Lee poured the tea and picked up his cup.
"I don't know why you don't scald your mouth, drinking it that hot."
Lee was smiling inwardly. Adam, looking at him, realized that Lee was not a young man any more. The skin on his cheeks was stretched tight, and its surface shone as though it were glazed. And there was a red irritated rim around his eyes.
Lee studied the shell-thin cup in his hand and his was a memory smile. "Maybe if you're free, you can free me."
"What do you mean, Lee?"
"Could you let me go?"
"Why, of course you can go. Aren't you happy here?"
"I don't think I've ever known what you people call happiness. We think of contentment as the desirable thing, and maybe that's negative."
Adam said, "Call it that then. Aren't you contented here?"
Lee said, "I don't think any man is contented when there are things undone he wishes to do."
"What do you want to do?"
"Well, one thing it's too late for. I wanted to have a wife and sons of my own. Maybe I wanted to hand down the nonsense that passes for wisdom in a parent, to force it on my own helpless children."
"You're not too old."
"Oh, I guess I'm physically able to father a child. That's not what I'm thinking. I'm too closely married to a quiet reading lamp. You know, Mr. Trask, once I had a wife. I made her up just as you did, only mine had no life outside my mind. She was good company in my little room. I would talk and she would listen, and then she would talk, would tell me all the happenings of a woman's afternoon. She was very pretty and she made coquettish little jokes. But now I don't know whether I would listen to her. And I wouldn't want to make her sad or lonely. So there's my first plan gone."
"What was the other?"
"I talked to Mr. Hamilton about that. I want to open a bookstore in Chinatown in San Francisco. I would live in the back, and my days would be full of discussions and arguments. I would like to have in stock some of those dragon-carved blocks of ink from the dynasty of Sung. The boxes are worm-bored, and that ink is made from fir smoke and a glue that comes only from wild asses' skin. When you paint with that ink it may physically be black but it suggests to your eye and persuades your seeing that it is all the colors in the world. Maybe a painter would come by and we could argue about method and haggle about price."
Adam said, "Are you making this up?"
"No. If you are well and if you are free, I would like to have my little bookshop at last. I would like to die there."
Adam sat silently for a while, stirring sugar into his lukewarm tea. Then he said, "Funny. I found myself wishing you were a slave so I could refuse you. Of course you can go if you want to. I'll even lend you money for your bookstore."
"Oh, I have the money. I've had it a long time."
"I never thought of your going," Adam said. "I took you for granted." He straightened his shoulders. "Could you wait a little while?"
"What for?"
"I want you to help me get acquainted with my boys. I want to put this place in shape, or maybe sell it or rent it. I'll want to know how much money I have left and what I can do with it."
"You wouldn't lay a trap for me?" Lee asked. "My wish isn't as strong as it once was. I'm afraid I could be talked out of it or, what would be worse, I could be held back just by being needed. Please try not to need me. That's the worst bait of all to a lonely man."
Adam said, "A lonely man. I must have been far down in myself not to have thought of that."
"Mr. Hamilton knew," said Lee. He raised his head and his fat lids let only two sparks from his eyes show through. "We're controlled, we Chinese," he said. "We show no emotion. I loved Mr. Hamilton. I would like to go to Salinas tomorrow if you will permit it."
"Do anything you want," said Adam. "God knows you've done enough for me."
"I want to scatter devil papers," Lee said. "I want to put a little roast pig on the grave of my father."
Adam got up quickly and knocked over his cup and went outside and left Lee sitting there.
Chapter 27
1
That year the rains had come so gently that the Salinas River did not overflow. A slender stream twisted back and forth in its broad bed of gray sand, and the water was not milky with silt but clear and pleasant. The willows that grow in the river bed were well leafed, and the wild blackberry vines were thrusting their spiky new shoots along the ground.
It was very warm for March, and the kite wind blew steadily from the south and turned up the silver undersides of the leaves.
Against the perfect cover of vine and bramble and tangled drift sticks, a little gray brush rabbit sat quietly in the sun, drying his breast fur, wet by the grass dew of his early feeding. The rabbit's nose crinkled, and his ears slewed around now and then, investigating small sounds that might possibly be charged with danger to a brush rabbit. There had been a rhythmic vibration in the ground audible through the paws, so that ears swung and nose wrinkled, but that had stopped. Then there had been a movement of willow branches twenty-five years away and downwind, so that no odor of fear came to the rabbit.
For the last two minutes there had been sounds of interest but not of danger--a snap and then a whistle like that of the wings of a wild dove. The rabbit stretched out one hind leg lazily in the warm sun. There was a snap and a whistle and a grunting thud on fur. The rabbit sat perfectly still and his eyes grew large. A bamboo arrow was through his chest, and its iron tip deep in the ground on the other side. The rabbit slumped over on his side and his feet ran and scampered in the air for a moment before he was still.
From the willow two crouching boys crept. They carried four-foot bows, and tufts of arrows stuck their feathers up from the quivers behind their left shoulders. They were dressed in overalls and faded blue shirts, but each boy wore one perfect turkey tailfeather tied with tape against his temple.
The boys moved cautiously, bending low, self-consciously toeing-in like Indians. The rabbit's flutter of death was finished when they bent over to examine their victim.
"Right through the heart," said Cal as though it could not be any other way. Aron looked down and said nothing. "I'm going to say you did it," Cal went on. "I won't take credit. And I'll say it was a hard shot."
"Well, it was," said Aron.
"Well, I'm telling you. I'll give you credit to Lee and to Father."
"I don't know as I want credit--not all of it," said Aron. "Tell you what. If we get another one we'll say we each hit one, and if we don't get any more, why don't we say we both shot together and we don't know who hit?"
"Don't you want credit?" Cal asked subtly.
"Well, not full credit. We could divide it up."
"After all, it was my arrow," said Cal.
"No, it wasn't."
"You look at the feathers. See that nick? That's mine."
"How did it get in my quiver? I don't remember any nick."
"Maybe you don't remember. But I'm going to give you credit anyway."
Aron said gratefully, "No, Cal. I don't want that. We'll say we both shot at once."
"Well, if that's what you want. But suppose Lee sees it was my arrow?"
"We'll just say it was in my quiver."
"You think he'll believe that? He'll think you're lying."
Aron said helplessly, "If he thinks you shot it, why, we'll just let him think that."
"I just wanted you to know," said Cal. "Just in case he'd think that." He drew the arrow through the rabbit so that the white feathers were dark red with heart blood. He put the arrow in his quiver. "You can carry him," he said magnanimously.
"We ought to start back," said Aron. "Maybe Father is back by now."
Cal said, "We could cook that old rabbit and have him for our supper and stay out all night."
"It's too cold at night, Cal. Don't you remember how you shivered this morning?"
"It's not too cold for me," said Cal. "I never feel cold."
"You did this morning."
> "No, I didn't. I was just making fun of you, shivering and chattering like a milk baby. Do you want to call me a liar?"
"No," said Aron. "I don't want to fight."
"Afraid to fight?"
"No. I just don't want to."
"If I was to say you was scared, would you want to call me a liar?"
"No."
"Then you're scared, aren't you?"
"I guess so."
Aron wandered slowly away, leaving the rabbit on the ground. His eyes were very wide and he had a beautiful soft mouth. The width between his blue eyes gave him an expression of angelic innocence. His hair was fine and golden. The sun seemed to light up the top of his head.
He was puzzled--but he was often puzzled. He knew his brother was getting at something, but he didn't know what. Cal was an enigma to him. He could not follow the reasoning of his brother, and he was always surprised at the tangents it took.
Cal looked more like Adam. His hair was dark brown. He was bigger than his brother, bigger of bone, heavier in the shoulder, and his jaw had the square sternness of Adam's jaw. Cal's eyes were brown and watchful, and sometimes they sparkled as though they were black. But Cal's hands were very small for the size of the rest of him. The fingers were short and slender, the nails delicate. Cal protected his hands. There were few things that could make him cry, but a cut finger was one of them. He never ventured with his hands, never touched an insect or carried a snake about. And in a fight he picked up a rock or a stick to fight with.
As Cal watched his brother walking away from him there was a small sure smile on his lips. He called, "Aron, wait for me!"
When he caught up with his brother he held out the rabbit. "You can carry it," he said kindly, putting his arm around his brother's shoulders. "Don't be mad with me."
"You always want to fight," said Aron.
"No, I don't. I was only making a joke."
"Were you?"
"Sure. Look--you can carry the rabbit. And we'll start back now if you want."
Aron smiled at last. He was always relieved when his brother let the tension go. The two boys trudged up out of the river bottom and up the crumbling cliff to the level land. Aron's right trouser leg was well bloodied from the rabbit.
Cal said, "They'll be surprised we got a rabbit. If Father's home, let's give it to him. He likes a rabbit for his supper."
"All right," Aron said happily. "Tell you what. We'll both give it to him and we won't say which one hit it."
"All right, if you want to," said Cal.
They walked along in silence for a time and then Cal said, "All this is our land--way to hell over the river."
"It's Father's."
"Yes, but when he dies it's going to be ours."
This was a new thought to Aron. "What do you mean, when he dies?"
"Everybody dies," said Cal. "Like Mr. Hamilton. He died."
"Oh, yes," Aron said. "Yes, he died." He couldn't connect the two--the dead Mr. Hamilton and the live father.
"They put him in a box and then they dig a hole and put the box in," said Cal.
"I know that." Aron wanted to change the subject, to think of something else.
Cal said, "I know a secret."
"What is it?"
"You'd tell."
"No, I wouldn't, if you said not."
"I don't know if I ought."
"Tell me," Aron begged.
"You won't tell?"
"No, I won't."
Cal said, "Where do you think our mother is?"
"She's dead."
"No, she isn't."
"She is too."
"She ran away," said Cal. "I heard some men talking."
"They were liars."
"She ran away," said Cal. "You won't tell I told you?"
"I don't believe it," said Aron. "Father said she was in Heaven."
Cal said quietly, "Pretty soon I'm going to run away and find her. I'll bring her back."
"Where did the men. say she is?"
"I don't know, but I'll find her."
"She's in Heaven," said Aron. "Why would Father tell a lie?" He looked at his brother, begging him silently to agree. Cal didn't answer him. "Don't you think she's in Heaven with the angels?" Aron insisted. And when Cal still did not answer, "Who were the men who said it?"
"Just some men. In the post office at King City. They didn't think I could hear. But I got good ears. Lee says I can hear the grass grow."
Aron said, "What would she want to run away for?"
"How do I know? Maybe she didn't like us."
Aron inspected this heresy. "No," he said. "The men were liars. Father said she's in Heaven. And you know how he don't like to talk about her."
"Maybe that's because she ran away."
"No. I asked Lee. Know what Lee said? Lee said, 'Your mother loved you and she still does.' And Lee gave me a star to look at. He said maybe that was our mother and she would love us as long as that light was there. Do you think Lee is a liar?" Through his gathering tears Aron could see his brother's eyes, hard and reasonable. There were no tears in Cal's eyes.
Cal felt pleasantly excited. He found another implement, another secret tool, to use for any purpose he needed. He studied Aron, saw his quivering lips, but he noticed in time the flaring nostrils. Aron would cry, but sometimes, pushed to tears, Aron would fight too. And when Aron cried and fought at the same time he was dangerous. Nothing could hurt him and nothing could stop him. Once Lee had held him in his lap, clasping his still flailing fists to his sides, until after a long time he relaxed. And his nostrils had flared then.
Cal put his new tool away. He could bring it out anytime, and he knew it was the sharpest weapon he had found. He would inspect it at his ease and judge just when and how much to use it.
He made his decision almost too late. Aron leaped at him and the limp body of the rabbit slashed against his face. Cal jumped back and cried, "I was just joking. Honest, Aron, it was only a joke."
Aron stopped. Pain and puzzlement were on his face. "I don't like that joke," he said, and he sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
Cal came close to him and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "I won't do it any more," he said.
The boys trudged along silently for a while. The light of day began to withdraw. Cal looked over his shoulder at a thunderhead sailing blackly over the mountains on the nervous March wind. "Going to storm," he said. "Going to be a bastard." Aron said, "Did you really hear those men?"
"Maybe I only thought I did," Cal said quickly. "Jesus, look at that cloud!"
Aron turned around to look at the black monster. It ballooned in great dark rolls above, and beneath it drew a long trailing skirt of rain, and as they looked the cloud rumbled and flashed fire. Borne on the wind, the cloudburst drummed hollowly on the fat wet hills across the valley and moved out over the flat lands. The boys turned and ran for home, and the cloud boomed at their backs and the lightning shattered the air into quaking pieces. The cloud caught up with them, and the first stout drops plopped on the ground out of the riven sky. They could smell the sweet odor of ozone. Running, they sniffed the thunder smell.
As they raced across the country road and onto the wheel tracks that led to their own home draw the water struck them. The rain fell in sheets and in columns. Instantly they were soaked through, and their hair plastered down on their foreheads and streamed into their eyes, and the turkey feathers at their temples bent over with the weight of water.
Now that they were as wet as they could get the boys stopped running. There was no reason to run for cover. They looked at each other and laughed for joy. Aron wrung out the rabbit and tossed it in the air and caught it and threw it to Cal. And Cal, feeling silly, put it around his neck with the head and hind feet under his chin. Both boys leaned over and laughed hysterically. The rain roared on the oak trees in the home draw and the wind disturbed their high dignity.
2
The twins came in sight of the ranch buildings in time to see Lee, h
is head through the center hole of a yellow oilskin poncho, leading a strange horse and a flimsy rubber-tired buggy toward the shed. "Somebody's here," said Cal. "Will you look at that rig?"
They began to run again, for there was a certain deliciousness about visitors. Near the steps they slowed down, moved cautiously around the house, for there was a certain fearsomeness about visitors too. They went in the back way and stood dripping in the kitchen. They heard voices in the living room--their father's voice and another, a man's voice. And then a third voice stiffened their stomachs and rippled a little chill up their spines. It was a woman's voice. These boys had had very little experience with women. They tiptoed into their own room and stood looking at each other.
"Who do you 'spose it is?" Cal asked.
An emotion like a light had burst in Aron. He wanted to shout, "Maybe it's our mother. Maybe she's come back." And then he remembered that she was in Heaven and people do not come back from there. He said, "I don't know. I'm going to put on dry clothes."
The boys put on dry clean clothes, which were exact replicas of the sopping clothes they were taking off. They took off the wet turkey feathers and combed their hair back with their fingers. And all the while they could hear the voices, mostly low pitched, and then the high woman's voice, and once they froze, listening, for they heard a child's voice--a girl's voice--and this was such an excitement that they did not even speak of hearing it.
Silently they edged into the hall and crept toward the door to the living room. Cal turned the doorknob very, very slowly and lifted it up so that no creak would betray them.
Only the smallest crack was open when Lee came in the back door, shuffled along the hall, getting out of his poncho, and caught them there. "Lilly boy peek?" he said in pidgin, and when Cal closed the door and the latch clicked Lee said quickly, "Your father's home. You'd better go in."
Aron whispered hoarsely, "Who else is there?"
"Just some people going by. The rain drove them in." Lee put his hand over Cal's on the doorknob and turned it and opened the door.
"Boys come long home," he said and left them there, exposed in the opening.
Adam cried, "Come in, boys! Come on in!"
The two carried their heads low and darted glances at the strangers and shuffled their feet. There was a man in city clothes and a woman in the fanciest clothes ever. Her duster and hat and veil lay on a chair beside her, and she seemed to the boys to be clad entirely in black silk and lace. Black lace even climbed up little sticks and hugged her throat. That was enough for one day, but it wasn't all. Beside the woman sat a girl, a little younger maybe than the twins, but not much. She wore a blue-checked sunbonnet with lace around the front. Her dress was flowery, and a little apron with pockets was tied around her middle. Her skirt was turned back, showing a petticoat of red knitted yarn with tatting around the edge. The boys could not see her face because of the sunbonnet, but her hands were folded in her lap, and it was easy to see the little gold seal ring she wore on her third finger.