by Anya Seton
BY THE MIDDLE of May, Amanda knew that she was going to have a baby. It had been conceived on that strange and violent night of transition when she and Dart drove back from El Castillo to Lodestone. Conceived because both of them had felt the futility of words to break down the wall between them.
They had lain together under the stars, and for a little time had known respite from their separate clamors, united in the rapture that looks neither forward nor back but exists only for itself. But afterwards there had again been many silences between them. Neither of them mentioned the visit to El Castillo, they tried to treat it as though it had not happened, and picked up their joint life where it had been interrupted. Dart, especially, wiped the whole incident from his mind, disliking memory of the confused hurt and cold anger he had felt during those days of their separation. But there was a cloud on their relation, and for Amanda too, except that another factor temporarily dissipated it.
Amanda’s recognition of her pregnancy, after initial dismay—for they had certainly not meant to have children yet—had brought a flood of joy and pride. She had wanted to tell everyone, to boast about it. She told Tessie Rubrick and basked in that little woman’s hearty congratulations. While she was buying stewing lamb in the General Store she told Pearl Pottner, and was unperturbed by Pearl’s shocked silence. She would even have told Mrs. Mablett, except that Lydia had been deeply affronted by Amanda’s non-appearance for her party on the Friday night that Amanda had gone to El Castillo. Amanda’s tardy stammered excuses proffered when they met in the store in no way thawed Lydia, who received them with frosty disdain.
“One positively feels sorry for Mr. Dartland,” she told her friend Pearl. “One can see how she embarrasses him.” Dart had attended the Mablett party alone though only for a short time. He had spoken little and made no trouble.
Pearl passed on Amanda’s extraordinary confidence about her condition and the ladies indulged in head-shaking, also in mental arithmetic.
“When did she say it would be?” asked Lydia.
“January.”
They exchanged a long thoughtful look. There had been plenty of speculation about Amanda’s sudden unexplained disappearance.
“Of course, she was only gone ten days or so,” said Pearl reluctantly. After a moment she added, “D’you suppose she’ll have Doctor Slater?”
Lydia nodded. “Yes, that’s another thing. They’ve seen plenty of each other—those two. I don’t mean anything wrong exactly, but all I can say is I feel sorry for Mr. Dartland.”
“How’s he doing up at the mine?”
“Toned down,” said Lydia with satisfaction. “Luther feels that Mr. Tyson gave him a good talking-to. I expect that girl was most of the trouble anyway. Egging him on. Now he’s learned better.”
“Did you notice how much lighter her hair is, since she came back? If I ever caught Pearline peroxiding her hair, I’d tan her backside, old as she is. That Dartland girl acts like a tart".
Amanda did not know the full extent of her continuing unpopularity with Lodestone’s leading matrons but the exaltation of her earlier pregnancy gradually faded. She began to suffer from morning sickness, and from vague aches and fears. Dart was kind, he spared her all the heavy work that he could, but he was also matter-of-fact about her condition. He was glad that they were having a child and was reasonably sympathetic with her mounting discomforts, but after all it was a natural process and one which she must endure alone.
Somewhat to his surprise he found that Hugh did not entirely agree with him.
One late July afternoon when Dart was driving down from the mine, he met Hugh on the road near the ghost town and offered him a lift.
“Yes,” said Hugh climbing into the car, “but don’t start off yet. I.want to talk to you about Andy.”
“Why? Is there anything wrong?” Dart looked anxiously at his friend.
“No. Not now anyway.” Hugh leaned back and crossed his legs. Both men lit cigarettes. “But I’m wondering if you’ve thought about where she’s to go for her confinement.”
Dart was startled. Like most men he had only the haziest idea of obstetrics, and for him these were colored by memories of births in the Apache rancheria during his boyhood. He remembered no fuss, no special commotion. He had naturally known little about it, for Apache women were intensely modest, but all had been conducted with quiet dignity.
“Well, but isn’t she going to stay here?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to do the job yourself?”
Hugh smiled. He was fond of Dart who was the only person in the world for whom he felt respect. And in consequence Hugh usually showed a better side to Dart than to anyone else. “You forget that I get very drunk sometimes,” he said. “Most husbands wouldn’t consider me the ideal obstetrician.”
“You wouldn’t get drunk at a time like that.”
“Probably not, if I were blessed with foreknowledge of the female glandular system. You don’t expect me to keep sober for weeks waiting around for Andy, do you?” He puffed on his cigarette and added, “But it isn’t that. She’s going to have a difficult birth, measurements doubtful. Might even be a Caesarean. I can’t do that here, drunk or sober. She’ll have to go to a decent hospital in plenty of time. I’d have said Ray, except it’s shut down now along with the mine and the smelter. I guess it’ll have to be Tucson.”
“Oh,” said Dart. He stared frowning at the distant mountains. “I didn’t realize she was—was delicate.”
“Not delicate. But she’s not as tough as you. Few people are.” Hugh looked down at his own slack belly, at the slight tremor of his hands. He looked at Dart, lean as a panther, always in control of his body which never betrayed inner disquiet by twitching or nervous mannerisms. Integrated, Dart was, as nearly free from ambivalence as any human could be.
“You think I lack sympathy?” asked Dart smiling faintly.
“I think that feeling no need for it yourself, it’s hard for you to understand the anguish of neurotic drives, of uncertainty—of just plain loneliness.”
Dart was silent, weighing the merits of this criticism. He remembered Amanda’s broken voice in the hallway outside the ballroom before Merrill interrupted them. “Don’t you see how hard they’re searching for something?—Just because you’re strong and real, you mustn’t be so harsh.” He did not mean to be harsh, but he was puzzled. What illusion were they all pursuing? Foxfire, he thought or the dancing will-o’-the-wisp, the something always ahead and never here. What merit was there in so futile a waste of effort? He brought his thoughts back to the immediate problem Hugh had posed.
“Obviously, in view of what you tell me, we must make arrangements for Andy in Tucson. I’ll get the money somehow.”
“Yes. That’s the next thing. You should allow at least three hundred. How’ll you do it? Borrow from her family?”
Dart’s mouth tightened. “No.” No personal loans again of any kind, and certainly not from Amanda’s family. He had just about paid back the two hundred dollars Mr. Tyson had lent him for the wedding trip, and released from the embarrassment of being under obligations, he had made up his mind to tackle the manager again on the subject of the blind cross-cut in the old Shamrock. They’d been coasting long enough.
“No collateral I suppose for a bank loan?” asked Hugh.
“No. I tried that before. But we can manage. Save from my salary what we’ve been paying back to Tyson, it’ll be just the same.”
“Andy’s been counting on that little extra to spruce up the shack, build a room on for the baby,” said Hugh.
“I know and I’m sorry. It can’t be helped.”
“Money doesn’t mean a thing to you.” Hugh turned on Dart in sudden fury. “All you want is four walls and some food. You ask a hell of a lot of Andy! Brought up the way she was! I’m amazed the girl came back to you.”
Dart was astonished at the violence of Hugh’s tone, by the sudden clenching of his hands. He stared at his friend and answered mildly, “That’s true, but Andy isn
’t being asked to endure anything worse than nine tenths of the population endures. And it won’t last forever. I’m a competent mining engineer. I’ll work up in time.—What’s the matter with you, anyway?” he added smiling. “You’re not in love with Andy, are you?”
Hugh exhaled his’breath, his hands unclenched. “No,” he said. “No. But I had a wife once who couldn’t take it, who didn’t care to wait around until I ‘worked up in time.’ And she’s made a damn good thing of her life without me, too. She’s famous and she’s rich as hell.”
“Oh—” said Dart, enlightened and embarrassed. “I see.”
He still wants her, he thought. And this seemed strange to Dart. Who would want a wife who preferred other things—or other men? Surely if Amanda had decided to marry Tim Merrill, if she had chosen the glittering frothy type of life which had obviously attracted her so strongly, he would have cut her from him without hesitation. He would have felt great pain, certainly. He had felt pain during the days of their estrangement. But he thought that he would not have allowed himself to yearn for her, or lament her going. One did not punish the straying wife as the Apache used to but one could expunge her from one’s life. One gave and received freely when there was mutual love, but surely emotional dependence on another human being was a weak and shameful thing.
“Will you start up this God-damn piece of junk,” shouted Hugh suddenly. “I haven’t got all day!” He had exposed himself to Dart as he never had to anyone, and the immediate reaction was rage towards the listener. “Run me down to the ‘Laundry,’ I want a drink. I suppose you’re too damn holy to have one; anyway you better go back to Andy. She gets lonely.” “I know she does. I hoped maybe she’d find a friend in Calise Cunningham, but it didn’t jell.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake—of all the screwy ideas! Of course it didn’t jell. You’re so simple you seem complex, and the hell with all your little problems. You can God-almighty yourself out of them, any way you like!”
Dart did not answer. He had seen these sudden shifts of mood in Hugh before, though he had never seen the green eyes spark with so much anger, nor heard directed at him quite such a shrill edge in the voice. Was it dope, too? he thought, after he had dropped Hugh at the saloon, had the pupils in those suddenly vicious eyes been unduly contracted? He sighed and stopped the car at the dusty little path before his home.
Dart told Amanda a softened version of Hugh’s suggestion about the hospital and she expressed gratitude and relief. “I was sort of dreading to have the baby here. I guess Hugh’d be all right, but Maria’s such a bitch, and the hospital—well ... I do want our baby to be comfortable!” She smiled at Dart. It was one of her good days. Only a little nausea this morning after breakfast, and hardly any headache. “How soon can we get at the room for him here? I’ve figured it all out. There’s just space enough next to the closet, maybe eight feet, then push it out ten anyway, big enough for a crib, and play pen, bathinette, everything perfect for young Jonathan.”
Dart, true to his usual facing of facts, started to speak and then checked himself. “Sounds fine,” he said cheerfully, and began pumping water into the sink.
“But when can we start? This month’ll pay up Tyson, won’t it?”
“Uh-uhn,” he said. “Andy, where’s the soap?”
“I don’t know,” she answered slowly, watching him, “I guess it’s in the saucepan, I melted some for shampoo. Dart—what is it—won’t we have more money when the loan’s paid?”
“Sure. Thirty-five dollars a month more.”
“Well, then we can buy lumber and paint—you were going to build it yourself—Oh, I see.” She sat down on a kitchen chair, staring at the linoleum pattern on the floor. “We have to save for this Tucson business. Then I’d better stay here, it’s free.”
“Hugh says that wouldn’t be very wise,” said Dart gently. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll work out.”
Work out how? she thought. Mother? But Mrs. Lawrence had no money to spare. Jean and George? Never. Anyway we ought to be able to manage a thing like this ourselves, without skimping on the baby. She looked at the wall space she had measured, she thought of the bright sunny nursery she had planned.
“There’s always the Chinaman,” she said angrily. “Raise something on that dressing case. Too bad my pearls are fake.” “You wouldn’t get ten bucks on the dressing case from that old yellow-belly,” said Dart. “Andy, trust me. We’ll have to save now, but I’ll do the very best I can. I have a plan and January’s quite a way off.”
“You’re not counting on a raise? Not with depression and the mine just hanging on—I do know that much.”
“Things change. The price of gold is rising, and I’ve made a careful study of the outcrops around the Shamrock shaft, I’m quite certain——”
She had heard only one word of this, and she jumped to her feet and interrupted him sharply. “Gold. Yes, Dart. I know you won’t like this but I honestly don’t care if you get mad or not. Because I’m going to have things right for the baby.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” He gazed in some alarm at her flushed face and determined eyes.
“I’m talking about that lost mine. The Pueblo Encantado. I want you to go and hunt for it. Right now. This summer.”
“My dear child, you’re crazy.”
“I’m not. I’m serious, and you better be. You’ve no right to sneer at any chance for us to get money. I believe in that mine. I know there’s gold there, something worthwhile, anyway.” She didn’t know how this certainty had come to her, but during the dormant period since Saba’s death and the visit to El Castillo the thought of the mine had been germinating. It now sprang forth in full bloom, a flower of beckoning light, its perfume infinitely seductive.
“Andy, for Pete’s sake—” Dart drew up the other chair and sat down. “We went through all this once. I thought you’d forgotten all about it.”
“I haven’t,” she said staring at him defiantly. “I made tracings, I copied your father’s notes. I got a map. The Mazatzal wilderness area isn’t so far from here. You’ve got to go and search. Oh, lord—if I could only do it myself, I’d be off like a shot. As it is you go, right away.”
The utter unreason of this silenced Dart for a moment, and because of her condition, and the air she had of an embattled kitten scratching out blindly at a shadow, he was not moved to anger at her persistence as he had been the other time, nor even at her duplicity in copying the papers. He made one more attempt at reasoning with her.
“Andy—leaving everything else aside, I can’t take time off to go rambling around the mountains on a wild-goose chase. I have a job, my dear. I’d lose that job and serve me right.—And another thing—I’d have to hire a pack mule, get camping equipment, provisions—all cost money.”
“You could quit your job. They’d give you two weeks severance pay. Mr. Tyson likes you.”
“That’s utter nonsense.” Dart got up and poured coffee into a cup. “Here, drink this, and stop being a silly baby. I’m going to put you to bed.”
She pushed the cup aside. “In other words you won’t do it.” “No,” said Dart. “I won’t do it.”
All that night she lay stiff and unyielding beside him. Like a trapped animal her mind scurried here and there in panicky dashes. She was not so foolish that she could not see the logic in Dart’s position, but stronger than any common sense was her conviction. The cage would open, the miraculous, the blissful escape to freedom was there for the taking, but how? Who else could help her? There was nobody she could trust. Nobody but Hugh—an unpredictable and slender prop indeed. But better than nothing, even if he laughed, even if he subjected the bright beckoning flower to a blast of scorn, it would be a release to talk. Since she could not talk to Dart.
Dart spent no sleepless hours, in his mind there were no panic scurryings. He dismissed Amanda’s aberration as a transient symptom but he proposed to act now in the only possible way that might alleviate the rational part of her distr
ess. He would work harder than ever for the success of the mine and he would go to Tyson again in the morning.
The next day was the beginning of a heat wave. Lodestone, hot enough on normal days, awoke to a dry baking heat, and a lurid stillness in the air like the inside of an oven.
Dart got his own breakfast and left a listless and silent Amanda in bed, a prey to racking nausea every time she lifted her head.
“I hate to leave you like this,” he said. “Do you want me to see if Tessie Rubrick’ll sit with you a while?”
She shook her head. “It’ll pass. It always does.” She spoke coldly, keeping her eyes shut.
Dart hesitated, he kissed her quickly then turned and left for work.
On this morning he went down on shift with the men to the thousand-foot level, the deepest part of the mine. It was as yet almost undeveloped. They had just finished the station, and were about to blast a cross-cut towards the feeble and elusive Plymouth vein. Tiger Burton, the shift boss, went down in the cage with Dart, and as usual answered Dart’s questions and listened to Dart’s opinions saying, “Yes, sir. Very true, Mr. Dartland,” the paragon of meek acquiescence. To be sure, he never raised his eyes above Dart’s shirt but as there was nearly a foot’s difference in their height, that was not surprising. Dart had always found the man too negative to provoke any feeling of like or dislike. Burton was simply an efficient little machine, but this morning while they stood jammed into the plunging cage together, Dart was conscious of a faint repulsion. The man had a stink, thought Dart, his nostrils quivering, not ordinary sweat and dirt stink, but an acrid odor—like a den of baby rattlers he had once discovered in the Natanes Mountains on the reservation. Maybe, Dart thought, amused, that was why Cleve had taken such a scunner to the man. The Apache nose was very sensitive to certain odors.
As they stepped out of the cage at the lowest level, Dart waited until the crew had gone on ahead and asked on impulse, “Whatever was the trouble between you and the Apache boys anyway?”
Tiger cocked his head, beneath the shadow of his hard hat his little eyes gleamed and then shifted. “No trouble at all, Mr. Dartland. They just took a notion to quit. You know how they are—slippery as eels—oh, pardon, I forgot.”
