Jubilee Trail

by Gwen Bristow

  John talked to Mr. Abbott and told him I was sick. Mr. Abbott was very nice. He said I could sleep that night in the loft over his store. He told a clerk to show me how to get upstairs. I climbed up a wooden staircase nearly as steep as a ladder, and then I went into a room and it had a bed. The bed had a hide instead of a mattress, and blankets on it. Some girls came up and they brot my pack and also jugs of water. So I washed off the fleas, and I lay down and slept all night.

  The next morning we started riding again. We kept on riding for three or four days more. The country was all dead and dried up and dusty, and I kept on being dizzy and sick. John took care of me the best he could. I thanked him but as usuall he did not seem to care whether I said anything or not. He just made me keep going.

  At last we got to a rancho. John said this rancho belonged to a Yankee whose name was Mr. Kerridge. He said Mr. Kerridge had been living in Calafornia for a long time and he was married to a native lady.

  I was wondering what they would say when they saw me. I certainly did not look very fassinating. I was thin and scrawny and covered with dust and I was so tired I could hardly hold up my head. I sort of stumbled oft the horse and John took my arm and we went indoors. We went into a parlor with rugs on the floor and pretty calico curtains all around the walls.

  Mr. Kerridge came right in. He was a tall lean man with gray hair and very ellegant Mexican clothes. He began saying polite things like Well well John, to what do we owe the honor of this visit. But John got right down to bisness. He told Mr. Kerridge he had brot him an American woman who had practicaly died on the desert and would Mr. Kerridge take care of her for awhile.

  Mr. Kerridge told me to sit down on the wall-bench and I sat there drooping. He clapped his hands and a lot of servants came running in and they brot wine and chockolate. While the servants were clattering around I saw John spring to his feet and bow low. My eyes went after him and then I really started looking. John was kissing the hand of a lady. She was the lady of the house. Mrs. Kerridge.

  Garnet my dear, her name was Donya Manuela and she wayed about three hundred pounds. She was the fattest lady I ever saw. She looked like a lot of pillows tied together. She was so fat you could hardly see her face. She had black eyes kind of bedded in the fat and a little round nose. Her face looked like a big potato with a little potato stuck on it. Her clothes were red and yellow and purple, swaying with fringe and jingling with beads and bracelets. I never saw anybody wear so many different things at the same time. When she moved she shook and trembled all over and the beads and bracelets sang a tune.

  Well this remarkable specktacle had waddled in, and John was bending from the waist to kiss her hand. John and her husband spoke to her in Spannish and she looked at me. She was naturaly kind of astonished to see such a skinny dusty thing in her nice clean parlor. But after a minute she smiled at me and oh she did look so sweet and fat and kind.

  They brot a big chair for her and she settled into it with much singing of bracelets and shaking of fringe and hobbling of fat. John picked up her fan and handed it to a servant girl. The girl stood there fanning her and Mr. Kerridge poured some wine for her and gave her some cakes. Then John began telling his story. He spoke in English first to Mr. Kerridge and they both translated to Donya Manuela. Of course Mr. Kerridge speaks Spannish but I could tell John was saying everrything in English first so I could understand the yarn he was spinning.

  He told them I was a marryed lady who had started from the United States to Calafornia with my husband. But then he said we had some Digger trouble and my husband got killed in the fight. And now here I was, poor thing, worn out from the desert and dying of a broken heart. So he had brot me here hoping they would let me stay with them till I had got my strength back and mended my broken heart a little. I began to think, oh dear now I have started that widow bisness again, will I never get over that. But I did not care what he told them if only they would let me lie down somewhere and rest.

  John talked very seriously but every now and then he gave me a glance out of the corner of his eye to make sure I was keeping up with what he said. Mr. Kerridge listened seriously too, but he glanced at me once in awhile and I do not think he beleived one single word of it. But then they translated to Donya Manuela, and she beleived it all. That dear lady, she kept shaking her head and making sweet little sounds of sympathy. I could not understand the things she was saying but I knew by her voice that they were sweet things.

  And then she got up with a great pushing and heaving, and toddled over to sit on the bench by me. She put her big fat arms around me and took me on her lap and put my head down on her bosm just like I was a baby. It was like sinking away down into a soft warm featherbed. I was so tired I just sank. She stroked me and patted me and said soft little things to me, and oh I was so tired and she was so sweet, and I put my arms around her neck and kissed her.

  Then Mr. Kerridge came over and he looked like he was about to burst out laughing. I said to him, I am sorry to be so much trouble to you. And he said, Oh do not think of that, my wife loves nothing so much as fussing over babies and she has not had a baby in four years. So now she will make a baby out of you.

  Then Donya Manuela gave me a great big hug and she said something in Spannish to him and he helped me get off her lap, and they both began clapping their hands at a great rate. More servants came running in and also a great swarm of children of all ages, dancing around and pointing at me and asking questions. Donya Manuela gave one of the children a slap on the side of his jaw, and with her other hand she slapped a servant girl, all this time yelling orders in a voice fit to split the ceiling. They all started running around and falling over each other, doing useless things in a great hurry the way people do when the house is on fire, and Donya Manuela kept storming around the room in a frenzy, shouting orders, and anybody who got in her way got slapped. John and Mr. Kerridge fell back meekly and I stood still and listened to all this slapping and shouting and I hoped they knew what was going on becaus I certainly did not.

  But evidently they got the idea. The next thing I knew they were hustling me down a long row of rooms and then I was in a bedroom and the girls had put me on the bed. Donya Manuela was taking off my clothes and shouting, and the girls were bringing her cakes and wine, and she was sipping and nibbling between shouts.

  My dear, from the minute that woman got her hands on me I was perfectly and absolutely helpless. She took off my clothes and rolled me into the bed and covered me up and put pillows under me and fed me something with a spoon. She acted like I was about three months old. I beleive she really thought I was. I do not think she would have been surprised if I had wet my pants. Only by this time I did not have on any pants. I was stark naked and she was rubbing me all over with some kind of nice-smelling oil, talking all the time. I could not understand what she said, but I could tell she was pointing out to the girls how thin I was and showing them how my bones stuck out and scolding them like it was all their fault. Then she started feeding me some more. Finaly she put a nice soft robe on me and covered me up again.

  And oh my dear, how I loved it. I was so tired setting my jaw and wondering if I could hold out one more day. I lay back limp as a rag doll and let her do anything she pleased. She fussed and waddled and jingled and shook, and some more girls came in with a bowl of meat broth.

  I was about to bust already with so much food but she shoved more spoonfuls into me all the same. Just when I thought I was going to die of overfeeding, there was a noise at the door and questions in men’s voices, and in came two beautiful young Calafornio men, wanting to have a look at the Yankee lady. Donya Manuela leaped and charged at them like a bull and slapped their faces till I thought their brains would rattle. They were her sons and though I was all muffled up in this robe she had put on me, she was raising cain with them for their lack of respect in daring to poke their heads in and try to see a lady in her bed. And my dear, those two grown men took the slaps and the scolding, and they appologized an
d got out, and Donya Manuela sat by me and stroked my forehead, just as soft and sweet as an angel. And I could not stand any more. I turned over and started to laugh.

  So Donya Manuela ate some more cakes and drank some more wine, and she patted me and cuddled me till I went to sleep. I slept for hours and hours. When I woke up I felt ever so much better. Everything was soft and warm and lovely and I knew she was going to take care of me and oh I did love her so. It was morning but she had made the room dark. And there on a table by my bed was a snack consisting of a chunk of beef and a loaf of bread and two oranges and a bunch of grapes and a bowl of beans, just in case I felt the need of a little something to bild up my strength before breckfast.

  Well Garnet, that was the beginning of the most remarkable period of my life. I never saw anything like this household.

  Mr. Kerridge is tall and gray and dignified, but he has a kind of wicked humor sometimes when he looks at me. He marryed Donya Manuela when she was about fifteen and after that she had babies as fast as she could, and now she is not sorry about anything except that she is not having babies any more. Their house is always full of people. Everybody who travels anywhere near here stops for a night or mabie for longer. So there are all these visitors and the servants and these quantities of children, and they clatter around all day long and Donya Manuela bosses the whole concern. Mr. Kerridge calmly tends to his rancho while Donya Manuela goes rolling about the house like a bubble, banging her children around and shouting orders, and God help anybody who does not move fast enough. And then some child falls down and hurts his knee and she is all soft and sweet and gentle, cuddling him up and kissing the place to make it well, and then some other child comes in with his clothes muddy and she is up again slapping him for going out when she told him not to, and he says his big brother was only showing him a colt and she slaps his big brother and the racket starts all over again.

  She has dozens of cooks and the food in this place is wonderful, I never saw so much or anything so good. Donya Manuela eats all day long and she figures anybody who is not constantly hungry must be sick.

  Well you see, she knew I was sick. So she fed me and kissed me and sang me lullibies and then fed me some more. It was the first time anybody had ever treated me like a baby and I did not know how nice it was. But really I could not eat all the food she gave me. I tryed my best becaus she was so sweet and also becaus I was afraid if I did not eat it like she told me I would get slapped. But she did not slap me when I could not eat any more, she just looked worreyed and scolded the girls becaus the food was not good enough and chased them off to cook something else that would tempt my failing appetite.

  So pretty soon I felt fine. One day when she was not there I got out of bed and took off my nightie and looked at myself in the mirror and really Garnet I was just beautiful. You could not see my bones any more and the curves were all back in the right places and my hair was shiny and my skin was smooth. I wanted to stay up becaus I was afraid if I did not start moving around I would get even fatter from all that food Donya Manuela was giving me. And besides I wanted to see some people and be sociable. But Donya Manuela would not let me come into the parlor until I had some black dresses. She was very simpathetic and she said of course she understood that I must meet some gents so I could get myself a husband, but for a while I must wear black becaus I was a widow.

  Well darling I had forgotten all about being a widow again. But she gathered some girls together and they started sewing me some things so I could go into mourning. Mr. Kerridge came in and saw me standing up meekly in the middle of the room being fitted with yards of dismal black stuff, and he caught my eye and I giggled, I could not help it, and he giggled back at me. Honestly Garnet that man is just as wonderful as his wife is, only in a different way.

  So now I am all dressed up in black but I must say I look quite ravishing in it. Donya Manuela lets me come out and meet all the visitors that drop in, and she tells them a long sad story and looks around to see if I am impressing any of the gents enough to have him look like a follower of my late lamented.

  Well dear writing this letter has taken me quite a long time. Mr. Kerridge has been cutting my pens for me. I never did much writing and I do not know how to make a feather into a pen. He does the cutting becaus Donya Manuela can do practically everything else but she never learned to read or write. Every now and then she and her family come in and watch me respectfully, quite impressed that I should have so much learning.

  Well now it is another day and I have something else to tell you. I have had a great piece of luck.

  I had been wondering what I was going to do now. Donya Manuela has planned that I will get a husband soon but between you and me Garnet you know I am not the domestick type. And then day before yesterday who should turn up among the visitors but some Americans.

  And my dear among them was John and also the Handsome Brute, and also of all people Silky Van Dorn. Oh I was so glad to see them. John is buying cattle for his rancho. He has got some from Mr. Kerridge and he says he is going down to Hales in a few days to get some more and he will take this letter to you. John told me he has named his rancho for the yellow poppies. I cannot spell the words becaus they are Spannish but it sounds like a lovely name. The Handsome Brute is handsomer than ever and he has fine clothes, how he does love to dress up, and he is so sweet and innocent, my dear I do like him.

  But this is the great news. Silky was so surprised to see how I looked, he had got used to seeing me all tired and bony the way I was on the trail. He regarded me with great interest and twirled his mustash and bowed, very grand, and walked off to think and then he came back and told me what he had been thinking about.

  Silky has quit the trail. It is such hard work and he has saved up a nice piece of capital so he can leave off. He has opened a gambling house and saloon in Los Angielies and he wants me to come down and work with him. He says I can serve drinks and sing for the customers. So I told him I thought it was a great idea, and I was ready to start working right away.

  It will all be strictly bisness. So any time you come to Los Angielies, ask anybody for Silky’s Place and I will be there.

  Well I must stop writing now becaus John is leaving in the morning and I must give him this letter tonight. I do hope you are happy dearest and you will never know how greatfull I am for all you have done for me and I love you very much.

  Your true frend,

  Florinda Grove.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE GOLDEN LIGHT SWEPT over the mountains and filled the valley where Charles Hale’s rancho lay. The sun was hot, but as soon as you reached the shade you felt cold. The air had a tingle; it was like the heat of sun and the sting of snowflakes together.

  Garnet sat on the grass by an orange tree and leaned back on her hands. The light gave a glory even to the stiff lines of Charles’ rancho. The orange trees were lacy with blossoms, and the fragrance of them was rich in the air. On the slopes the wild flowers grew in beds of blue and gold, and the distant peaks were white points of snow against the sky. It was so beautiful that she hurt with a pleasure almost like pain.

  She heard the sound of horses’ hoofs, and looking around she saw John. He had arrived at the rancho a week ago, bringing Florinda’s letter. John sprang off his horse, tossing the bridle to the boy who had been riding with him. He stood looking out toward the mountains as though he too felt the pain of too much pleasure, and she wondered if he had ever looked at a woman as he was looking now at the wonder of the earth.

  Then he saw her, and smiled as he said, “Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” said Garnet. She added, “Where were you at breakfast time?”

  “I rode out early to see some calves.”

  Garnet looked up at his green eyes and his cool aristocratic face. John was her friend; he had never said so, but she felt that he was. She had been so lonely during these past months, hiding the secret of her pregnancy with a frightened silence. She was glad he was here.
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  “John,” she said, “I owe you an apology.”

  “Yes? For what?” John asked as he sat on the grass by her.

  Garnet gestured toward the flowering hills. “You told me California was like this. And then when I got here last fall, I was dreadfully disappointed. I thought you had made it up.”

  John gathered a handful of the young wild oats and broke off the tops. “That was my fault. I always think of California like this, in the big spring. But if you were going to stay here,” he went on, “in a year or two you’d find a surprising beauty about the dry season. It’s such a foreign sort of beauty that we don’t see it right away.”

  Well, she never would see it, Garnet thought, and she did not want to. In another month she would be on her way back to New York. Glancing at the yellow poppies blooming among the oats, she said,

  “In Florinda’s letter she said you had named your rancho for the poppies.”

  He nodded. “The Californios call the poppy the flor torosa, the sturdy flower. So I called my place El Rancho de la Flor Torosa. For short, Torosa.”

  There was a moment of silence. John looked away from her, toward the mountains.

  “Where did you learn to love flowers so?” she asked. “I always liked them, but I never knew much about them.”

  “You grew up among bricks and stones,” said John. “I lived on a plantation.”

  “But you notice everything,” said Garnet. “The rocks and trees and mountains as well as the flowers. So many people don’t see the earth at all.”

  John looked down. He pulled off another handful of the wild oats. “I had a rather lonely childhood,” he said. “The earth was my friend. The growing things that changed every day, the rocks that never changed at all—I could count on them.” He paused, and went on. “You can always count on the things of the earth. You know what to expect of them. Sometimes they are cruel, but it’s a hard clean cruelty. They don’t torture you with their own weakness.”