Homecoming Girls (10 page)

They were standing on a rocky promontory and looking down towards Yeller. Clara, whose fair skin was beaded with sweat, said they must move back under the pines to find some shade or they would suffer sunstroke as the heat beat down even through their hats.

They found a sheltered spot beneath the pines and drank from their water flasks and ate some of the food that had been packed for them. Slices of juicy water melon refreshed them and rye bread and beef gave them energy.

After a half-hour rest they moved off again, climbing in single file ever higher until, when they looked down into the
valley, Yeller looked like a toy town, the pitched roofs shaped like the serrated teeth of a saw and people mere dots on the ground. They could also see the scars on the lower mountainside where diggings had been made in the search for gold; a broken windlass and abandoned and dilapidated shacks remained, perched at perilous angles, memorials to lost hopes and dreams.

‘Why did everyone build so close to each other in Yeller?’ Clara asked. ‘There’s still a great deal of spare land.’

‘Well, I dunno,’ Caitlin said. ‘I guess they like being friendly. Or maybe folks couldn’t afford a bigger plot.’

I wouldn’t like it, Clara thought. It’s like the terraced housing in the courts of Hull where the poor live cheek by jowl with their neighbours and can hear every cough or cry through the walls. It’s not healthy, she mused, and neither do I think it’s safe to be so close.

The mountain trail was becoming steeper, and when they glanced up they saw that the pines were much thicker. The trees looked impenetrable and they decided to turn round and make their way back again.

‘I hope the horses don’t find it difficult,’ Jewel said nervously. ‘The path is very steep.’

‘Not they,’ Caitlin said emphatically. ‘Just let them go at their own pace. They’re very sure-footed and can travel for hours.’

Jewel thought that was probably true, but both she and Clara were coming to the end of their endurance, being hot, tired and aching as they clung on down the precipitous and narrow route.

At one point Caitlin, in front, reined to a halt and held out her arm, her hand held high, indicating that they should stop. Fifty yards in front of them a black bear appeared out of the undergrowth and ambled across their path, seemingly oblivious of their presence, even though the horses snorted in fear. Jewel turned round to look at Clara, who puffed out her cheeks and gazed back with wide scared eyes, but didn’t dare to make a sound.

‘How did you know there was a bear?’Jewel asked Caitlin a little later when the track evened out and wasn’t so steep, and she could at last let out a breath which she had been holding in, tight with dread. ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

‘Nor did I,’ Caitlin said. ‘But my horse did. She was becoming nervous and agitated and I knew it wasn’t the route but had to be something else. There are always bears up here,’ she added soberly, ‘but they’re not a menace unless they’re frightened or have young with them. Anyway, come on. Another hour and we’ll be home.’

Jewel and Clara were so stiff that they could barely dismount, though Caitlin simply sprang out of her saddle. She turned to help Jewel down and then laughed as Robert ran down the steps of the hotel to assist Clara.

‘He’s in love,’ she murmured to Jewel. ‘He’s been waiting for her.’ She grinned mischievously at her brother, who glared at her but kept hold of Clara’s elbow as he shepherded her into the hotel. She was glad of his support. She felt as if she might never walk unaided again.

As they sat comfortably drinking lemonade and eating cake which Kitty had ordered for them, Caitlin suddenly excused herself and dashed away, saying she’d seen someone through the window to whom she must speak immediately.

‘I’m beginning to think that Caitlin might have been an intrepid companion after all,’ Jewel murmured, and Clara nodded in agreement. ‘She’s quite level-headed; and although she appeared to be unconcerned about the bear, it didn’t mean that she was unaware of the danger.’

‘You’re quite right,’ Clara said. ‘She knows the area, of course, and what to expect from it. Which we don’t,’ she added.

Through the glass they could see Caitlin speaking animatedly and enthusiastically to a young man and pointing in the direction of the mountain range they had just traversed.

‘But it’s too late now.’ Jewel shook her head. ‘And besides, her father said she couldn’t go.’

They decided to go back to the Marius for supper, start their
packing for the journey and then spend the next day at their leisure. Caitlin said that she would join them for breakfast and stay for the day, and Kitty said that she and Ted would come over at some time to say goodbye, whilst Robert seemed totally miserable.

‘You’ll have to put him out of his misery, Clara,’ Caitlin whispered out of Robert’s hearing. ‘Can’t you tell him that you’ve got a young man back home in England?’

‘Which she has,’ Jewel teased. ‘Thomas.’

Clara blushed. ‘Thomas is my best friend, after you, Jewel, as you know very well. He’s
not
my
young man
!’

‘He thinks he is.’Jewel smiled. ‘He adores you.’

‘As Dan does you,’ Clara retaliated. ‘He’s obsessed by you.’

Jewel shrugged. ‘I haven’t even thought of Dan whilst we’ve been away. It’s as if we’re living in another world.’

Clara didn’t answer. She’d thought of Thomas most days and realized that she was missing him. They were of compatible temperaments, enjoyed similar things and didn’t necessarily need to talk but appreciated companionable silence. He would, she knew, like to experience America as she was doing, but, also like her, wouldn’t want to make it his home. The country was too big for her, so immense and spacious that she felt small and insignificant within it. She wasn’t homesick, but she missed all the people she loved and had left behind.

When they left Yeller Valley Hotel she saw Robert, a shadowy figure in the hall; she called to him and said that she hoped he would be able to come and say goodbye before they left Dreumel. She put her small hand in his large one and left it there and said how pleased she had been to meet him and his family.

He blushed and his eyes watered as he bit his bottom lip and she was pleased that she had been kind to him, for he seemed considerably brighter. She guessed that one day he would tell his friends that he had once loved a young Englishwoman and would boast that he thought she probably felt the same way about him.

‘I can’t start packing tonight,’Jewel said when they returned to her room. ‘I’m too exhausted.’

‘So am I,’ Clara agreed. ‘The air is so heavy. Do you think there’ll be a storm?’ She looked out of the window, but the sky was blue and the sun still shining even though it was starting to slip behind the mountains. ‘It would be good to have some rain to clear the air.’

Jewel lay on her bed and fanned herself. ‘It would, but I don’t think there’ll be any.’

‘Did you notice how dry the timber was in Yeller?’ Clara said, continuing to gaze out towards the creek. ‘The buildings, I mean. There was one, I think it was a carpenter’s shop, where sparks were falling from the chimney – the stove pipe, I mean – and landing on the roof.’

Jewel didn’t answer, but turned her cheek on the pillow and closed her eyes.

‘Shall I order supper to be brought upstairs?’ Clara said. ‘I don’t think I can be bothered to change. I have no energy. We could bathe and put on our night clothes—’

‘And have a picnic,’ Jewel said sleepily. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea.’

‘I’ll go down, then.’ Clara turned towards the door.

‘Ring the bell,’ Jewel murmured. ‘The maid will come up.’

Clara looked at Jewel, who was almost asleep, and decided to go downstairs and ask whoever was at the desk to send up something light: chicken or poached eggs, bread and butter and a pot of tea. Then she would go outside for a moment to get a breath of air, for there was none in their bedrooms in spite of the windows’ being open.

James Crawford was standing out on the boardwalk as if he had had the same notion. He turned when he heard her, and smiled a greeting. He was without his jacket and his crisp white shirt was open at the neck, while his black sleek hair was tied with a cord at the back of his head. He immediately began to button up his shirt.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Newmarch,’ he apologized. ‘Forgive
my state of undress. I’m not yet on duty and came out for some air.’

‘Please,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry on my account. It’s so hot, isn’t it? Do you think it will rain? Weather as hot as this in England, which I must say is very rare, is generally followed by a deluge.’

He shook his head. ‘My instinct is to say that it will not. But I hope I’m wrong.’

She was curious about him. His skin was the colour of dark honey, and smooth. Jewel had said that he was an Indian and Clara wondered how he had come to be in this job.

‘Instinct?’ she asked. ‘Do you set much store by it? As far as weather goes, that is? I know that some people consider that they have a kind of sixth sense, or intuitive impulses.’

He laughed and his dark eyes shone with merriment. He invited her to sit down on the bench outside the door, and seated himself beside her. ‘Are you asking me in my capacity as a Native American, Miss Newmarch? For if you are I must answer that my forefathers would say that I have abandoned my ancestry and its culture and adopted the life of the white man.’

‘You are teasing me, Mr Crawford,’ she objected, but lightheartedly. ‘I was merely asking your opinion. And you must have one,’ she added wryly. ‘As an American, whether or not you are Indian.’

He gazed sombrely at her for a second; then he smiled. ‘I can only tell the weather by the habits of the birds and animals. They behave differently, as indeed we do. We scurry home if we think it’s going to rain. Our dogs and cats and horses become nervous if there’s thunder in the air, and cows and sheep take shelter.

‘I was brought up on a reservation,’ he went on. ‘The very one that Miss Jewel visited when she was a child; there were old men there who could foretell what was coming – wars or weather. My real name is Jim Crowfoot. I left when I was thirteen. I thought that the outside world had more to offer me. I took what work I was offered and made enough
money to improve my education and gain a position of trust.’

‘Admirable,’ she said softly.

He gave a slight shrug. ‘But I am still an Indian, a second-class citizen, and – in some people’s eyes – unworthy.’

‘They are the ones who are unworthy, Mr Crawford,’ she said softly, and touched his hand. ‘Not you.’

For a moment they gazed at each other; then he broke the spell by standing up and saying jocularly, ‘Thank you. But I still don’t know if it’s going to rain!’

Clara and Jewel ate their supper at a table by the open window in Jewel’s room and gazed down at the creek where men were fishing. A few people were walking slowly by: women with shopping baskets and men with spades or leather bags. Waggons and traps were trundling along the road, but it seemed as if the town was closing down, the heat inducing torpor in everybody and everything.

‘I’m going to bed,’ Clara said at last. ‘I shall read for a while.’

‘So shall I, in a moment,’ Jewel said. ‘I feel more refreshed now after my nap.’ She poured herself more tea. ‘I think that tomorrow I might walk up the road to see the Chinaman,’ she said, adding drily: ‘He might be a relative!’

‘Jewel.’ Clara turned from the door to her room. ‘You don’t have to joke. Not to me. Are you worried about what you might find out about your mother?’

‘A bit,’ she said, not looking at her. ‘No. Not worried. More nervous, I suppose.’

‘I spoke to Mr Crawford earlier,’ Clara told her. ‘He told me that his real name is Jim Crowfoot and that he was brought up on the reservation which you visited when you were a child. He said that some people consider that he’s unworthy, because he is an Indian, even though he’s educated.’

Jewel sighed. ‘They would,’ she said softly. ‘There’s always prejudice against anyone who is different. But it’s strange, isn’t it? Especially when the country once belonged to his people, and then everyone came and staked a claim in it, the English,
the Dutch, the French, even the Chinese, and called it their own.’

‘Yes,’ Clara said. ‘It seems unfair. Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Jewel sat for an hour, meditating, watching the sun sink down below the mountains, turning the waters of the creek to deep gold. But strangely it was still light even after the sun had disappeared, a golden glow flickering and lighting up the night sky. How odd, she thought. Not a display of aurora borealis, surely? Can it be seen from here?

And then she heard voices shouting, loud cracks and explosive noises like gunshots, and became aware of an acrid smell. Smoke! Something was on fire. She stood up and pushed the lower casement to its maximum and leaned out. Men were running about and carts and waggons were being hastily trundled out into the road and having horses hitched to them.

She gazed along the valley towards Yeller and saw the bright orange sky lit with yellow tongues of flame, plumes of thick smoke and bright crackling sparks hurling up into the darkness.

‘Clara!’ she cried. ‘Wake up. Yeller is on fire!’

Clara almost fell out of bed in her haste. She joined Jewel at the window of her room, and gasped in horror as she saw and smelled the smoke. ‘What can we do? We must get dressed and see if we can help.’