by Gwen Bristow
He shut the door as she stepped inside. The shutters were closed, and for a moment she blinked in the dimness. As her eyes got used to it she saw that the room was small, but exquisitely neat, as any room Florinda lived in always was. It had a wall-bench, and there were two mule-packs in a corner, and at one side was a bed. There was no other furniture. Florinda lay on her back, without a pillow, under a blanket drawn up to her shoulders. She had on a clean white nightgown. Texas had rolled up some other blankets and placed them under her hips, so that her head and shoulders were lower than the rest of her body.
Her eyes were closed, but as Garnet took a step toward the bed Florinda opened her eyes and turned her head a little.
“Who is it?” she asked faintly.
“It’s Miss Garnet,” Texas told her.
“Oh,” said Florinda. She spoke weakly. “It was nice of you to come in.”
Garnet knelt by the bed and took Florinda’s hand. She had not often held Florinda’s hand without a glove on it, and she felt now how rough the scars were. Holding Florinda’s hand was like holding a root.
“I just this minute heard you were sick,” Garnet said. “How are you?”
“Texas says I’ll be all right,” murmured Florinda. Garnet glanced over her shoulder. Texas had sat down on the bench, and was fingering a bottle that stood there. Florinda must have looked at him too, for she said, “If you need a drink, Texas, go ahead. I don’t mind.” Texas lifted the bottle. Florinda managed to smile at Garnet. “This is a fine mess I made, isn’t it?”
“Nobody can help getting sick!” Garnet exclaimed. “Don’t talk if you don’t feel like it.”
“Oh, I can talk. I feel pretty well as long as I keep lying quiet. It’s just when I try to move that I get dizzy. I’ve been having dizzy spells every now and then. I guess I just had one too many.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Not very well. I felt pretty awful at dinner today. Things kept going around. I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I came in and got my clothes off. I thought if I got a nap I’d feel better. Then it all started to spin again, and I guess I just folded up. I think John and the Brute came in, and then I was here on the bed and Texas was fixing those blankets so my head would be lower than the rest of me. It seemed awfully funny at first, like being upside down, but it did make me feel better. Texas has been so good to me. I don’t think I’m talking very loud—if he can’t hear me tell him I said so.”
Garnet turned her head. “Florinda says you’ve been very good to her, Texas.”
Texas smiled vaguely. She saw that the bottle in his hand was empty. He stood up unsteadily.
“Now that you’re with her, Miss Garnet, I think I’ll step out for some air. Back soon, Miss Florinda.”
Florinda gave a weak little laugh as he went out. “He’s gone for another bottle. Poor Texas.”
“Poor Texas!” Garnet repeated contemptuously. “Can’t he even stay sober now, when you need him so?”
“No, dearie, he can’t.” There was a trace of compassion in Florinda’s tired voice. “People like him, when they start, they can’t stop.” Her voice trailed off. Garnet kept silent to give her time to rest. After a little while Florinda spoke again. “I feel like such a fool, Garnet. I did try to keep going. Honestly I did.”
“I know you did. Stop trying to apologize.”
“I guess I was an idiot to tackle that desert,” Florinda murmured. “John told me I couldn’t take it. By the time I was halfway here I knew I shouldn’t have started. But then I couldn’t go back.”
There was a brief pause. Garnet asked, “What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” said Florinda.
She said it quietly. Garnet thought of Penrose, outside drinking with the boys. Penrose had wanted a glittering beauty. He had no interest in an exhausted woman who could hardly speak above a whisper. He had been glad to turn Florinda over to Texas. And though Texas was kind, he was also drunk, and he was going to be drunker than this. Florinda was not expressing any resentment. Garnet wondered if it was possible that she did not feel any.
But I feel it, Garnet thought wrathfully. I’m not sick and I haven’t got the disposition of an angel. She said aloud, “Is that wretch Penrose going to leave you here?”
Florinda gave a grim little laugh. “Why yes, dear, he’s going on to Los Angeles. He said he had to, he knew I’d understand. I do, of course, I understand damn well.”
“But what does he think you’re going to do?”
“Don Antonio has plenty of room. I guess he’ll let me stay here till I’m better.”
“So Penrose is going to leave you alone in a foreign country, among strangers speaking a foreign language! Well, I’m going to do something about it.”
“You’re sweet, dearie, but I don’t know what you can do.”
“I don’t either, but I’m going to do something. So don’t worry. Just stay here.”
“I’ve got to stay here, baby. I can’t walk as far as the wall.” Florinda’s eyelids began to close again, as though she were too tired to hold them open. Garnet stood up. “I’ll get you some help,” she said firmly.
She went out and closed the door. Standing still a minute, she looked around at the rancho. The girls were carrying dishes to the tables. The men were idling, drinking, swapping yarns. Was there one of them, she wondered, who would help Florinda now? They were rested, and eager to start selling their goods. Several of the traders had already left for Los Angeles. She heard the supper gong. The men began hurrying toward the tables.
Garnet went slowly to her own place. Oliver was already there, with Charles beside him. Charles bowed to her formally as she sat down. He sat on the far side of Oliver. Garnet sat by Oliver, and the Handsome Brute took his place across the table from them.
The Brute said, “You saw Miss Florinda?”
“Yes,” said Garnet. “I think she’s very ill.”
Several of the other men remarked that they were sorry to hear Florinda was ill. But plainly, right now they were more interested in the roast beef than in anybody’s troubles. Charles asked, “Who is Florinda?” and Devilbug answered, “An actress from New York. Penrose brought her along.” Charles shrugged without interest, and gave a disgusted glance across the table at the Brute, who was eating a chunk of beef from his fingers.
Oliver was very attentive to Garnet, but she did not feel much like eating. The other men were talking about business. They asked Charles about the prices being offered this year at the trading posts in Los Angeles. Charles answered in terms of hides, as though hides were money. Garnet’s attention drifted. She had other things to think about.
She wanted to ask Oliver why Charles detested her so, and she wanted to talk to him about Florinda. Oliver would know of some way to help.
When they reached their room she spoke of Florinda first, as they were leaving tomorrow morning and any plans they made would have to be made tonight. But to her dismay, Oliver refused to consider Florinda. Garnet tried to explain how ill she was, and how helpless in this strange country, but Oliver retorted,
“My dear Garnet, there’s nothing I can do! I’m sorry she’s sick, but I didn’t bring her here.”
“Oh Oliver, don’t be so heartless!” she cried. “You know this country—isn’t there anywhere she can go?”
“Nowhere that I know of. There aren’t any charity homes in California.” Oliver was on his knees, hastily putting clothes into a pack for their journey. “Forget about Florinda, can’t you?” he urged impatiently.
Garnet was sitting on the bed. The sight of Oliver packing reminded her that it was not Oliver, but Charles, who had decided when they would leave. She stood up.
“So you won’t even try to help her. Is it because you think Charles wouldn’t approve?”
Oliver turned around. “Garnet,” he said to her, “can’t you understand that I’m already in trouble up to my neck? I can’t take on anybody else’s worries. Now shut up and leave me
alone.”
He had never spoken to her so shortly before. “I won’t shut up,” Garnet snapped. “And I won’t have my life run by that loathsome little autocrat. I know he hates me. But I’m not afraid of him. And you are.”
Oliver got up from his knees and came toward her. “Please forgive me, Garnet,” he said contritely. “I never talked to you like that before. I never will again.”
She took a step away from him. “And I never talked to you like this before, Oliver, but I’m doing it now. I’m worried about Florinda, but that’s not the main thing that’s worrying me. It’s you. Why did you say you were in trouble up to your neck?”
Oliver tried to speak soothingly. “Garnet, I told you Charles wasn’t going to like my being married to you. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course I remember. I’m sorry he doesn’t like me, but I’m not breaking my heart about it. What I want to know is, what’s the matter with you? Why didn’t you say a word this afternoon when he was practically taking me to pieces? Why are you afraid of him?”
Oliver answered her earnestly. “Garnet, believe me. I love you. Charles is not going to come between us.”
“I know you love me!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never doubted it for a minute. But what is this about Charles?”
“Garnet, listen.” Oliver put his hands on her shoulders. “Charles is angry, as I told you he would be. He doesn’t like the idea of my going back to live in the States. But I’m going, no matter what he says. I promised you and I’m not going to break my promise. Now will you please not ask me any more questions?”
“Is that all you can tell me?”
Oliver put his arms around her and held her close to him. “Yes, my dearest girl, it is. I love you, and that’s the most important thing that ever happened to me. You’re the first woman I’ve ever loved, and you’re the last. I mean it.”
He kissed her with a long eager tenderness. Garnet leaned against him and ran her fingers through his curly hair. Oliver was so strong and so lovable. At length she smiled up at him.
“All right, Oliver. If there are things that are none of my business, all right.”
“Thank you, Garnet,” he said. He looked very serious. “Do you know you’re quite a wonderful woman?” he asked, and kissed her again.
When he released her, and returned to filling the pack, Garnet went to the door.
“I love you, Oliver,” she said, “and I trust you. But there’s something I’ve got to do. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“You’re not going out?” he protested. “It’s pitch dark.”
“There’s a lot of moonlight. I’m going to see if I can’t get Florinda some help. Don’t tell me not to, because I’m going anyway.”
Evidently he could tell that she meant it, for he only shrugged as she went out.
Garnet hurried across the grass. The men were gathered here and there around outdoor fires. The moon was nearly full, and very bright. She heard Silky’s voice exclaim,
“Why good evening, Mrs. Hale! Are you looking for somebody?”
Silky had sprung to his feet and was bowing with grandiose respect. He looked suave and elegant again, his mustache tilted and his hair carefully combed.
Garnet stopped. “Have you seen John Ives, Silky? Or his Russian friend?”
“John? Indeed, madam, I do not know where—”
“Over yonder moon-gazing,” said one of the other men in the circle. “John, that is. The Russian’s not with him.”
He pointed, and Garnet saw John lying flat on his back, his hands clasped under his head, looking up at the sky. She thanked them and went toward John. They had not told her what the Handsome Brute was doing, but she guessed that he was somewhere with a girl. She had overheard several remarks about his success with girls.
John raised himself on his elbow as he heard her approach, and got to his feet.
“Did you want something of me, Garnet?”
“Yes,” said Garnet. She stood a moment looking up at him. In the shadows John’s face was lean and stern. She could not have told that his eyes were green if she had not already known it, but it seemed to her that they were the coldest eyes she had ever seen. Garnet felt a tremor. But she had to speak. She said, “John, will you help Florinda?”
Though she could not see his expression very well, she was sure her request surprised him. “Help her?” he asked. “What do you want me to do?”
Garnet shivered. She had come out without a shawl, and the night air was cold. John asked,
“Has Charles treated you decently?”
“Charles? He’s barely spoken to me.”
John gave her a slow smile. “When he does, talk back to him.”
“Oh John,” she exclaimed impatiently, “I didn’t come out here to discuss Charles!”
“That’s right, you didn’t. You were saying something about Florinda.” He spoke tersely. “I’m sorry she’s ill, Garnet. But I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m not a doctor.”
“I suppose,” she retorted, “you’re going to say it’s none of your business.”
“It isn’t, you know,” John answered coolly.
“I think it is,” said Garnet.
John did not answer. He was holding an orange he had broken off a tree, and he tossed it up and caught it again.
Garnet struggled for words that would say what she wanted him to understand. “John,” she pled, “Florinda had a reason for coming to California. I don’t know what it was. She hasn’t told me and I’m never going to ask her. Oh, please!” she said as he was about to answer. “I know what you’re going to say. You want to ask, ‘What has that got to do with me?’ Well, I’ll tell you.”
John smiled down at her with amusement and a touch of admiration. “You’re very determined when your mind’s made up, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose I am. Are you going to listen to me?”
“I can’t help it. Go ahead.”
She spoke vehemently, though she kept her voice low. “John, I don’t know why you came to California either. And I’m never going to ask you. I can mind my own business too. But let me tell you something. Minding your own business doesn’t mean you have to treat other people like a lot of dead sticks. I think you and Florinda—and the others like you—the people who came out here all alone—I think you ought to understand each other! Because—because, John, you do understand each other’s loneliness!”
By this time John was not looking at her. He stood turning the orange over and over in his hands, as though he had never seen one before.
“But what do you want me to do about Florinda, Garnet?” he asked at length. “Marry her? I won’t, and neither will I take her on, Penrose-fashion.”
Garnet felt herself blushing. “I never thought of that!” she cried.
“I know you didn’t. I beg your pardon.”
“I just thought,” said Garnet, “that maybe there was somewhere she could stay until she got well. Where people would be good to her.”
For several seconds John was silent. He peeled a bit of the skin off the orange. Finally he asked,
“You think she’ll take care of herself after that?”
“Oh John, you know she will! Florinda has always taken care of herself. She’s never had anybody.” Garnet went on eagerly. “I hope I’m not betraying a confidence. But I’ve got to make you understand. Her father deserted her mother, and her mother was a weak stupid whining fool. Florinda didn’t tell me that last. But she told me enough for me to draw my own conclusions. Her mother spent her whole life weeping and wanting somebody else to take care of her.”
“Not the sort of person you’d admire,” John remarked with a trace of humor.
“No, you’re mighty right. But Florinda has got sense and she’s got courage, and she won’t be a burden any longer than she has to be. Please give her a hand, John.”
He smiled. “How eloquent you are. All right.”
“You will?” she cried joyfully.
&n
bsp; “Yes,” said John, “because I’m too big a fool to say no. She’s going to be a nuisance and I’m going to wish I hadn’t promised. But set your mind at rest. I’ll tuck her away somewhere.”
“Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed. He did not answer, and she held out her hand. “Good night.”
John took her hand. “Good night. And goodby.”
Garnet was surprised at how sorry she was to hear him say it. She had grown to like John more than she had realized. The trail had made her admire strength more than gentleness. But he could be gentle too, she remembered, thinking of the time he had held her when Texas put the iron into her wound. “John,” she asked in a low voice, “when will I see you again?”
“Sometime this winter. I’m coming up to buy some cattle from Charles, to stock my rancho.”
“I’ll be glad to see you,” she said.
“I’ll be glad to see you too,” said John. She withdrew her hand and was about to turn away when he added, “Don’t forget what I told you.”
“What?”
“If Charles annoys you, tell him to go to hell.”
“Do you think I can?” she asked. She could not help feeling timorous when she thought of Charles.
“You?” said John. He gave a short laugh. But then he stood still a moment, looking at her intently, and for some reason she got the impression that he was about to tell her something else. But John dreaded getting mixed up in affairs that did not concern him. He shrugged, and said,
“I’m sorry you’re going back next year, Garnet. This country was made for people like you.”
He turned abruptly and walked off. Garnet made her way back to the house. She wondered if she had been right, or merely imagining things in the dark, when she got the impression that John had looked at her with sympathy just then, a real fellow-feeling so strong that it had almost made him break his rule of silence about other people’s business.
TWENTY-FOUR
CHARLES AND OLIVER’S RANCHO lay to the northwest, at a distance of eight days’ riding. As Garnet had made up her mind to defy Charles, she began when she got up that morning. She brushed her hair till it shone, and put on a dark green riding-dress that fitted tight above her waist and spread into a big rippling skirt. When she walked toward the line of horses she knew she had never looked better in her life.
