Carlota of the rancho

Toward sunset of that same day the little squad of cavalry was slowly crossing the plain. It would not reach camp that night and was watchful, though not expectant, of assault.

“I reckon the redskins had all they wanted for this particular time!” exclaimed the lad who had longed for battle, till he had seen Benoni die, and afterward had dreaded it. However, the whizzing arrow had as promptly banished the dread, for it had barely escaped the breast of little Carlota. From then he had fought like the born hero he was, and his Captain was now regarding him with a grave smile of approval.

“Yes, but not for long. There was sin in their eyes. We shall have work and plenty of it.” And, after a moment, the officer spoke to the girl who rode before him on his horse: “I’ve a word or two to say to you, Carlota. I’d better say them now, before—”

“Oh! Señor Captain! will they come again?” she cried, in terror. “Where can we go? It is so dreadful!”

“I go wherever my duty calls. What to do with you is the question. At present, I can neither take nor send you to the fort. It’s too far. A little way to the north of us is the railroad. One of its stations should be in our direct line of march, and if we reach it, if all goes well, I will leave you children there.”

“Shall we see any more Apaches?”

“Humph! You’re not so fond of Indians as you were, eh?”

“I never saw that kind before. Many, many have been to Refugio, but they’ve always been good.”

“We soldiers believe that the good Indians are all dead.”

“Already, Señor Captain Gray Moustache?”

“Well, there hasn’t been a cataclysm to swallow them, as I know. There, don’t stare; but if ever you come in the neighborhood of a dictionary look that long word out. ‘Gray Moustache’ will bother you no more with a humor you don’t understand.”

“I understand—some, dear Señor. And I didn’t mean that name for harm. I always do name people something like them till I know their regular one.”

“Indeed? Wish to be properly introduced, do you? Well, my name is Sherman. But I like my nickname and, please, don’t look so like a scared kitten. It’s never so bad but it might be worse. The old Padres named that spot we’ve left behind us the ‘Spring of Happiness’ in the ‘Mountains of Flowers.’ We found it so, too.”

“Why—where—Benoni died?” she asked, reproachfully.

“Exactly. Where we didn’t die. Where several of the tricky skunks who would have killed us in ambush were not permitted. The greatest regret I have is that, though he is past feeling wounded pride, we were obliged to leave your noble horse in such vile company. There were a half-dozen dead Apaches in the glen when we left it, and a half-dozen white men so much the safer.”

When they had again proceeded in silence for some distance, Carlota asked:

“Don’t Apaches go to railroad stations? and do they keep children at them?”

“Under the circumstances, yes, to the last question; and to the first—there’s little danger. There are too many trains passing. If only, you midget, you were safely at home!”

“I will be, some day, after we find our father.”

“After all your experience, haven’t you dropped that crazy notion yet? You are a child of ordinary common sense, I hope, Carlota.”

“Yes. That’s why I don’t see what else there is to do but to go on.”

“If a person does wrong I never heard that it was wise to keep on doing it!” said the worried Captain, testily.

“Have I done that?” asked the child, really astonished.

“I call it wrong to make trouble and anxiety for a great number of people, as your running away from home must have done. Even for me, of whom you never heard before.”

Carlota wriggled herself aside.

“I will get right down, Señor Captain.”

“You’ll do nothing of the kind. Remember what I’ve said, and I’ll scold no more. I will leave you two at the station. I will have telegrams sent east and have an advertisement put in the leading newspapers of the country. If the news comes to your father, as it probably will, and certainly should, your troubles will be over. He’ll attend to the rest. This is what I mean by your causing me trouble. I shall do all this, not because you had any right to put it upon me, but simply for humanity’s sake. Now, next time you are tempted to act foolishly, stop and think if you’re going to worry anybody else with your silliness. That’s all.”

It was the sure end of the severest lecture Carlota had ever received, and the worst of it was that she felt she deserved it. She could only say that she was truly sorry and resolve to “do a lot of thinking next time before she did any acting.” Then she added, as a bitter memory was stirred:

“I begin to understand that if we hadn’t run away from Refugio our Benoni wouldn’t have died.”

“Not so fast, little girl, toward that conclusion. The issues of life and death belong to God. We have no concern with them. Our business is to do right, as nearly as we can, and—now let’s try a canter!”

At that moment a trooper rode up and saluted.

The Captain gave permission to speak and with a surprised attention, listened to the other’s few words. Carlota tried not to hear that which was not intended for her and was sadly startled when her “Gray Moustache” gave her a hasty kiss on the tip of her nose and said:

“That’s for good-by, my child. I learn that to take you to the station myself would carry me far out of my way, for my first duty now is at camp. I will write some directions on a leaf from my notebook and enclose some money with it. You must give it to the station-master, the telegraph operator, and he will attend to the matter. Good-by, and a prompt reunion with your father!”

To lose this soldier, whom she had regarded as her own especial friend, seemed a terrible misfortune, and her eyes filled as she felt herself set upon the ground, while, with his squad about him, the Captain loped away. Then she saw that Carlos was beside her and, also, that two troopers had been assigned to their escort. However, the faces of these men had neither the sternness nor the quizzical pleasantry of their commander’s. They were the faces of those detailed to perform a troublesome duty while their own desires were elsewhere.

“Bouton, you take the girl and I will the boy.”

“All right.”

One horseman caught up Carlos and one Carlota, and, without another word, rode off like mad across the plain. They handled the twins very much as they would have handled bags of meal, and they took a direction at right angles from that followed by their commanding officer.

Carlos’s temper flamed and he opened his lips to remonstrate against such contemptuous treatment, but remembered the Apaches just in time to restrain his hot speech. It wouldn’t do to anger his guardians then and there, and he did not know that they would not have disobeyed the Captain’s orders to vent their own spite. Thus they traveled for what seemed hours. Then they came, all in the starlight, to a strange place where were two shining things laid flat along the ground and the light of a lamp showed through the window of a solitary shanty.

The cavalryman who carried Carlota dismounted and struck his saber against the cabin door. After a brief delay this was opened by a rough looking man, who held a candle above his head and was speechless from astonishment.

The troopers saluted and said:

“By Captain Sherman’s orders, these children are to be left here until further notice.”

The twins were promptly deposited upon the ground, where they clasped hands and tried to realize this new thing that had befallen them. Before they could do so, their military escort had again saluted and disappeared in the distance, leaving them to make the best they could of their forlorn situation.