Jubilee Trail (73 page)

“An exigency? It means an emergency. A tight spot.”

“And what’s an imbroglio?”

Garnet was laughing. “That means a mix-up.”

“Well, well,” Florinda said respectfully. “I wonder how it feels to know so much.” She opened the door. “I’ll be right back.”

She reappeared almost at once, bringing the pot and a spoon, and a towel to protect Garnet’s dress. At sight of the spoon Stephen popped his mouth open like a baby bird. Florinda went back into the kitchen, and Garnet set about feeding him.

From beyond the closed door she could hear the other three—Florinda’s low, carefully trained speech, the jangly tones of Estelle, and Silky’s voice, which was deep and rather pleasant when he was talking naturally. They all had a good deal to say, but they did not sound angry.

Before long she heard Isabel come up on the porch. Garnet took Stephen outside and told Isabel to take care of him.

José had opened the saloon. Garnet would have liked a cup of chocolate before going to work, but she was pretty sure that she was not wanted in the kitchen right now. So when she had gone up to her room and combed her hair again, she went back through the stuffy little hallway and into the barroom by the side door. Several customers were there already. As she poured their drinks, one of the men asked her if she had ever been to New York, and without waiting for her to answer he began telling her all about it. In the midst of his description Florinda opened the door. The boys exclaimed and called to her. Florinda waved back brightly, saying, “I’ll be there right away. Will you come here a minute, Garnet?”

Leaving José in charge, Garnet went back to the kitchen. Except for herself and Florinda the room was empty now. Florinda had put on a pot of coffee, and she filled cups for Garnet and herself. “Look, dearie,” she began as she sat down. “Please don’t be mad with Silky.”

“I’m not mad with him,” Garnet assured her.

“Promise?”

“Yes.” Garnet began to laugh again. “Honestly, Florinda, I don’t have to be treated as if I were made of glass!”

“Of course not, dear. But let me tell you how it is with Silky.” She gave Garnet a look that was half humorous and half earnest. “You see, you’re a—how do I say it?—you’re a chaste woman.”

Garnet listened, wondering what was going to come next.

“You’re the first chaste woman,” said Florinda, “that Silky has had around him since his mother died.”

Garnet frowned slightly, puzzled as to how she should interpret all this. “When did his mother die?” she asked.

“When he was ten or twelve years old,” said Florinda. She gave Garnet a confidential smile. “You know,” she commented in an undertone, “I rather suspect Silky’s family was kind of genteel. But they died and left no money, and there wasn’t anybody to take care of him. And when a kid is turned loose on the town, you know how it is—no, I guess you don’t.”

“No,” Garnet agreed, “I guess I don’t.”

“Well, anyway,” Florinda went on, “Silky’s mother was a good woman. And so are you. And of course too, you’re a mother. And the sight of a sweet pure young woman with a baby in her arms, it does something to a man like Silky. I think it touches the last morsel of goodness he’s got left in him. Because of course, dear, Silky is a thief and a liar and a scamp of every description. If I didn’t keep watch on the books he’d cheat you out of half you earn here. But he respects you, Garnet, I mean really he does.”

This was too complex for Garnet to grasp it all at once. She asked, “But what has this got to do with Estelle?”

“I know it seems mighty roundabout,” said Florinda. “But I had to explain a little. Silky respects you, and when I brought you here he told me that neither Estelle nor any of her girls would come inside this building while you lived in it. That’s why I was so surprised to see her today. I was mad besides.”

“I’m not mad,” said Garnet. “I’ll tell him so if you want me to.”

“I wish you would. Because really, she had to see him. Something had happened and she had to tell him about it.”

“What was it? Or is it none of my business?”

“Yes, it’s your business. It’s—it’s what I’m about to tell you.” Florinda stopped and took a sip of coffee.

Garnet was alarmed. Florinda did not often speak jerkily. “I’m not going to make a scene,” Garnet promised. “So go ahead and tell me. Is it bad?”

“Yes, dear. I’m so sorry. It’s Texas.”

For a moment Garnet could not say anything. She swallowed and made herself speak steadily. “What’s happened to him?”

“He’s had a fall,” said Florinda. “A bad fall.” She hesitated, then gave a shrug. “I don’t know why I’m trying to say it so delicately. You’re no such apple blossom as you used to be. Texas was down at Estelle’s. The usual reason, I suppose, I don’t know of any other reason to go there. He was drunk. Maybe he was too drunk to see where he was going, maybe he slipped because he was lame. He’s dying. And Estelle—she knows it will hurt business, having a death in the house. But he’s all broken to pieces and he’s been in dreadful pain and delirious. He’s easier now and in his right mind, but he can’t stand to have anybody touch him. It would be like cutting him up with a blunt knife if they carried him out and put him into a cart and took him home, and she says she just can’t do it.”

“God bless her,” said Garnet. She had thought she was going to speak vehemently, but she was so touched and so choked with pity that her voice came out in a thin little thread. “Florinda, we can get a message to Estelle, can’t we?”

“Why yes, of course. What do you want to say?”

“Tell her I’ve got a little money saved up. If she’ll let him stay there and die in peace, I’ll help pay for the business she’ll lose.”

Florinda smiled. “All right. Mighty sweet of you.”

Garnet rested her forehead on her hands. “Does he know he’s dying, Florinda?”

“Oh yes. He’s the one that told her. But she says anybody would know it to look at him.”

There was a silence. Florinda finished her coffee. She fingered the handle of the cup.

“I guess you know how Texas feels about you,” she said. “And he adores Stephen, I guess you know that too. When he was out of his head he talked to you all the time. Estelle said would I please tell you—here, have some more coffee.”

Garnet heard her with a sense of pain. Poor Texas, dear Texas. Florinda refilled both their cups. Garnet asked,

“What did Estelle want you to tell me?”

Florinda smiled wryly. “Well dear, she said it would mean a frightful lot to Texas if you’d come and say good-by to him and bring the baby.”

Garnet jerked up straight. “If I’d—you mean, Texas wants me to go there?”

“He didn’t suggest it!” Florinda exclaimed. “Texas wouldn’t dream of asking you to go inside a fancy house. Estelle thought it up. She said the way Texas talked to you and the baby when he was out of his head—she couldn’t stand it, it made the tears pour down her cheeks.” As though afraid she might have said too much, Florinda added quickly, “You don’t have to go, Garnet. Silky didn’t even want me to tell you.”

Garnet looked down. Without raising her eyes she said, “Of course I’ll go, Florinda.”

“Would you really?” Florinda exclaimed.

“Why yes. If it would mean that much to him.”

“Oh Garnet, I’m so glad. I’m so glad, Garnet!”

“Does she want me to come with her now?”

“Oh my Lord, no. Not in the late afternoon, there’s too much going on. But early tomorrow morning. The place is quiet as a parsonage then.”

Garnet twisted her handkerchief through her fingers. “Florinda, you’re sure I’ll be safe there, aren’t you?”

“You’ll be as safe,” said Florinda, “as if you were locked up in the fort.” She gave Garnet a one-sided smile. “Don’t let Silky know I told you this. But the fact is, that establishment belongs to Silky. He wouldn’t let—”

“Silky!”

“He doesn’t want it known, so don’t repeat it. I told you so you’d be sure nobody would bother you there. Silky and Estelle have been friends for years. They got acquainted in St. Louis when he was working the river-boats, and when he took the trail he brought her out here and set her up in business.”

Garnet nodded slowly. Florinda gave her a knowing look.

“Now you’re dying to ask,” Florinda said with amusement, “if I have an investment in Estelle’s outfit too. No, dearie, I haven’t. I own half of this one, just as I told you before, and that’s all. Is there anything else?”

Garnet shook her head. She could not help laughing at Florinda’s shrewdness. “Tell Estelle,” she said, “if somebody I can trust will walk over there with me, I’ll bring Stephen to see Texas tomorrow morning. I’ll be ready whenever she says.”

“Silky will go with you, and he’ll see to it that the house is empty of customers before you get there. Gee, Garnet, that’s good of you. I’ll tell him right away.”

She went to call Silky from the gambling room. Garnet sat where she was. An odd little shiver ran up her back as though someone had touched her with an icicle. It was not that she was afraid to go to Estelle’s. She was sure she ran no risk of the sort that would ordinarily have made her afraid to go inside any such house. But later she was to remember that shiver, and the vague disquiet that plagued her all evening and made her sleep restlessly that night. Remembering it, she wondered if there was any such thing as a hunch, or a forewarning, or anything that could have come out of the future to touch her with cold fingers and tell her not to go.

“
MISS GARNET
,”
SAID TEXAS
, “there’s one or two little things I wish you’d tend to for me.”

“Why of course, Texas,” said Garnet. “What are they?”

Texas turned his head a little and smiled at her. She sat on the wall-bench at the head of his bed, while Stephen, curled up on the floor, was tearing up one of the straw animals Texas had made for him during the past summer. Texas held Garnet’s hand in his as he spoke. His voice was weak, but the words were plain enough.

“I’ve got a few hides on deposit with Mr. Abbott. Tell him to pay up everything.”

“Yes, Texas.”

“And if there’s any left over—” Texas smiled again as his eyes moved toward Stephen—“buy something for him.”

“You’re so good to him, Texas. But isn’t there—isn’t there anybody else?”

“No ma’am,” said Texas. There was a pause. Texas stroked her hand. After a while he asked, “Miss Garnet, do you guess I could have a drink?”

“Why yes,” said Garnet. “I’ll pour it for you.” She poured the drink from a bottle she had brought with her, and held Texas’ head up so he could swallow. It was Florinda’s best whiskey. Garnet had offered to pay for it, but Florinda had answered, “Not necessary, dear. Texas always keeps plenty of hides on the books.”

Stephen toddled over and pulled at the not very clean blanket lying across Texas’ broken body. Texas winced, though he tried to smile at the baby, and Garnet drew Stephen away. Stephen was tired and getting cross. She gave him some cold porridge from a pail she had brought, and at length Stephen curled up on his own blanket, which she had spread in a corner for him, and went to sleep.

Texas lay quietly. His bed had no sheets, but he had a pillow, and he seemed to be comfortable. The light was dim, for Garnet had closed the shutters; and though the sun was blazing outside, the thick adobe walls kept the room fairly cool. This was about all that could be said in its favor. Smells of garbage crept in through the cracks around the shutters, along with the other smells of hides and chili and unwashed Diggers that always hung over Los Angeles. By now Garnet was so used to the atmosphere that she did not often notice it. But here in this little cubbyhole at Estelle’s the smells were thick and stale, as though they clung to the walls.

Besides the smells, the cracks let in streaks of sun. Garnet could see the dust in the air and the flaking whitewash on the walls; and over her head she saw tatters of cobweb dangling from the rafters. The wall-curtains were faded at the folds and dingy at the hems. On the walls above the curtains hung two mirrors in gilt frames, and some pictures cut from old magazines that had filled up the chinks in M. Abbott’s goods-boxes. The pictures were smudgy, and curling at the edges.

Garnet could hear ox-carts creaking and drivers shouting, men’s talk and women’s talk and the voices of children, and the rough drone of Digger water-sellers calling their trade. She did not often notice the noise either. But today she heard it, perhaps because the racket outside was in such contrast to the silence within. Estelle’s girls were all asleep, and so, probably, was Estelle. Early this morning when Garnet had walked over here with Silky, Estelle had opened the door for them. Garnet had had only a glimpse of her. Silky, holding her elbow tight, had guided her straight through a dusky little passageway to this room. He had promised her that the house would be locked up until he himself came back to get her. Before leaving he had asked to see her Colt, to make sure it was ready for use. Nothing was going to happen, he assured her again, but a good Colt was a comforting thing to have. Silky did not approve of this visit.

Until she had actually entered the room where Texas lay, Garnet had not been sure that she was wise to come here. Her little cold shiver of yesterday had come back over and over during her wakeful night. But when she saw Texas, and the glow that broke over his face when she came in, her doubts went away. Maybe it was because she had not been sure before that Texas was really dying. But now she saw the green tinge of his face, the strange uncertainty of his eyes, the flutters of his hands, the limpness of the lower part of his body, which lay under the blanket like a bundle of weeds. Little as she knew about the look of coming death, she knew as though by some ancient instinct that this was not the look of life. With Stephen in her arms, she knelt on the dusty floor by the bed. For a moment Texas’ hands fumbled on the blanket, then as he looked at them he got a better sense of direction. His hands moved toward her. He touched Stephen, and stroked Garnet’s cheek with his hard dry fingers, whispering, “God bless you, Miss Garnet, God bless you.”

Garnet had never sat with a person who was dying. Before leaving the saloon she had packed a basket, putting in the whiskey for Texas and the things that Stephen would need; and at the last minute she had put her Bible into the basket too. Now that Stephen was asleep, she picked up the Bible and asked bashfully, “Texas, would you like to have me read to you?”