her emotions. Certainly Clara had been competent at arithmetic--he had never caught her in an error on a bill--but that didn't keep her from being prone to wild rages and fits of weeping. Maggie had always been far more discreet about her feelings; she had mainly managed to keep her sorrows and even her annoyances to herself.
Now, though, she had done something foolish, and, to make matters worse, had done it in front of Graciela. He knew that Mexican women were prone to gossiping--white women, of course, were hardly immune to such activity--and he was vexed to think that the story of what Maggie had just done, an act most uncharacteristic of her, would soon be talked about all over town.
But the fact was, she had; the deed was done.
Call picked up his hat and sat a coffee cup that he had been holding on the counter.
'I regret that I upset you,' he said. 'I suppose I had better just go.' He waited a minute, to see if Maggie would apologize, or explain her action in any way; but she did neither. She just went on with her task. Except for a spot of red on each cheekbone, no one would suppose that she was feeling anything out of the ordinary. Call had rather expected that she would quickly regret her action and come over and brush the cornmeal off his shirt and trousers; but she showed no inclination to do that, either.
Newt opened his eyes and saw Captain Woodrow with what looked to be meal on his shirt --but he was so sleepy that he felt that what he was seeing must be part of a dream. He yawned and turned over, hoping that Captain Woodrow would offer him a penny for sassafras candy when his dream ended.
Call went out and started down the long flight of stairs that angled down the back of Maggie's house to the ground. When he was almost down he got an uncomfortable feeling and turned to look back; Maggie had come outside and stood above him, on the landing. Sunlight flecked the cornmeal on her hands and forearms--a visitor might have thought that her hands and forearms were flecked with gold dust.
'ally compromised me, Woodrow, not Jakeffwas Maggie said, with a sharpness that he had never heard in her voice before. 'ally compromised me and I hope that you'll be thinking about what you did and about how you betrayed our little son for the rest of your life, right up till the day you die. You don't deserve Newt! You don't even deserve me!' Call said nothing. Maggie went back through the door. Later, when Call thought about that moment, he remembered that the sunlight made cornmeal look like gold dust on Maggie's hands and arms.
After Woodrow left, Maggie went in her bedroom and cried. She was tired--m than tired --of crying about Woodrow Call; but, once again, she couldn't help it. The best she could do was hide in her bedroom and cry, so Newt wouldn't see her in tears, if he woke up. He had seen her sobbing far too often as it was, and it upset him. All too often she cried after his father left, which was worrisome to her. Although Call had brought her sorrow, he .was Newt's father, even though Newt didn't know it. She didn't want Newt associating his father with her tears and her pain. No one could know what might happen in life. Someday Woodrow might unbend, recognize that he had a fine son, and claim him publicly. The two of them might yet find some happiness as father and son. She didn't want to blight that chance.
Graciela came in while Maggie was attempting to dry her tears. Graciela had been mightily shocked by what she had seen in the kitchen. She didn't know Captain Call very well, but she knew he was a Texas Ranger.
For a woman to throw cornmeal on a Texas Ranger was a serious thing. They might hang Maggie, for such an offense. At the very least, the man would beat her.
'That was a bad thing you did,' Graciela said.
She was in the habit of speaking quite frankly to Maggie, who didn't seem to mind.
'Not very bad,' Maggie said. 'I could have hit him with the frying pan. All I did was throw a little cornmeal on him.' 'Now he will beat you,' Graciela said. 'How will you work in the store if he beats you badly?
'I need to get my wages--I have my grandbabies to feed,' she added.
'He won't beat me, Graciela,' Maggie said. 'He has never hit me and he never will. I doubt we'll see any more of him around here.' 'But you got his shirt dirty,' Graciela said. 'He will beat you. The last time my husband beat me I could not move for two days. He beat me with an axe handle. I could not have worked in a store, after such a beating.' 'This cornmeal is getting hot,' Maggie said. 'Would you put some in a sock and give it to Newt for his earache?' 'I do not think his ear is sick,' Graciela said.
'I don't either, but give him the sock anyway,' Maggie said. 'It won't hurt to humour him.' Graciela did as she was told, but she was both annoyed and uneasy. The boy wasn't sick; he had no fever. Why waste good cornmeal, when it was attention he wanted, anyway? She could not always be fixing poultices for a boy who wasn't sick. She was still uneasy about the beating, too. In her opinion Maggie still had a lot to learn about the ways of men. Because Maggie wanted Captain Call, and loved him, she was trying to pretend that he was better than other men--t he was above beating a woman. Graciela had had to marry three times before she could get a husband who knew how to stay alive. All her husbands had beaten her, and all the husbands of her sisters and her friends beat their women. It was a thing men did, if they were provoked a little, or even if they were not provoked at all. The slightest drunkenness could cause a man to beat a woman-- so could the slightest rebuke. Graciela had only married poor men--men who had to struggle and who had many worries--but two of her sisters had married men of wealth, men who did little all day except gamble and drink. The wealthy men had beaten her sisters just as often as the poor men had beaten her.
Graciela was a little shocked by Maggie's innocence about men and women--it was not wise to take lightly or discount the violence that was in men.
But, before she could discuss the matter further, Newt woke up.
'I don't need that hot sock, my ear don't hurt now,' he said, just as Graciela finished getting the poultice ready. Such a boy deserved a good thump on the head, but before Graciela could administer the thump, Newt smiled at her so sweetly that she thought better of it and gave him one of her good tortillas instead.
'I have never been no place this naked, Pea,' Jake Spoon confided, staring with some trepidation into the bleak dusk. They had made a poor camp, waterless, shelterless, and dusty, out on the plain somewhere, a plain so vast that the sun, when it set, seemed to be one hundred miles away.
Captain Call had gone ahead, with six rangers, including Charlie Goodnight. The force at the waterless camp consisted of Deets, Pea, Jake, Captain McCrae, Major Featherstonhaugh, a fat lieutenant named Dikuss, and six soldiers. The purpose of the little scouting expedition was to seek out the Comanches in their winter strongholds and determine how many were left. The army wanted to know how many bands were still active and how many warriors they could put into the field.
Jake Spoon had never been able to stifle his tendency to complaint, unless Captain Call was in hearing; Jake said as little as possible around Captain Call. It was obvious to all the rangers that Captain Call didn't like Jake and preferred to avoid his company.
