The Night of the Mexican Revenge
Chapter 2
The Family Diaz
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
(Shakespeare - Hamlet Act 3, scene 2,)
The four men just stared at the two armed intruders; even Liston had roused himself sufficiently to sit up.
The woman used her rifle to motion to Artie to join the others. She was in her late-fifties, of Spanish origin, with grey flecks in her raven-coloured hair. The man was in his thirties, six feet tall, with the same dark features.
Jim finally stepped forward and said, "There's no need for guns. We have nothing here to steal."
"I told you to stand still," the woman replied. "What are you doing in my house?"
"Your house?" Artie queried. "We thought it was abandoned," he added, indicating the cobwebs.
"It was, but not anymore," she replied. "This is my house."
"If that's true then we're sorry to intrude," Jim said, in a conciliatory tone, "but we're escorting a federal prisoner to the hospital in Beaumont and we'd be grateful if you'd let us rest here overnight. Our charge is too ill to pose any danger to you," he added, to reassure her.
The woman looked across the room and then lowered her gun as she walked over to Day to take a closer look at his face.
"Liston, is that you?" she asked, shock on her face.
"Dolores," Day said, with great effort and lay back down again, exhausted.
Dolores stood frozen in place. "I never thought I'd see you again," she said.
"Do you know this man?" Artie asked.
"Yes, he's my husband," was the reply.
"Mrs Day..." Jim began.
"Senora Diaz," she replied. "I despise the name of the man who is my husband and a traitor. I use the Spanish translation," she added, shooting Day a look of loathing.
"Senora Diaz," Jim began again, "I see now that, as his wife, this house is rightfully yours. All we want is to stay the night and we'll be gone in the morning. Now do you think you could persuade your companion to lower his weapon?"
"He is my son," she said, "Carlos, put down your gun!" She turned to Jim, "You and your men may stay here tonight," she said.
"Thank you."
"We've brought some provisions with us," Carlos said. I'll fetch them in and we can have dinner."
"That's very good of you."
When Carlos had left, Artie walked over to Jim, while the sheriff stayed watching Day. Dolores spoke to them. "Liston looks like he is dying," she said. "What is wrong with him and what is he doing here?"
"He has swamp fever," Artie said.
"Which he caught on his way here, after he broke out of prison," Jim added. "It looks like he was trying to get back to this house for some reason."
"I know he was very happy here as a child and that he was very close to his mother. She died just over thirty years ago. I think his treachery broke her heart and she was very lonely after his father was killed in a riding accident."
"His father was a doctor, wasn't he?" Artie asked, remembering his dream.
"Yes, a very good one, and a kind-hearted man, but also strong and courageous," she added. "I mistakenly thought that his son was like him."
"I would have thought, being of Spanish heritage yourself, you would have welcomed your husband's actions in helping Santa Anna," Artie commented.
"My family is an old one, our house and land is across the Mexican border, where we breed bulls. Our animals are renowned throughout Mexico. We took no part in the revolution. I married Liston Day secretly before it all began and, knowing of his family's wish to side with the Americans, I stayed with my father and did not visit Texas until after Liston had been arrested. He didn't have the courage to fight openly, that I could have respected, but he played the part of a coward, hiding his true allegiance. His grandfather had changed the family name from Diaz to Day when they first settled in Texas, so that they would fit in with their American neighbours. I changed my name back to Diaz to separate myself from him." She pointed in Liston Day's direction. I would have hidden my marriage had I not found out I was going to give birth to a child, who needed a name. Now you know the whole story."
"Thank you for telling it to us," Jim said. "Then you have returned here tonight for the first time since Mrs Day died."
"That is right. I used to visit her so she could see her grandson. He was a consolation to her. After she died, I didn't return."
"Why are you here tonight?" Artie asked.
"My father died a few months ago and my brother inherited everything. I decided it was time to leave and move to this house, my son's inheritance. It looks like we will have to do a lot of work," she added, looking around her. "I hope you do not believe I came here to rescue my husband," she said suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to her. "I had no idea he was here and the sooner he leaves, the better I will like it. I despise him."
"Don't worry, madam, we believe you," Artie said.
At that moment Carlos re-entered the room, bringing provisions with him. Artie went over to help him sort through them for something for dinner.
"You haven't told me who you are," Dolores said to Jim.
"I'm James West and the man helping your son is Artemus Gordon. We're federal agents. The man guarding your husband is the sheriff from Beaumont."
"Is my husband that dangerous then? He looks to me as if he will not see the night out, he is so frail."
"You can nurse him if you want to," Jim offered.
"I would rather have nothing to do with him," was the reply, and Jim couldn't help contrasting it with the compassion shown earlier by Artie, who was a stranger to the prisoner. But, of course, he knew nothing of what she might have suffered over the years, the wife of a traitor, trying to bring up a child without its father.
"Then we had better get him to the hospital as soon as we can," Jim said. "Excuse me," he added turning away to have a word with the sheriff.
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Artie found the kitchen and managed to light the range. He and Dolores put together a hot meal, during which Dolores left Artie to it, for a while, to make a bowl of thin oatmeal, for Day, deciding that he was not well enough for his stomach to tolerate any meat. She even took the time to spoon-feed it to him before she ate her own meal. Artie was touched that she would care for her husband no matter what she thought of him.
Dinner was served in the sitting room and, when it had been eaten, the four of them sat around the fire, talking. Day was thankfully sleeping, his fever seemingly having died down a little. Carlos had been upstairs and brought down some bedding, for him and his mother, which was presently airing by the side of the fire.
"Thank you for supplying the food, Senora Diaz," the sheriff said. "That was mighty decent of you, seeing as we're interlopers."
"Yes," Artie agreed, "I dread to think what we might have had to eat if you hadn't turned up."
"It was my pleasure, gentlemen. It was a much simpler meal than I would have eaten at home but it was sufficient, under the circumstances. Pardon me, gentlemen," she added, "but we had a very long journey to get here. I think I will retire for the night. Feel free to help yourselves to whatever you would like for breakfast."
She stood up and helped Carlos to gather up the aired bedding. Both of them climbed the stairs, and a short silence fell. The sheriff was now dozing in front of the fire and Jim turned to Artie.
"How's your dream faring against reality now," Jim asked.
"There was no hint that Day was married, so that's different and I found out earlier that Caroline's bedroom is nothing like the one in my dream. Also there was no portrait of her son, or a journal. I don't know what to make of it."
"Well I'm tired out so we'd better leave it there. It's your turn to keep watch. I'll take over at two o'clock. Might as well leave the sheriff where he is. There's no point in waking him up."
"Alright. Good night, Jim."
"Night, Artie."
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Early the next morning, Artie woke up to the smell of coffee brewing. It seemed that the sheriff had taken over the watch while Jim made breakfast. The fire had been kept going and warmed the room against the early morning chill. Artie made his way down to the kitchen, where Jim was frying eggs and bacon.
"That smells good," Artie said, sitting down at the table.
Jim plonked a plate in front of him and poured him a cup of coffee.
"Bless you, Jim."
"I'm just gonna take some breakfast to the sheriff, then I'll come back and join you," Jim said.
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The sheriff greeted Jim with a wide smile when he saw what he was carrying.
"Thanks, Mr West," he said, putting aside his rifle so that he could tuck into the delicious food. Jim put the coffee cup on a nearby table and walked over to see if Day felt like eating anything. Day appeared to be sleeping but, on looking closer, Jim couldn't see detect any breathing. He touched Day's face; it was ice-cold.
"Sheriff, can you come over here a moment?" Jim said
The sheriff put down his plate and walked over to the sofa. "What's up?" he asked.
"Looks like Day passed away in the night."
"What!" The sheriff put his hand in front of Day's mouth; there was no breath.
"He's stone cold," Jim said, "he must have been dead for hours."
The sheriff sat down in an armchair. "What do you plan to do now?"
"We need to bury him and then head for Beaumont. It's still the nearest town and I need to send a report."
"Shall I wake up Senor Diaz and her son?"
"No, leave them be. They'll probably be down soon anyway. I'll go and tell Artie and then I'd appreciate your help with the burial."
"Sure thing Mr West. I'll go and see if there's a shovel around here someplace."
Jim nodded and returned to the kitchen.
"Where have you been," Artie asked. I've drunk nearly all the coffee."
"Day didn't wake up this morning. It looks like he died in his sleep."
"Day's dead? What now?"
"We should bury him here; it is his home after all. Then we continue on to Beaumont. We need to let Colonel Richmond know our assignment is ended."
"Sad to think no-one will feel sorry about his death."
"Yeah well, it's hardly surprising."
Artie sighed. "You'd better have something to eat. I'll see about the burial."
"The sheriff's gone to find a shovel."
"Good, I'll go join him. But shouldn't we talk to Senora Diaz about this before we make a start?"
"I'll do that, as soon as she comes down."
"I'll see you later then."
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