I strove to blot out past memories in the innocent pleasures
of my associates, mingling in all the social festivities, dancing with
the dark-eyed senoritas and gambling at every _fiesta_. Yet in the midst
of the dissipation, there was ever present to my mind the thought of
a girl, likewise living a life of loneliness at the mouth of the San
Miguel.
During my banishment, but twice did any word or message reach me from
the Nueces valley. Within a few months after my locating on the Rio San
Juan, Enrique Lopez, a trusted vaquero from Las Palomas, came to the
hacienda, apparently seeking employment. Recognizing me at a glance, at
the first opportunity he slipped me a letter unsigned and in an unknown
hand. After reading it I breathed easier, for both Hunter and Oxenford
had recovered, the former having been shot through the upper lobe of a
lung, while the latter had sustained three wounds, one of which resulted
in the loss of an arm. The judge had reserved his decision until the
recovery of both men was assured, but before the final adjournment of
court, refused the decree. I had had misgivings that this would be the
result, and the message warned me to remain away, as the stage company
was still offering a reward for my arrest.
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