When the Owl Cries

by Paul Alexander Bartlett

  18

  Sofia, Lucienne's maid, brought Raul a letter, arriving early atPetaca, her face, hair and hands wet with mist. She gave it to him inthe living room.

  "Dearest Raul," the letter began, "We are all right here at Palma Sola.Don't worry about us. I had no luck in Guanajuato. The manager ishonest but afraid. I will tell you more about it when we meet.

  "I have heard that things have been bad with you at Petaca and I amsorry, darling. Sorry for you, Angelina, and all concerned. I knowhow much the hacienda means to you. Everything done to Petaca issomething done to you.

  "The Kolbs are here with me, as you know, and none of my servants hasdeserted me. Payno and Otello say we won't have any trouble. I hopethey're right.

  "My love for Palma Sola knows no bounds these precarious days. I'm soglad to be back. I go about gathering flowers for my vases, settingout new plants, sorting seeds, fixing glass broken by the quakes.

  "Darling, write to me, by Sofia. She is a palmera woman and knowsevery trail and I trust her. I love you."

  Raul read, sitting on a chair, while Sofia stood behind staring at herfeet. She was a lanky woman, with loosely combed hair.

  "Go to the kitchen and eat. Wait for me there," he said, folding theletter. "Have anything you want." He drew a sheet of stationery outof the desk drawer, and sat down and wet his pen in the inkwell.

  He felt troubled and could not concentrate for he had just leftGabriel: he and Velasco had cupped pus from his wound, dousing it withperoxide and iodine.

  "Feel it burning?" he had asked.

  "It's burning."

  "Good," Velasco had said. "That means live tissue. Your leg will getall right."

  Only a few days ago, Gabriel had spoken in chapel of the revolution,warning everyone of its insanities. He had pleaded for sanity....

  On that very day Captain Cerro had been hanged by a mob on a tree lessthan two miles away.

  Raul bit the top of his penholder and began to write. Before he hadwritten five lines, he crumpled the sheet and strode to the kitchen,where Sofia was eating.

  "I'm going to Palma Sola now," he said. "I'm sending men to look afterLucienne and her place. I'll have my horse saddled. Rest a whilehere. You needn't hurry."

  With Captain Cerro dead, trouble could break out anywhere. He wouldchoose good men for Palma Sola.

  Sanity--there was not much sanity. Yet he felt saner as he rode Chicotoward Palma Sola through the mist.

  Sanity ... was it sanity, taking men from Petaca to guard Palma Sola?he wondered.

  But it was something like sanity, seeing Lucienne sitting by her frontwindow, at her piano. The green ocean was calm, swirling its palecolor out to the horizon.

  Smiling, joyous, she waited for him to dismount and come inside. Shewas alone.

  His spurs clicked, as he came in.

  "Darling," she said.

  "Lucienne, I..." He kissed her lovingly.

  "So sweet of you to come."

  "I couldn't write. I tried. I had to come."

  "Sit down. Why, you're soaking wet! Was it raining?"

  "The palmera, the mist," he said.

  "Come and change."

  "Not yet."

  He put his cheek against hers, his arms about her. Her arms wentaround him for an instant. Then they heard the sounds of horsesarriving and people talking.

  "Those are my men outside. I brought help, in case there's any need."

  "What shall I do with your men, darling? How shall I feed them?"

  "They've brought food. I'll send any further provisions they need.You'll keep them here, as long as you stay."

  "How are things at Petaca?"

  "So-so."

  "That's not much of an answer."

  "Gabriel has a badly infected leg, caused by a bullet wound."

  "I heard that someone shot him. How much worse can it get?"

  "We'll have to talk about those things," he said, "but not now. I'llsee about my men, where they are to stay, what they can do to help."

  "Then some brandy and dry clothes."

  "Fine."

  Over their brandy, he talked about protecting Palma Sola; he felt thatthe presence of his men would be sufficient; in all likelihood, therewould be no trouble.

  "This way I can take you to Colima and feel that everything is allright."

  "I wish I could feel that way, Raul. All my things are here, theHumboldt things." She gestured toward the furnishings.

  "Where are Federicka and her family and friends?"

  "Down on the beach. They'll be back later."

  The brandy nipped the edges of her tongue. She thought: Brandy, justthe two of us, for a few moments. She was disturbed by new lines inhis face, his restless gaze. She took his hand and led him to thedining table, so beautiful in the midst of dark green plants.

  "Some more brandy," she suggested.

  He nodded toward a newspaper, spread on the table.

  "Is it recent?"

  "It's from Colima ... a couple of days old."

  "Any news from General Matanzas?"

  "No. But there's plenty from outside places. In Morelos, severalhaciendas have been burned. In Guanajuato, owners have been drivenaway."

  "Here at Palma Sola these tragedies seem remote," he said.

  "I hope we can keep it that way."

  "How's your father?"

  "He can't get out of bed any more. He can't sit up, even in bed.He'll die soon, Lucienne."

  "I hope I'll be missed when I'm gone," she said. "Me and my trees andmy flowers. Do you think I'll ever be able to send my lovely jacarandaseedlings to Guadalajara? The governor wanted them. Ah, these arehard times, for even such simple things as trees."

  Raul thought: How fine she is, how much a woman! And he put his mouthon hers; they were friends and lovers; in the warmth and strength oftheir embrace they found hope.

  He decided to remain at Palma Sola a while, maybe no more than threedays. He wanted to forget. Together they would see pelicans lurchinto the sea, frigate birds ride the wind, herons take the sun.Together they would walk on the beach or go out to sea, in a dugout,trolling.

  In the morning, lying close to her open window facing the ocean, hetraced the copper coloring of her throat, his fingers moving lightly.Her long hair tangled his arms. His mouth sought her breast.

  The ocean breeze tossed the curtains and moved her hair. He drew her,half asleep, underneath him. It had been a long time since they hadloved each other in the early morning; laughter bubbled out of her,slowly, slowly. Palma Sola, single tree, phallic, alive. She groanedand laughed against his neck. His body grew tense with joy.

  There was nothing to get them up till late. In the afternoon,Federicka and her family went to Colima. The weather was perfect, alittle of spring, a little of summer.

  The next day, Lucienne said, "Tomorrow we'll go to Colima," and thenpostponed then: departure. So, for several days they rode horseback,fished, lolled on the beach, and took walks together. The newspaperscarried distressing news and when they read them together they wereperplexed and saddened. They knew time was ebbing away.

  "Of course I must go," said Raul, after another paper had arrived. "Imust get back to Petaca.... We must go. I'll leave you in Colima."

  "We've been lucky," she said.

  "I think so."

  "I'll tell Otello to scrape the rust from the carriage."

  "Let's go on horseback," he said.

  "No, in the victoria. I have too much luggage. Anyhow, I'm sick ofChico. You should get rid of him. Let him drag along behind us."

  "He's a good horse."

  "What was he like as a colt?"

  "No better."

  "I thought so."

  "He'll get better."

  They were in the old-fashioned room, Raul in seersucker trousers andplaid shirt, Lucienne in gay clothes, a turtleshell comb over one ear,sandals laced high up her ankles.

  "I suppose you love Chico in a
way. I wish we could keep all thethings we love," she said, with quiet passion.

  "I wish we could too," he said.

  "I hope we're lucky, you and I," she said.

  "Yes ... lucky, with you, Lucienne. It hasn't been that way withAngelina. She's had her secrets. They are destroying her.... I'm notsure there can be any adjustment. She goes to her room and locks herdoor. She walks about, talks to herself, comes downstairs with astrangeness about her. I--I think she's out of her mind. Strange ...how she writes. She acts as if I didn't exist, as if I were halfalive...."

  She was surprised by his candor, by his revelations, by his concern.

  "Will the change to Guadalajara help?"

  "I doubt it. I really don't know. She may go mad."

  "Darling, hush, I think you're needlessly alarmed."

  "No. And I can't talk about it any more ... not now.... But,Lucienne, I need you."

  "You have me, Raul."

  "Not by my side."

  "Maybe it's better that way."

  "Better?" he asked.

  "For all of us. Angelina, Vicente."

  He realized she was straining a point for his sake; her face, herhands, told him she was nervous. They had been seated together. Hecupped his chin in his hand.

  "You're wonderful," he said. "I love you because you stay the same,taking the good and the bad as it comes."

  "I wish I were really like that," she said.

  "You've been like that all these years."

  They loaded the rusty victoria and headed for Colima, riders trailingbehind, with Chico yanking angrily. A cave-shaped cloud held afragment of a rainbow in its arms; then, in the opposite direction, tothe north, the volcano rose above a forest of palms, a peculiar lighton its upper slopes, a vaporish yellow. For Raul, the light wasstartling. It was as if he were seeing the volcano from his garden,the evening the yellow scum had covered the lagoon. He thought ofmentioning the coincidence to Lucienne, but decided not to speak of it.Later in the evening, in Colima, he would look at the peak again.

  In Colima, they visited friends. Obviously, trouble was everywhere.People tried to be cheerful, particularly those who could not see the_hacendados'_ plight. At Federicka's they had drinks behind the coolbamboo slats, and someone played an accordion. Together, they went tothe cathedral. The ugly silence of death pervaded the place. Raulwanted peace but not an ominous peace. At Federicka's, late at night,when others had gone to sleep, he went up on the roof-top to study thevolcano.

  His pipe lit, he watched. Presently, he saw another red bowl of fire... that dangerous aerial red, a wisp of smoke above it.

  God, he thought, not another eruption! He longed to be able to strikeback at the subterranean power; he wanted to dominate it, extinguishit. How dreadful to wait and wait.

  An owl cried dismally.