CHAPTER XX

HOME WITH THE HERD

The puffing engine that shrieked and roared its way up the grades and shrieked and protested its way down again, as it crawled mile by mile nearer the American border seemed to Raquel an overworked heart that might stop or burst any minute, and tumble them all into the alkali desert. It belched its soot and cinders through the open door of the coach which swung precariously upon the tail of its coal bin. The occupants were roasted in the heat of its boilers.

Huddled among the Mexican refugees, who packed the sole passenger coach which the laboring train drew through the desert, sat Raquel in her peón costume and Georgie. Between them was a fair-faced señorita--Lois, who clutched her black _serape_ tightly under her chin. Like all the other women, she never removed it in spite of the heat. Like the other girls and women, too, she was nervous with apprehension. Refugees they were all, _Maytorenistas_, _Villistas_, any “_ista_” other than _Carrancista_. They had been waiting for weeks for the train to run again; and for days had been sitting atop the freight cars with their bundles by their sides, fearful lest they be left behind. They were fleeing to the states for safety, taking no chances, placing no confidence in the momentary lull of revolution.

“Lucky we got seats inside,” said Georgie comfortably. “Gee, I’d hate to be sitting on top of the coach in this sun, wouldn’t you, Lois? I bet that’s just where we’d be, too, if it hadn’t been for Don Nestor’s name; huh, Raquel?

“I heard the Colonel say they were on the lookout for some Americans that the government and the consuls had been pesterin’ them about, ever since the telegraph wires had been mended again. Ha, ha! But he had no intention of lettin’ ’em through so easy. Let ’em wait, he said. It was easier not to know anythin’ about them.

“But the cattle? Sure, they’d carry _them_ up all right. That meant bringing American gold into the country. Mexico for the Mexicans! So here we are, with a thousand longhorns on behind.”

“Georgie, hush up, can’t you? Here, let me pull Lois’ skirt over the treasure chest a little more.”

She would not believe that they were going home until they had actually crossed the border, thought Raquel. They expected to be met at Douglas by the faithful _vaquero_ who had been with them ever since he brought that message of Georgie’s to Raquel. With him was Concha’s sweetheart. They had gone ahead a week before, driving a thousand head of cattle. And--and maybe Jimmy would be there, if the messages got through to Mom.

They were to unload this side of the border, and drive the cattle across themselves. Paintbrush and Custer’s pony and one of Don Nestor’s finest mares for Lois, were in a compartment of their own up in front of the cattle.

The feverish day drew at length toward an end. The sun was still high though Lois’ watch said six o’clock. They were nearing the line. With a great snorting of brakes, and much complaining of wheels, the train from Sonora came to a halt.

A lieutenant came running up from the rear of the coach. The cattle were to disembark, explained the engineer. _Si, si_, from El Escondido, from Don Nestor Torreon, a faithful supporter of the Government, a man for the people.

Georgie W. Daniels was the first person to touch foot to ground. Raquel swung down next, and helped Lois. The cowpunchers were already bringing their horses down the runway. It was amazing how quickly the cattle were unloaded. And here they were, but a scant half mile from the border, with an hour of daylight still, in which to cross to the United States where they would drive right into the pens at the train yards.

With a great glory of golden dust at their backs, and a noble heralding of mooing and bellowing, with the yell of the punchers, and the shouts of Don Nestor’s _vaqueros_, the three young adventurers crossed that imaginary line in the dust between Mexico and Arizona which Uncle Sam has drawn with the toe of his boot, and Mexico with her _bayonete_, while Nature has impartially planted the Spanish dagger on both sides. They came like a conquering army, whooping and singing, and never had a landscape seemed more beautiful than that which lay before them.

And so it seemed to Jimmy Hovey and Custer Daniels, who had stopped the boiling Pathfinder to stand up and look towards that moving cloud of dust.

“It’s them, sure’s whiskey cures snake bite,” exclaimed Custer softly.

“By Jove, it is, all right. They’ve made it!” Jimmy was half wild.

In a short time two girls were being folded to two vastly relieved uniformed breasts.... And, in spite of herself, it was Raquel who cried at sight of Custer’s empty sleeve.

“Just look at that bunch of cattle,” she choked, and buried her face in his shoulder. “There’s another thousand waiting for us in Douglas.”

“It’s not the cattle I’m looking at,” he was holding her tight, “but the gamest, bravest, little old cattlewoman I ever heard of!

“But, oh, Raquel, why did you do it? Down into such a hornet’s nest. It wasn’t worth it, hon.”

“I had to, Custer. Dad asked for more cattle. I had it all arranged to get a bunch just over the border--and along came old ‘A. B.’ and took them right out from under my nose. What else was I to do but go after more?” Still she could not look at his empty sleeve.

“Was _that_ the bunch of cattle you went after?” Custer grinned. “Well, ‘A. B.’ never got them over the border even. About six miles from the _frontera_ they were set on by bandits, and the whole outfit stampeded. Meyers made a great to-do about it; took it up with Washington when he got back. He said the very fellow who had sold it to him and was helping him drive the bunch up, turned round and fell in with the thieves. What do you think of that for a skin game? But, by golly, I’m glad it happened to him instead of you.”

“Well, it seems that I’m indebted to Mr. Meyers for several good turns after all. I sure haven’t lost any money or any cattle this trip, even if quite a lot of sleep has been lost.”

After a moment Raquel spoke again, her wet eyes shining. “Custer, I understand you have an apology to make to Lois! You can make it after supper. Me, I want to get to the hotel, so I can telegraph Mother Daniels.”

* * * * *

Down through the pass swept the old car. The earth dropped away from beneath their wheels as though they flew. Below them spread the Ranch of the Lazy L, its golden pastures knee deep in gramma grass and flowers.

“There’s home, Lois.”

“There’s home.” What a rich and incredible home-coming! Anne would be there with Barry, who had been sent home from the Argonne with a gassed lung. And where would Anne bring him but to Los Ranchos? Already Barry was breathing easier, Custer said.

And there was Mom on the front veranda waving a table cloth! Georgie could see her through the field glass glued to his eyes.

“I’ve brung her back, Mom. I’ve brung her back, and the cattle,” he shouted joyfully across the four miles between them.

“Wait till she can hear you. Wait till she can hear you!” They were all shouting now.

On the back seat, Custer, with a vast contentment held Raquel’s hard little fist tightly in his good left hand, while his eyes rested adoringly on the blonde head in front of them.

Could she ever live up to these Daniels, Lois was thinking. Oh, she wanted them to like her, to be worth the liking! How right Jimmy had been about Raquel. Only he hadn’t said half enough!

And Jimmy smiled back understandingly as, singing and calling out, they swept down nearer and nearer to those clustering creamy walls, lying so golden in the afternoon sun; to that waving banner welcoming them home.

THE END