“Couldn’t he, well, force you to tell him?”
“Not so it would do him any good.”
“You seem to have a high opinion of your bravery,” she remarked acidly.
“Not at all. I’ll talk right away, and before I’m through I’ll name every general in the Army plus a few cabinet ministers and the like, and there'll be no way he can know which are and which aren't. That's the trouble with torture, you don't know whether you're being given the truth or not, or even if your victim possesses the information at all.”
“Jason, once more I beg of you — drop it. For all you know, if you push him hard enough, Santa Anna will in turn push everyone else into a war that much sooner. How can you be so sure you're right?”
“I'm sorry, Robbie, I have to do what I think is right. You see it one way and I see it another, that's all. I know Alarcdn and I trust him. He was one of the few who didn't make a fortune out of his military career, though cynics might tell you it was only because he had plenty of money already. He fought for Hidalgo and ended up with Iturbide, enough to sour anyone, but he genuinely loves Mexico and he will do anything within his power to keep her from foundering.”
“Then why doesn’t he run his own campaign instead of hiding behind a woman’s skirts?”
Jason shrugged. “Unless you were a Mexican male, that question is impossible to answer.”
They were on their third hot buttered rum, and she felt a giddy irresponsibility. “Oh, all right a second time, Jason. I think it's wrong, but I'll do it. I couldn’t sleep knowing that poor innocent was being led like a lamb to the slaughter.”
He smiled at her. “Silvia isn't the only innocent.” The smile died. “I'll see you come to no harm, Robbie. As God is my witness, I’ll keep you safe.”
She laughed. “You'd better — you'll have the whole company after you if you don't. I'm their mascot, you know.”
Both a little drunk, they walked back to the inn arm in arm through the chilling dark.
“Before I bang on the door,” he said, “there's something I've wanted to do for days, even when I was most exasperated with you. And oh God, can you be exasperating!”
He took her in his arms and covered her mouth with his, lips at first gentle and then hard, possessive, and demanding. When she had allowed Gavin to kiss her a few times, she had felt nothing, but now she was startled and angered at the flicker of excitement that threatened to turn into downright wanting. She broke away.
“Let me go! I’ll not be bought like that!”
He smoothed her hair gently along the side of her head. “I wanted you to realize you're a grown woman, Roberta DuPlessis, and a damned attractive one. Stop selling yourself short.”
He turned then and thumped loudly on the door with the head of his cane. They stood looking at each other in silence as they listened to the slow footsteps of the sleepy velador before he unlocked the door.
*
Jason must have canceled the second meeting, for no more was said about it in the few days left in Puebla. Once again they were wakened at three in the morning to stumble out in the icy darkness and freeze while the baggage was loaded. With a glad feeling of relief Roberta saw that one of the drivers was Ephraim, a happy coincidence that made all of them feel better about the long day's journey ahead. They had all heard numerous stories about holdups and murders. To hear people talk, the way to Mexico was literally paved with bandits ready to pounce upon the traveler.
The day before, Jason had engaged a new armed escort in Puebla, though they were forced to wait the better part of an hour for them to appear. At last the ponderous coaches with their teams of heavy white horses rumbled out of the courtyard and into the cobbled streets, driving at a fast clip. Before long, they reached the outskirts of town and soon thereafter were bumping over a rolling open plain planted with crops even at this dry, cold time of the year.
The stars shone brilliantly in the dark sky, and a tired old moon pestled slowly down into the black branches of the few trees. Her mare, whom she had named Fada, Enchantress, sidled sideways, shied at shadows, and refused at first to settle down. Gavin rode up beside her, his little mustang stepping along smoothly.
“'Where’s Jason, do you know?” she asked him.
“He said he’d meet us in Mexico,” Gavin replied, aping Jason’s dropping of the word “City.”
“You mean to say he rode this road alone?”
Gavin shrugged. “If anyone can take care of himself, it’ll be Jason.”
As the hours rolled by, the sun made its appearance. The fertile fields of the open plain were white with frost, which slowly disappeared, only to be seen in the shade of an occasional tree. They made stops as the day wore on at Rio Prieto, San Martin, and Puente de Texmelucan to change horses. At last they reached Rfo Frio, where they found a surprisingly pleasant inn scheduled to provide them with a welcome comida.
Because the diligences carried only the theater people, they were on no set schedule, and it was decided to stay for two hours to give the riding horses a rest. Daphne and Jessica promptly engaged rooms and went to lie down.
“Not me,” Will announced. “The only way I can stand that wheeled sarcophagus is to sleep between jolts, and if I sleep here, there goes that last little comfort. Anyone game for a walk?”
“I’ll go with you as long as you’re not afraid I’ll hold you up,” Roberta offered. “My left leg I think is permanently crooked, and if I don’t stretch it somehow I’ll arrive in Mexico ready for a wheelchair.”
“Come along then.” He held out his hand to her.
The high valley was green even at this time of year, for in these altitudes there were rains all during the so-called dry season. The floor of the valley was given over to crops unfamiliar to her, but the upper slopes were obviously used as pasture for sheep and goats. The sun was warm in the middle of the day, the sky a pure, aching blue unmarred by clouds. They were both puffing and blowing by the time they reached the top of the hill they were climbing. In front of them was another ridge with only a shallow grassy bowl between in which grew several large oak trees.
“It must be the altitude,” Will gasped. “I can't be in such poor condition as that, and I know you aren't. Let's sit for a while if we can find some shade.''
As they sank down in the grass under the nearest tree, they saw a deer and her fawn rise up not twenty yards away. The two animals watched the intruders for a moment, motionless except for their large ears, then gracefully bounded away up the far slope and disappeared over the ridge. A small violet butterfly flickered about a cluster of tiny white starlike flowers near them, and somewhere nearby a bird sang. Roberta turned to find Will staring at her, a spear of grass forgotten in his mouth. Their gazes locked and held through an eternity of time.
“I shouldn't have let you come with me,'' he said finally, slowly taking the grass from his mouth.
“Shouldn't you?'' A dappled spatter of sunlight through the leaves of the oak flamed copper on his hair as she watched him intently.
He smiled. “Come here then, lass.” He held out his arms as he lay on the sun-spattered grass and dry leaves.
She walked over to him and knelt, her long braid falling over her shoulder and coiling on his chest. She lowered her head until she could feel his breath on her lips, and she looked now into the amber of his eyes. Gently he pulled her down until their lips met, his mouth warm and sure on her own. She closed her eyes against the burst of light that shot across her brain. There was only the feel of his body, his mouth, his hands on her shoulders. They were alone in a silent universe of light, united into one being with one beating heart.
“Hey there!” came a distant shout. “Get a move on er the coach’ll go without yuh!”
Even so, Will pulled his mouth away lingeringly. “Dammit to hell!” he said softly. Then he grinned. “Maybe just as well at that. I’m damned if I know how I’d have gotten you out of all that machinery anyway.” He gave her a hand to help her up.
She
laughed shakily, and it was suddenly all right again. “I have to admit, I never got round to thinking about that.”
They walked back slowly, savoring the warmth of the sun, the green-gold of the grass, their being together. The tumultuous heartbeats quieted, and they were left with a feeling only of beginnings, of anticipation for what was inevitably to come, made all the sweeter for the waiting. Roberta felt a ripeness, a glorious singing of the blood that seemed a part of the deer and the butterfly and the growing things all about them. Ahead they could see the second coachman who had been sent to fetch them taking the last of the slope in quick bounds, as if he too had been touched by the magic of the day. Roberta deliberately closed her mind to difficulties and consequences.
All too soon they came to the inn to find everyone rearranging themselves in the coaches, with much dramatic groaning and jesting. If anyone thought that Will and she going off together was strange, no one said a word.
With a popping of whips and shouts of encouragement, the teams of horses leaned into their collars and started off at a lively trot.
They were an hour or so into the forest when they met their armed escort riding back toward them. The leader approached Ephraim.
“There are soldiers ahead, a lot of them. They say they have orders to search every vehicle and horseman that passes. Do you suppose this means a revolution is coming?”
Ephraim shrugged. “No telling.” He sighed. “Kiss goodbye to reaching Mexico afore dark. Cummon, Sultan.” He flicked his long whip so that it just touched the off leader's rump, and they started to roll again. Around the next bend the road dipped down into a long shallow open valley flanked on both sides by the pines. At the bottom was a bivouac of some thirty dragoons on foot, their horses picketed nearby. An officer walked out on the road and held up his hand, bringing the coaches to a halt. The second coachman pulled up a bit ahead of Ephraim. The officer addressed himself in good if accented English to the second coachman.
“Sorry, but we have orders to search you. Gutierrez will make a list of all the names. Please ask your passengers to descend.”
The second coachman eyed him sourly, sucking on his corncob pipe. “Of all the goldarned nuisances! I hope yew reelize it’ull take an hour er more ter search them there coaches. We get held up in the dark later on,’n some ginneral’s going ter git whut-fer, and that’s a fact.” He spit disgustedly in the general direction of the officer’s boots.
So thorough was the search that even with the soldiers swarming over the coaches, it took the hour and then some to examine everything and everyone. When it was finished, the officer consulted two papers handed him by Gutierrez and frowned.
“Where is Jason Whitney?” he asked stonily. He pronounced it Ha-sone Weetney, and the second coachman threw up his hands.
“Damned if’n I know whut he’s jabbering about,” he muttered around his pipe.
“He went on ahead,” Hugh offered. “He said he’d meet us in Mexico City. Why? What do you want with him?”
“He couldn’t possibly have gone ahead,” the officer announced. “We have been here for four days, there is no other road, and we haven’t seen any anglo come through here.”
The second coachman laughed wheezily. “Waal, bless yew, son, if I was a-horseback, I could git round yew ’thout no trouble a-tall.” He pointed to the forest.
“If you had ever been in that forest,” the officer said icily, “you would know that it is impassable with windfalls and underbrush.”
“Ain’t no place in deer country whut’s impassable, son, but hev it yer own way. Kin we git going now? The gennelmun don’t appear ter be with us.”
The officer hesitated, then waved them on. The last they saw of him he was talking to two dragoons holding saddled horses and pointing off into the black woods.
Gavin grinned. “Can’t you just see them thrashing about in those trees? Jason must have come through a long time back. They’ll never so much as see his hoofprints this long after.”
Roberta wasn’t listening to him. Instead she was staring at the second coachman almost with awe. Grime and an unshaven jaw and no doubt makeup as well concealed the scar, but as he saw her looking at him, one blue eye closed in an unmistakable wink.
CHAPTER IX
If there were robbers in those woods, apparently the escort and the presence of a large group of dragoons discouraged them, for there was no sign of another soul on the road.
Never had a ride seemed so long. The floor of the great valley of Mexico proved arid and uninteresting after the scenic wonders they had passed through on their way from Veracruz. At the city itself they were forced to go very slowly, for the streets were dark and so ill-paved that the highway seemed almost smooth by comparison. The tired horses stumbled often, and Roberta would have considered getting off and walking except that she herself would probably break a leg in one of the numerous holes in the cobbling. Here and there on a corner an oil lamp gave off a welcome light, and they passed a number of candlelit tables set up to the side of the street where hot pozole, beans, Toasted ears of com, and tamales were served from steaming pots to those who could afford them.
At last they pulled up at their inn, thoroughly chilled and completely exhausted. Inside they met with a welcome fire and steaming cups of hot mulled wine that warmed their very bones. A cold supper of roast wild duck, bread, cheese, and fruit went down along with more mugs of the mulled wine.
Hugh stood and raised his cup. “To our safe journey, our continued success, and most of all, to a merry Christmas for you all!”
“Hear, hear!” Will shouted, his face glowing. “And here’s to smooth roads, a soft seat, and a short journey!”
They all laughed, and hardly noticed as Jason slipped into an empty seat among them, a mug already in his hand.
Swimming in a rosy haze of love and well-being, Roberta watched Will’s every move, his every expression. She felt an effervescent bubble of triumph rise within her. This marvelous man was finally hers, against all odds, and hers he would remain forever and ever, until the stars went out and the moon fell out of the sky. She wanted to weep for very happiness.
Her gaze crossed Jason’s then, and it was like being doused with ice water. The look on his face was one of pity. For the first time she realized that of course it was Jason, not an anonymous second coachman, who had seen them kissing beneath the oak tree. He had little reason for pity, she thought resentfully. He should be so fortunate as to feel this overwhelming triumphant joy in place of his preoccupation with death and war and guilt. She looked back at him defiantly. He smiled then and raised his mug to her silently. Long after she went to bed, she kept seeing Jason’s look of pity as she lovingly replayed the scene under the tree.
The next few days were hectic as they began to rehearse all day once more, even on Christmas, and look for a house to take. Exorbitant rents in the city finally forced them to rent one of the former haciendas out on the edge of town.
“We’ll get our own horses for transportation,” Jason announced. “You’d have to buy them soon in any event.”
“How d-do you figure that?” Guy protested predictably.
“My dear man,” Jason replied at his most supercilious, “you certainly don’t think after coming over the best and most traveled highway in Mexico that the roads to places like Morelia and Zacatecas will of necessity even be passable, do you? We can only count on riding and bringing our baggage by mule.”
After much discussion, they all reluctantly agreed to Jason’s proposal, but not without a number of reproachful looks at Hugh, who must have known all along that they would be traveling by horseback. Almost at once they found to the west of the city a suitable house surrounded by large grounds and boasting roomy stables as well.
“Did you by any chance have a finger in this convenient house being available?” Roberta asked Jason.
He only smiled enigmatically, as good as telling her she was right.
Not since the oak tree had she had an opportunity t
o be alone with Will, yet she seemed to exist in the midst of a white radiance that lent an all but unbearable brightness to the most prosaic of acts. From time to time he would make occasion to brush against her or put a hand on her arm, and she felt for hours later as if the place he touched flamed incandescently, a brand that could be seen by all. There was so much to do, though, what with rehearsing, the scurrying about looking at houses, the viewing of horses that seemed as overpriced as most of the houses, that there literally was no time to arrange any tryst not shared by others. Until the horse fair.
“Tomorrow we’re all going out to the fair at San Crispin,” Hugh announced.
“What? A d-day off? Something m-must have addled your brains, H-Hugh,” Guy said sarcastically.
“No, not a day off!” Hugh snapped. “This is a horse fair a half day’s ride from here. The horses, according to Jason, should be cheaper and more suitable than those we’ve seen in the city. We don’t need hunters or carriage horses with bloodlines, only something to get us from one place to another.”
They all automatically turned to look at Gavin, whose little buckskin had come in for a lot of derisive joking that died out as he proved himself tireless on the trip.
“We’ll go the afternoon before in rented carriages — except for our horsemen, of course — so we can be there first thing for the fair. Just one thing: don’t close a deal on any horse before Jason looks at it. We can’t afford to be held up by a horse going lame.”
*
As they rode into town, they were greeted by a cluster of explosions from firework rockets launched by hand — and thrust so as to arc up into the sky spitting a trail of orange sparks until they exploded with a loud clap of sound and a puff of blue-white smoke. The plaza was full of people from the surrounding countryside who came to look over the horses ahead of time and stayed to enjoy the rest of the fair. There were trained animals, jugglers, acrobats, hot foods, and breads of all varieties, candies, cakes, dried fruits, and best of all, games of chance. You could lose your money in any of a dozen ways gambling: throwing wooden hoops over spindles, betting on a wheel of fortune, guessing which shell the dried bean was under, playing dice, and games of cards, especially monte, in which the player bets that one of two cards will be matched by the dealer before the other. So simple, and yet haciendas, daughters, fine horses, family heirlooms, everything imaginable had been lost on the altar of such an uncomplicated game of chance.
A Masque of Chameleons Page 12