Jubilee Trail (65 page)

John did not answer immediately. He looked down at the wild oats, and bent a cluster of green young spikes with his boot. Watching the bent grass spring up again, he spoke slowly.

“Garnet, I wish I could say yes.”

“You still don’t know what I mean?” she cried.

John went on as though she had not spoken. “I almost did say yes. But I didn’t say it, because no matter how much you wanted to believe me, you couldn’t have believed me very long. I simply haven’t got any talent for pretending.” He turned so as to face her squarely. “Garnet, I don’t trust the future. I know the here and now, but I don’t know anything else. That’s why I can’t understand all those easy promises. A man can promise that he will never beat this woman, or that he will do his best to give her food and shelter. Those things are possible. But I don’t understand how he can swear that he’ll feel certain emotions for the rest of his life. How can he know?”

The corner of Garnet’s mouth gave a sardonic curl. She was remembering what Florinda had said to her about promises of love, and what she herself had thought that day: that John would never make a promise unless he was ready to risk his life to keep it. At least, she thought now, she had been right about that. John was not going to make her any promises. She asked,

“Then why do you want to marry me, John?”

He did not hesitate about answering this. “Because I want you so. You’ve got the kind of proud independent strength I admire, and I think you and I could have a very good time together.”

“But if that’s all you feel—suppose it doesn’t last?”

“Suppose it doesn’t,” he said. “We’ll have a very good time while it does last.” He smiled at her. “Now do you understand that?”

All of a sudden she got mad. She had been shocked and hurt; at first the shock had been so great that it had dulled her feeling of how deep the hurt was. But now she felt it, and John’s thin-lipped smile seemed to her to be mocking, as though he were making fun of her. She said deliberately, “I understand it. I think it’s about as exciting as warm dishwater.” She stood up, and John stood up too. Taking her elbow in his hard grip, he said,

“Garnet, the world is full of men who can talk the kind of trumpery you want to hear. You’re too smart to want it. If you do insist on it, you’ll deserve just what you’ll get.”

“And I’ll get—what do you mean?”

“Disillusion,” said John. “You’ve had that. It’s no fun—remember?”

She winced, but he did not apologize. He continued,

“I lied to you once. That day in Santa Fe, when I told you I had no letter for Oliver. It was a sentimental effort to spare you. If I had been honest with you that day I would have spared you a good deal of worse suffering later on. Doesn’t that prove anything to you?”

Garnet caught her breath. “Florinda gave me this same advice long ago,” she retorted. “But I didn’t expect it from you. Are you completely heartless, John?”

“I don’t know whether I’m heartless or merely reasonable,” said John. “But at least I’m honest. If it hurts you, it’s probably because I’m the first honest man you’ve ever known.”

“Oh shut up,” said Garnet. She was blazing with anger. “I know what I want and I won’t take less. You say you’re honest! Fiddlesticks. You’re as hard as glass. You can’t feel anything deeply so you laugh at people who can. It’s so easy to say you despise something you can’t understand. Like tone-deaf people who brag that they can’t enjoy music and say that people who go to concerts are just putting on airs. I’m sorry I bothered you with my nonsense and I never will again.”

She was so angry that she could not see him clearly. She was aware that his dark face was close to hers, and his hand was still tight on her elbow, and he was beginning to say something. But she did not want to hear him say any more. With a quick effort she wrenched herself free, and gathering up her skirts she began to run. She had been so sure of what she wanted, and so sure John had come back to give it to her. Now she felt rejected and humiliated, as if she had asked for pearls and he had tossed her a handful of sea-shells. She was angry with him, and even more angry with herself for having asked so frankly. She felt that she had left herself not a shred of pride or dignity. If he was laughing at her it was no more than she should have expected after such outrageous candor as hers.

She ran through the high grass, scraping her shoulders against the low-hanging limbs of the trees and feeling the twigs slap her cheeks and catch in her hair. The ground was rough, and the wild oats was nearly knee-high and thick as fur. She was so eager to get away from John that she did not notice how rough it was until her foot caught in a clump of grass and pitched her forward.

She was not hurt, for she had instinctively put her hands under her as she fell, so that she caught most of the shock on her arms. But it was a shock nevertheless, and for a moment she could not move. How idiotic she must look, she thought as she struggled to breathe again, and how ridiculous. She hoped violently that John had not seen her fall. Half dazed, she pushed herself up with both hands.

It was hard to get her breath. No part of her body was actually painful, but she had a shaken-up feeling all over and her elbows and the palms of her hands were stinging. She blinked to clear her eyes, and as she did so she saw John. He had knelt down beside her and was about to help her up. Garnet jerked back from him. At least he might have had the tact to pretend he had not seen her tumble down in this graceless fashion. But of course, John had no tact and he never pretended anything. He had just finished telling her so. She was still dizzy, but she could see his face bent over hers.

“Please listen to me!” he was saying. “You just told me something I’d never thought of before. Maybe I am tone-deaf about love. That could be so, because I know what you mean about music.”

He was kneeling by her, supporting her with an arm under her shoulders. For the moment she still had no voice to answer. John went on.

“I am tone-deaf, Garnet. Almost, that is. I can usually recognize a tune I’ve heard ten times, but more than that I can’t do. You wouldn’t blame me for that, would you? So if I was born without any talent for love, do you have to punish me for it?”

Garnet was catching the air in painful gasps. The jolt of her fall, added to the thunder in her mind, was making her tremble all over. “John, let me alone!” she exclaimed. “Stop laughing at me. Let me go.”

“Oh you dear tormenting woman,” said John, “don’t you know if I had what you want I’d give it to you?”

Garnet barely heard him. Though it was still hard for her to move, she tried to scramble to her feet. Her movements were unsteady, and John took her elbows in his hands and raised her. Before she could pull away from him she heard him say, “Is this what you were running away from, Garnet?” and he put his arms around her and kissed her as she had never been kissed before.

At first she yielded in a breathless rapture. But then suddenly she realized that she was yielding. A wave of rage and shame swept down like a red curtain in front of her eyes. With all the strength she had she broke away from him, and she was so angry with herself that she slapped his face. It made her hand sting again. She rushed away from him as fast as she could, but by good luck or because she knew he was looking, this time she did not stumble. It was only a few seconds before she came out of the grove and heard her footsteps crunching on the flagstones of the court between the grove and the house.

She stopped abruptly, letting go her skirts, and glanced over her shoulder. John had not followed her. He was back there among the olive trees and she could not see him. She hoped she would never have to see him again.

She was glad to find that Florinda was not in their bedroom. Garnet dropped face down across the bed, feeling as limp as a boiled fish. A little while later she heard the gong sounding for the mid-morning breakfast, but she paid no attention. She felt as exhausted as if she had been riding a mountain trail all day.

Shortly before noon Florinda came in. She had been riding; her hair was windblown and her cheeks had a bright flush, and altogether she had such an air of well-being that Garnet would have liked to slap her too. Florinda took off her leather gloves, and dropping them on the wall-bench she came over to the bed and put her hand on Garnet’s shoulder.

“Dear,” she said gently, “I’m so sorry.”

Startled, Garnet looked up. “How do you know?”

“I don’t, not exactly. But he hurt you dreadfully, didn’t he?” Garnet’s throat puckered and she could not answer. Florinda said, “Don’t talk about it if you’d rather not. But it’s pretty clear. You were so happy. You were all ready to be hurt.”

Garnet gave her a crooked smile. Swallowing the pucker in her throat she said, “You tried to tell me, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“You’re so gay and shining, Garnet. And John, he’s like a house with the doors locked and the shades down.” She gave Garnet a critical survey. “You’ve got grass-stains on your dress.”

“I slipped and fell down.”

“Lucky I came in. I figured you’d want to be let alone, so I stayed out as long as I could. But you’ve got to come to dinner. Want me to get out a clean dress for you?”

Garnet did not want to come to dinner, but Florinda insisted.

“If you go on missing meals,” she warned darkly, “Doña Manuela will decide you’re sick. And if Doña Manuela decides you’re sick, heaven help you. Anyway, there’s no danger of running into John today. I just saw him riding on the hills like seven ghosts were after him.”

Garnet went to the dining-hall, and to her surprise she was able to eat when she got there. The food made her feel better, for she had had nothing all day but the cup of chocolate at dawn. After dinner she was sure she could not get a siesta, but to avoid being a nuisance she went to bed when Florinda did, and long habit made her fall asleep. When she woke up her mind was quieter. She was still hurt and bewildered, but at least she did not feel as if every nerve in her body was as tight as a violin-string.

During the siesta hour a hard rain had started, and the room was so cold that instead of getting dressed they curled up on the bed with blankets over their knees. As there was no glass in the window they had to keep the shutters closed, but they had plenty of candles. Florinda was stitching a fresh ruffle around the neck of a dress. She took exquisite care of her clothes, but she would not do her sewing anywhere but in the bedroom, for she could not sew with gloves on and the movements of needlework drew attention to her hands.

She had pried for no confidences. But by now Garnet felt like talking. While the rain fell outside, she told Florinda a good deal about what she and John had said to each other. Florinda listened with sympathy, but she was frankly baffled.

“But Garnet, he said he’d marry you! I was afraid he would want you just to be his lady-friend, and I knew that would shock you something awful. Are you sure he said he’d marry you?”

“He’s willing to go through a ceremony. He quite evidently hasn’t any respect for it.”

Florinda sighed patiently. “None of them have, dear. The only difference is that John tells you the truth beforehand.” For a moment she was silent, puzzling over Garnet’s ways, then she said, “Garnet, I guess I’m simple-minded. But why won’t you take him?”

Garnet tried to explain. “Because what he feels for me isn’t big enough. He’d get tired of me.”

“Well dear, you’d probably get tired of him too. I can’t imagine being with one man day and night and not getting tired of him.”

“I can,” Garnet said stubbornly.

“I guess you’ve got more imagination than I have. Look, Garnet, let’s think about the worst. Suppose you married John. And then suppose he did get tired of you. You could get a divorce. Back in New York I wouldn’t be saying this. It’s easier to bite your elbow than it is to get a divorce in New York. But here in California since the Americans came in, it’s quite simple. Mr. Kerridge was talking about it the other day. The American alcaldes can grant divorces, and they are being very obliging about it.”

Garnet pushed her fingers up through her hair. For a moment she was silent, listening to the rattle of the rain. The mere idea of divorce did not scandalize her as it had once. But she had built a dream-castle of a marriage enclosing a love that was strong and proud and above all, lasting. The idea of getting married with the expectation of getting tired of it seemed to her no more satisfying than one of Florinda’s so-called love affairs. She lifted her head and shook back her hair.

“That’s no good,” she said. “Some women might find that kind of marriage better than nothing. But I wouldn’t. If I knew he didn’t really love me, I’d tremble with uncertainty. Every day I’d expect him to say, ‘Well, good-by, this is all.’ And one day he would say it, and where would I be then?”

Florinda shrugged. “Well, at least you’d be no worse off than you are now.”

“Oh yes I would,” snapped Garnet. “I’m so revoltingly healthy, I’d probably have a basketful of babies.”

“I daresay I could help you there,” said Florinda. “However, that’s always a risk and you do have to think of it.” She laid down her sewing and wrapped her arms about her knees. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you tell John you want half of Torosa?”

Garnet gave a gasp. The idea was so startling that for a moment she could not answer. Florinda went on,

“Tell him you’ll marry him, but first you want to be sure he’s not going to leave you stranded with a lot of brats. Of course he’ll swear he wouldn’t, but promises are worth a dime a dozen.”

That last line was like what John had said this morning. Garnet felt a creepy sensation at the back of her neck. Florinda continued,

“I don’t know how big Torosa is, but it must be at least twenty thousand acres. Half of that is ten. Ten thousand acres isn’t a vast holding for California, but it would be enough to make you independent, and if you left California you’d have a nice profit to take home.”

Her arms rigid and her fists buried in the pillows behind her, Garnet was thinking, I wonder what John would say if he could hear her. I wonder if he would find this as sensible as she does.