Jubilee Trail

by Gwen Bristow

“Yes,” said Garnet. She made herself raise her eyes to his.

  “Do not leave this building,” said Captain Brown. “Do not go back to work at the bar until you have permission. Do not discuss today’s events with anybody. These are orders, Mrs. Hale.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I understand.”

  Captain Brown put his hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes significantly. “Don’t be nervous,” he said. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

  He crossed the room again and spoke to Florinda. Garnet sat where she was, staring at the opposite wall and not seeing it. Only one idea was clear in her mind, but this was bright as a flame. There was one more thing she had to do. She had to do it now, because she had a curious feeling that the strength was slipping out of her and if she did not do it now she never would. Captain Brown had said she had nothing to be afraid of, but he did not know about that piece of paper she had taken out of Charles’ hand. She had to get rid of that. Charles was dead, but Lydia Hale might still want Stephen for the sake of keeping Stephen’s property, and if that written order was still in existence Lydia might be able to take him. Garnet could feel the twist of paper scratching her skin between her breasts.

  Captain Brown had gone. Garnet stood up and went to kneel before the hearth. On such a hot day nobody had tried to keep up the fire after the cooking was done, and there was nothing in the fireplace but a pile of ashes. She poked among them with a stick until she found a few that were glowing still. Taking out the paper, she dropped it carefully among them. The paper caught fire and made a flame like an arrowhead above the ashes.

  Garnet watched it. As she saw the paper burn, it seemed to her that now things were all right. There was nothing else she had to do. She sat there on the floor by the hearth, watching the little arrowhead of flame leap and then fade. Watching it, she had the most delicious feeling of emptiness, as if her spirit had left her body and gone visiting.

  Then all of a sudden she felt a firm arm across her shoulders, and a burning sensation on her tongue. Florinda’s voice was saying, “Drink this. Drink it all.”

  Florinda was giving her a sharp strong brandy. Garnet swallowed it. Reluctantly she felt her strength coming back. “What happened?” she asked.

  “You started turning green, dearie. Gave me quite a scare.”

  Garnet looked around toward the table. Isabel sat there with Stephen on her lap, feeding him spoonfuls of something out of a bowl. Stephen was gurgling happily.

  Garnet looked down at her hands, linked in her lap. The fingers were as steady as they had been when she fired the gun at Charles. She was surprised at herself, because although she had killed Charles she did not feel any remorse at all. She only felt a great welcome sense that she was done with him.

  Florinda still sat there beside her.

  Garnet turned her head. Their eyes met. Florinda was smiling at her with a deep quiet understanding. Garnet asked, “Florinda, do you know—”

  “Don’t talk about it. I know Charles is dead, and Texas said he shot him. And Captain Brown told me you were not to talk about it at all. So be quiet.”

  Garnet reached out and gave Florinda’s hand a squeeze. How good it was to have such a friend.

  Later she found that Florinda had been an even better friend than she had known. It was not a lucky chance, but Florinda’s doing, that Captain Brown had been there to take charge.

  For though Florinda had approved of Garnet’s going to sit with Texas, after Garnet had gone Florinda began to be worried about her. Silky had promised she would be safe; Estelle had promised to bolt the doors and let nobody in while Garnet was there; but Florinda was still not at ease. So while she was serving drinks to some officers of the New York Regiment, she remarked to them that she had a message for Captain Brown, an important message concerning Garnet. She put a good deal of urgency into that expert voice of hers, and it was not long before Captain Brown came to the bar to say he had heard she was looking for him. Florinda told him where Garnet had gone and why. Captain Brown, who was conservative in his ideas, was appalled. He wanted to go and make her leave Estelle’s house at once. Florinda begged him not to interfere, but she asked him if he would please keep an eye on the place, just to make sure everything was all right. Captain Brown said he certainly would.

  Florinda had not expected Charles to learn Garnet’s whereabouts, though she thought later that maybe she should have. For in Los Angeles there was a group of professional gossips who made a living out of carrying tales. They had been started off by the American army. Eager to forestall another uprising like the one led by Varela last year, the Yankees had offered to pay for reports of anybody who was plotting insurrection. The town soon developed a class of idlers who strolled about keeping their ears open, and then went off to report any chance bit of talk that suggested dislike of the new people. The Yankees paid, and investigated; and the gossip-sellers thought they were assured of easy incomes for life.

  But this sort of thing had been going on all summer and there was still no rebellion to justify it. The Yankee officers were getting tired of paying for rumors that came to nothing. The talebearers were having to look around for new sources of revenue. Among a people as talkative as the Angelenos, everybody knew something about everybody else. When Charles came to town he always brought servants with him, and though they kept quiet in his presence they talked freely elsewhere. It was pretty generally known in Los Angeles that Charles and Garnet were not friends. So, on this early morning, when one of the tattlers saw Garnet going into Estelle’s, he ambled off to the back door of Señor Escobar’s house. Here he found a servant of Señor Hale, and he sent word to Señor Hale that he had news. He told his news to Charles, got paid for it, and went off to a wineshop, happy in the feeling that though it was not yet nine o’clock in the morning he had already done a good day’s work.

  Charles at once went to see an officer of the army of occupation. He said a report had reached him that his sister-in-law had been seen going into the notorious house operated by this woman Estelle, and he wanted a military escort to go into the place with him, so if she was there he could get her out. Charles represented to the officer that Garnet very likely did not know what sort of place it was and had been lured there on some pretext. He had no trouble getting two soldiers assigned to him. He also had no trouble getting the door opened to him when the girls, waked from sleep, saw that the soldiers had guns and were in earnest.

  Garnet heard all this from Captain Brown. The military authorities were making a full investigation of the episode, for Charles was too rich and prominent a man for his death to be dismissed without a study of what had brought it about. Captain Brown came to see her on the evening of that day. He had only a few minutes to spare, but he told her briefly that Texas had rallied sufficiently to repeat his statement that he had fired the gun. Captain Brown said he would state this in his official report.

  “And Texas?” Garnet asked.

  “Texas is not conscious, Mrs. Hale. The doctor does not expect him to live through the night.”

  She thanked him and he went out.

  Garnet went to bed, but she could not sleep. She had forgotten what a racket came up from the bar, and looked wonderingly at Stephen, sound asleep in the crib Texas had made for him. At last she put a shawl around her and went and sat on the staircase. She was still there when Florinda finally closed the saloon and came upstairs.

  Florinda paused on the stairs and smiled down at her. “Still feel like you’re all tied up in a knot, dearie?”

  Garnet nodded. “Florinda, you know about Charles, don’t you?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Does Silky?”

  “No. Who would tell him?”

  “Who told you?”

  “Captain Brown. Not in so many words, but I got the idea.”

  “Tell me what happened here this morning.”

  Florinda set her candlestick on the floor and sat down by Garnet. “Well, I was at the bar with José when somebody ra
n in to say there’d been a shooting at Estelle’s. Other fellows were coming in, saying this one and that one had been shot, but they finally agreed it was Charles Hale, and they were giggling at the idea of the noble Charles being caught dead in a place like that.”

  Florinda clasped her hands around her knees and went on.

  “I was about to go for Silky and tell him he and I had to get you out of there, when the boys saw you pass with Captain Brown and I ran into the kitchen to meet you. You were sinking on the bench like a busted balloon. Captain Brown came over and talked to me in a quick whisper. He said, ‘Take care of Mrs. Hale. See to it that she speaks to nobody till I come back.’ He sure did sound like a boss giving orders. I told him I’d look out for you. I said, ‘Did she kill Charles?’ He gave me a look that went clean through me. He said, ‘The man who calls himself Texas has confessed that he shot Charles Hale. Texas is dying.’ And I said, ‘Captain Brown, Texas is a great man. And so are you.’ He gave my shoulder a grip that nearly broke my collar-bone and then he went striding out like a general about to win a war.”

  Garnet drew a long breath. Florinda put her arm around Garnet’s waist.

  “Feel better, dear?”

  “Yes. I’m more loosened up.”

  “Good. Go on back to bed, and sleep as long as you can. I’ll tell Isabel to slip in and get Stephen so you won’t have to wake up.”

  Garnet went back to bed. She was so tired that at last she did fall asleep, and in spite of the street-noises she slept late.

  The next day she heard that Texas was dead. She spent a long time curled up on the wall-bench in a corner of the kitchen, thinking about him. Her own emotions still surprised her. At home and at school, she had been taught what she ought to feel about the various experiences of life. She knew that when a dear friend died, she ought to be sorry. She ought to shed tears. But she was not sorry about Texas and she was not shedding any tears. She had felt a great affection for him and she was going to miss him, but she did not think he had been happy in this world. Certainly he had shown no regret at leaving it. She hoped he had changed it for a better one. And she was not going to pretend any sorrow about him, any more than she was going to pretend any guilt about Charles. What she did feel was a deep gratitude to Texas for having spared her the consequences of Charles’ death, and she hoped heaven would reward him since she could not.

  For he had spared her, completely. As Captain Brown had been the first officer on the scene, he was put in charge of the investigation. Several days later he brought her a copy of his report. According to this, Mrs. Hale had gone to Estelle’s house to wait upon a dying man who had been kind to her. Charles Hale, not knowing why she was there, had gone with two soldiers to get her. The soldiers, left on guard, had heard shots and had rushed in to see Charles on the floor, beyond help, and a Colt revolver in Texas’ hand. When they asked who had shot Mr. Hale, Texas had replied without hesitation that he had. He had repeated this several times.

  Garnet and Captain Brown sat on the wall-bench in the kitchen. They were alone, for he had said he wanted to question her in private. She read the report. When she had finished she was silent for some time. Captain Brown was waiting for her to speak. At length she asked,

  “What do you want me to do now, Captain Brown?”

  “I want you to sign a statement I have here. The men who heard Texas’ confession have all said so in writing. This statement simply says you saw Texas shoot Mr. Hale, as he said he did.”

  Captain Brown laid the paper in front of her, and put a pen and bottle of ink by her hand. Garnet said,

  “Your report doesn’t give any reason why Texas shot him.”

  “I don’t know why he shot him,” said Captain Brown. “Texas was dying. Since nobody seems to know of any quarrel he had with Charles Hale, we can only assume that he was not in his right mind.”

  He was speaking to her as formally as if they were barely acquainted with each other. Throughout this affair he had been speaking to her like that. He added,

  “Will you be good enough to sign this statement now, Mrs. Hale?”

  Garnet picked up the pen. It was not a good pen. The quill had been cut a long time ago, and since then the point had worn down till it was blunt and uneven. Looking at the worn point, she said,

  “Captain Brown, hasn’t it occurred to you to wonder if Texas was strong enough to lift that gun?”

  Captain Brown took out his watch. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hale, but I haven’t time to discuss this any further. Will you please sign that paper and be done with it?”

  She signed her name. The pen spluttered and sent out some drops of ink to speckle the paper.

  “Thank you,” said Captain Brown. He picked up the sheet of paper, decided to wait for it to dry, and laid it down again. As he did so he gave her a gentle sort of smile. “The investigation is closed, Mrs. Hale,” he said.

  Garnet looked straight at him. “Now do you want me to tell you what happened?” she asked.

  “If you like. You don’t have to.” His smile had a flicker of humor, very different from his formal gravity of the past few days. “But first, now that I’m speaking unofficially, I’d like to tell you something.”

  “Yes?” said Garnet.

  “I should advise you,” said Captain Brown, “to lead an absolutely open life. You are the worst actress I ever saw.”

  He was so simple and strong. Garnet said,

  “It’s like a weight on me. I’ll feel better if I talk to you.”

  “All right. Go ahead.”

  She told him about Charles and how he had tried to take Stephen for the sake of Stephen’s inheritance. Finally she told him how Charles had come to her at Estelle’s and had thrust that paper at her, and how she had shot him when he was trying to force Stephen out of her arms.

  “I burnt the paper in the fireplace,” said Garnet. “I thought my head was very clear, but now I don’t think it was, because I didn’t realize that Mrs. Charles Hale could probably get another order like that from Colonel Stevenson if she wanted it.”

  She had been speaking with determined calmness, but when she got this far a shudder ran over her nerves. Captain Brown put his hand over hers.

  “I don’t think you need to be distressed on that score, Mrs. Hale,” he said.

  “Don’t I?” she exclaimed. “Why not?”

  “Did you read what was written on that paper,” he asked, “before you burnt it up?”

  She shook her head.

  He smiled at her reassuringly. “If you had read it, I think you would have found it was a receipt from a trading post, or something like that.”

  Garnet had started violently. “What? Do you mean—” Her voice choked with thankfulness.

  “I am sure,” he went on, “that Colonel Stevenson never issued any such order. In the first place I don’t think he has the authority; in the second place, I know him well enough to say he wouldn’t do it. Besides, when would he have written it? He didn’t see Charles Hale that morning. The two privates who escorted Mr. Hale were assigned by a lieutenant named Fletcher.”

  Garnet let out a sigh. “Oh, thank you! I should have thought of that last myself. But I didn’t.”

  “My dear girl,” said Captain Brown, “after what you’ve been through, you’re rather remarkable to be able to think at all.”

  Garnet’s head dropped forward wearily till her chin touched her chest. She did not answer.

  Captain Brown pressed her hand. “Charles Hale stuck a paper under your nose, counting on the fact that you would be too terrified to see what was written on it. Then by the time you found that Colonel Stevenson had issued no such order, Charles would have been on his way to Boston with your baby.”

  Garnet did not raise her head. She felt limp all over. She had done her best to be strong and calm. But it seemed to her that everything that had happened since she left New York had been something else to wear down her strength. And then she heard Captain Brown’s voice, comforting and very gentle.<
br />
  “Won’t you let me take you home, Garnet?”

  She never did know quite how it happened. But she found herself leaning against him with a quiet confidence. His arms were around her, and he kissed her lips and her eyes and the locks of hair on her temples, and he was saying,

  “You’ve been as brave as ten armies, but you don’t have to fight any more. Let me take care of you.”

  He said a good deal more than this, though she was too tired and too astonished to be sure of the separate words. But she did understand their meaning, and their meaning was dignity and security and peace. He was offering to give her back everything she had missed so desperately in these years of exile. And more than this, he was offering her a warm lasting love.

  FORTY-FOUR

  GARNET THOUGHT LONG AND hard about Captain Brown.

  She had asked him to give her time. Of course he would, Captain Brown agreed. He understood that she was in no state now to make up her mind about anything. But he begged her to remember that he had had time already to think about her, and he loved her very much.

  She was not in love with him. She could not pretend to herself that she was. Garnet had never had any talent for believing what she knew was not so. But on that first day when he had asked her to marry him, she had thought of the old comparison of the storm-tossed sailor who saw a safe harbor at last. She had felt just like that.

  As they talked to each other, that day and again and again in the days that followed, her sense of safety with him increased. He loved her, and what he felt was no boyish infatuation. He was thirty-five years old, and he was not light-minded. He was not an exciting man nor a brilliant man, but he was a good man. He was kind, he was generous, he had clear principles of right and wrong and he did his best to live up to them. And Garnet reflected that while these might not be romantic qualities, they were mighty fine traits to be sure of in the man who wanted you to live with him for the rest of your life. After tumbling around among so many nerve-racking uncertainties, she did so yearn for something firm and secure.