A Fortune Hunter; Or, The Old Stone Corral: A Tale of the Santa Fe Trail. John Dunloe Carteret
old, stood amid the ruins, its drooping boughs of feathery spray weeping like a fountain of verdure over the spring that welled out from among its roots, then went gurgling away, a purling brook, to join the narrow stream in the valley.
The river here at the ruins had nearly encircled the hill on which they stood, and after half embracing the knoll in its timber-fringed course had wound away down the valley, but where the groves grew in masses of darkest green, there the stream had widened to miniature lakelets that flashed like silver in the slanting sunbeams.
On a low mound near by I see a great stone, like a rude monument, and drawing near I can barely decipher this dim and weather-worn inscription, carved on the red sandstone:
Erected to the Memory
OF
FIFTY-THREE VICTIMS OF THE CHEYENNES,
August 22, 1849.
NAMES ALL UNKNOWN.
Here is a dim, dark tragedy, buried within this grassy knoll, but within these pages all the mystery which haunts the flower-bespangled hillock will be cleared away. A difficult task indeed; but without those graves my story would never have been written.
I stand silent and thoughtful, gazing out over the tranquil landscape, which had once witnessed a scene of revolting horror here on this quiet spot; but all is peaceful now, the only sign of life visible being the long file of antelope that hurry by from the north. Halting on a lofty headland, they pause a moment, stretching their graceful necks to gaze back along their pathway, then with loud snorts wheeling and swiftly fleeing away.
At this moment the distant sound of hoofs was heard, becoming momentarily louder; then a group of riders dash up on their sleek, superb horses, and draw rein at the rude monument.
"It must be here, Clifford, at this low mound," said one of the riders, a graceful girl of seventeen, with nut-brown hair and blue eyes.
"Yes, Maud, I recognize the knoll from father's and Uncle Roger's description. It was uncle who carved this inscription upon the stone, little dreaming then that we should all come here a quarter of a century later to secure a new home," replied a youth of near twenty years; handsome, golden-haired, and symmetrical, with eyes of pansy blue, and a look of pride and good birth about him which showed plain through the dust and tan of a long journey.
"Ah, dear Bruce and Ivarene! how sad to end their romance with such a tragedy!" said Maud tearfully, as Clifford dismounted; then, as he helped her to alight, they stood for a moment in mute sorrow while deciphering the inscription upon the stone.
"Maud, it is hard to believe that the heiress of grand old Monteluma, with her millions of gold and gems at command, who wedded noble Bruce in the great cathedral before the dignitaries and ambassadors of half Christendom with a pomp and splendor new to even luxury-steeped Mexico, is sleeping with her husband in the silence of this lonesome grave," Clifford said in a tone of deep sadness.
"Oh! how vivid the picture returns, of the silken and lace-robed heiress, who threw back the gilded lattice of her window, and with pearls glinting, and rubies burning in her raven hair, smiled as her handsome lover, in his uniform of gray and gold lace, swung himself up to her window by the passion-vines and fuchsias, that rained a shower of purple, white, and rose on his sunny hair. I can almost see the love-look in his blue eyes yet," said Maud with a flood of tears, as she leaned against the rude monument and covered her face with her hands.
"I have sometimes fancied that they escaped; for there was no one left but father to inquire, and you know how long he was covered with the stones of that old wall, remaining delirious for months after Uncle Roger found him," said Clifford, "and that million of their gold and gems, with father's store of gold, I have often fancied, Maud, was hidden near here; for there has never been a search made since the terrible massacre."
"That looks so improbable, Clifford. If the savages murdered them for plunder, as they certainly did, then it is idle to think that they would have left anything of value behind. Even the jewels would have been fought for, as savages are very fond of glitter and splendor," Maud replied.
"Yes, that very disposition of theirs to wrangle over their booty has given me a hope that the leader might have buried the gold, for the reason that it would have been impossible to carry away a ton of coin without first dividing it. I shall make the search at any rate, though it does look like a forlorn hope," he added with a sigh.
"Miss Warlow, there seems to have been a great tragedy enacted here in the past," said a young man of near Clifford's age, who had been silently regarding them from a distance, in company with a flaxen-haired girl, younger than Maud, who still sat upon her horse by his side.
"Yes, Mr. Moreland, and it nearly concerns us; for our father, here on this spot, once lost a great fortune, and at the same time those two friends of whom we have been speaking. This all was long before Clifford and I were born; but father has told us so often of the tragedy that the names of Bruce and Ivarene Walraven are dear and sacred to us all," Maud replied.
"Oh, Ralph! I wonder if Colonel Warlow would tell us the particulars of that terrible affair?" said the younger girl.
"It would be doubly interesting here upon the closing scene of the tragedy," the young man replied.
"Will you ask your father, Maud, to tell us to-night?" the young girl inquired eagerly.
"Yes, Grace: it will help to while away our first Sabbath here, which will be a lonesome day to-morrow," Maud made answer as they remounted and rode down to the stream to water their horses.
"What a lovely camp-ground!" exclaimed Grace. "Shall we not stop here, Ralph?"
"Yes, sister, if the others are willing. It is not only a fine camping ground, but it is more: This is a grand home-land, or will be when we select our 'claims,' Monday. I never before have seen a more beautiful or fertile valley than this."
Soon a long line of white covered wagons and a comfortable carriage appeared, coming down the Santa Fe trail, which wound its travel-worn course over the hills from the north-east; and where solitude had reigned but an hour before there now re-echoed the sounds of a busy camp, and ruddy fires leaped and sparkled, about which female forms flitted to and fro, preparing their evening meal. But while all was bustle and animation within the camp, a solitary figure could be seen standing at the long grave, bowed in an attitude of silent grief.
As he walked slowly back within the glare of the camp-fire, it was apparent that he was a man past middle life, of grave and dignified appearance; the lines of care, on his still handsome face, were deepened as if by grief as he seated himself by a tree, away from the glare of the light.
As he sat thus—lost in reverie—Maud came softly by, and, passing her hand over his hair in a caressing way, said:—
"What a lovely country this is! I am charmed with it already."
"Yes, Maud, my daughter, it is a fertile and picturesque region; but it will be hard to inure myself to living on this spot, for it is haunted by very bitter memories."
"Oh, it is sad, indeed, to think of the fate of Bruce and his graceful bride; but we will deck their grave with flowers, and I shall never cease to grieve for them," she said, dropping a kiss on her father's cheek, then hurrying away to the camp-fire.
He was roused from his gloomy reverie, a few minutes later, by his wife, who came to his side, and, as her hand rested fondly on his shoulder, she said, in a sweet voice of womanly sympathy, in which could be traced a sub-tone of strength and resolution:—
"George, dear, this is no time for repining; instead we should feel happy and grateful that we have found such a delightful country as this in which to select our future home. Oh, this valley is more beautiful than even my wildest dreams had ever pictured. I had felt apprehensive, husband, that your impressions of this place had been colored by your youthful enthusiasm of twenty, and own that I had made ample allowance for the quarter of a century which has passed since then; but it is certainly the most charming spot I have ever beheld."
"My dear, brave wife," he replied joyfully,