 Book 5, Chapter 20 of the Spy Company, A Story of the Mexican War by Archibald Clavering Gaunter. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by John Brandon. Book 5, Beyond the Real Grand, Chapter 20, Carmelita's Return. With this, the Rangers lining the wall near them yell with laughter. Then as they fight, and one cries, Wah! Did the greasers up with our own medicine? And another shouts, She's clean grit, sharp? Yes, I, I hope I am, answers Estrella, radiant in the thought that she has saved, if but for a moment the existence of the man she loves, adding to the inquiring and astounded faces turned to her, I'm Sharp Hampton's girl. I journeyed all the way from San Antonio to tell him not to throw away his life. In the seclusion of a cactus screened in razor, she holds up her lips for his caress. Though his hungry eyes never leave her, the captain makes no move to take her to his heart, but whispers in a dazed yet moody way. You hear? Yes, here to tell you to, to live for my sake. Impossible, a horror is on the Texan's face, don't you understand, he shudders, don't you know girl I've killed your father, your father's blood is between us, and would turn from her to give some orders. But she answers, No father's blood, you thought you killed my father. And it was only a vile wretch impersonating him. The shooting down of those villains was as great a kindness as man ever did for woman. Not your father? Sharp passes his hand in a dazed way over his face and mutters, impossible, impossible? Would a daughter's lips salute her father's slayer? She's astrella and bashfully yet tenderly kisses the doubt from her lover's face. Then the pent-up passion of his long despair breaks out in sharp Hampton. In a hungry, crazy way his arms go round his sweetheart as he listens to her hurried, yet wondrous tale. At its close he whispers, Thank God, you've made me want to live. But gives his kisses so ardent that they reward the girl who was half-swowning on his breast, for all the dangers and troubles of her long journey from San Antonio. At a distance the fire of battle had illumined his features. But now close to him, astrella sees what this man must have suffered, and her heart goes out to him even more. She nestles to him, and even with the bullets smiting the wall against which they lean, the two go into a short, blissful love-dream. But now some hasty orders from the bravo fall Hampton to active combat. With a hasty fervent clasp he shudders, My own, those devils of guerrillas will butcher you as well as us if they break in, and springs from her to do desperate battle for her safety against constantly increasing odds. For more troops of Mexican cavalry have come, and they now charge up to the ruined gate, hoping to press in by very force of numbers. But the Texans, coolly waiting till the ranch arrows get within revolver range, open such a fire on the assaulting horsemen that their bodies are piled up around the convent entrance, and riderless steeds run everywhere about the plaza. So the battle goes on, but now the Texans, under the hot sun, suffer for want of water. And the Irishman, coming up, touches his hat and says, Have ye's any spirits left, Captain? Langdon's wounded, so he's fainting. Spirits cries, astrella, Floritos, give me two men to go with me. I can get spirits. And water also, as Hampton eagerly? Yes, I think so. Tell two men to go with me. She runs off followed by two rangers, through the little chapel and long passageways. And coming into the big mud-floored room of the woman's convent finds to her joy a couple of bottles of aguariente in the saddlebags of the showmen, and four or five fails of water that had been brought in for the cooking. Likewise, some frijoles and tesahu. With ease she returns and begins to minister to the rangers, begging Hampton to have the wounded carried into the little chapel where she attends them, pouring spirits down their fainting lips and giving them the attention and care that women give when men most needed. Now the talk is through the command, even as they fight on. The sharp Hampton's girl, the one he had been crazy for and wished to die for, has come to him, looking on their leader's face. They know he wants to live. He becomes the rarer avis of the company, the only one who cares very much for life. A haggard frontiersman voices this between rifle shots. I'm glad Sharps changed his mind about getting rubbed out, but by hell I ain't. My wife and daughter are still Comanche squaws. This idea seems now to affect the Texan captain. More Mexican reinforcements arriving, he mutters to Estrela, who despite his orders, has crawled to his side on the firing line. God, girl, you shouldn't have come here. You make coward thoughts. I get to thinking only how to save you, but I can't leave my wounded to be butchered here. Yes, fight it out, Sharps. Fight it out, she whispers. I loved you because you were a brave man. I wouldn't love you if you were a coward. Looking at the girl, the Texan rangers' face, though at times it has a wild light of happiness, at others is covered with unutterable despair. To her he once mutters, I don't think we can get away. We have only fifteen unwounded men now, and the cursed greasers are bringing up more troops from that valley. Were I alone, I wouldn't mind but you. Besides the cartridges are getting low again. We have had to use so many to keep them from firing that field piece, and they're bringing up another one. When that comes, if I don't stop its discharge, why I reckon we're gone. About this time there were wild cries from the Mexicans. Another field piece is being wheeled into the plaza, under the slackening Texan fire. Then suddenly a strella, who is looking on from as safe an embrasure as can be found, comes to him and whispers, my God, Sharps, you mean to do it? Yes, I've got to, dear. I'm going out to kill those gunners with revolver shots. It's the only thing. Revolver shots at arm's length sicken them, then there'll be no more gunners to fire the piece. But she has got hold of him and is imploring him, for God's sake, give yourself one chance. Don't die before my very eyes. Think how I came to save you, don't go. Then has suddenly screamed, He's gone for you. For the little bravo has taken two hasty puffs of his cigarette and tossed it away muttering, reckon it's my last one. And with two big revolvers in his hands has run into the plaza and is shooting down the Mexican gunners just as they are unlimbering the piece. But he is not protected by a flag of truce, and though he comes staggering in, he falls dying at the feet of Hampton, as a strella cries, Why did you do it? To her he answers, Why Sharps looks so cursed happy? I thought I'd die instead of him, then whispers, A cigarette, please. But after a puff or two, his blood chokes him, he coughs, and opening his arms, as if he were taking some loved form into the mutters, Mother. Turns his face away and goes to heaven, A strella is sure he goes to heaven. As she sobs over the dead, she whispers, Sharps, that boy's death is not in vain, I hear something coming down the trail, coming down, horses hooves, women senses sometimes more acute than men's. The Texan captain listens and says, I hear nothing, and yet I have good ears upon the trail. Next abruptly cries, boys, there's horses hooves, lots of them, down the trail from the north. They can't be anything but our troops. Never mind if you shoot your last cartridges now, give it to the greasers every chance you get. Listening his men hear also the sound of hooves, many of them, at full gallop coming down the trail. The Mexican outposts are being drawn in, they are preparing to ride away. The gazing at them gives a gasp of horror, apparently in revenge for their defeat they drag out little Floreto from the church, put him in front of the wall, and a firing party sends the traitor to his last account. One of the rangers' jeers, the little greaser has got his pay from both sides now. As the head of an American cavalry column enters the plaza, there is a cry, maize dragoons, and right at Australia's side a man remarks, and heading them is Wild Harry and the dancing girl who were spying for the captain all last month. But Miss Godfrey is too happy now to have ought in her, but kindness, for one she thinks her sister, and who has once more saved the life of the man she loves. She looks on, without a jealous pang as Carmelita, riding into the convent garden, tells almost hysterically to the Texan captain, Dio, sharp, saved your life again, didn't I? Wah! How we rid, chuckles Harry, who is beside her, lucky worth has taken the Loma and Bishop's palace, so the cavalry can be let off for this job. A shout of triumph from the Texans announces they have heard this news also from some troopers of the relieving force, the rest having gone in pursuit of the Mexicans. Then Mr. Love, nodding towards Carmelita, mutters to Estrella. She told me about your jingo your gritty. Looks as if he had made sharp fight pretty hard to keep his life this trip. He glances at the scene of combat. During this, the colonel of the relieving force recalls his squadrons, remarking significantly, Hampton, you've sickened them of fighting for today. He points across the plaza towards the shambles around the deserted field pieces. Here a young lieutenant returning with his recalled troop of cavalry, coming up says, thank God Hampton, I've overtaken you at last. Here's a letter Ms. Gottfried charged me to give to you. Then Pelham, gazing astonished at Estrella, mutters, how did you do it? Fortunately, she got here ahead of her missive, otherwise reckon I'd gone under with many of my boys, sighs Hampton, looking at his skeleton troop. He is not mounted, though a fresh horse has been brought up to him. He stands rather holding on the pommel of the saddle. During these brief moments, Ms. Gottfried has twice had Carmelita's name upon her lips, adding to it that of sister, but the other has always turned her head from her, as if ashamed. At Pelham's mention of correspondence, an expression of humiliated misery runs over the dancing girl's vivacious features. Her face grows pale as the Texans, before whom her horse is standing. To him she desperately mutters, sharp, here's your correspondence. And pulling from her breast a package of letters, stained and dirty, from long mountain travel, hands them to the astonished captain. From whom, he asks, they are addressed to him in a feminine hand that he has never seen before. But Ms. Gottfried cries, from me, my letters. Yes, kept from you, sharp, by me, murmurs Carmelita. Oh, it was easy. You were always at the front scouting. I took them from the quartermaster for delivery to you. I... I didn't know that make you want to live. How happy your face is. Adios, sharp. She holds out her hand. Take it and forgive me. Where are you going? asked the ranger, his voice rather low. To my countrymen, the Mexicanos, of course. Carmelita has rained her horse to turn away. Her eyes are full of tears. She looks him in the face. And her lips seem to say, Querido Mio, forever. But Hampton, some guess of her design getting into him, cries, catch her. She's going to her death. They have shot Clarito out on the plaza there for being a spy. Do you suppose they will spare her after having brought you down upon them? As he lays hand upon Carmelita's reign, she plucks it from him and shutters. Is he here to see you and her? Poor Dios, no. And drives the spurs into her Mustang. But Estrella screams, stop her. She's trying to get killed. And being already mounted rides after her, shouting, Sister, come back. To her imploring love and half a dozen other troopers join the chase. But it is difficult to catch a Mexican girl on horseback, and Carmelita nearly reaching the Mexicans, who have turned back, while Harry suddenly pulls up his rifle and shoots. Don't, she's my sister, screams Estrella. Do you want to murder her? No, I want to save her life, says the Frontiersman. Shoot at the greaser's boys, as if you are shooting at their girl. Shoot. It is the only thing will save her life. Plug close to her. But mind your eyes and don't hit her. Under his direction the troopers pour in a volley from their carbines, which reach one or two of the Mexicans, though Carmelita rides on. They shoot again, as if they were shooting at her. All the time Estrella beseeching them, for God sakes my sister, my sister. Then as the troopers pull up, while Harry chuckles, Thar were a great idea, plugging at her as if she were an escape and prisoner. God will save her life from the darned greasers, if anything will. The very notion that we wanted to kill her will make the yellow bellies think she is one of our kind. Do you think they will shoot her? questions Estrella. In frantic eagerness, as she sees her sister's red syrupy disappearing in a cloud of dust surrounded by Mexican cavalry, reckon not, after our trying to pot her cries love. Or, that were a mighty cute, crazy, stratagem of wild Harry, weren't it? Becoming more composed, Miss Godfrey looks about her and says, Why sharps not here? That's kind of funny, mutters, Harry. The cap is generally in the front of every scrimmage. The two ride hastily back to find the Texan captain, seated on a pile of saddles and an army surgeon bending over him. What's the matter, asks Miss Godfrey, springing from her horse. Nothing to be scared of, Estrella. The Texan's answer is so faint she hardly hears it. Nothing? Why, he's been shot for hours, says the surgeon, who is working over him. He was bleeding slowly to death and didn't know it. But thank Providence, I got to him in time and now, with plenty of woman's nursing, plenty of woman's nursing cries, Estrella. Oh, he'll have that. Yes, I see he will, remarks the surgeon, dryly, for already the girl has soothing hands on her wounded hero. Little after, she turns to the Colonel commanding and says to that grim officer, You have got to stay here till Hampton has recovered some strength. I guess she's about right, sir, remarks the surgeon, for a day or two anyway. So the Colonel leaves sharp Hampton in the convent, but leaves two troops of cavalry to protect him and the rest of the wounded. In a few days the Ranger Captain is brought up through the mountain pass, attended by a devoted woman, who is sighing over him, yet fighting death for him as bravely as he had fought guerrillas to save her. Thus, they reach the city of Monterey, over which the American flag is now flying. And here learn that an armistice of two months has been arranged between General Taylor and the Mexican military authorities. From this city Ms. Godfrey tries to learn something of Carmelita's fate, but can hear nothing except that no woman has been executed by the Mexicans. After a time she brings her wounded lover by easy stages to Camargo, still escorted by Wild Harry and Pelham, with a detail of troopers. Here she is joined by Zelma, and they board a steamer to take them down the Rio Grande to Matamoros. Upon the vessel's deck, taking leave of his lost love, Pelham says rather sadly, I suppose the next time I see you, if I ever come back from the front, you will be Mrs. Hampton. I hope so, answers Estrella, her eyes very bright with this idea as she turns them upon her wounded sweetheart, who is now sufficiently recovered to enjoy the air and a cigar upon a campstool. I know so, laughed Hampton, who has regained some of his old time spirit. By San Jacinto, you couldn't get me to run away from her again, even if I had shot three or four daddies. You see, Estrella's relatives have been rather hard on us. After putative father's death separated us, then her letters to me were cut off by her real sister. Between ourselves, I rather imagine Carmelita is Sibyl. I'm sure she is, says Estrella, and in that matter, Mr. Pelham, I hear your regiment is ordered to join Scott and to go down to the city of Mexico. When there, do what you can for heaven's sakes, define my sister, and bring her back to me. Here, coquetry sparkles in the coming bride's eyes. You know, Sibyl is very like me. Just put us in, in, she pauses embarrassed. In airy Mexican nothings, short skirts and bare legs, laughs Hampton, who has heard the Dancing Girl episode, and there as a like as two peas. Hush, murmurs Estrella, blushingly. Mr. Pelham will think you're delirious again, Jarp. Hmm, you offer a very attractive inducement, Miss Godfrey, observes the dragoon, and after his take in his leave walks off the steamer's deck, whistling rather contemplatively. Two months later the big hacienda of live oaks is decked for festival. The tenants, settlers, and under-overseers are feasting on wild turkey and fresh venison, and every negro on the estate is so full of good things that he can only lie around and yell for his Missy. The scale of days under the auspices of Mr. Alexander Martin, who has taken charge of his ward's greatest state, and with his daughter, the dashing Brunette Clara, is now making this festivity for Miss Godfrey's wedding a simple little frontier ceremony, but oh how happy a one. This is indicated by Miss Clara Martin, who gorgeously arrayed in finest New York fashion as acted as a bridesmaid, and now remarks to Wild Harry, who in the first, bald shirt he has ever sported in his life, is gazing solemnly at the groom. Don't they look happy? Captain Hampton could make any girl's heart beat because he's every inch a man. Though he still walks with a cane, I'd risk him against a grizzly bear. Are there any more like him? Yes, replies Harry modestly. There are five hundred more just like him under haze, and I'm one of them. I'm just like him, wha! That's a mighty, cued hint of mine, ain't it, he chuggles, for his wild eyes have awful suggestions, and Miss Martin is red as fire. For one of the few times in her life the New York bell is embarrassed. She has turned away to the bride, who has just been received by Selma. In a modest maid's dress of white the octaroon makes a beautiful picture, her pearly complexion and exquisite tinting, giving her Dresden shepherdess effects. As she curtsies to Estrella she murmurs, Dear Mistress, did not I say out on the prairie I'd like Captain Hampton for a master. You have no master now, remarks the bride radiantly. Sharpe and I thought we'd do something for you on our wedding day. You're your own mistress, Mr. Martin has your papers of manumission. Oh, God bless you, cries the girl, and kisses Sharpe's hand as well as his bride's. But I'll never leave you anyway. I can stay with her, can't I, Captain Hampton, just as you will, forever? A year and a half after this the Mexican war being finished, Captain Hampton and his wife, chancing to be in New Orleans, Sharpe buying supplies for big plantation, and Estrella purchasing pretty things for herself and baby are standing on Canal Street watching Uncle Sam's soldiers returning victorious from the capital of the Montezuma's. As maize dragoons are riding past a sunburnt officer salutes his colonel and after a few hundred words apparently receives dismissal, and orderly seizes his horse's bridle as he jumps off and shakes Hampton's hands, saying, I'm luckier than a good many of the boys. I've got back with life and promotion, and… Did you see anything of my sister, Captain Pelham, asks Estrella very eagerly, her eyes filling with tears. Why, yes, answers the Captain heartily. I remembered your suggestion. And if you and your husband will come up to the St. Charles Hotel with me, I've… I've a little loot from the Mexican capital I'd like to show to you. In fact it's kind of a present to you. Yes, but tell me about my sister, is she alive, whispers Estrella, her eyes growing misty. Alive and well I'm happy to say. Thank God! And they, entering the parlours of the St. Charles Hotel, an ethereal creature in white muslin, and big blue sash and well-flout skirt, after the extreme fashion of that day, tripping from the veranda through its crowd of creole exquisits, says excitedly, Carlos Mio, run and catch sharp Hampton. I saw him on the sidewalk below, then pauses for Estrella has taken her in her arms, and is whispering, Sister. Sibyl, my dear, remarks Pelham, you have forgotten the etiquette I've been teaching you. Mrs. Pelham, permit me to introduce Captain Sharp Hampton. Oh, yes, Dio's Mio, Carlos, a gentleman, my brother-in-law, in America. What shall I do? Kiss him? Of course, says Hampton promptly, and Estrella laughs as she sees her husband get his first kiss from Carmelita. Jesus Maria, I was trying to kiss him for four years, and now, poor Dio's, it doesn't seem very much, laughs Carmelita, Carlos Mio has a longer mustache. But after a moment the two gentlemen, as is usual in some cases in the Southwest, go down to liquor to the bar, leaving the ladies together. To her sister, in the course of their chat, Estrella says, Sibyl, how do you get along in civilization? Esplendito, I am studying society under my husband's tuition, remarks Carmelita. In fine lady, Langer, then breaks out vivaciously, Caspito, already, I am the best dressed woman in the American army. I get along magnifico, everything except wearing stockings, and caramba, they're the very dickens. But supposing you tell me about my little nephew? I'll show him to you, answers Estrella, in Mother's Pride. And Zelma being summoned, she says, bring down Crittenden. Crittenden? Oh, ah, Crittenden, the little cigarette-smoking Bravo of the spy company. Yes, we named our child after the boy who died because sharp looked so cursed happy, murmurs Estrella. Her eyes going far away, and seeing the sun-burnt plaza, the smoke drifting from the musket tree in the church, and the spy company lining the cactus-covered convent wall, and fighting and dying, that she might be happy. Viní. Recording by John Brandon. World of the Spy Company. A story of the Mexican War. By Archibald Clevering Gunter.