Authors: Glen Davies
‘At last!’ growled the Colonel in exasperation. ‘I’ve been waiting on you this half hour and more!’
Mr Brenchley rose from the settle and drew her across to sit beside him. ‘But you’ll agree it was worth the waiting, Colonel,’ he murmured, with an admiring glance.
She accepted the compliment with a gracious inclination of her head, though it amused her greatly that they should think she had spent all this time on her dressing!
‘I wanted to show Brenchley the photographs,’ snapped the Colonel impatiently.
Clearly small talk was not part of his plan for the evening.
Alicia fetched the maps from her room and the prints from the windowless store cupboard which she had transformed into a darkroom.
‘These are really very good, Mrs Owens,’ said the young lawyer, glancing with shrewd blue eyes from photographs to maps and back again. ‘Yes. These should hold up very well in court if Lamarr should be foolish enough to take it that far.’
‘Sure?’
‘Finished, cross-referenced and sworn, of course. You realise, Mrs Owens, you will have to swear an oath as to their validity?’
She nodded.
‘Good. I can get Halleck of Halleck, Peachy and Billings — they specialise in land claims, you know — to come to my office privately and witness them. Halleck trained with me back east, and he’s a good friend, so we can be sure Lamarr has not got to him. But you may have to swear them again in court.’
‘In court?’ Her voice shook.
‘Yes,’ replied Brenchley without looking up from the photographs. ‘Land Commission Court. Sits in San Francisco until next month.’
At that moment Luis came in to announce dinner and they did not see the Colonel’s hard, speculative gaze on her.
The dinner was simple but excellent. The lightly grilled fish was followed by well-dressed meat and succulent vegetables from the garden, and the whole was rounded off with a bowl of New England syllabub which Brenchley declared rivalled anything the Orleans could provide.
‘Come back in six months time, Brenchley, and it’ll be even better,’ said the rancher with a look of determination in his eye. ‘I intend to undo the neglect of the past and make Tresco self-sufficient.’
Brenchley did not linger, as he had to ride back to Sacramento that evening.
‘Will you take the first batch of photographs back with you?’ asked Alicia.
‘No,’ he replied decisively. ‘We don’t want to do this piecemeal and run the risk of alerting Lamarr. He and his wife are back in town. Have it all prepared and I’ll get the swearing organised in Sacramento in the next week or two. Then we can send copies to Washington and anywhere else they’re necessary, all in one go.’
‘Brenchley left this for you,’ said Cornish, when Brenchley had gone. He drew a sealed letter from inside his waistcoat. ‘Though what he has to say to you that can’t be said openly, damned if I know.’
She made no move to open the letter.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d been busy in the kitchen?’ he demanded abruptly.
She shrugged. ‘If you’d rather believe I spend that kind of time thinking about my finery … Besides, it’s not my place to argue with my employer.’
‘You’re not a slave!’ he snapped angrily. ‘You’re as entitled as anyone else to tell me when I’m talking through my hat!’
The anger died out of his eyes, but the look that replaced it made her feel uncomfortable. She turned away with the glasses and crossed to the door. His voice, warm and low, stopped her in her tracks.
‘You should dress in a hurry more often,’ he said with an appreciative chuckle. ‘With your hair like that, you look more like Tamsin’s sister instead of her governess.’
*
Kai took the photographic equipment from Alicia and loaded it on to the packhorse. Alicia checked the girths of her mare and gazed out across green meadows speckled with the jewel bright colours of wild flowers to the barely visible peaks beyond which were their destination.
The sky was pale, the rosy haze of dawn barely fled before the bright rays of the sun which had just topped the distant ranges of the Sierra Nevada; Tresco looked as, though it had been new washed in the gentle dew.
‘What is it, Alicia?’ Kai left the horses and sat beside her on the steps. He took her hand in his. ‘What is it?’ he said softly.
‘Oh, I’m just being foolish.’ Then, as if she could not stop herself, she blurted out: ‘This is the last survey, Kai! There’s just today out at Lake Clearwater, then — then it’s all finished.’ And I’ll have to decide, decide whether we stay here on his terms or set out again on that long, weary road that leads God only knows where.
‘Alicia, you have your work to do — do it well. It is enough for the moment. Live a day at a time, my dear. The rest will sort itself out in its own good time.’
‘Chinese fatalism?’ she laughed.
‘Better for the soul than New England melancholia!’ he teased. ‘When you are ready, you will find the decision will come quite naturally. And above all, you must not allow the past to colour what you do now.’
She looked at him suspiciously. ‘Chen Kai! Did the Colonel tell you?’
‘I am guessing. What else would take such thought, cause such anguish? And his attitude to you has changed … It is something only you can decide. If you want my advice, you know I’m always here.’
‘But — it is your business too! Kai, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t stay on, even if I —’
‘Abandon you and Tamsin?’ he demanded scornfully. ‘Don’t be foolish!’ He gave her a quick hug. ‘We managed before. We’ll manage again.’
‘When you’re ready, Mrs Owens,’ came a deep voice from the shadows behind them.
She rose swiftly to her feet and crossed to Rosita’s side. Chen Kai, impassive as ever, helped her up into the saddle.
They had been riding for over an hour before a word was said.
As they emerged from a narrow defile into the more open upper hills, lightly dotted with a variety of trees, he edged his horse alongside hers and passed the water flask across.
‘What did Brenchley have to say?’ he demanded abruptly. ‘Or was it private?’
‘Not particularly.’ She wiped the neck of the flask and handed it back to him. ‘He just said that Miss Cooper was working on the Sacramento gossips and he was quite sure she would see them all off. He reminded me of our arrangement to go to the theatre. Oh, and he says …’ she blushed a little. ‘… he says that in order to allay suspicion from Lamarr, who’s back in town, he has put it about that he comes to Tresco to — er — to see me.’
‘You’re not fool enough to believe Brenchley has any serious intentions?’ he exclaimed. ‘A man does and says some stupid things when he’s been rejected by a woman. And although he’ll do very well for Hester, I’d have thought you had more backbone than to fall for a soft easterner!’
‘If a man doesn’t wear a gun and talk about crops and cattle or mining, and if he’s well-mannered enough to be polite to the ladies, then to a Californian he’s soft and effete! You’re so prejudiced! Anyway,’ she touched the mare lightly with her heels and moved away, ‘I’m quite aware that he’s in love with Hester. And I’ve already told you that I have no interest in men!’
‘Fine. Then we’ll not mention him again,’ he said indifferently. ‘I grant he knows his stuff as a lawyer.’
‘If you had seen him when he saved Tamsin’s life you would not dismiss him so scornfully!’ she snapped.
‘Let’s hope his efforts were not wasted,’ he growled back. ‘Take that child back on the road again and you put her life at risk as much as it was at Sutter’s Slough!’
Clearwater Lake, when they reached it at last, was stunningly, breathtakingly beautiful and they both reined in their horses and gazed down in silence at the scene below.
The lake was situated in a depression, a sort of upland valley, set in a bowl of green hills whose lower slopes were carpeted with exotic wild flowers of myriad hues which tumbled down the hillside to lap the margins of the lake, a jewel in a perfect setting whose colour changed bewitchingly from jade to turquoise and back again. In all her travels, she had never seen anywhere so sublimely beautiful.
The water, when they dismounted to let the horses drink, was crystal clear and swarming with shoals of fish of all shapes and sizes. While Alicia set up the camera and made her preliminary sketches for the survey, Cornish set lines to catch their midday meal.
When she was quite ready, he picked up the marked surveying staff, ready to move to left or right as she directed him, while she measured the angles and calculated the distances. ‘The last time I’ll have to do this!’ he laughed.
The last time! The last day’s surveying. After this, the rest of the work would be done back at the ranch house. She owed it to him to take as little time as possible with the drawing of the maps and the printing of the photographs, for he had to put his claim in swiftly before the Land Commission finally closed its doors to business. And then what? Don’t think about it.
Her spirits rose as she set the camera up and looked through the lens. Always that strange energy surge at the magic of creation. If this one were only hers …
She uncapped the lens and counted, knowing that the beauty of the scene would be, by her intervention, encapsulated and frozen for all time.
She would take several views, she decided, and the best one she would tint, recreating the full glory and splendour of the colourful scene before her.
It was soon done. There was no breeze, the light was perfect and this far from the ranch there was no fear of interruption. When she had finished, she set the camera in the shade of a huge spreading pine tree and went down to the water’s edge to cool her face and hands. Greatly daring, she slipped her feet out of her buttoned boots and dipped her stockinged feet into the icy water, sending shivers of pure pleasure through her. Her hair had slipped out of the tight knot into which she had hastily twisted it that morning and she knelt down on the cool grass to pin it back up, unconscious of the hard green gaze fixed on her slim silhouette.
He joined her at the lake side a few moments later, his jacket discarded and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He plunged his arms into the cool water and held them there a moment before splashing his head and neck with great liberal handfuls.
‘Come out of the sun!’ he commanded, reaching down to draw her to her feet. ‘It’s very exposed up here; you don’t want to get sunstroke.’
In the great tree’s shade he had set out a veritable feast. ‘A celebration lunch,’ he explained.
The ride and the work had given her quite an appetite and she ate heartily of the smoky flavoured fish, the remains of the meat from yesterday, sliced cold, and some choice fruit. There was even some wine, shipped all the way across the Atlantic and round the Horn to be drunk thousands of miles from the vineyard, in this beautiful spot on top of the New World.
‘That was delicious!’ she exclaimed when she had eaten her fill.
‘Pleasant change to eat good food you haven’t had to cook!’
She nodded sleepily, her eyes half-closed, languorous from the effects of the warm sun and the strong wine.
‘Siesta time,’ he murmured. And within moments, she was asleep.
It was a little cooler when she woke about an hour later. Cornish was still asleep, his face curiously young and vulnerable as sleep smoothed out the lines of worry.
He stretched and sat up and she averted her gaze. ‘Where next?’ she asked lightly.
‘Nowhere,’ he answered lazily. ‘Not till we’re ready to go back to Tresco, that is. And I’m in no hurry.’ He propped himself up on his elbow and smiled at her. ‘The last boundary. Look, over there. See that fold in the hills over to the right? That’s where the Tresco flows out of the lake. Remember that waterfall we surveyed way back at the beginning? That’s the spot. And over to the left a way, is the mountain where you found the cinnabar.’
He ran his finger around inside his cravat, tight in the heat of the afternoon. ‘Would you mind …?’ he began, hand on the knot.
‘Not at all.’ Truth to tell, she envied him, for she was feeling just as stifled in her high-neck blouse.
It was as if he read her thoughts. ‘Feel free,’ he invited.
She shook her head. After a moment she rose and wandered down again to the lakeside. Leaning against the rough bark of a tall tree she gazed out across the water to the far shore, deep in thought.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said, pride and awe mixed in his voice. ‘Like the Sierras before we spoiled them.’
She nodded her agreement.
‘One day I’ll build a cabin up here,’ he declared unexpectedly. ‘Nothing elaborate, just somewhere I can come to be alone.’
‘Too many people at Tresco?’
‘There will be eventually.’ He shrugged philosophically. ‘It’s inevitable. You can’t run a ranch this size with three men and a dog. And I want Tresco to be as self-sufficient as possible: blacksmith, saddlery, granaries, a proper bunk-house, a cookhouse and a decent cook.’ He looked sideways at her to see her reaction. ‘Yes, Tresco will grow,’ he went on. ‘And I’ll be glad of it, but that doesn’t mean I won’t want to get away from it now and again.’
He narrowed his eyes and looked across to where the sun shone brightly on the peaks of the Coast Range.