Reflections in a Golden Eye (3 page)

Inside the stable it was still almost dark and no one was about The air was close, warm,
and sour sweet. As the soldier passed between the stalls he heard the placid breath of the
horses, a sleepy snuffle and a whinny. Dumb, luminous eyes turned toward him. The young
soldier took from his pocket an envelope of sugar and soon his hands were warm and sticky
with slaver. He went into the stall of a little mare who was almost ready to drop her
foal. He stroked her swollen belly and stood for a time with his arms around her neck.
Then he let the mules out into their pen. The soldier was not alone with the beasts soon
the other men reported for their duty. It was Saturday, a busy day at the stables, as in
the morning there were riding classes for the children and women of the post The stable
was soon noisy with talk and heavy footsteps; the horses grew restive in their stalls.

Mrs. Penderton was one of the first riders to come this morning. With her, as often, was
Major Langdon. Captain Penderton accompanied them today, which was unusual, as he
customarily took his ride alone and in the late afternoon. The three of them sat on the
paddock fence while their mounts were being saddled. Private Williams led out Firebird
first. The injury of which the Captain's wife complained the day before had been greatly
exaggerated. On the horse's left foreleg there was a slight abrasion that had been painted
with iodine. On being led out into the bright sunlight, the horse rounded his nostrils
nervously and turned his long neck to look about him. His coat was curried smooth as satin
and his mane was thick and glossy in the sun.

At first glance the horse seemed overgrown and too heavy set for a thoroughbred. His
great haunches were broad and fleshy, and his legs were somewhat thick. But he moved with
marvelous, fiery grace, and once at Camden he had outraced his own great sire who was a
champion. When Mrs. Penderton was mounted, he reared up twice and tried to break away
toward the bridle path. Then, straining against the bit, with arched neck and tail raised
high, he side stepped furiously and a light froth of foam showed on his muzzle. During
this struggle between horse and rider, Mrs. Penderton laughed aloud and spoke to Firebird
in a voice that was vibrant with passion and excitement: 'You sweet old bastard, you!' The
struggle ended as abruptly as it had begun. Indeed, as this volatile fracas took place
every morning, it could hardly be called a real struggle any longer. When the horse, as an
ill trained two year old, had first come to the stables, it had been earnest enough. Twice
Mrs. Penderton was badly thrown, and once when she returned from her ride the soldiers saw
that she had bitten her lower lip quite through so that there was blood on her sweater and
shirt.

But now this brief daily struggle had a theatrical, affected air it was a jocular
pantomime performed for their own amusement and for the benefit of spectators. Even when
the froth showed on his mouth, the horse moved with a certain fractious grace as though
aware of being watched. And after it was over he stood quite still and sighed once, in
much the same manner as a young husband would sigh laughingly and shrug his shoulders when
giving in to the will of a beloved and termagant wife. Except for these mock rebellions
the horse was now perfectly trained.

To all the regular riders the soldiers at the stables had given nicknames that they used
when speaking among themselves. Major Langdon was called The Buffalo. This was because
when in the saddle he slumped his great heavy shoulders and lowered his head. The Major
was a fine horseman and, when a young Lieutenant, he had made a rare name for himself on
the polo field. On the other hand, Captain Penderton was no rider at all, although he
himself was not aware of this. He sat rigid as a ramrod in the exact position taught by
the riding master. Perhaps he would not have ridden at all if he could have seen himself
from the rear. His buttocks spread and jounced flabbily in the saddle. For this reason he
was known to the soldiers as Captain Flap Fanny. Mrs. Penderton was called simply The
Lady, so great was the esteem in which she was held at the stables.

This morning the three riders started at a sedate walk, Mrs. Penderton leading. Private
Williams stood watching them until they were out of sight. Soon he heard from the ring of
the horses' hoofs on the hard path that they had broken into a canter. The sun was
brighter now and the sky had darkened to a warm, brilliant blue. In the fresh air there
was the odor of dung and burning leaves. The soldier stood so long that at last the
Sergeant came up to him and roared good naturedly: 'Hey, Unconscious, you mean to gawk
there forever?' The sound of the horses' hoofs could be heard no longer. The young soldier
pushed back his bangs from his forehead and slowly set about his work. He did not speak
all day.

Then late in the evening Private Williams dressed in fresh clothes and went out to the
woods. He walked along the edge of the reservation until he reached the stretch of woods
he had cleared for Captain Penderton. The house was not brightly lighted as it had been
before. Lights showed only in one room to the right upstairs, and in the small porch
leading from the dining room. When the soldier approached, he found the Captain in his
study alone; the Captain's wife, then, was in the lighted room upstairs where the shades
were drawn. The house, like all the houses on the block, was new, so that there had been
no time for shrubs to grow in the yard. But the Captain had had twelve ligustrum trees
transplanted and put in rows along the sides so that the place would not seem so raw and
bare. Shielded by these thick leaved evergreens, the soldier could not easily be seen from
the street or the house next door. He stood so close to the Captain that if the window had
been open he could have reached out and touched him with his hand.

Captain Penderton sat at his desk with his back turned to Private Williams. He was in a
constant fidget as he studied. Besides the books and papers on his desk there was a purple
glass decanter, a thermos bottle of tea, and a box of cigarettes. He drank hot tea and red
wine. Every ten or fifteen minutes he put a new cigarette in his amber cigarette holder.
He worked until two o'clock and the soldier watched him.

From this night there began a strange time. The soldier returned each evening,
approaching by way of the forest, and looked at all that went on within the Captain's
house. At the windows of the dining and sitting rooms there were lace curtains through
which he could see, but not easily be seen himself. He stood to the side of the window,
looking in obliquely, and the light did not fall on his face. Nothing of much consequence
happened inside. Often they spent the evening away from home and did not return until
after midnight. Once they entertained six guests at dinner. Most evenings, however, they
spent with Major Langdon, who came either alone or with his wife. They would drink, play
cards, and talk in the sitting room. The soldier kept his eyes on the Captain's wife.

During this time a change was noticed in Private Williams. His new habit of suddenly
stopping and looking for a long time into space was still with him. He would be cleaning
out a stall or saddling a mule when all at once he seemed to withdraw into a trance. He
would stand immovable and sometimes he did not even realize when his name was called. The
Sergeant at the stables noticed and was uneasy. He had occasionally seen this same queer
habit in young soldiers who have grown homesick for the farm and womenfolk, and who plan
to 'go over the hill.' But when the Sergeant questioned Private Williams, he answered that
he was thinking about nothing at all.

The young soldier spoke the truth. Although his face wore an expression of still
concentration, there were in his mind no plans or thoughts of which he was aware. In him
was a deep reflection of the sight he had seen that night when passing before the
Captain's lighted vestibule. But he did not think actively of The Lady or of anything else.

However, it was necessary for him to pause and wait in this trancelike attitude, for far
down in his mind there had begun a dark, slow germination.

Four times in his twenty years of life the soldier had acted of his own accord and
without the pressure of immediate circumstance. Each of these four actions had been
preceded by these same odd trances. The first of these actions was the sudden,
inexplicable purchase of a cow. By the time he was a boy of seventeen, he had accumulated
a hundred dollars by plowing and picking cotton. With this money he had bought this cow,
and he named her Ruby Jewel. There was no need on his father's one mule farm for a cow. It
was unlawful for them to sell the milk, for their makeshift stable would not pass
government inspection, and the milk that she yielded was far more than their small
household could use. On winter mornings the boy would get up before daylight and go out
with a lantern to his cow's stall. He would press his forehead against her warm flank as
he milked and talk to her in soft, urgent whispers. He put his cupped hands down into the
pail of frothy milk and drank with lingering swallows.

The second of these actions was a sudden, violent declaration of his faith in the Lord.
He always had sat quietly on one of the back benches of the church where his father
preached on Sunday. But one night during a revival he suddenly leaped up onto the
platform. He called to God with strange wild sounds and rolled in convulsions on the
floor. Afterward he had been very languid for a week and he never again found the spirit
in this way.

The third of these actions was a crime which he committed and successfully concealed. And
the fourth was his enlistment in the army.

Each of these happenings had come about very suddenly and without any conscious planning
on his part. Still in a curious way, he had prepared for them. For instance, just before
the purchase of his cow he had stood gazing into space for a long while and then he
cleaned out a lean to by the barn that had been used for storing junk; when he brought
home the cow there was a place ready for her. In the same manner he had got his small
affairs in order before his enlistment. But he did not actually know that he was going to
buy a cow until he counted out his money and put his hand on the halter. And it was only
as he stepped over the threshold of the enlistment office that the vaporish impressions
within him condensed to a thought, so that he realized he would be a soldier.

For almost two weeks Private Williams reconnoitered in this secret manner around the
Captain's quarters. He learned the habits of the household. The servant was usually in bed
at ten o'clock. When Mrs. Penderton spent the evening at home, she went upstairs at about
eleven and the light in her room was turned off. As a rule the Captain worked from about
ten thirty until two o'clock.

Then on the twelfth night the soldier walked through the woods even more slowly than
usual. From a far distance he saw that the house was lighted. In the sky there was a white
brilliant moon and the night was cold and silvery. The soldier could be plainly seen as he
left the woods to cross the lawn. In his right hand was a pocket knife and he had changed
his clumsy boots for tennis shoes. From the sitting room there was the sound of voices.
The soldier went up to the window.

'Hit me, Morris,' said Leonora Penderton. 'Give me a big number this time.'

Major Langdon and the Captain's wife were playing a game of blackjack. The stakes were
worth while and their system of reckoning very simple. If the Major won all the chips on
the table, he was to have Firebird for a week if Leonora won them, she would get a
bottle of her favorite rye. During the last hour the Major had raked in most of the chips.
The firelight reddened his handsome face and he was drumming a military tattoo with the
heel of his boot on the floor. His black hair was turning white at the temples; already
his clipped mustache was a becoming gray. Tonight he was in uniform. His heavy shoulders
were slouched and he seemed warmly contented except when he glanced over at his wife
then his light eyes were uneasy and beseeching. Across from him Leonora had a studious,
serious air, as she was trying to add fourteen and seven on her fingers underneath the
table. At last she put the cards down.

'Am I busted?'

'No, my dear,' said the Major. 'Twenty one exactly. Blackjack.'

Captain Penderton and Mrs. Langdon sat before the hearth. Neither of them was comfortable
at all. They were both nervous this evening and had been talking with grim vivacity about
gardening. There were good reasons for their nervousness. These days the Major was not
altogether the same easy go lucky man he used to be. And even Leonora vaguely felt the
general depression. For one reason, a strange and tragic thing had happened among these
four people a few months ago. They had been sitting like this late one night when suddenly
Mrs. Langdon, who had a high temperature, left the room and ran over to her own house. The
Major did not follow her immediately, as he was comfortably stupefied with whiskey. Then
later Anacleto, the Langdons' Filipino servant, rushed wailing into the room with such a
wild eyed face that they followed him without a word. They found Mrs. Langdon unconscious
and she had cut off the tender nipples of her breasts with the garden shears.

'Does anybody want a drink?' the Captain asked.

They were all thirsty, and the Captain went back to the kitchen for another bottle of
soda water. His deep uneasiness of mind was caused by the fact that he knew things could
not go on much longer as they were. And although the affair between his wife and Major
Langdon had been a torment to him, he could not think of any likely change without dread.
Indeed his torment had been a rather special one, as he was just as jealous of his wife as
he was of her lover. In the last year he had come to feel an emotional regard for the
Major that was the nearest thing to love that he had ever known. More than anything else
he longed to distinguish himself in the eyes of this man. He carried his cuckoldry with a
cynical good grace that was respected on the post. Now as he poured out the Major's drink
his hand was shaking.