Jade

by Jill Marie Landis

  During the war years, his trips to Santa Fe for supplies dwindled until he became a near recluse in Canyon de las Bolsas. It was easier to live alone with his convictions than to face those men who did not understand his objection to a blood fest between Americans. He could not condone men of the same country killing each other for any reason.

  He shook his head and his bitter laughter filled the carriage. Little Nettie had done quite well for herself, if the portly railroad Yankee she had hung on tonight was any indication.

  He wondered if he would ever dream of Nettie again.

  The carriage entered the drive at Harrington House and before long stopped at the entrance. J.T. stepped out and thanked Matt’s driver, ground out the butt of his cigar in the drive, then let himself into the empty house. Thankful that he had tomorrow’s ride with Jade to look forward to, he felt his way through the darkness. His boot heels rang out hollowly in the emptiness.

  A PREDAWN CHILL lingered in Jade’s room, but she forced herself up and out of bed. When she stretched her arms high overhead, every muscle cried out from the bruising she had taken in last night’s fall. Barefoot, with the hems of her loose silk pants brushing the floor, she padded softly to the window seat and lowered herself into a comfortable sitting position. The window in her borrowed room faced east and she was glad of that, for she enjoyed watching the sunrise.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to relax and slip into a contemplative state. Now that she had a room to herself, she enjoyed the freedom of being able to meditate whenever she wished. In Paris, she had shared a loft above the ground floor with the missionary’s three daughters. Early in her stay with the good minister and his family, she became aware that their great knowledge of the Chinese language was equal to their lack of appreciation for Chinese philosophy and their total objection to the religious practices of the East.

  Those periods of silent contemplation she had once shared with her grandfather, she was forced to spend alone. When she retired for the night and the lights were doused, she would lie quietly in bed beside the sleeping girls and review the day. Whenever she awoke before the others, she would stay abed and use the quiet moments in thought before the day began.

  Now it was a joy to be able to sit and await the dawn and think about all that had happened since she arrived home. As she sat in silence, waiting for the first rays of sunlight to beckon her to open her eyes, Jade became more and more determined to take control of her situation. Ever since she had returned, she had allowed Babs’s vivacity to lead her where she did not really want to go, just as had happened for years. But things were about to change.

  On the journey from Paris, she had decided that she would attempt to follow the philosophy of Chuang Tzu, a Taoist philosopher. She had memorized the passage she most subscribed to: “The pure men of old acted without calculation, not seeking to secure results. They laid no plans. Therefore, failing, they had no cause for regret; succeeding, no cause for congratulation. And thus they could scale heights without fear, enter water without becoming wet, and fire without feeling hot. The pure men of old slept without dreams, and waked without anxiety.”

  So she had laid no plans. She knew only that she wanted to retrieve her grandfather’s Chinese collection, somehow pay off her father’s debts, and find a means of support. But unlike the “pure men of old,” she had not scaled any heights, nor had she awakened once since her arrival without anxiety. She wondered how long it would take before acting without calculation brought results, and then promptly decided she could not wait any longer to find out.

  After all, she shrugged and smiled to herself, this was San Francisco in 1875, not China in 400 B.C.

  As the daylight began to intensify, she planned her day. She had promised to go riding with J.T. She also promised herself it was the last time she would see him. Then she convinced herself she was only going so that she could ride out and visit her grandfather’s adobe. That was easier than thinking about never seeing Jason Harrington again.

  She thought back to the night before when Babs had come in after the grand reception to see how she fared. Jade had asked permission to use one of the Barretts’s horses. Babs had immediately demanded all the details.

  Babs had been too excited to sit still. She began combing out her hair with Jade’s brush. “What in heaven’s name do you want with a horse, Jade? As I recall, you hate them.”

  “I don’t hate them,” Jade had tried to explain, “I just never wanted to be around them after the time you decided we should go out for a carriage ride without your father or a groom.”

  Babs had the good sense to look sheepish. She shrugged. “I was only nine. How was I to know how hard it was to control a carriage horse?”

  “We were nearly killed. Anyway, after that I never wanted to know any horse very well.”

  “We’re talking about horses, not distant relatives.”

  Jade thought of the Chinese belief in reincarnation and laughed. “Who knows? Anyway, Jason wants to see the sights and I thought it would be a good time for me to go out to the adobe and see what sort of state it’s in.”

  “Jason?”

  “Mr. Harrington.”

  Jade’s borrowed hairbrush was forgotten as Babs threw it down on the dressing table. “This is wonderful, Jade. He must really have taken an interest in you. I told you not to worry! Why, before you know it, he’ll be asking for your hand and you’ll be living in high style.”

  “Babs—”

  “You can be married right here and—”

  “Babs!”

  “What?”

  “Stop.”

  Babs pouted prettily. “Oh, pooh. You’re no fun.”

  “I’m only going riding.”

  “Do you have anything decent to wear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me see it. I don’t trust you.”

  “No. It’s late. Now get out of here and let me go to sleep. He’s coming over very early.”

  “Don’t wake me up.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” Jade was determined not to have Babs there to greet Jason.

  Jade opened her eyes and put her thoughts of yesterday aside. The sky had lightened, but the sun had not been able to break through the fog. Rubbing her arms to ward off the chill, she crossed the room to the armoire. She quickly stepped out of her silk trousers and robe and slipped into knee-length knickerbocker drawers and a waist-length chemise of cotton. Without fussing overlong, she brushed out her heavy, unruly hair and tied the entire mass at the nape of her neck with a long length of black ribbon.

  She refused to wear the heavy corset or to strap on the bustle Babs loaned her until she could get one of her own. Instead, she pulled on a simple walking skirt with braid trim about the hem and topped it off with a neat, white French waist blouse. She pulled on her tassled boots and then donned a gray waterproof cloak. She fluffed the attached cape and straightened the hood she left dangling behind her.

  Rifling through the top drawer of her vanity, she found her kid gloves and pulled them on, smoothed back loose tendrils of hair that had escaped her ribbon, and quietly slipped out the door.

  She paused in the kitchen long enough to search through the baskets and bread box until she had the makings of a simple picnic: bread, cheese, and apples. Then she even helped herself to a bottle of Reggie’s red wine. She wrapped the food in a dish towel and tied the makeshift bag shut.

  The stablehand was already up and currying the horses. She told him she wished to have a gentle mount saddled, and watched—well out of the way—as he readied a bay mare. The stablehand, who looked no older than fifteen, easily hefted the cumbersome saddle and began to rig up the various straps and buckles when he suddenly stopped and slapped his hand against his forehead.

  “Damn!” he grumbled to himself, before he snuck a glance at Jade. “I
reckon you’ll be wanting a sidesaddle, right, ma’am?”

  Jade frowned. She didn’t want to ride at all. Her only experience had been in the runaway carriage or when she shared a ride with her grandfather. Then she had used a conventional saddle. She looked down at her uneven skirt, longer in the back than the front due to the lack of a bustle, and shook her head.

  “I’ll use the one you’ve already put on,” she said.

  The boy smiled and rechecked the cinches. “I’ll lead ’er down the drive and around the front for you ma’am.” He nodded politely.

  She thanked him, and followed him out into the fog. They stood near the front entrance to the Barrett’s, alternately looking up and down the street, but able to see little through the mist.

  They heard Jason’s horse approaching before they saw him.

  Jade smiled up at him as he drew his horse to a halt before them. She thought him handsome last night, but as he appeared out of the fog he was even more imposing astride a huge palomino stallion. He was casually but sensibly dressed in navy blue Levi’s, a creamy yellow shirt, leather vest, and waterproof duster. J ,T. dismounted and handed his reins to the groom. He then took the reins of the mare from the groom, and held the horse still while Jade mounted. Or tried to.

  Whispering softly, she held her hands out in front of her as if to ward off a sudden attack. “Nice horse. Good old horse,” she whispered. She stared up the stirrup dangling a good four feet above the ground and groaned.

  Jason linked his fingers together to form a step. “Here,” he said. “I’ll boost you up.”

  She hiked up her skirt and stepped onto his hands. J.T. could not help but admire her neatly turned ankles and calves when she raised her skirt and stepped trustingly onto his hands. He made certain she was well settled in the saddle before he took the liberty to tuck the hem of her wrap beneath her calves.

  “Be sure to keep your cloak from flapping. It might spook the horse.” He immediately sensed that his casual warning alarmed her.

  “Spook?” She could barely say the word.

  Jason smiled up at her as he smoothed the horse’s mane. “You’ll be just fine. What’s the mare’s name?”

  “Name?” She looked dismayed.

  “Daffodil,” the stableboy volunteered.

  “Perfect,” Jason laughed. He turned to Jade. “How can you seriously worry when you’re on a horse named Daffodil?”

  “Names can be deceiving,” Jade said, tightening her grip.

  “Just relax.”

  He could not help but smile again. Blushing furiously, she straightened her skirt again as best she could, but the tops of her boots and ankles were plainly showing. She looked away from Jason, who sensed her embarrassment and mounted his own horse.

  Aware of her fear, he walked his horse beside hers. The golden stallion clearly wanted to run but contented itself with head tossing, blowing, and an occasional nip at Jade’s mount. Jason kept the big animal under a firm hand as they ambled down the street.

  A smile teased his lips. “Am I suitably attired?”

  She was staring at the ground, watching every step the horse took, silently praying it would not bolt down the street. “What?” Her tone reflected her irritation.

  He noted her distraction and kept up the banter, trying to put her at ease. “A Chinaman came to the back door before dawn with two huge baskets hanging off a pole across his shoulders. He said he’d take my laundry and have it back by tonight, so I gave him everything but these.”

  “You look fine.” She did not look up. “You shouldn’t pay more than ten cents a piece,” she added as an afterthought.

  “Where are we off to?” Jason asked, squinting as if it would help him see through the fog.

  “Out of town. I would like to visit my grandfather’s house. It’s been deserted for nearly four years now.”

  Considering her fear, he was surprised she had gotten so many words out. “Is it far?”

  “Not really. The city has spread out so that it seems much closer now.”

  She wished she could relax, but she was busy trying to keep her seat. The saddle creaked and groaned with each step Daffodil took. Jade wondered if and when the saddle might come loose. She clenched the reins in a death grip while she held on to the pommel as well. She thought that riding a camel might be just as comfortable and prayed silently that Jason would not want to go any faster. For the moment, he seemed content to walk his own horse silently beside hers.

  Jason snuck glances at the woman beside him and decided he had never seen a person less at home on horseback. She looked as stiff as a board as she leaned forward over the pommel, fighting every step. He bet himself that beneath her kid gloves her knuckles were white. He found it hard to imagine anyone who was afraid of horses, but then, the animals were his life. Obviously, Jade had nothing but fear and distaste for them.

  “Loosen up on the reins a bit.”

  “What?” She glanced over at him in disbelief and then quickly concentrated on the ground again.

  “Relax. Enjoy the ride. Try not to fight the movement of the horse. Anticipate it and go with it.”

  She took a deep breath and tried to relax. It did not work.

  He edged the stallion closer and the mare shied away.

  “Don’t!” Jade squealed.

  “Steady.” He reached out and grabbed her horse’s bridle above the bit and stopped the mare just as he did his own. He slipped his hands over hers and took command of her reins. As she released the death grip on the pommel, he smiled his reassurance. “Hold these lightly. Let the horse know when you want it to stop or turn. Use the insides of your legs and your knees, too.”

  She blushed again.

  Jason chuckled deep in his throat.

  “Miss Douglas, I believe your sensibilities are too great to allow you to become an expert horsewoman.”

  “Don’t worry about my sensibilities. Worry about me falling off.”

  He laughed again. “We’ll take it slow. By the end of the day you’ll be more comfortable.”

  “By the end of the day, I’ll just be glad to be alive.”

  THE SUN SLOWLY burned the fog away just as they reached the hills surrounding the Page adobe. The fall-yellowed grasses, the dense, low-growing sage on the hills, and the gnarled oaks that fanned out across the landscape had not changed since she had seen them last. Nestled in the hollow between hills dotted with oaks, the house was a two-story structure surrounded by low wall that defined the gardens. A balcony lined the second floor and provided the roof for the veranda below it. Every door opened onto the balcony or the veranda. Two outdoor stairways banked either end of the house.

  The sight of the chipping whitewashed walls and dilapidated roof did little to dim the feeling of relief that washed over Jade at her homecoming. Jason’s guidance had helped to make her more at ease on horseback, and as she followed him down the hill, she gave her horse leave to go at the quickest trot of the morning. Breathless, she slowed the mare before the garden gate that was hanging open on its hinges, and led the way as they rode through.

  He watched her carefully as she began squirming beneath her cloak. Wriggling slowly, she seemed to be balling material in her hands from the hem up, inching it toward her head.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  In a barely audible voice she replied, “I’m trying to get this cloak off without spooking the horse.”

  “We’re standing perfectly still,” he reminded her. “That horse isn’t going anywhere. What I meant was not to let the ends flap wildly while we were riding.”

  Jade had the entire cloak wadded up about her neck like a thick shawl. She shrugged sheepishly. “You mean I can just take it off?”

  He held out his hand.

  She untied her cloak and handed it over to him. Jason sh
ook his head and brushed out the folds before he hung it over the front of his saddle.

  He remained silent as Jade took in the shambles that had once been a well-tended garden. The wild grapevine had escaped its trellis and extended about the place. Weaker plants had been choked out by the honeysuckle and barberry. The toyon—called California holly because of its round berries that turned red in December—had grown wild and much in need of pruning. The stately walnut and sycamore leaves had yellowed. Many had already fallen to litter the ground below. The paths, benches, and rocks situated about the garden had all but disappeared beneath the overgrowth.

  Jade sighed and looked at the door. She could almost see Philo Page now, with his stray wisps of hair on his bald head, his shoulders stooped from constant reading, his spectacles riding on the tip of his narrow nose, as he stood in the open doorway and called out a greeting. Whenever she arrived on one of her frequent visits, he always met her with some bit of information, a new book, or news of the arrival of a prized object from the Orient. Sometimes Emery Lennox, or one of the other sea captains who supplied the antiques, would be with him. And always, Chi Nu—Philo’s friend, chief caretaker, cook and groundskeeper—would be right behind him to welcome Jade home.

  Now they were both gone.

  Her eyes misted and she blinked away the tears.

  “Are you all right?”

  She gave a start, surprised to remember she was not alone, and tried to smile at Jason. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “For what?”

  “For letting me take this all in without saying anything.”

  J.T. wondered at her quiet thanks. It seemed only natural to hold his silence while she studied the changes that had occurred while she had been gone. He would have done the same. He could not wait to ride into Canyon de las Bolsas and feast his eyes on his home again.

  Jason dismounted before the hitching rail at the edge of the veranda. He walked to Jade’s horse and reached up for her. Thankful for his assistance, she put her hands on his shoulders. He grasped her waist. She gave herself over to him and he lifted her down, but did not immediately release her.