Henderson daily dispatch. (Henderson, N.C.) 1914-1995, 1938-05-14
CHAPTER s

DON JULIO MONlO4A Was
the kind of Mexican gentleman
who clings to traditions of dignity
and conduct as laid down by his
fathers. To such as he, hospitality
is comparable to his religion in inn
portance. If you admire any pos
session of such Mexican family
say, for instance, horse, or
fine painting, or a gold braided
sombrero-you may be suddenly
embarrassed by having the object
presented to you as a gift. If you
so much as hint that you would
like to go somewhere or sample
some rare dish, the Mexican fam
lily will move heaven and earth
and bank account to satisfy your
desire.
Nevertheless, Don Julio was also
a father, blessed with an only
daughter of considerable charm.
And civilized fathers are inherent
ly the same everywhere. Toward
evening Of the day that Pamela
Montoya and Bill Baron were miss
ing, Don Julio's soul began to suf-
fer tortureS.
A normal practical man, usually,
he now was conjuring up mental
images that maddened him by SUM-
down.
BY midnight he was killing his
favorite horse, riding and sending
messengers to neig h boring
ranches. His part of Sonora, as
with most of the American south
west, is distinguished by one out
standing characteristic
It is a long way to anywhere.
Neighbors are not across a drive
way or hedge, but are five, 10, 20
miles away, and many of them
cannot even be reached by auto
mobile, so rough are the mountain
desert trails.
'"They may have gone visiting
to the Salazars," Don Julio told
his cowboys, dispatching one to
find out. "Or to the Sanchez home,
or to ell rancho Villaverde where
Senorita Esperanza Villaverde is
Panola's friend. But 1 wish to
know, pronto. Ride, and ask them
to return"
Physical action will keep a dis
traught man calm for a long time,
but by midnight Don Julio had
run out of something to do. He
came back to his home at a. M,
his horse exhausted and his own
fine shoulders sagging a little.
His eyes silently questioned his
wife when he came onto the porch
and entered their living room.
"Is there" Ellen Dale had
left her chair to approach him.
mo-" he answered. mo wan
knows, anytheeng."
AS if he had just discovered her
then, Don Julio began to stare at
Ellen. His eyes seemed slowly to
narrow, his nostrils distended, the
kindness in his old face momen-
tarily was replaced by rage. But
Ellen, noting it, turned away,
knowing that she herself was very
tired and worried and that Don
Julio must be more so.
Sonora Montoya was CRYING
audibly again, sitting in her chair
by the fireplace. A servant came
to her with a steaming, fragrant
mug Of coffee, and Don Julio spoke
soothingly to her, but she would
not be comforted.
To Ellen, the situation was all
the more maddening because she
could not understand their Span
ish language, and could reason out
no solution to the disappearance of
Pamela and Bill.
Bill Baron, she herself had dis
covered, was an exceptionally
capable young man, strong of BODY
and quick-witted in emergency.
Certainly he was no dude, no ten
derfoot in the saddle, no stranger
to this wild if beautiful country.
And surely, too, both he and Pan
ola could hardly have been hurt
in an accident. A falling horse or
a bucking one might break a
riders leg, but when two people
ride together
At sunset Ellen had been sinplv