by Gwen Bristow
She flashed him a look of disgust. “If you don’t mind, I’d just as soon not hear any more charming details. And I’m not going to be there to see it or hear it or smell it. I’m staying here.”
“Very well,” said John. “But I own I’m surprised. I didn’t know you had such dainty sensibilities.”
“Sure, dainty sensibilities, that’s me. I’m a fine lady who faints at the sight of blood. Get the hell away from here and let me alone, won’t you?”
John shrugged contemptuously. “Funny, isn’t it? When I watched you on the dry stretches, I thought you had plenty of nerve. But some people are like that. When it’s taking care of themselves, nothing is too much. But when it’s giving a lift to somebody else, they act like sick chickens. I’m sorry I troubled you.”
Florinda turned her head and looked straight at him. She smiled at him sweetly. In her low, clear voice, using words Garnet would not have understood, she told him what she thought of his ancestors, his anatomy, and his probable destiny.
John smiled with appreciation. “What a magnificent vocabulary. It’s a pity you haven’t got the guts to live up to it. Right now I shan’t try to match it, because if you won’t give Garnet a friendly hand I’m going to. But we must really have a name-calling contest, one of these days.” He paused. She said nothing. In a different voice, John asked, “You won’t stand by her, Florinda?”
Florinda drew in her breath sharply. “John, I—I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because you were right when you said I hadn’t any guts. I haven’t. I’d just shake and get sick.”
“You told me once in Santa Fe that you thought very highly of Garnet. I got the idea that you meant it.”
Florinda looked down. He saw her chest move quickly with her short hard breaths. John broke a stick off an overhanging bush and scratched it along the side of the rock. Without looking up, Florinda said,
“Garnet has done more for me that you’ll ever guess. If it hadn’t been for her God knows where I’d be now.”
“If Garnet ever did you a kindness,” John said shortly, “I’m sure she never thought of being paid for it. That was not what I meant. But I think she’s your friend and I think you want to be a friend to her. Don’t you?”
Florinda swallowed hard. “John, do you really think it’ll be easier for her if I’m there?”
“Yes, I do.”
“All right,” said Florinda.
She shuddered. John stepped forward quickly and helped her to her feet.
“Good,” he said. “Thanks.”
Florinda did not answer. They walked up from the stream, past the men who were profanely picketing the mules, to where Garnet lay on the blanket. Her eyes were closed. Florinda knelt down by her and stroked her forehead. Without looking up at John, she said, “Here I am, Garnet.”
Garnet opened her eyes. “Oh Florinda, I’m so glad you came back! Where’d you go?”
“Why, I just went for more water. I had upset my bottle, you know.” Florinda wet the cloth again. “Now I’ll keep your head cool.”
“You’re going to stay with me?” Garnet asked softly.
“Of course.” Still without looking up, Florinda spoke to John and Oliver. “Say, boys, the sun’s moved since she lay down here. Would it hurt her if you dragged the blanket to follow the shade? That’s it, fine. Now I’ll wash her face again.”
As the cool cloth touched her forehead Garnet heard Texas call from the fire. “Ready?” he shouted.
“Right away,” John called back. “Mrs. Hale?”
“Yes,” Garnet said breathlessly.
“We’ll have to hold you,” John said, “so you won’t jerk by accident and get an extra burn. Put your head on my knee. That’s right, turn your face over so you won’t have to see it.”
Garnet hid her face against John’s strong hard thigh. Oliver lay down beside her and put his arm across her body to hold it still. Florinda took her right hand and held it, while she stroked Garnet’s hair tenderly. Garnet heard her say, “It’ll be over in a minute, darling. Make all the noise you please.”
“Lord, yes,” said John’s voice above her head. “When I had this done I let out a yell they could hear in Los Angeles.”
Garnet shut her eyes tight. She felt Texas pick up her wounded left arm. The movement gave her a twinge of pain. She thought, I must not scream. I don’t believe John yelled and I won’t either. I’ve got to bite on something. Why didn’t I ask them for something to bite on? I’ll bite John’s trousers.
She closed her right hand and gripped Florinda’s hand as hard as she could. Florinda’s glove was sticky with sweat; it made for easier holding. The hand inside the glove gave her a comforting pressure in reply. Garnet opened her teeth and clamped them on the cloth of John’s trousers. The cloth was rough and gritty. She could feel the sand on her teeth. She thought, Now, any minute, it’s coming. I’ll bite hard and I won’t scream.
She felt Texas tearing her torn sleeve all the way down. She clenched her teeth on John’s trouser-leg with all her strength. Then she felt the iron.
She felt a blaze like an exploding volcano in her arm. The fire rushed all over her, into her neck and across her back and down to the tips of her toes. Her muscles jerked; she could feel John’s hands and Oliver’s, holding her, not letting her jerk. There was a hissing noise as the iron went into her flesh, and a sickening smell, and a bitter salty taste in her mouth as she clenched her teeth, harder and harder and harder. She felt tears starting out of her eyes and sweat pouring out of her whole body, and a thick nasty choking stuff in her throat, and she gripped Florinda’s hand till she thought she must be breaking the bones of it. The fire shot through her and she heard her flesh sizzle like a steak. She could not shut her teeth any harder, and she could not breathe and if this lasted any longer she was going to choke. And then Texas said, “That’s all, Miss Garnet, that’s all,” and Oliver loosened his arm around her and took her shoulder and tried to lift her up, saying, “It’s over, Garnet! Can’t you hear me? You can move now, sweetheart,” and above her John was exclaiming, “Now, you damned little cannibal, take your teeth out of my leg!”
Garnet felt herself loosening. She let Oliver raise her up. Oliver had both arms around her. He and Texas were saying how brave she was. She had stood it without making a sound. There was a fiery pain in her arm, but it was not as bad as it had been.
She had let go of Florinda’s hand. Florinda was tearing a piece out of her own petticoat to make a handkerchief. Garnet saw vaguely that Florinda’s face was a strange greenish color and there were big beads of sweat running down her cheeks. Florinda wiped off the sweat with the cloth.
Garnet felt something wet run down her chin. She put up her right hand, wonderingly, to wipe if off, and stared when she saw that she was wiping off streaks of blood.
Everything was still a little bit confused. She had made such a violent effort that she could not get her senses in order all at once. But she stared at her hand, and she stared at John. He was half laughing. Her eyes followed his, down to the spot on his leg that he was looking at. Now she saw that there was a jagged tear in his trousers, and around the tear was a big splotch of blood.
Garnet heard herself gasp. She began to understand what that salty taste in her mouth had been. She hadn’t known she was doing it, but she had bitten him savagely, like an animal. But for the fact that John’s leg was nearly as hard as a tree-trunk, she would have taken out a chunk of flesh.
John was wiping off the blood on his leg with the torn piece of petticoat he had taken out of Florinda’s hand. Garnet cried, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” But the men seemed more amused than anything else. Oliver held the water-bottle to her lips, saying, “Here, don’t you want to rinse your mouth?”
She rinsed her mouth, and Oliver gave her a drink of water.
She tried to say again that she was sorry, but John only answered, “Why, it doesn’t matter.”
Oliver had brought a piece of clean clot
h from one of the packs, and was tearing it up to make a bandage. He handed the strips to Texas.
“Now stretch out here again, ma’am,” Texas was saying. “I’ll cover this burn to keep out the dust.”
Garnet lay down on her back. The pain in her arm was intense, and she winced and bit her lip as Texas bandaged the burn. Oliver poured some whiskey into a tin cup, thinned it with water, and gave it to her.
“Drink this, Garnet. It’ll put you to sleep.”
She felt so shaken that she took it gratefully. Between sips she looked up at John. “Thank you for helping me, John. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me. Drink the rest of that and go to sleep.”
Garnet looked around for Florinda. But Florinda was not there any longer.
Texas spoke to John. “You’d better go wash that leg.”
“Very well.”
“And here,” Texas added, handing him a strip of bandage, “tie this over it.”
“It’s not deep.”
“You’d better not risk getting dust into it. Cover it up.”
“All right, then, I will.” Taking the cloth, John walked down to the stream.
As he passed the bushes on the bank, he saw Florinda. John stopped in astonishment.
Behind the rocks, Florinda was crumpled up on her knees, retching. She was bareheaded, and her hair lay in damp strings on her cheeks and forehead. As John caught sight of her she pulled off her gloves and pushed her sleeves up above her elbows. He saw her cup her hands and bring up water to cool her face. For the first time he saw the scars on her arms and hands.
John took a step forward.
She heard him, and started violently as she looked around. “Oh,” she said faintly. “It’s you again. What do you want now?”
John came nearer. He paused by her. “I want to ask your pardon,” he said.
Florinda looked half angry and half puzzled. With the back of her hand she pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. “Pardon? For what?”
“For what I said to you a while ago,” John answered. He glanced at her hands and her bare arms. “I didn’t know,” he went on, “that you had any reason to dread burns.”
“Oh,” said Florinda. She began slowly to wipe her hands on her skirt, and smiled bitterly. “The one flaw,” she said, “on an otherwise perfect body.”
“I’ve never noticed your hands till now,” said John. “I thought you wore gloves because of the sun.” He paused a moment, and added, “Forgive me, Florinda.”
“Oh, forget it. I’m sorry I acted like this. I tried not to throw up. But I couldn’t help it. I got away just in time. Don’t tell anybody, will you?”
“Of course not.”
Florinda put her scarred hands to her forehead, and a shiver she could not control ran through her. John knelt by her, taking a flask of whiskey from his pocket.
“Would this do any good?”
“No thanks. I don’t use it.”
“I know you don’t, but sometimes it helps in a pinch.”
“Not me, it doesn’t. I’ve tried it.”
She pushed her hands up through her hair. They heard a yelp of pain, from some wounded man who had not Garnet’s shame about screaming when the iron went into his wound. Florinda shuddered at the sound of it. There was another gagging noise in her throat. John said,
“I think I can help that nausea. Lie down flat on your back. Not here, it’s out of sight and you can’t tell what might be prowling around. Come up farther, beyond the rocks.”
He helped her to her feet, and led her farther along the stream, to an open place where she was in sight of the camp.
“Here are your gloves,” said John. “I’ll put them on the ground by you. Lie perfectly quiet. I’ll be back directly.”
She lay down on the grass obediently. John left her. In a few minutes he came back with a piece of salt meat in his hand. He put his arm under her shoulder and raised her up.
“Eat this. Eat it slowly. Get all the salt.”
Florinda did as she was told. She ate the meat in small pieces, pausing after each one to be sure she could keep it down. When the meat was gone she lay down again. John waited, sitting by her. After several minutes she took a deep breath, and turned to him. “That is a help. How did you know about it?”
“I came to California on a clipper ship out of Boston, around Cape Horn. After a bout of seasickness the cook would feed us salt meat. You’ll be thirsty, but don’t drink water for a while.”
Florinda lay quietly on the grass. John stayed with her, waiting until she felt better. At length Florinda asked,
“Can I have a drink now?”
“Think you can hold it?”
“Yes, I think so.”
He uncorked the water-bottle that hung from his belt, and she took a drink. She smiled at him as she pulled down her sleeves.
“I’m sorry, John. A baby could have acted better.”
“I doubt it,” said John. “In fact, I’m pretty sure now that your standing by Garnet through that operation took a good deal of courage.”
“It did. But I can’t go to pieces like this every time something happens to remind me. I’ve got to get used to it.”
There was a silence. Florinda took out her hairpins and began to put up her tousled hair. “How is Garnet now?” she asked after a while.
“She’s probably asleep. Oliver gave her a good-sized drink of whiskey, and she’s not used to it.”
“I’ll go sit by her. She’ll feel pretty awful when she wakes up.”
Florinda put on her gloves. She glanced over toward the mules, and back at him.
“John,” she said, “why didn’t you want Garnet to go to California?”
“I’ve told you before,” said John, “that it’s none of my business.”
“Stop being like that for about ten minutes, can’t you? Is there trouble ahead for her?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“What sort of trouble, John?”
“If she wants you to know,” said John, “she’ll tell you.”
“Oh, rats,” said Florinda. “She doesn’t know it herself. Whatever you said to scare her, Oliver must have smoothed it out. She’s perfectly happy.”
“Maybe she’ll stay that way. Anyhow, I can’t do anything and neither can you. I hope you’ll keep on being her friend. There’s nobody else she can count on.”
Florinda gave him a crooked little smile. “I wonder what Oliver would think about that remark.”
“I thought,” John said shortly, “that Oliver had the convenient habit of not thinking about anything.”
Florinda fingered the grass. “He’s crazy about her, John.”
“Yes, he is. So maybe she’ll be all right.”
“And you can’t do anything, so you’re not going to talk about it.”
“Right. And you’d better not talk about it either. Mind your own business.”
“I guess I’ve got to.”
John stood up. “Why don’t you go on back to camp? They’ve started cooking. A bowl of atole would do you good.”
He gave her his hand, and she stood up too. “Are you coming?” she asked.
“Not yet. I’ve got to put this bandage over my leg.”
Florinda walked back toward the camp. Garnet lay asleep on her blanket. When she had stopped at the fire for a bowl of atole Florinda went and sat by her. Mr. Penrose passed, carrying some leather thongs he had been mending. He waved at her, and she waved back at him brightly. “You all right?” he called.
“Sure, fine,” Florinda returned. “I’ve always wanted to know what an Indian fight was like.”
Mr. Penrose laughed, and carried his thongs off to the picket-ground.
Florinda glanced after him with a lopsided smile. If he thought she was a cross between a doll-baby and a goddess, it was no more than he should have thought after all the nonsense she had told him. When he had asked about the scars on her hands, Florinda had made up a touching story. She told
him another girl in the theater, less beautiful and less applauded than herself, had gone wild with envy backstage and had thrown a lighted lamp at her, with the purpose of ruining her flawless face. But, Florinda said, she had knocked the lamp aside with her elbow and it had fallen back on the other girl, setting her costume ablaze. “And what could I do?” Florinda exclaimed. “I had to throw her down and roll her over on the floor to crush out the fire. No, she was hardly burned at all. But you see what it did to my hands.”
Mr. Penrose thought she was noble beyond the common run of mortals.
Florinda good-naturedly despised him. She was planning to get rid of him as soon as she could. But first she had to get to California, and find out how a girl could live in that strange place. Florinda moved into the shade and leaned back against the rock. She felt terribly tired.
A few minutes later Texas came over. He squatted on the ground near where Florinda sat by Garnet.
“She’s still out, Miss Florinda?”
“Yes. Oliver dosed her pretty well.”
“That’s fine. Let her sleep as long as she can.” Texas stroked Garnet’s hair. “It’s hard on her,” he remarked.
Florinda glanced at the torn sleeve dangling from Garnet’s arm, and the bandage near the shoulder. She wondered if Texas, like John, foresaw trouble for Garnet in California. But evidently he did not, for he said,
“Well, she’s stood it fine, and we’ll be there pretty soon. And she’ll have all winter to enjoy herself.”
“You think she’ll have a good time this winter?” Florinda asked.
“No reason why she shouldn’t. Oliver’s brother is about the most disagreeable man in California, but I don’t guess they’ll stay on the rancho much. Oliver has lots of friends.”
Florinda moved a little to get the sun out of her tired eyes. “How much farther is it, Texas?”
“Two-fifty, three hundred miles. Depending on the waterholes.”
“Three hundred miles, say. At twenty miles a day, fifteen days.”
“Mostly nights. We’ll have to ride at night. The days get a hundred and twenty.”
Florinda gave a shudder, but she made no comment. “What do we do when we get there?” she asked.
