The Promise

by Jane Peart

  Jana didn’t say anything. She was still thinking about her conversation with Bayard, which was far from “fun.” In fact, it had been quite disturbing.

  Why had he chosen her to confide in, to pour out such deep feelings to? Although his words had touched something deep within her, how could he have known that they would?

  Chapter Six

  The next morning, when Jana and Edith came down dressed for riding, the sun was just barely tinting pink clouds with gold. Through the open front door, they saw that Colonel Preston was outside, overseeing the loading of the wagon that was to follow them down into the valley, packed with food for their picnic breakfast. Bayard and his friends were out on the lanai, gathered around a table presided over by Meipala, who was pouring glasses of pineapple juice and dispensing fragrant Kona coffee from a silver urn.

  Bayard brought a cup over to Jana. “How do you manage to look so fresh at this hour?”

  “Spotless conscience,” she smiled, taking the cup from him. “Mahalo.”

  He raised an eyebrow, then said, “Lucky you. Greg maneuvered us into a card game, and we didn’t break up until after 2 A.M.”

  “No willpower?”

  Bayard grinned. “I was winning. Can’t pull out then.”

  Joel came over and joined them. “Your father says that only experienced riders should go down into the valley.” He looked at Jana. “Are you?”

  “Of course she is,” Bayard answered for her. “She’s an islander, after all.”

  “I haven’t been on a horse much lately,” Joel said hesitantly.

  “Then, maybe you’d better not,” Bayard said with a shrug.

  “Colonel Preston’s horses are all well trained. If you just sit back in the saddle and hang on, you’ll be fine,” Jana assured him. She gave Bayard a reproachful look. He shouldn’t have been sarcastic to his guest. There wasn’t time for any more discussion, because Colonel Preston clapped his hands and declared, “Saddle up, folks. We’re ready to ride.”

  In front of the house, two of the ranch hands had brought up saddled horses, and the Colonel assigned a mount to each of Bayard’s friends. Edith swung expertly upon Malakini, and Jana was helped to mount the sweet-tempered mare she usually rode when at the ranch.

  Jana knew that Waipi’o Valley was considered by islanders to be one of the unrecognized wonders of the world. It was where the menehuenes were supposed to live, in the deep rain forests. The valley featured great soaring cliffs with waterfalls that fell a thousand feet and glittering lava beaches that looked like acres of black diamonds. Orchids bloomed, and the white-blossomed coffee plants called “Kona snow” grew.

  She also knew that the way down on horseback, an almost perpendicular trail to the bottom, was a frightening test of courage, at least the first time. She could not help but wonder if it had been such a good idea to take these mainlanders on such a scary trip. Of course, that was Bayard and Colonel Preston’s decision, not hers. She realized that Bayard and Edith had done it often, challenging each other. The competition between brother and sister had always been fierce.

  She had not been down into the valley this year. Her schoolwork—including her extra studies in math and science with her father, who was preparing her for college entrance exams next fall—had taken much time. Time she used to spend with Edith at the ranch.

  As the group started out in the beautiful morning with its fresh, flower-scented air, Joel fell back to ride alongside her.

  “Bayard says this valley is special. Spectacular views, that sort of thing. True?”

  “If you’ve thought Hawaii beautiful thus far, you’re going to be really impressed. The valley is spectacular.”

  “I’m sure it has a story,” Joel smiled. “Like everything else here.”

  “Of course,” Jana nodded. “It was once called the Valley of the Kings. It is where the great Kamehameha was taken for safety after his birth, to become the great warrior king who defeated all the other chiefs and united the islands into one sovereign state.”

  The pace picked up, with Edith and Bayard at the head of the group as the riders thundered through the small, sleepy town of Waimea, their horses’ hooves pounding the dusty streets. Waimea looked like a transported New England village, with its brightly painted wooden houses decorated with gingerbread on porches and roof peaks. As they rode by, the cool wind held mingled smells of the rich countryside, as well as the briny smell of the ocean. On the way to the valley, they passed hillsides of macadamia nut orchards, sugarcane fields. At last they came to the head of the valley.

  Even though she had made this trip a number of times, there was always that heart-chilling moment when they reached the top of the torturous path. They would have to go single file down the steep, wooded hillsides stretching down to the valley half a mile below, where a river wound its way between patches of taro, the plant from which poi is made.

  First Colonel Preston and Edith started down. Bayard had pulled to one side, letting his guests go next—he would follow, going last. Jana heard him say, “Your turn, Jana. I’ll be right behind you.”

  She held her breath. Her hands tightened on the reins as her horse stepped off the cliff and began the descent. Her heart pounded. Once started, there was no turning back. She always forgot how steep it was, but she never dared look over the sheer drop into the valley. She was conscious of Bayard behind her, saying, “Lean back in your stirrups, Jana.” Instinctively she shut her eyes and leaned forward, putting both arms around the horse’s neck. Her horse, Palani, was as surefooted as a mountain goat, and before she knew it they were at the bottom. Finally, hearing his hooves splash into water as the group crossed the edge of a narrow stream, she opened her eyes. She had to blink at the glorious scene bursting upon her. The walls of the valley rose majestically. The tops, etched against the pale blue sky, were purple. Jana drew in her breath. It was like a painting on a Japanese screen. There were dark koa trees on the shady side, and yellow-green kukui trees on the other.

  Deep down, surrounded by the sheer cliffs, were taro fields. All sorts of fruits and vegetables grew abundantly here as well: passion fruit, guava, and tiny, sweet bananas.

  The double waterfalls were most breathtaking. Cascading like a filmy veil over green ferns and rocks, their beauty was otherworldly. From Tutu’s brother, Uncle Kelo, Jana had heard the “tell story” represented by the beautiful twin falls. It was the sad yet romantic island legend of two separated lovers. Dismounting, she led her horse over to the stream to drink. Bayard sauntered over to where she and Joel stood.

  “Well, was it worth it?” Bayard asked rather sardonically of Joel. However, his eyes were on Jana as he asked the question, and she felt it was her answer he wanted.

  “Yes. Well worth the trip,” Joel agreed quietly. Jana glanced at him, realized he was almost too moved to speak. Then Bayard strolled away and Joel turned to Jana. “I wish I had longer to stay. There is so much I’d like to explore and discover about Hawaii.”

  “You must plan to come back.”

  “Would you be my guide if I did?” he asked. Although it was spoken lightly, Jana had the feeling that there was more meaning in Joel’s question. In spite of the fact that she hadn’t tried any of the flirtatious suggestions outlined in the magazines Edith read. Could Edith be right? Was Joel “smitten?” Joel was very nice, but—

  Wherever her thoughts were going, they were interrupted by the mule wagon rumbling down the path and Edith calling everyone to come eat.

  The Prestons’ Chinese cook and his helper turned the buckboard into a bounteous buffet table. The riders, their appetites sharpened by their early morning expedition, did justice to the delicious food.

  Luscious pineapple spears, crescents of papayas, mangoes, bananas, an assortment of rolls, sweet breads, and creamy mounds of scrambled eggs, sausage, and bacon kept hot in a small hibachi were heaped on plates, and mugs of fragrant, hot coffee were poured.

  Edith looked charming in a boy’s blue cotton shirt, suede weskit,
a wide-brimmed straw hat banded with a wreath of fresh flowers—the Hawaiian touch—her head thrown back, laughing and joyous. She was having the time of her life. How had Kiki learned to be so comfortable among Bayard’s sophisticated college friends, to be so adept at banter and flirting, wondered Jana. Those magazines?

  Jana walked a little way down the black-sand beach, and in a few minutes she heard footsteps behind her, turned, and saw that Bayard had followed her.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” he offered.

  “Not worth it. Just enjoying this lovely place. Wishing I had my paint box and sketch book! All this beauty. I’d like to capture it somehow. Correction—try to capture it. I’m not nearly good enough, of course. Still, I’d like to.”

  They walked along together in silence for a while. Then Bayard said, “What did you think of my little outburst last night?”

  Jana stopped walking and turned to look at him.

  “Just that you were being very honest. About your feelings, I mean.”

  “I seldom do that—or I should say, get a chance to do that.” He paused, glanced at her. “It was an impulse, maybe, but somehow I thought you might understand. Did you?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never been off the island, you see. Well, not since I came here from Oahu when I was eleven. So I’ve never had the kind of experiences you were talking about.”

  Bayard stooped and gathered some small stones in his hand, then stood and tossed them one by one ahead of them.

  “It is different on the mainland,” he said. “You can’t imagine some of the stupid questions I get. It usually starts when I’m introduced at a party or somewhere. And you know how it goes, those stiff, clichéd openings to conversations. What I hate most is always explaining myself. ‘Hawaii? You’re from where—Hawaii?’ I get so sick of hearing that sort of appalled tone in people’s voices. Like you’re from outer Mongolia. They look you over, almost as if to see whether you’re wearing shoes—or a loincloth.” He shook his head. “I’m like a man wearing two hats or standing with a foot in each world: the United States, the rock-bound New England of New Haven, the bastion of conservatism, where everyone wears a mask to conceal their emotions—then this. All this lushness, these soft-spoken, velvet-eyed, kindhearted people, generous, gracious—” He broke off. After a pause he said tightly, “That could be good or bad. It’s kind of a homesickness. Island sickness, actually. On the mainland, I think I play a kind of part, all the while having a terrible yearning to be back here where I know who I am, how I’m supposed to act, what I’m supposed to say and do.” He halted. Facing her, Bayard threw out his hands in a kind of hopeless gesture. “Do you understand at all what I’m saying?”

  She saw a sort of desperation in Bayard’s eyes, a need to be understood, and she instinctively responded to it. “Yes, I think I do.”

  “Wait up, you two!” a voice behind them called, and Joel came running down the beach to catch up with them.

  Bayard muffled a groan. “Oh, no.” However, when Joel reached them, Bayard was the affable friend again.

  Jana was sorry yet relieved that they had been interrupted. Bayard’s sharing left her confused. Why was he choosing her to tell his innermost thoughts to? She was moved by his honesty, touched that he trusted her with such intimate revelations. Yet what was she to say or do about it?

  But the moment was past. Bayard again was the smooth, slightly mocking young man she had always believed him to be. If he had allowed her a glimpse behind his polished facade, it was over. And there wasn’t anything she was supposed to do about it. Instinctively she knew that certainly she was never to bring it up.

  Back at the Prestons’ that afternoon, the girls bathed and rested while Meipala rubbed them both with kukui oil, kneading their muscles so all the stiffness of the long ride was massaged away. They both fell asleep and didn’t awaken until the evening shadows crept into their rooms and they had to hurry to get dressed for dinner.

  As Jana had anticipated, Bayard completely ignored her. It was as though the time on the lanai or in the valley had never happened. It stung a little, but Joel and Tom were so flatteringly attentive that Jana was diverted and did not notice when Bayard excused himself and left the party before the others.

  Tired from the valley excursion, everyone decided to call it an early evening. The next day would be even more full. Tomorrow was the rodeo and then that night, the New Year’s Eve ball. Jana felt somewhat let down as she and Edith went upstairs. But Bayard’s behavior should not have surprised her. That was simply Bayard’s way. She blamed herself for being so vulnerable.

  Chapter Seven

  A buffet luncheon was to be held before the rodeo, scheduled to start at one o’clock. Colonel Preston’s guests from Kona and Hilo began arriving in their carriages at eleven. As each one entered, they were given a lei—a garland of flowers, white or pink carnations, plumeria or hibiscus—which was placed around their necks. The women were dressed in pastel-colored ensembles, carried matching parasols, and wore large-brimmed hats to shade their faces from damaging sunlight during the rodeo. These were the ladies who graced the society pages of the local newspapers, and Jana found herself observing them with awe. They looked like some of the fashion models in Edith’s magazines. Her own simple cotton frock looked decidedly plain in contrast.

  Colonel Preston was in his element, expansive in his favorite role of jovial host. He welcomed his guests, ushering them into the dining room. There was spread a lavish feast served by uniformed servants. Platters of fresh fruits, several kinds of salads, hot dishes of shrimp and mahi-mahi—a tender, white fish—steaming platters of rice and baked chicken papaya, as well as some traditional Hawaiian food made for the special occasion and to tempt the guests, such as kulolo, a delicious pudding of taro and coconut cream, were laid out on the fully laden tables before them.

  Colonel Preston’s voice boomed over the others as he held forth about the rodeo, an annual event on the ranch, bragging about his paniolos. “There’ll be some local lads competing, too. But my men are the best. I only hire the finest. Good with horses, fearless riders. You’re going to see stunts today you’d never see in a rodeo stateside, not even in California or Texas.”

  Jana caught a skeptical glance pass between Greg and Tom, but Joel said enthusiastically, “I can’t wait, sir. Hawaii continues to amaze me. Somehow I never connected it with rodeos. I never imagined a real cowboy Wild West show put on here—in a tropical paradise!”

  Colonel Preston looked smugly pleased. “You’ve never seen anything like it. You’re in for a real treat, I’ll tell you.”

  At this statement, Jana saw Greg Amory suppress a supercilious smile. Immediately she felt a rush of resentment. Of all Bayard’s guests, she liked Greg the least. He had a superior attitude that made her feel defensive. What did Kiki see in him? Why not pick Joel, who was so open and seemed to love the island, the ranch, and everything?

  Just as she was thinking about him, Joel came over to Jana, saying, “Tell me, what’s the history of this? I can’t help saying that this ranch, the cattle, and the rodeo here in Hawaii has me totally baffled. The rodeo isn’t just to show off Colonel Preston’s cowboys, is it?”

  “It’s more than that,” Jana explained. “The cattle were brought from California as gifts to King Kamehameha. Before there were any ranches, they ran wild in herds, eating forests, trampling taro patches. So cowboys from Spain and Mexico were brought here to teach natives how to ride, rope, round them up, keep them on fence-bound ranges. From that, the ranching business began here. Now there are several cattle ranches on the island. Colonel Preston’s is one of the largest.”

  “How did the rodeos get started?”

  “It seemed to just develop naturally out of the paniolos’ competitive spirit. Their rivalry with each other. It became a real challenge to see who could ride and rope the best. They started having different kinds of races and competitions. I guess you’d say it just evolved and became an annual event here at the Preston R
anch. As you can see, people come from all around to see it. There are parties everywhere afterward—and before too, I guess. It’s a really special time.”

  Overhearing Jana’s explanation seemed to have caught Greg Amory’s interest. Standing nearby, he leaned toward her, asking, “So these Spanish and Mexican cowboys stayed on in Hawaii?”

  “Some did, but the Hawaiians they taught their skills to took to it right away. They loved everything about it: the high-horned saddles, long spurs, and braided lassos. It was just the sort of thing that appealed to them. The excitement, the style, the danger, the risk, the daring of the buckaroos. They have their own version of all they have learned,” she laughed, “which is even wilder, more reckless, than anything they were originally taught.”

  “And the name paniolos?”

  “It’s a kind of ‘pidgin’ translation of the word Español, which of course means Spanish, which most of them were, originally.”

  Greg seemed about to ask something more, when Colonel Preston went to stand in the dining room arch and waved his hands for silence, then announced, “All right, folks, we should be on our way. Ladies and gentlemen, your carriages are being brought around. You’ll ride down to the far pasture, where the rodeo ring is set up. A grandstand and bleachers will accommodate you there. For you young people, the large ranch wagon will service you. It’s a little rough, but it’s a short ride. Let’s get going. You young people, don’t delay. When I get there, the rodeo starts.”

  Evidently Edith had decided to ride her horse and go ahead of the rest with her father. Jana saw her touch Greg’s arm, tip her head coquettishly, and whisper in his ear. He laughed and she looked back over her shoulder at him as she went out of the room. So she was now making Greg her open target, Jana mused, hoping her friend hadn’t overplayed her hand.

  Bayard rounded up his friends, and Jana found herself escorted by both Greg and Joel. The large wooden wagon, with three rows of seats and drawn by four of the ranch’s dray horses, was waiting for them out front. Greg Amory helped her up into the wagon, then took a seat beside her. Joel sat down on the other side. Bayard threw her an amused glance and sat down across from them with Tom.