Jubilee Trail

by Gwen Bristow

  She could, of course, stay here and let Florinda support her. But even as she thought of it, she felt as though she were seeing the bitterness in John’s green eyes and the knot of muscle at his jaw as he said, “Have you ever been an object of charity, Garnet?”

  She was not going back to Charles. That was final.

  She thought of her father. But he had not even received her letter saying Oliver was dead; he was still expecting her and Oliver to reach New York this fall. When he did get the letter, if he wanted to send her anything he would have to find a sea-captain about to sail for California and trust him to bring it to her. It might be two or three years before she could hear from home.

  Garnet tried to figure how much she had. About fifty dollars in her purse; thirty-eight dollars at Mr. Abbott’s, less the price of the jar of fragrant stuff Florinda had bought; the emeralds Florinda had left her in New Orleans, and the garnets for which she had been named. She had no idea what the jewels were worth.

  At siesta time Florinda came in, took off her dress, lay down and fell asleep at once. She woke just before sunset. Garnet need not come down to supper, she said. Mickey would bring it up. She hurried back to work before Garnet could say she was not hungry.

  A little while later a tap on the door signaled the arrival of Mickey. He carried a tray on which was a bowl of beans cooked with beef and chili, along with a pile of tortillas. When he had gone Garnet set the tray on the wall-bench, spreading a towel over it to keep out the spiders. Later, maybe, she would feel like eating something.

  She glanced out of the window. The town basked in late afternoon light, and the air had an autumnal coolness. At the east side of the town she could see the creek overgrown with bushes of wild nicotine, and east of the creek was a mesa, like a hill with its top cut off. Beyond the mesa the ground rolled and tumbled, going higher and higher as it went, until at last, miles away, she could see the line of the great mountains. The westering sun fell on the mountains in a pattern of tawny lights and purple shadows and deep gray folds. Above the squalid little settlement the mountains looked strong and beautiful, like fortresses built for a race of giant kings.

  Garnet turned around. As she did so she caught sight of her face in the glass. How healthy she looked, quite healthy enough to make a living if she only knew how. Since her illness her color had come back, and her complexion was as bright as ever. The sight of her black hair and rosy cheeks reminded her of the day she and Florinda had stood before the glass in New Orleans, when Florinda, enchanted by the contrast in their looks, had exclaimed, “I wish we could do a sister act.”

  Garnet started and moved nearer the glass. “We could,” she said aloud. “We could work side by side at the bar.”

  The thought struck her like a blow. All the ladyism of her lifetime recoiled from it. A shiver ran over her as she heard a burst of drunken laughter from downstairs. “I can’t!” she cried. But even as she said it she knew it wasn’t so, because she could.

  Garnet remembered how she had resented the barriers of gentility her parents had set up around her. She thought of how she used to wonder about the Jewel Box, and those gay places around City Hall Park, and those streets she had never been allowed to walk on. She remembered how much she had wanted to see the world as it was. As she remembered, she smiled with a grim understanding. Life let you have what you wanted. But life was like a storekeeper who put up a sign saying “Buy now, pay later,” and tempted you into buying so much that you were in debt for years.

  Her baby kicked as though in protest. Garnet put her hands over the place where it was. “I’m sorry,” she said as though speaking to the baby. “But what do you want me to do? I can live on charity, or I can let Charles turn you into a human marshmallow, or I can work at the bar. I’ll work at the bar.”

  All of a sudden, she had a sense of lightness. She felt better. She also felt hungry, so she took the towel off the tray and ate her supper.

  “Oh Garnet,” exclaimed Florinda, “you don’t have to work at the bar!”

  “I want to,” Garnet repeated stubbornly.

  “But darling, you won’t like it.”

  “I don’t expect to like it.”

  “Garnet, please, I don’t need to be paid for having you stay with me. You can stay as long as you want to.”

  “I know I can,” said Garnet. She sat on the bed, looking up at Florinda, who stood by the washstand pinching drops of grease that had fallen from the candle. “But I’m not going to have you supporting me.”

  There was a silence. Florinda pinched the candle out of shape. At length she turned around. “Garnet,” she said, “you thought this up all by yourself.”

  “Why yes, of course.”

  “I didn’t suggest it,” said Florinda.

  “Certainly not.”

  “In fact, I did everything I could to stop you.”

  “What are you getting at, Florinda?”

  “Look me straight in the eye.”

  Garnet looked her straight in the eye.

  “Well, glory hallelujah,” said Florinda. “I sure do feel virtuous. I guess that’s the first time in my whole life I honestly tried not to get something I wanted.”

  “Do you mean you can use me?”

  “Garnet, I can use you like I could use money in the bank. Think of us! Two American girls—they’ll come miles to see us! Every Yankee in California, every sailor who lands at San Diego, why they’ll flock up here if they have to walk.”

  She laughed joyously and chattered on.

  “You’ll wear red and I’ll wear blue, or you’ll wear pink and I’ll wear green. We’ll get some fancy pins for your hair—”

  “I’m still in mourning,” Garnet protested.

  “Not in that saloon you won’t be. Nobody’s making you do this and if you do it you’re going to do it right. About terms, you’ll get a percentage, I’ll talk that over with Silky. Oh, wait till I tell Silky! He’ll faint with glee. When can you start?”

  “I’m expecting the baby early in August. As soon as possible after that.”

  “I must tell him right away.” Florinda ran to the door and opened it. “That Charles—he’s a pig and a spider and a two-legged rat, but—” She banged the door and clattered down the stairs. “Silky! Silky! Come into the kitchen a minute. Right now, yes. I’ve got something important to tell you.”

  Garnet’s baby was born one night not long before daybreak. True to his promise Texas had stayed sober and was there to help her. As soon as Florinda thought he was needed she scribbled a note and had Mickey take it to his lodging, and Texas came to the saloon as fast as a man with a lame leg could get there. He told Florinda to go on back to the bar. He’d take care of everything.

  Florinda went downstairs, but she did not stay long. She poured a few drinks and exchanged a few gay remarks, and then told the bar-boys to take care of the customers. Promising to be back right away, she went up to Garnet’s room again. By this time Garnet was in a good deal of pain. Florinda sat by her, watching as Garnet clamped her teeth on the blanket to keep from crying out. When she saw that the pain was passing, Florinda bent her head and spoke softly.

  “Garnet, I’ve come to tell you something. Listen.” She gently pushed a damp lock of hair off Garnet’s forehead. “Don’t fight the pains like that. You can’t take it in silence, dear. I know what I’m talking about, remember?” She smiled. “Of course I understand what you’re thinking. You’re so modest, you can’t bear to have those pinheads at the bar guess what’s going on up here. Right?”

  Garnet nodded. Florinda went on with assurance.

  “Don’t worry. They won’t guess. I’m going to put on a show. I put on a right good show all by myself one night in Santa Fe and I can do it again. I’m going to sing ’em every bawdy song I know. I’ll sing at the top of my voice and they’ll join in the choruses, and believe me, sweetheart, I know enough songs to keep ’em shouting till next Tuesday.”

  Garnet murmured, “Florinda, you—you make me laugh
at the strangest times.”

  “Then you do get the idea? Fine. I’ll go right down and start. And when the pains hit you, scream all you please. Nobody’s going to hear. I can make more noise with my throat than you can with yours.”

  She dropped a kiss on Garnet’s forehead and scampered downstairs again. They heard her lift her voice in song. In a minute or two, banging cups and shouts of laughter were providing the rest of the noise she had promised. She gave the men no explanation, except to tell them that tonight she felt fine and full of mischief and was just in the mood to have a show. As she did it so well, they were too much amused to think of asking questions. She kept it up until all of a sudden Texas opened the door, put his head in and called, “That’s enough,” and banged the door again. By this time Florinda was hoarse and tired and dripping with sweat. She finished the song she was singing, and said, “Good night, gents, the place is closed.” They protested, but Silky came in from the gambling room to help her get them out. Silky knew what she had been doing, and approved. Wiping her face on her sleeve, Florinda went up to have a look at the baby.

  Texas met her at the head of the stairs. “It’s a boy,” he said, “and he’s got all his hands and feet the way he ought to have.”

  “How’s Garnet?”

  “Fine.” Texas gave her a grin. “Say, you know some right juicy ditties, don’t you?”

  “Dear me,” said Florinda. “Just think of you having such a delicate mind. If they shocked you, you shouldn’t have listened.”

  “But the singing was a good idea,” he assured her hastily. “I didn’t mean to be criticizing.”

  Florinda smiled at him. She liked Texas, Texas with his shaggy brown hair and beard, and the fine network of red veins that years of too much drinking had laced across his nose, and the sweet, affectionate look of his brown eyes. “Sure, Texas,” she said, “I understand. Go on down and get some beans. I’ll stay with her.”

  Texas limped down the stairs, and Florinda went softly into the bedroom. Garnet had fallen asleep.

  Garnet had never in her life been so glad to have anybody with her as she had been to have Texas that night. He took care of her with such a wise blending of authority and tenderness that though she had been frightened before he got there, after he got there she was not frightened at all. She never did know how he managed to give her such ease of mind. But by the time he had been with her ten minutes she trusted him completely. Texas could not make childbirth a light experience, but he did make her feel that everything was going to be all right, and everything was. When at last it was over and he brought her the baby, she turned her head and kissed his hard rough hand on the pillow beside her. “Thank you, Texas,” she murmured. “I can’t say it very well. But thank you.”

  Texas said, “Now then, now then, you know I was glad to help. You stood it mighty well, and he’s a fine baby.” He gave her head an affectionate pat, and told her he was going to let in some fresh air.

  Garnet sighed happily as she felt the baby’s fuzzy little head against her cheek. As Texas opened the shutters she saw that the sky behind the mountains was beginning to grow pale. There was a violet glow along the mountain edges, and the stars were like flakes of silver in the air above them. She had a drowsy sense that the world was lovely.

  She dozed off again. When she opened her eyes the room had been put in order and Texas was not there. On the floor lay the mattress Florinda would sleep on. Florinda sat on the wall-bench by the window. The baby still lay beside Garnet, but evidently Florinda was going to move him, for she was arranging the basket they had got ready to use for his bed. The window at Florinda’s side was open, and beyond her Garnet could see the reddening sky and the line of mountains against it.

  There was a pad in the basket. Florinda put a little sheet over the pad and smoothed it and tucked it in, working with the sureness of one who had done this sort of thing many times before. Suddenly, as if struck by a familiarity she could not bear, she pushed the basket away from her, and put her elbow on the sill and rested her head on her hand. Garnet saw her beautiful profile, clear against the red sky. Florinda was not crying. But she sat quite still, like a person whose nerves were tight with pain. Garnet felt a great compassion. She was hardly strong enough to say anything, and she would not have said anything if she had been able to. Florinda had let her know, quite clearly, that she did not want to talk about the child she had lost. But Garnet turned her face toward her own tiny little warm baby, and her tears were running down his cheeks when she went to sleep again.

  THIRTY-THREE

  THE SALOON WAS VERY gay. Yankees were crowded at the bar, drinking toasts and clapping each other on the back. The few Angelenos in the room were half amused and half bewildered. They were used to Yankees, but they never would understand why even a great piece of news had to be celebrated with so much noise.

  Florinda was out of breath. She had poured what seemed like ten thousand drinks, and every time she pushed a cup across the bar one of her exuberant countrymen would smack her with a kiss. She had received three proposals of marriage. She had also received several proposals that were not of marriage; to these she gave her usual retort.

  “Six doors west. Ask for Estelle.”

  She wondered how Garnet was bearing this racket. Garnet’s baby was only forty hours old, and though she had had a fairly easy delivery she ought to have a little peace. Florinda glanced around. Her assistant José was as breathless as she was, but he and Mickey could handle the trade for a few minutes. Mickey came in from the kitchen, his pigtail bobbing and his felt shoes flapping as he walked, and set a tray of clean cups on the counter. He was tired too, but he smiled at her brightly. Florinda spoke into his ear.

  “Mickey, I go now. I want to see Miss Garnet.”

  Mickey nodded. “Yes, Miss Flinda.”

  Florinda told her customers she was leaving to eat a few beans and would be right back. Going through the kitchen, she ran upstairs.

  Below her the saloon clattered merrily. She knocked on the bedroom door, but Texas did not hear her, so she opened the door a crack and called him.

  He came out, carrying a candle. Texas no longer had to use a cane, but he limped. His right knee was almost stiff.

  “How is she?” asked Florinda.

  “All right. Can’t sleep, of course, with so much rowdydow. What’s it all about?”

  “Big news,” said Florinda. They went inside, and Texas set the candle on the washstand where the pitcher would shield Garnet’s eyes from the light.

  “Is that Florinda?” Garnet asked from the bed.

  “Yes, it’s me. I’ve got something exciting to tell you.”

  Florinda came and knelt by the bed. She took Garnet’s hand in hers and spoke impressively. “Garnet, do you remember what you said about not wanting your baby to be a foreigner?”

  Garnet nodded.

  “He’s not a foreigner,” said Florinda.

  Garnet glanced at Texas, who stood by the washstand, but he smiled and shook his head to show that he knew no more about it than she did.

  Florinda spoke slowly, to make it clear. “Garnet, your little boy was born in the United States.”

  “The United States? What do you mean? This is Mexico.”

  “No it isn’t. Not any more. The United States has taken California. It happened a month ago, only the news just got here tonight. An American ship sailed up to Monterey in July and raised the flag there.”

  Garnet heard her with a gasp. “You mean this is the war John was telling us about?”

  “Yes, this is it. It seems the war has been going on for three or four months, but we never hear anything away out here. It’s about the Republic of Texas.”

  “But what about California?” Garnet asked.

  “Well dear, I guess the President figured if he could take Texas he could take California too, so the ships came and took it. Just like that. There wasn’t a bit of trouble at Monterey. The sailors came ashore and raised the flag, and the band pla
yed Yankee Doodle, and the natives all seemed to like it. So then the Yankees raised another flag at Yerba Buena, that’s the village on San Francisco Bay. Then they started south. And now a shipload of marines has landed at San Pedro and they are marching here.”

  “To Los Angeles?”

  “Yes. And the fellows think there’s an army on its way overland too.”

  “Miss Florinda,” Texas said suddenly.

  He had not moved from where he stood by the washstand. The candlelight flickered over his face, showing his eyes fixed on Florinda and a hard double line between his eyebrows.

  “What was that you said about the army?” he asked in a low voice.

  “The boys say it’s probably marching overland from Fort Leavenworth. You must remember Fort Leavenworth, Garnet. It’s on the Santa Fe Trail, just this side of the Missouri River. Do you know where Fort Leavenworth is, Texas?”

  “What? Oh yes, yes, I know where that is.” Texas spoke jerkily, looking down at the floor.

  “And there’s no trouble at all?” Garnet insisted. She did not know much about wars, but she had studied enough history at school to know that a change of flag was usually more difficult than this.

  “Not a bit of trouble,” said Florinda. “The Californios seem to think being in the United States is quite a good idea, and the Yankees are all yelling fit to bust their breeches.”

  Garnet drew a long breath. “An American army, coming to take California—why Florinda, it’s wonderful!”

  “Isn’t it? I came up to tell you as soon as I could get away.” Florinda scrambled to her feet. “I’ll have to go back now. If you won’t mind being alone for a few minutes, Texas can come down with me and I’ll give him some beans.” She put her hand on the door, but turned around laughing. “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Those men who raided Señor Vallejo’s rancho, well it seems they’ve been enrolled under Frémont along with some other volunteers, and now they are known as Frémont’s battalion and they are marching south in glory.”