Jubilee Trail (88 page)

She put her hand into his. “Goodby, Brute.”

He opened the door and stood aside for her to go through. John and Garnet were waiting in the kitchen.

They all walked out to the front to see the Brute ride off. Florinda and Garnet stood back a little, to let John walk to the Brute’s horse with him. Garnet noticed that Florinda was carrying something blue in her hand; it looked like a very large handkerchief crumpled up with something inside it, but Garnet did not think much about it. She was thinking about the Brute and how sorry she was that he was leaving them. John and the Brute paused beside the horse, and Florinda said to Garnet,

“Have you said anything to John about that panic you got into last night?”

“No, and I’m not going to.”

“You do want to go up there, don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Garnet. “If I didn’t go, I’d miss it the rest of my life.” The Brute turned and shouted an order to his men. Garnet started. “Oh Florinda, he’s leaving!” she exclaimed. Her voice caught, and she felt her eyes stinging again. “How silly of me. He’s doing what he wants to do.”

“Yes,” said Florinda. “He’s a smart man.”

She spoke tersely, and Garnet gave her a puzzled look. “Aren’t you sorry he’s going?”

“Not as sorry as you are,” Florinda answered. She gave a humorous shrug.

“I thought you liked him very much,” Garnet said.

Florinda did not answer at once. She watched the serving-men scramble to mount their horses. As she heard the last orders of departure she turned to Garnet again.

“I like him better than any other man I know, Garnet,” she said. “But he got in my way. I know what I want and I like to be let alone to live as I please. And he got in my way. He’s the only man I ever met that I couldn’t fool at least once in a while. I’ll be more comfortable with him in St. Petersburg. That’s all.”

The Brute called to them and waved his hat. He was grinning cheerfully. They called and waved back. The train started with a clatter of hoofs and a lordly cloud of dust. John came back and stood beside them, tucking Garnet’s hand into the bend of his elbow. They said nothing as they watched. The fog was gone now, and the sun was shining. They could see a long way. The Brute’s train thudded off through the spaces between the squat little houses. At last all they could see was the dust, and then that drifted down and they could see no more sign of him. The Brute was off to St. Petersburg.

Garnet walked back into the kitchen. Without waiting for any re-livings of their farewell to the Brute, John had gone to see the alcalde. While he and Garnet were talking about it, Florinda had come indoors, and Garnet expected to find her in the kitchen. But she was not there. Nobody was there but Mickey, who was washing cups they had used this morning. From the back porch, Garnet could hear Stephen’s voice as he played while Isabel sat on the step sewing. She saw the wooden horse the Brute had left for him, and picked it up.

Mickey had finished drying the cups, so she gave him the horse and told him to take it out and give it to Stephen to play with. Mickey smiled and nodded and went out to the porch.

Garnet stood uncertainly in the middle of the room. Its emptiness gave her a hollow feeling. She wondered where Florinda was.

Probably Florinda had gone upstairs to her room. She had not had much sleep last night, and she would want to get a little rest before she opened the bar. José was not here yet, and Silky had not come in from Mr. Abbott’s. Or maybe Florinda, like John, wanted to set briskly about her next task so she would not think about the Brute. Maybe she had gone in to open the bar herself. If Florinda was opening the bar, Garnet thought she would go in and help. She too felt the need of something to do. She crossed the kitchen and opened the door to the barroom.

The room was still dim. The front door was locked and the shutters were closed. Florinda stood at the bar, as if ready to serve drinks, but she was not getting anything in order for the day. She was looking at something she held in her hands, and beside her, crumpled on the bar, was the kerchief of blue silk Garnet had seen her carrying when she went out to wave goodby to the Brute. As Florinda heard the door open she turned sharply.

“Who’s that?” she demanded, but seeing Garnet she said in a less indignant voice, “Oh, it’s you.”

Garnet was startled by the expression of her face. Florinda’s eyes had an angry look, and her mouth was angry too, the lower lip pushed forward defiantly. “Am I interrupting you?” Garnet asked in astonishment. “Do you want me to go?”

“No, come in. I need to turn loose on somebody. That damn fool. That idiot savage. Look what he gave me!”

Wonderingly, Garnet took the object Florinda thrust at her. She turned it over with a puzzled attention, for she had never seen anything like it and did not know what it was. Florinda had given her a little case of worn blue velvet, open to show a stiff, formalized picture of people with halos on their heads. The picture was in a gold frame set with pearls. The halos suggested that it was a religious picture of some kind, and apparently the Brute had given it to Florinda, but this was all Garnet could guess about it. She asked, “What is it, Florinda?”

“It’s an ikon. His mother’s ikon. That addle-pated ass! He gave me his mother’s ikon!”

“What is an ikon?” Garnet asked in bewilderment.

“It’s a picture from the Russian church. But that’s not the point. He knows I don’t know anything about churches. The point is, this belonged to his mother. He thinks more of his ikon than he does of his own precious neck. He wouldn’t have sold this if he was starving. So why in hell’s blazes did he have to give it to me?”

Garnet did not answer. There was no answer she knew how to give. They had been through a lot together, but this was the first time she had ever seen Florinda lose her temper.

But Florinda had lost her temper now. “Is he really gone?” she was demanding. “You’re sure he’s gone?”

“Yes, yes,” Garnet said breathlessly. “He’s gone.”

“Good for him that he is. I’d like to throw this in his silly face. That bumbling fool. Is anybody in the kitchen?”

“No.”

“Good. I need more room to get mad in. That rattlebrain. Giving me his mother’s ikon!”

Florinda caught up the blue scarf and strode through the doorway. Garnet followed her. The kitchen did not offer much room to get mad in, for the table took up most of the floor-space, but Florinda was wrathfully pacing about what space there was, the blue scarf dangling from her arm and the ikon in her hand.

“That booby,” she said. “That stupid pig. What the hell am I going to do with this? His mother’s ikon! I’d like to crack his thick skull. Him going off to Russia so I can’t tell him what I think of him. Wheedling me into promising I’d take care of it. I’d like to wring his neck. That buzzard. Damn his—”

Her voice broke. To Garnet’s utter amazement, a rush of tears came to Florinda’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She sobbed into the blue scarf. “That big lumbering ox,” she choked. “That pinhead. Doing a crazy act like this.”

Garnet was not at all sure what this was about. But she went to Florinda and put an arm around her so Florinda could cry on her shoulder. Florinda jerked back indignantly.

“Don’t you get sentimental with me. I never felt like such a fool in my life. He wanted to make me feel like this. He wanted to make me cry. That’s why he gave it to me. So I’d feel like a fool and act like one. That half-witted baboon. I wish I could knock his face in.” But in spite of her rage the tears kept pouring down her cheeks. She wiped them off with the blue scarf.

Garnet said wonderingly, “I never saw you cry before.”

“No, and you never will again. He told me once long ago I ought to cry sometimes. Now he left me this to make me do it. That big luggerhead. I’d like to kick him.” She scrubbed her eyes with the scarf, and blew her nose on it. “Garnet,” she demanded shortly, “how far is it to St. Petersburg?”

“I don’t know. He guessed about ten thousand miles, remember?”

“Ten thousand miles. I wish it was ten million. I hope he drowns. I hope he gets caught by pirates and has to walk the plank. I hope he falls overboard and the whales eat him. I hope he gets scurvy and his teeth fall out. That pig. That crocodile. That God-damned fool. He told me he gave me this because I was a good woman. Hell for breakfast. Why does he talk such flapdoodle? If I’ve been good since I’ve been in Los Angeles it’s merely because there’s not a man here I’d look at twice and he knows it as well as I do. Just let this benighted country blossom out with a middling-pleasant gent who’s really rich, and you’ll see how good I’ll be.” She scrubbed her eyes again. “If there’s a man like that around I’ll be so good I’ll have him spinning in his tracks. I’ve done it often enough before and I can do it again. That Russian imbecile. Giving me his mother’s ikon. I hope he gets the smallpox.”

They heard a sound of footsteps outside, and Florinda started violently. “My God, is that Silky coming in? Don’t let him see me with my eyes red like this! Come upstairs.”

She dashed out. Garnet heard her running up the rickety staircase. Silky came in. He said to Garnet that he had seen the Brute’s train riding out of town, so now he was going to open up. José would be here any minute. “Where’s Florinda?” he asked.

“She went to her room.”

“Run up and tell her—” Silky began, and caught himself. He had just remembered that Garnet was no longer working for him. Garnet was about to be married to John, and while Silky had not yet heard anything about John’s prospect of gathering bagfuls of gold up north, still Silky knew John was a prosperous ranchero. He smiled and bowed. “If it is quite convenient, Mrs. Hale, will you have the kindness to tell Florinda we’re opening the bar?”

“Yes, I’ll tell her,” said Garnet. But she was sure Florinda was in no mood to come down yet, so she added, “I think Florinda would like to change her dress before she comes down. We threw on our clothes in such a hurry this morning.”

“Indeed yes, certainly. There is no hurry, none at all. And Mrs. Hale. May I take this opportunity of wishing you all joy in your approaching marriage?”

“Thank you, Silky,” said Garnet. Before he had a chance to get lost in a wilderness of words, she hurried toward the stairs and ran up. Florinda’s door was closed. Garnet knocked.

“Is that Garnet?” Florinda called. “Come in.”

Garnet went in. Florinda was sitting on the bed, gazing down at the ikon in her hand. Her eyes were still red, but she was not crying any more.

“Silky told me to tell you he’s opening the bar,” said Garnet.

Florinda did not raise her eyes. “Silky can go sit on a tack,” she said. “I’m thinking. Garnet.”

“Yes, dear.”

“You won’t tell anybody I stood up there bawling like a kid with the colic, will you?”

“You know I won’t.”

“And don’t tell anybody the Brute left me this thing. I’d feel too silly to show my face in public again.”

“I won’t tell.”

“That jingle-brained yokel,” said Florinda. She was still looking down at the ikon. “That goose with a lump of dough in his head. And Garnet.”

“Yes, Florinda,” said Garnet. She went and sat by Florinda on the bed.

“You know I don’t mean any of those things I said, don’t you? About hoping he’d drown or get eaten by whales.”

“Yes, dear, I know it.”

“I don’t hope any such thing. That simpleton. I could choke him. I hope he gets to Russia with no trouble at all and I hope he finds a woman who’s good enough for him. No, he can’t do that, there’s not a woman on earth good enough for him. But I hope he finds one who’ll spend her whole life trying to be. That donkey. Giving me his mother’s ikon and making me cry. I could smash his nose.”

Garnet did not answer. She did not think Florinda wanted her to. Florinda was looking so intently at the ikon that she seemed only half aware of having anybody there to hear what she was saying. But she had not quite forgotten Garnet’s presence, for after a moment she put her hand over Garnet’s and held it, as though glad to have her. There was a brief silence. Then suddenly, as though struck by a surprising idea, Florinda sat up straight.

“Garnet, run along, will you?”

“Yes, of course I will,” said Garnet. She stood up.

Florinda caught her hand again and pressed it, looking up to smile at her. “You were a dear to stand by me just now. But I’d like to be by myself a minute.”

Garnet bent and dropped a kiss on her head. She went out.

At the sound of the door closing, Florinda started. She waited a moment, listening, until she heard Garnet go into her own room and shut that door too. Florinda looked around, with a furtive attention, as though afraid there might be somebody else observing her. Laying the ikon beside her on the bed, she got up and went to the door. The door had a bolt, but she did not often use it. She had put it there in case some drunken fool got up here from the rooms downstairs, but the doors downstairs were so carefully locked that this had never happened. Nobody slept at this side of the loft but herself and Garnet, and she had never till now had any reason to want to lock Garnet out. But now she pushed at the bolt. It was stiff from disuse. Florinda struggled with it till she had got it over.

She waited a moment, making sure Garnet had not heard her moving the bolt and was not coming back to ask if something was the matter. She wanted to be sure she was alone.

Florinda had felt a mystifying impulse; she did not know what to make of it, but she knew she did not want to be caught in the middle of any such embarrassing performance. She looked around again. There was certainly nobody else in the room, but the window-shutters were open and she hurried to close them. It was not likely that anybody could see up here from the street, and the nearby houses had only one floor, but still she felt more private with the shutters closed.

She took care that they were tight, and dropped the latch across them. Standing in the middle of the floor, she tried to think what she ought to do now.

Florinda had only a sketchy notion of how to go about saying a prayer. Feeling very awkward, she went over and knelt by the bed. She folded her hands one on top of the other. Since she did not know what she was supposed to say, she said what she was thinking.