Heart of the Sunset Read online

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  SOMETHING ABOUT HEREDITY

  It had required but one generation to ripen the fruits of "Old Ed"Austin's lawlessness, and upon his son heredity had played one of hergrimmest pranks. The father had had faults, but they were those of hisvirtues; he had been a strong man, at least, and had "ridden herd" uponhis unruly passions with the same thoroughness as over his wild cattle.The result was that he had been universally respected. At first the sonseemed destined to be like his father. It was not until "Young Ed" hadreached his full manhood that his defects had become recognizable eviltendencies, that his infirmity had developed into a disease. Likesleeping cancers, the Austin vices had lain dormant in him duringboyhood; it had required the mutation from youth to manhood, and thealterative effect of marriage, to rouse them; but, once awakened, theirravages had been swift and destructive. Ed's marriage to Alaire hadbeen inevitable. They had been playmates, and their parents hadconsidered the union a consummation of their own lifelong friendship.Upon her mother's death, Alaire had been sent abroad, and there sheremained while "Young Ed" attended an Eastern college. For any childthe experience would have been a lonesome one, and through it themotherless Texas girl had grown into an imaginative, sentimentalperson, living in a make-believe world, peopled, for the most part,with the best-remembered figures of romance and fiction. There were, ofcourse, some few flesh-and-blood heroes among the rest, and of thesethe finest and the noblest had been "Young Ed" Austin.

  When she came home to marry, Alaire was still very much of a child, andshe still considered Ed her knight. As for him, he was captivated bythis splendid, handsome girl, whom he remembered only as a shy,red-headed little comrade.

  Never was a marriage more propitious, never were two young people morehappily situated than these two, for they were madly in love, and eachhad ample means with which to make the most of life.

  As Las Palmas had been the elder Austin's wedding-gift to his son, soAlaire's dowry from her father had been La Feria, a grant of landsacross the Rio Grande beyond the twenty-league belt by which Mexicofatuously strives to guard her border. And to Las Palmas had come thebride and groom to live, to love, and to rear their children.

  But rarely has there been a shorter honeymoon, seldom a swifterawakening. Within six months "Young Ed" had killed his wife's love andhad himself become an alcoholic. Others of his father's vices revived,and so multiplied that what few virtues the young man had inheritedwere soon choked. The change was utterly unforeseen; its cause wasrooted too deeply in the past to be remedied. Maturity had marked anepoch with "Young Ed"; marriage had been the mile-post where his wholecourse veered abruptly.

  To the bride the truth had come as a stunning tragedy. She wasdesperately frightened, too, and lived a nightmare life, the while shetried in every way to check the progress of that disintegration whichwas eating up her happiness. The wreck of her hopes and glad imaginingsleft her sick, bewildered, in the face of "the thing that couldn't."

  Nor had the effect of this transformation in "Young Ed" been any lesspainful to his father. For a time the old man refused to credit it, butfinally, when the truth was borne in upon him unmistakably, and he sawthat Las Palmas was in a fair way to being ruined through the boy'smismanagement, the old cattleman had risen in his wrath. The ranch hadbeen his pride as Ed had been his joy; to see them both go wrong wasmore than he could bear. There had been a terrible scene, and atongue-lashing delivered in the language of early border days. Therehad followed other visits from Austin, senior, other and even bittererquarrels; at last, when the girl-wife remained firm in her refusal todivorce her husband, the understanding had been reached by which themanagement of Las Palmas was placed absolutely in her hands.

  Of course, the truth became public, as it always does. This was a newcountry--only yesterday it had been the frontier, and even yet afrontier code of personal conduct to some extent prevailed.Nevertheless, "Young Ed" Austin's life became a scorn and a hissingamong his neighbors. They were not unduly fastidious, these neighbors,and they knew that hot blood requires more than a generation to cool,but everything Ed did outraged them. In trying to show their sympathyfor his wife they succeeded in wounding her more deeply, and Alairewithdrew into herself. She became almost a recluse, and fenced herselfaway not only from the curious, but also from those who really wishedto be her friends. In time people remarked that Ed Austin'smetamorphosis was no harder to understand than that of his wife.

  It was true. She had changed. The alteration reached to the very boneand marrow of her being. At first the general pity had wounded her,then it had offended, and finally angered her. That people shouldnotice her affliction, particularly when she strove so desperately tohide it, seemed the height of insolence.

  The management of Las Palmas was almost her only relief. Having sprungfrom a family of ranchers, the work came easy, and she grew to likeit--as well as she could like anything with that ever-present pain inher breast. The property was so large that it gave ample excuse foravoiding the few visitors who came, and the range boss, BenitoGonzales, attended to most of the buying and selling. Callers graduallybecame rarer; friends dropped away almost entirely. Since Las Palmasemployed no white help whatever, it became in time more Mexican than inthe days of "Old Ed" Austin's ownership.

  In such wise had Alaire fashioned her life, living meanwhile under asort of truce with her husband.

  But Las Palmas had prospered to admiration, and La Feria would haveprospered equally had it not been for the armed unrest of the countryacross the border. No finer stock than the "Box A" was to be foundanywhere. The old lean, long-horned cattle had been interbred withwhite-faced Herefords, and the sleek coats of their progeny werestretched over twice the former weight of beef. Alaire had evenexperimented with the Brahman strain, importing some huge, hump-backedbulls that set the neighborhood agog. People proclaimed they weresacred oxen and whispered that they were intended for some outlandishpagan rite--Alaire by this time had gained the reputation of being"queer"--while experienced stockmen declared the venture a woman'sfolly, affirming that buffaloes had never been crossed successfullywith domestic cattle. It was rumored that one of these imported animalscost more than a whole herd of Mexican stock, and the ranchersspeculated freely as to what "Old Ed" Austin would have said of suchextravagance.

  It was Blaze Jones, one of the few county residents granted access toLas Palmas, who first acquainted himself with the outcome of Alaire'sexperiment, and it was he who brought news of it to some visitingstock-buyers at Brownsville.

  Blaze was addicted to rhetorical extravagance. His voice was loud; hisfancy ran a splendid course.

  "Gentlemen," said he, "you-all interest me with your talk about yourprize Northern stock; but I claim that the bigger the state the biggerthe cattle it raises. That's why old Texas beats the world."

  "But it doesn't," some one contradicted.

  "It don't, hey? My boy"--Blaze jabbed a rigid finger into the speaker'sribs, as if he expected a ground-squirrel to scuttle forth--"we've gotsteers in this valley that are damn near the size of the whole state ofRhode Island. If they keep on growin' I doubt if you could fatten oneof 'em in Delaware without he'd bulge over into some neighboringcommonwealth. It's the God's truth! I was up at Las Palmas last month--"

  "Las Palmas!" The name was enough to challenge the buyers' interest.

  Blaze nodded. "You-all think you know the stock business. You're allswollen up with cow-knowledge, now, ain't you?" He eyed them frombeneath his black eyebrows. "Well, some of our people thought they did,too. They figured they'd inherited all there was to know about livestock, and they grew plumb arrogant over their wisdom. But--pshaw! Theydidn't know nothing. Miz Austin has bred in that Brayma strain and madesteers so big they run four to the dozen. And here's the remarkablething about 'em--they 'ain't got as many ticks as you gentlemen."

  Some of the cattlemen were incredulous, but Blaze maintained his pointwith emphasis. "It's true. They're a grave disappointment to every kindof parasite."

  But Alaire
had not confined her efforts to cattle; she had improved thebreed of "Box A" horses, too, and hand in hand with this work she hadcarried on a series of agricultural experiments.

  Las Palmas, so people used to say, lay too far up the river to be goodfarming-land; nevertheless, once the pumping-plant was in, certainparts of the ranch raised nine crops of alfalfa, and corn that stoodabove a rider's head.

  There was no money in "finished" stock; the border was too far frommarket--that also had long been an accepted truism--yet this womanbuilt silos which she filled with her own excess fodder in scientificproportions, and somehow or other she managed to ship fat beeves directto the packing-houses and get big prices for them.

  These were but a few of her many ventures. She had her hobbies, ofcourse, but, oddly enough, most of them paid or promised to do so. Forinstance, she had started a grove of paper-shelled pecans, which wassoon due to bear; the ranch house and its clump of palms was all buthidden by a forest of strange trees, which were reported to ripeneverything from moth-balls to bicycle tires. Blaze Jones was perhapsresponsible for this report, for Alaire had shown him several thousandeucalyptus saplings and some ornamental rubber-plants.

  "That Miz Austin is a money-makin' piece of furniture," he once toldhis daughter Paloma. "I'm no mechanical adder--I count mostly on myfingers--but her and me calculated the profits on themeucher--what's-their-name trees?--and it gave me a splittin' headache.She'll be a drug queen, sure."

  "Why don't you follow her example?" asked Paloma. "We have plenty ofland."

  Blaze, in truth, was embarrassed by the size of his holdings, but heshook his head. "No, I'm too old to go rampagin' after new gods. I'ain't got the imagination to raise anything more complicated than amortgage; but if I was younger, I'd organize myself up and do away withthat Ed Austin. I'd sure help him to an untimely end, and then I'dmarry them pecan-groves, and blooded herds, and drug-store orchards.She certainly is a heart-breakin' device, with her red hair and redlips and--"

  "FATHER!" Paloma was deeply shocked.

  Complete isolation, of course, Alaire had found to be impossible, eventhough her ranch lay far from the traveled roads and her Mexican guardswere not encouraging to visitors. Business inevitably brought her intocontact with a considerable number of people, and of these the one shesaw most frequently was Judge Ellsworth of Brownsville, her attorney.

  It was perhaps a week after Ed had left for San Antonio that Alairefelt the need of Ellsworth's counsel, and sent for him. He respondedpromptly, as always. Ellsworth was a kindly man of fifty-five, with aforceful chin and a drooping, heavy-lidded eye that could either blazeor twinkle. He was fond of Alaire, and his sympathy, like hisunderstanding, was of that wordless yet comprehensive kind which ismost satisfying. Judge Ellsworth knew more than any four men in thatpart of Texas; information had a way of seeking him out, and his headwas stored to repletion with facts of every variety. He was a goodlawyer, too, and yet his knowledge of the law comprised but a smallpart of that mental wealth upon which he prided himself. He knew humannature, and that he considered far more important than law. His mindwas like a full granary, and every grain lay where he could put hishand upon it.

  He motored out from Brownsville, and, after ridding himself of dust,insisted upon spending the interval before dinner in an inspection ofAlaire's latest ranch improvements. He had a fatherly way of walkingwith his arm about Alaire's shoulders, and although she sometimessuspected that his warmth of good-fellowship was merely a habitcultivated through political necessities, nevertheless it wascomforting, and she took it at its face value.

  Not until the dinner was over did Ellsworth inquire the reason for hissummons.

  "It's about La Feria. General Longorio has confiscated my stock,"Alaire told him.

  Ellsworth started. "Longorio! That's bad."

  "Yes. One of my riders just brought the news. I was afraid of this verything, and so I was preparing to bring the stock over. Still--I neverthought they'd actually confiscate it."

  "Why shouldn't they?"

  Alaire interrogated the speaker silently.

  "Hasn't Ed done enough to provoke confiscation?" asked the Judge.

  "Ed?"

  "Exactly! Ed has made a fool of himself, and brought this on."

  "You think so?"

  "Well, I have it pretty straight that he's giving money to the Rebeljunta and lending every assistance he can to their cause."

  "I didn't know he'd actually done anything. How mad!"

  "Yes--for a man with interests in Federal territory. But Ed always doesthe wrong thing, you know."

  "Then I presume this confiscation is in the nature of a reprisal. Butthe stock is mine, not Ed's. I'm an American citizen, and--"

  "My dear, you're the first one I've heard boast of the fact," cynicallyaffirmed the Judge. "If you were in Mexico you'd profit more byclaiming allegiance to the German or the English or some other foreignflag. The American eagle isn't screaming very loudly on the other sideof the Rio Grande just now, and our dusky neighbors have learned thatit's perfectly safe to pull his tail feathers."

  "I'm surprised at you," Alaire smiled. "Just the same, I want your helpin taking up the matter with Washington."

  Ellsworth was pessimistic. "It won't do any good, my dear," he said."You'll get your name in the papers, and perhaps cause anotherdiplomatically worded protest, but there the matter will end. You won'tbe paid for your cattle."

  "Then I shall go to La Feria."

  "No!" The Judge shook his head decidedly.

  "I've been there a hundred times. The Federals have always been morethan courteous."

  "Longorio has a bad reputation. I strongly advise against your going."

  "Why, Judge, people are going and coming all the time! Mexico isperfectly safe, and I know the country as well as I know Las Palmas."

  "You'd better send some man."

  "Whom can I send?" asked Alaire. "You know my situation."

  The Judge considered a moment before replying. "I can't go, for I'mbusy in court. You could probably accomplish more than anybody else, ifLongorio will listen to reason, and, after all, you are a person ofsuch importance that I dare say you'd be safe. But it will be a hardtrip, and you won't know whether you are in Rebel or in Federalterritory."

  "Well, people here are asking whether Texas is in the United States orMexico," Alaire said, lightly, "Sometimes I hardly know." After amoment she continued: "Since you know everything and everybody, Iwonder if you ever met a David Law?"

  Ellsworth nodded. "Tell me something about him."

  "He asked me the same thing about you. Well, I haven't seen much ofDave since he grew up, he's such a roamer."

  "He said his parents were murdered by the Guadalupes."

  The Judge looked up quickly; a queer, startled expression flitted overhis face. "Dave said that? He said both of them were killed?"

  "Yes. Isn't it true?"

  "Oh, Dave wouldn't lie. It happened a good many years ago, andcertainly they both met a violent end. I was instrumental in savingwhat property Frank Law left, but it didn't last Dave very long. He'sright careless in money matters. Dave's a fine fellow in someways--most ways, I believe, but--" The Judge lost himself in frowningmeditation.

  "I have never known you to damn a friend or a client with such faintpraise," said Alaire.

  "Oh, I don't mean it that way. I'm almost like one of Dave's kin, andI've been keenly interested in watching his traits develop. I'minterested in heredity. I've watched it in Ed's case, for instance. Ifyou know the parents it's easy to read their children." Again he lapsedinto silence, nodding to himself. "Yes, Nature mixes her prescriptionslike any druggist. I'm glad you and Ed--have no babies."

  Alaire murmured something unintelligible.

  "And yet," the lawyer continued, "many people are cursed with aninheritance as bad, or worse, than Ed's."

  "What has that to do with Mr. Law?"

  "Dave? Oh, nothing in particular. I was just--moralizing. It's aprivilege of age, my dear."
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