathing.
“A pretty tigress!” he cried. “’Twill be a pleasant task to tame you, my sweet one, but tamed you shall be. How like you to rest in my arms, eh? Are they not as strong and at the same time as soft as those of this Captain Fly-by-Night? Struggle, pretty one! The sooner will you be exhausted. Come with me to the window, queen-to-be, and watch the culmination of the assault!”
He lifted her from the floor and carried her across the room while she fought to be free. He held her there at the window, held her hands so she could not cover her eyes and laughed when he saw that her eyes were closed.
“You’ll not look?” he said. “Then I’ll relate, señorita mine. Just now my men are battering at the church doors while others pour volleys into the windows to drive fear to the hearts of the defenders. Five minutes more, perhaps, and the fighting will be at an end. I have told the men to save me one padre. There will be an immediate marriage, señorita——”
“Never will I be wed to you!” she cried. “No padre will say the words!”
“He reads the ceremony or dies, señorita. Save his life or not, as you please; by telling him you are willing you will save it. And then, if he refuses to speak the words— Hah! Ceremony or no ceremony, señorita——”
She twisted from his arms and dashed away, but before she could reach the poniard on the floor he had put a foot upon it, and standing there he laughed at her again. Shrieks came from the plaza as the hostiles battered in the doors of the church. The cracking of flames told that some of the buildings were being destroyed. But the man in the guest house had attention for nothing except the girl who stood before him panting in fear and anger.
“Resistance avails you naught,” he said. “Be sensible, my pretty señorita; agree to what I say.”
Terror clutched her now; whimpering, she crouched at the end of the fireplace.
“Even death is denied me!” she cried. “Is there no escape?”
“None, señorita, except by becoming my bride.”
“Never that—renegade, murderer, traitor! If, in all the wide world, there was but one honest man to aid me now——”
A deep voice interrupted from a corner of the room:
“Command me, señorita!”