“Help me, love,” he begged as he met what seemed to be an impenetrable wall of flesh without orifice of any kind. But she was incapable of doing more than holding still, and even then she had to grit her teeth.
The prodding all at once became softer, then stopped altogether, though Gavin wildly now thrust his lower body against hers. At last with a sob he rolled off her and lay there panting with an arm thrown across his eyes. The last of the castillo had erupted, and with all but inaudible soft poppings, star shells were raining white and phosphorescent green streamers of sparks down the night sky over the town. In the street below a lone reveler sang a lover’s plaint in a sweet tenor, his voice gradually fading away into the distant merrymaking in the Jardin de San Marcos.
Not knowing what to say, but feeling even more desperately guilty than she had with Will, she silently watched him dress. He came over to the bed where she lay clutching the nightgown over her.
“I - ” he began, then, “Oh God, I’m so sorry!” He turned and almost ran to the door, half slamming it behind him.
Slowly she put on her nightgown again without lighting the lamp, and lay in wide-eyed misery in the dark. Even the star shells had stopped, and except for an occasional rocket it was quite dark outside as well. There was something terribly wrong with her. She knew that there were many women, possibly most women, who didn’t really get much from the act of love, but at least they submitted to it. Will was a practiced lover, and Gavin had certainly had his share, but she had destroyed both of them. Was it some ugliness in her that set itself against love itself?
She faced it, Gavin she was fond of, but it was never more than that and never could be. There was no one in the entire world whom she could love, or would love her despite her sterile, perpetually virginal body. She would give anything she had to be able to throw herself into lovemaking the way, say, Josefina did, joyously, giving, without reluctance or pretense.
The tears began to run down her face as she plumbed the depths of the feeling of loss, of having been cheated. With a sob, she turned over and began to cry in earnest, letting out all of the sorrow and frustration, yes and the fear and the horror and the seemingly continuous presence of death as well. She had no idea how long she had been crying when she gradually became aware that someone was sitting on the side of the bed. She smelled a familiar smell of brandy and cigars and male human, and knew it was Jason. She stopped crying in midsob and sat up suddenly.
“What are you doing here!” she demanded, furious with him for seeing her like this.
“If you will keep me awake with that infernal racket,” he observed wryly, “you must have expected that I would try to do something about it. Unless, of course, you’d rather I’d throw an old shoe as one would at a cat on a back fence.” Without asking her if she minded, he lit a cigar.
“You’re absolutely hateful,” she replied bitterly. “Why don’t you go on leaving me alone?”
“And be forced to stay awake all night? Don’t be childish. Here, it’ll make you feel better.”
He closed her hand over the small silver cup that went with his flask. She gulped the brandy and coughed but it started a warm glow inside her. He handed her another. “Take this one slower, or you’ll be drunk before you even have time to feel it.” He lit the lamp by the bed.
She reached over and took his cigar, drawing on it hard. “I think I’ll take up smoking like the Mexican ladies.”
“That’s better,” he said approvingly. “Here, use my handkerchief and then tell me what this is all about.”
“How — how long have you been in your room?” she ventured.
“Oh, about half an hour.”
“Were you there during the castillo?”
“No, I came in afterward.”
“Thank God. You see, Gavin and I - ”
“Remember what I told you, telling tales out of school about lovers is not good form.”
“Well, you asked me,” she said resentfully. “Anyway, he’s miserably unhappy and it’s all my fault.”
“I’m glad that at least you feel bad about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I didn’t lecture you when you went off with Will because he’s a big boy and presumably knew what he was doing. The only thing wrong with that, aside from the fact that he belonged to someone else, was that whatever it was you did made both of you miserable.”
“It did indeed,” she said in a low voice.
“Now this business with Gavin is wrong, and I’ll tell you why.”
“Please do.” She was bitter. “Everyone else has been shoving us together as hard as ever they can.”
“First of all, you don’t love him, and second you are coming between him and someone who does love him. You’re being a spoiler.”
“But he doesn’t love her!” Roberta protested.
“Who knows, perhaps he would have come to it. In any event, she would never have hurt him. Apparently you have. Considering the fact that you were a complete innocent when this Mexican venture began, you’ve scrambled in and out of an amazing number of beds and left quite a trail of wreckage behind. To be blunt about it, you’ve been blundering about like a drunk in a cathouse. I never thought to see old Will so dismayed by one of his lights of love.”
“But - ”
“But nothing! If you haven’t learned it already, you’ve got to realize that a woman possesses an awesome ability to hurt — even to destroy — any man. I know that the feeling of power is a heady one, Robbie, but you mustn’t go on misusing it. That is the most compelling reason I can think of for a woman to make love only to a man she is in love with.”
“What about Josefina?” Roberta demanded angrily, stung by his coming so close to the truth, though he couldn't know its complete awfulness. “She certainly isn’t in love with all of you, and yet you seem to like her well enough.”
“Josefina is an extraordinary woman, really more like a man in many ways. She loves using her body, she loves giving and receiving physical pleasure, and she is thoroughly honest about it.” There was admiration in his voice.
“Are you in love with her?” she asked in a small voice.
He laughed shortly. “No, thank God. I like her very much, though. Not many women have ever felt free enough to be so open; would that there were more like her. Now you, for example, couldn't be a Josefina if you wanted to.”
“I don't see why not,” she protested hotly.
“Robbie, Robbie, how do you see yourself? Tell me, I'd be interested to know.”
“I don't know,” she said miserably. “I wish I did. How do you see me, or should I ask?”
“There was a time when I wouldn't have answered that. Now I see a woman both older and younger than her years who's been protected and coddled and at the same time given strict rules of behavior that her nature instinctively denies. That you’re getting into all this trouble at the tender age of twenty-three instead of four or five years ago says something for Hugh's and Daphne’s care of you. Of course, they want to see you marry Gavin and settle down finally, and right now they are both terribly worried about you.”
“And you, are you worried about me?”
“Not for the same reasons, perhaps. I don't want to see you safely married at all, whatever that is. You have a capacity for living and I think a capacity for love far beyond that of the ordinary woman, who seems to be content to lounge about crocheting doilies and saying yes, dear, to her husband. The way you're going about it, however, you're going to end up spoiled and destructive. The harder you go looking now, the further away will be what you want. For what it's worth, my advice is to slow down and wait until you return to New York. For one thing, the last man in the world you want to marry is a Mexican, who will immediately expect you to sit around all day looking out the window. Wait until you find a man who wants to share with you, love, and you'll find out what living is all about.”
“How do you know all this, you who won't allow yourself to love or marry?”
“Perhaps a Texas country girl didn’t want a theatrical life. Maybe she didn’t want to see the Sandwich Islands.”
“Oh, she wasn’t a Texas country girl, not by a damn sight. She was English, quite rich as a matter of fact. She fox-hunted astride and be damned to what people said, she had hunted tigers in India and dined with rajahs, and she had been a member of an unsuccessful assault on the Matterhorn’s north face during which two of her fellow climbers fell to their deaths. No country girl our Laura.”
“She doesn’t sound the kind of woman who would be bothered by a scar.”
“It wasn’t the scar, not at all, it was my leg. You see, I couldn’t go on safari or climb mountains, I had trouble enough mounting a horse in those days, and making love in a conventional position put me in a cold sweat. We both agreed amicably to part.”
“Where is she now? Did she get married?”
“She married all right, but she’s taken to drinking too much and hopping in and out of strange beds. To be honest, I can’t say whether she’d have done that or not had she married me. In some ways you remind me of her, headstrong, attracted to danger. I don’t want to see you end the way she has, married to someone she doesn’t love and spoiling her life and her husband’s as well.”
“You say you parted amicably, but it wasn’t amicable for you, was it?”
He looked at her with unseeing eyes fastened on some inner vision. “No, it wasn’t at all amicable for me. I never had half so difficult a role on stage as when I played at being amicable with her.”
“Was she in love with you?”
He shrugged. “As much as she was able, I suppose. Here, have a last snort, you’ll sleep better.”
“You’re always pressing drink on me,” she teased, touched that he ever had thought of her in relation to such a fabulous adventuress.
He laughed. “You’re safe enough, ducks — your stomach would never allow your becoming a drunk.”
“I’m glad you’re back, Jason.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you haven’t exactly been friendly lately, now have you?”
“For God’s sake use your head, Robbie — Zaragoza as much as said that someone with us is a spy. I want you entirely separated from my activities, and that means separated from my outward affections as well. Don’t think they wouldn’t use you, or me, or anyone else, against Alarcón if they thought it would do any good.” She sighed. “I should have known, that damned Alarcón again. I don’t know why it hurt so much.”
“Don’t you?” He put out the lamp. In the dim light from the half-opened shutter he was only a dark shape.
“No, of course you don’t,” he answered himself. “Goodnight, love — sleep well.”
The next morning she almost thought she had dreamed it all. Gavin didn’t come to breakfast at all, and Jason was at his coldest, stuffiest, most imperial worst. In addition, Silvia regarded her with intense dislike, and Hugh and Daphne both looked upset. Will and Jessica were too hung over to look anything but miserable. Roberta sighed. How was she ever going to get through the rest of this endless fiesta? As if to underline her thoughts, a veritable barrage of rockets went blasting off in the sky overhead.
She had one more meeting with Cristiano, who had belatedly heard about the incident with the firework bull. They sat on a cold stone bench in the darkness of the Jardln de San Marcos pretending to be lovers. He took the opportunity to.kiss her thoroughly. She thought of what Jason had said and giggled.
“What are you laughing about?” He sounded very put out.
“Tell me, Cristiano, what do you want your wife to be like? What will she be doing all day?”
“Ah, querida, we would go to the theater and there would be parties and balls - ”
“No, no, I don’t mean at night, I mean all day while you’re off chasing robbers.”
“Why, she would be managing the household and bringing up our children, what else?”
“You wouldn’t have a housekeeper?”
“Of course we’d have a housekeeper,” he replied impatiently. “I am a colonel, not a private.”
“And aren’t housekeepers supposed to manage the house?”
“Yes, of course, but occasionally they need someone to make a decision.”
'“Won’t there be a nursemaid for the children?”
“Of course there’ll be a nursemaid.” He was becoming exasperated. “And a tutor later as well. I tell you, our family has money and position,” he ended proudly.
“Then what will be left for your wife to do, if there is a housekeeper to manage the house and a nursemaid and tutor to bring up the children?” she persisted. “What do the wives of your friends do?”
“Well, they sew, and visit and — I don’t know, lots of things. Oh, and they often play cards with their friends. I’m sure they gossip too.” He trailed off. Even he saw that all of this was hardly an exciting prospect. “Well, dammit, that’s what married women do, that’s all.”
“I don’t think that would be enough for me, Cristiano,” she said gently. “I don’t think I would make a very good Mexican wife.”
“Who asked you?” he rallied gamely, but he didn’t offer to kiss her again.
“Why did you want to see me?”
“Did you recognize the man who was killed the other day?”
“Yes, he was the third in command. His name was Gabriel Cuevas, he was a boyhood friend of Jason’s, though he was trying to kill him.”
“I heard that’s who it was, but didn’t know if it were true or not. Why would he have done that?”
“I’m not sure. It was Jason he was heading for, and he had a gun. You don’t suppose they think Jason knows too much about the conclaves?”
He shrugged. “They might. Better for them to suspect him, whom they can never catch, than to suspect you or me.”
“When will I see you again?”
“Not until they gather at Guadalajara in June.”
“Do you want me to tell Alarcón as soon as I see him?”
“Of course. He must be told preferably before the June conclave.”
“Should anything happen to Alarc6n, to whom should I go?”
He thought for a moment. “I suppose General Paredes,” he said slowly. “He’s in Guadalajara, he is one of the few with any principles, and he detests Santa Anna. The trouble is, he drinks.”
Roberta made a face. “Let’s hope I don’t have to go to him then.”
“Roberta, please be careful.” Cristiano’s face was serious, almost sad, as if at some foreknowledge to which she had no access. “Until those lists are in the hands of the proper authorities, you are not safe. Even I could be your enemy.”
“You?” she asked unbelievingly.
“There are tortures to which no man can stand up, please believe me. At all costs you must get those lists to someone in command immediately. Promise me!”
“I promise.”
As two drunken soldiers passed, Roberta and Cristiano embraced desperately, fear of the future and doubt as to when they would see each other again lending authenticity to their caresses. A brace of rockets exploded over their heads, and soldiers cursed incoherently as they stumbled past.
Roberta was both sorry and glad when they finally left Aguascalientes. They had all been tired when they arrived, and the ten days of constant noise, color, movement, and merrymaking had finally rubbed their nerves raw. She would have been happy to leave except that she felt dread of what was to come. Gavin, on the other hand, had gradually regained his spirits; he was, after all, young and still resilient. He went out of his way never to be alone with her, however, and he and Silvia were once again constant companions.
*
After six days of hard riding they arrived thankfully in Guadalajara, only to set out groaning again the next morning for the huge lake known as Lago de Chapala. Oddly
it was Gavin who seemed the most exhausted. It was completely dark by the time they reached San Xavier, Alarcon’s hacienda. Set partway up the slope from the lake, it was surrounded by large mesquites and oaks and had a splendid view of the panorama below. As they dismounted from the tired horses, Jason greeted by name the men who came to take their animals.
“Hola, Jorge, Vicente. Como está su Rosa, Can-delario?”
A mozo opened the great front door and led them through a courtyard to a huge, brightly lit sala with an enormous stone fireplace, dark and empty now in the hot months. Standing in front of it was a tall, distinguished-looking gray-haired man whose mustached face took on a welcoming smile.
“Jason, my boy!” he exclaimed. “When you didn’t turn up by dark, I thought you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow.”
Jason embraced him warmly and turned to introduce the gathered company. With a sinking feeling Roberta saw at once that Alarcón lacked the force, the magnetic presence of his rival, the bandit chieftain. All of their efforts were to be in vain, it seemed. Gracious and charming he was, however, and she could see why he was so popular.
Another door opened and two men entered. One of them she recognized right away as Emil, the dwarfish little man who had perfected her disguise in Veracruz. He looked at her and shook his head imperceptibly, so she didn’t acknowledge him. Then she turned her attention to the other man, who was small, though a good deal taller than Emil. For a moment the unfamiliar mustache put her off, but then with a mixture of astonishment; anger, hurt, and love she acknowledged him.
“Papa!” she cried, and ran to him.
CHAPTER XXIII
The expression on the dapper little man’s face would have been comical in other circumstances: astonishment, dismay, guilt. He hugged her warmly enough, all but lost in her greater height, yet his left eye had a tic that hadn’t been there before.
“Good God, my girl, whatever are you doing here!” he exclaimed, the faintest trace of a French accent still in his speech. “What are you doing with these people?” She drew back from him then. “How can you ask that? They are my family, the only family I’ve had,” she replied pointedly. Why hadn’t Jason told her that her father was with Alarcon — he must have known.
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