by Donis Casey
Elizabeth was not as sanguine. “I hope you’re right, sister. I’d hate to be a Mexican here in Arizona right about now.” Her demeanor changed in a blink and she flashed a smile. “Still, it doesn’t sound to me like anything that’ll put a crimp in our little get-together tomorrow.”
“What get-together is this?” Shaw wondered.
It was Alafair who answered. “Oh, Elizabeth has a notion to invite the whole town to a pot luck here at the house tomorrow evening. She thinks that write-up about us in the paper this morning has made all her friends want to meet us.”
Shaw’s raised an eyebrow. “Blanche would enjoy that, I imagine.”
“I know she’d enjoy it,” Alafair admitted. “But is she well enough yet? I don’t know if Blanche is up to meeting a bunch of new people all at once.”
“Why, it’d be good for her,” Elizabeth’s words rushed over themselves, so afraid was she that Alafair may be having a change of heart. “Don’t you think so, Shaw? Don’t you think a lovely evening with games and food and music would be just the thing?”
Shaw smiled. He knew Elizabeth was trying to recruit him to help her convince Alafair. His children did the same thing when their mother was less than persuaded about the wisdom of their schemes. “I think it’s up to Alafair.”
Alafair was just as amused at Elizabeth’s alarm. “Don’t fret yourself, Elizabeth. I won’t spoil your fun.”
Mrs. Carrizal
At her mother’s insistence, Blanche had spent the day of the open house in bed. Not that she acquiesced graciously, but Alafair was a confirmed believer in preventive resting. Alafair sat by her side and read to her or helped her with her school work, and generally cajoled her into staying put. But by early afternoon Blanche was feeling well and rested and eager to get up and put on a pretty frock. Alafair could hear people talking and laughing in the back yard and she looked out the window to see Shaw and Web moving long wooden tables out of the storage shed. They were handing them off to an older man, a young man, and a boy of about twelve who were setting up the tables under the vine covered ramada in the center of the yard.
Time to meet the neighbors.
Blanche and Alafair dressed and primped and critiqued each other’s outfits, then went out the back door to discover two lively, black-haired young women hanging bunting on the veranda. One was standing on a step stool and the other stood below her handing up long strands of colored crêpe paper, but both turned and flashed enormous smiles when they heard Alafair and Blanche emerge. “Hello, hello! Welcome!” Both women rushed to greet them as though they were long lost kin.
“Oh, Miz Tucker and sweet Blanche,” the girl from the step stool exclaimed, “we have heard so much about you from our dear Elizabeth!”
“Everyone is just perishing to meet you,” the crêpe paper girl assured them. “It’s so wonderful to hear that you’re feeling better, sweetheart! I’m Juana Carrizal and this is my sister, Elena. We came early to help Elizabeth get ready for the open house.”
Elena clapped her hands, squashing bunting between them. “We just love Elizabeth! Our papa and our brothers Matt and Artie are helping Mr. Tucker and Web set up the buffet tables in the back yard, and Mama is in the kitchen with Elizabeth. Mama is eager to make your acquaintance. Blanche, maybe you would like to help us decorate after you say hello.”
Blanche was grinning ear to ear when she looked up at her mother for permission, and Alafair was fairly infected with the Carrizal girls’ good humor herself when she said, “If you’re feeling up to it after we meet Miz Carrizal, I don’t know why you can’t help, sugar.”
Juana and Elena dashed back to their task as Alafair ushered Blanche into the kitchen. Elizabeth was standing at the cabinet with her back to the door, cutting a sheet cake into tiny squares and chatting happily to a woman at the table who was arranging something on a platter.
The woman looked up. She was dressed in a maroon skirt and ivory blouse today, and her moonlit halo had turned into a crown of silver curls piled on top of her head, but Alafair recognized her at once. She stopped in her tracks and drew a sharp breath. “You are the White Lady!” she blurted, and immediately clapped her hand over her mouth.
Elizabeth turned, her eyebrows half-way up to her hairline, and laughed. “Miz Carrizal,” she said to the lady, “this is my sister Alafair and her girl Blanche. Alafair, this is my back-door neighbor, Miz Carrizal.”
Alafair could feel her cheeks burning. “Please excuse my bad manners, Miz Carrizal. It is just that I saw you that first evening we arrived. You were far off and it was just getting dark and you were standing in your back yard with your goats. You were wearing a white dress, and what with the moon on your hair and my bleary eyes I thought you looked like an angel! I never did get the chance to mention what I saw to Elizabeth and ever since then I’ve been wondering if I dreamed it all up. I am so glad to make your acquaintance!”
“You didn’t dream it, Alafair. Miz Carrizal is an angel all right.” Elizabeth did not sound like she was teasing.
Mrs. Carrizal was a small, refined woman in her early fifties with large dark eyes that radiated warmth. Perhaps it was due to her preconception of what the White Lady must be like, but Alafair was instantly impressed with the older woman. Her kind manner and knowing expression reminded Alafair of Shaw’s mother, Grandma Sally, though Mrs. Carrizal was younger and not quite as sharp-edged.
“Now, Elizabeth.” Mrs. Carrizal’s voice carried a trace of amusement as she chastised Elizabeth for her hyperbole. Her lips curved into a smile and she extended her hand to Alafair. “Yes, Miz Tucker, I saw you that evening as well. I apologize for not coming over right then to meet your family, but Elizabeth had told us the situation. I hear that you have had a wonderful few days of rest. I hope you are all much improved. I cannot tell you how glad we all are that you are here.” She looked down at Blanche.
Blanche began to raise her arm for a handshake but Mrs. Carrizal was having none of it. She enveloped the girl in a hug. “So glad you are here,” she repeated. “You will be fine now, sweetheart, yes, I can tell. Soon all will be well.”
Alafair’s heart bounded at the woman’s prediction, and she unconsciously placed her hand on her chest. She felt the burn of sudden tears. Mrs. Carrizal’s words were delivered with such conviction that against all reason Alafair believed her. Perhaps she was an angel, after all.
Arrivals
Elizabeth had arranged her long, low, front porch like a pleasant outdoor parlor for the party. From her seat beside the front door Alafair had been able to get a good long look at all the guests as they arrived and before they were brought over and introduced to her and Shaw and Blanche. The three of them began the evening in chairs on the porch with Elizabeth and her friend and neighbor Cindy Stewart, while Web stood by the front gate and directed foot and automobile traffic. Chase flitted back and forth, generally making a pest of himself. Blanche sat in her mother’s lap greeting the guests, sweet and shy. Mrs. Carrizal and her daughters were in charge of the kitchen, while Mr. Carrizal was in the back yard with his sons.
Alafair had first met Cindy early in the afternoon, shortly after the Carrizals had arrived. She had popped through the back door all in a flutter, carrying a little white cake as delicate as she was. “Elena told me you were all in here!”
When first she laid eyes on Cindy Stewart, Alafair had taken her for a child. But on closer inspection Alafair judged her to be in her late twenties or early thirties. She thought Cindy favored that Mary Pickford actress, small and neat-figured with a wide-eyed expression, her hair arranged in loose golden ringlets and fraught with ribbons. Alafair thought her very pretty, even if she did not consider it entirely proper for a married woman to wear her hair down.
Elizabeth had introduced them. “Alafair, Shaw, this is my dearest friend Cindy Stewart. Her husband Geoff is Webster’s law partner. Since we never see either of them, Cindy and me simply do everything together. Cindy, this is my sister and her husband and their daughter
Blanche.”
Cindy had taken Alafair’s hand, breathless. “Oh, Mr. and Miz Tucker, dearest Blanche,” she had said, “Elizabeth has told me so much about you.”
The first to arrive after the Carrizals and Cindy were Elizabeth’s near neighbors, emerging one family at a time from their houses up and down the block and walking to the Kemp house. Children ran ahead of parents and grandparents carrying jugs and pans and casserole dishes. The entertainment arrived in a donkey-drawn cart, three small brown men in fancy black embroidered outfits and showy sombreros. They pulled up in front of the house and waited until Webster walked to the road and directed them to park around back. They were not introduced. Guests from further afield drove up in buggies and automobiles, so many that parked vehicles eventually lined the entire street up and down both sides.
Elizabeth took care of introductions as people made their way onto the porch to meet the visitors. Alafair was amazed at the number of people who showed up. When did Elizabeth manage to invite them all? There were so many that it was not long before Alafair lost track of who was who. She glanced at Shaw, who looked as befuddled as she felt. Were the Tuckers and their long train trip so interesting or were Elizabeth and Web that popular? Or was the entire town so eager to get together and discuss the raid on New Mexico? Or were the Tempeans just that starved for entertainment?
Soon the house and property were teeming with laughing, chattering people and the cheerful sound of mariachi music drifted over the crowd. Chase disappeared into a gang of children who came running around the side of the house. Then the beautiful music and the incredible smells coming from the back yard enticed Blanche to explore and Alafair let her go.
Elizabeth had just suggested that all who were coming had done so and it was time to mingle, when Cindy interrupted her.
“There is Geoff.”
Something in Cindy’s tone struck Alafair as odd and she followed Cindy’s gaze with interest. There were so many people in the yard that she could not tell which one to look at.
Elizabeth leaned over the arm of her chair to murmur in Alafair’s ear. “Geoff is Cindy’s husband and Web’s partner.”
“I remember. Which one is he, now?”
Elizabeth pointed. “Yonder. The one talking to Web.”
Geoff Stewart was about the same size as Web, fair-haired with a choleric red complexion. Unlike the other casually dressed guests he was wearing a business suit.
Cindy stood up, wringing her hands. “I guess he came here direct from the office.” Her voice had once more taken on a breathless quality. “He is talking something over with Web. Do you think I ought to interrupt them?”
Elizabeth sounded impatient when she answered. “I think you ought to leave him be and go have a good time. Geoff can take care of himself without you waiting on him.”
Cindy nodded, distracted. “Yes, I had better go see if he wants anything.” She hurried down the steps and followed in her husband’s wake as he and Web moved toward the back yard. If Geoff saw her he did not acknowledge her.
Elizabeth puffed. “I swear, you would think she is his servant rather than his wife.”
Before Alafair could comment, one of the Carrizal girls came to fetch them into the house to join the party.
Geoff Stewart
Shaw had met Mr. Carrizal and his elder son Matt Carrizal for the first time that afternoon when he had helped them set up the chairs and tables in the back yard. Mr. Carrizal was a slight man with a fair complexion, very dark eyes, grey hair, and a thin white mustache, but he had presence enough to make up for any lack of bulk. Shaw guessed that the son, Matt, was in his mid-twenties, a head taller than his father, dark of eye and hair, with a thoughtful way about him. Shaw approved of the way he treated his father with respect and affection. Not to mention that Matt’s laconic good humor reminded Shaw of his own eldest son, Gee Dub. He caught himself sizing the young man up as potential son-in-law and almost laughed aloud at his own folly. The father of eight daughters tended to do that even if he did not have a specific daughter in mind.
The three of them stood by the side of the house and chatted about homely things for a while, getting to know one another better. They had been too busy with arrangements earlier in the day to do more than plot and plan, lift and carry.
Carrizal told Shaw that he was an importer of goods from Mexico. Furniture, art, pottery and the like, which he sold to shops and stores around southern Arizona and even as far abroad as New Mexico and California. Yes, his business often necessitated travel down to Mexico, sometimes as far as Mexico City and Guadalajara. No, he did not go down there nearly as often these days, not much farther than Juarez or Nogales, not since all the civil unrest. A man could be kidnapped right off the train and held for ransom. Too bad, too. Mexico is such a beautiful country.
They were laughing and comparing family wedding and father-of-the-bride stories when Web approached with Geoff Stewart in tow.
The greetings were cordial but the merriment level dropped a couple of notches. Shaw had already met his brother-in-law’s partner earlier in the week, the first time he had accompanied Webster to work. They had conversed over a luncheon or two but Shaw did not really have much of an opinion of the man. Not that he disliked him. He just could not make heads or tails of him.
Geoff Stewart was pleasant enough but he played it close to the vest. A very cold fish. That was Shaw’s early impression, anyway. Odd pairing, Geoff and Webster. One man’s personality was unknowable and the other’s was nonexistent.
Shaw did not think he would hire the firm of Stewart and Kemp for legal services. It was not because he maintained a poor opinion of lawyers. Shaw knew plenty of good honest lawyers, including his own, Abner Meriwether, back in Boynton. But you should be able to tell if a man has your best interest at heart, and with either Stewart or Kemp how could you ever know? Shaw could only hope that his opinion of one man or the other would improve on better acquaintance.
The men did not get much past the hellos before Cindy padded up behind her husband and stood shifting from foot to foot. Since she obviously could not decide how to go about drawing Geoff’s attention, Shaw took it upon himself to do it for her.
“Geoff, yonder young lady looks to have something to say to you.”
Geoff’s eyebrows lifted and he turned to see who Shaw was nodding at. When their eyes met Geoff seemed to inflate at the same time Cindy deflated. “What do you want, Cindy?”
“Can I get you anything, Geoff? Can I fill a plate for you?”
Geoff took a step forward, not to draw her aside or keep their conversation private, but in order to loom over her. “I’ll take care of myself. Go back inside. I will talk to you later.” His tone held no threat but his stance was another matter.
Shaw cast a questioning glance at Mr. Carrizal, but the older man was not looking at him. Matt’s thunderous expression had caused Carrizal to place a restraining hand on his son’s arm.
Rather than take her husband’s offhand dismissal badly, Cindy looked hopeful and returned a tremulous smile. She melted away and Geoff turned back to his companions. “Shall we repair to the buffet?”
Web and Geoff moved away, unaware of Matt’s aura of disapproval. Shaw hung back with the Carrizals, but neither of them had any comment about the incident. They walked together toward the table in silence.
The Motion Picture
After most of the guests had already arrived and Elizabeth and Alafair were just about to adjourn to the buffet table, a beautifully turned-out woman, an equally well dressed teenaged girl, and a natty young man drove up in an open roadster. The light was fading and for a moment Elizabeth peered across the yard, trying to place the passengers in the car.
She jerked up straight and made a little noise of recognition, suddenly alight with joy. “Oh, look! It’s dear Dorothy Clark—the young one, there! She plays an Indian maiden in the moving picture! I recognize that man as the fellow who runs the camera. Chris, I think his name is. And the other woman…” S
he hesitated, trying to dredge up the name. “She’s in the picture, too. I told you some of the film people would come!” She had floated down the steps to greet the new arrivals.
Alafair’s lip twitched. “I reckon we’re honored.”
Elizabeth missed the irony. “Oh, we are!”
The reason Elizabeth was hosting such a large gathering may have been to introduce her visiting relatives to her friends, but at least among the female guests the stars of the party were young Dorothy Clark and Miss Yona Landowska. The Tuckers’ seven-day journey, their layover in Columbus and the Villa raid, previously topics of intense interest, were all forgotten as the assembled ladies plied the actresses with questions about Hollywood, California, and what it was like to act before a camera and know that people all over the country would see your face right up there on the screen.
Alafair had not minded at all that she was no longer the center of attention, and the actresses had not minded at all that they were, which worked out well for everyone. Alafair had not known much about the film, this momentous event that added such glitter to everyone’s life by its very proximity, or how it came to be made in Tempe. Women whose names she could not remember were eager to tell her all about it.
“It’s called The Yaqui, Miz Tucker, and it stars Hobart Bosworth.”
“What is a ‘Yaqui’?” Alafair had wondered.
Honor Moeur, the doctor’s wife, answered. “It’s the name of an Indian tribe, Miz Tucker. They are from Mexico, but a few years ago a bunch of them got run off their land by the government. Many of them were even forced into slavery on some of the big rancheros. A group of them who left Mexico to get away from the persecution now live in a little town called Guadalupe, a bit southwest of Tempe, here.”
Alafair shook her head. An Indian nation she had never heard of, and she had been around Indians all her life. “Is that what the picture is about, them getting booted out of Mexico?”