'There's no red Indians in Brooklyn,' he added. 'A man needn't fear mutiliation, not in honest Brooklyn.' 'You'll get worse than mutiliation if you think you can give notice on me,' Inez hissed at him. 'Where do you suppose I can get another butler, in these wilds? If you leave, who do you suppose will serve the brandy and the port?' She swung the whip, but clumsily--mostly she employed the bullwhip more as a club than a whip, in her fights with Inish. Old Ben Mickelson deflected the blow and leapt off the porch. He failed to make a clean landing, though; one ankle twisted beneath him so painfully that when Inez Scull followed him and attempted to apply a sound lashing Ben Mickelson was forced to crawl away.
That was the sight that greeted Augustus McCrae as he came trotting up from the town.
Old Ben Mickelson was crawling down the long slope toward the springhouse, while Inez Scull followed, attempting to whack him with the bullwhip. Nothing that happened at the Scull mansion surprised Augustus very much; the one thing that was obvious in the present encounter was that Madame Scull could have done the old butler more damage if she'd used a quirt and not a bullwhip. He arrived just in time to hear her deliver a final comment.
'If you attempt to leave me again, Ben, I'll put it out that you stole my emeralds,' she said. 'You won't have to worry about red Indians if I do that, because the sheriff will haul you off and hang you.' 'All right! Let me be! I'll stay and serve your damned port,' old Ben said, standing up but favoring his ankle.
Inez promptly whacked him again.
'Damned port, indeed,' she said. 'Don't you presume to swear at your mistress!' Augustus watched with amusement. Lately he and Ben Mickleson had become allies in crime. Before going upstairs to engage in what Inez Scull described as a good trot, he and old Ben would often sneak in and raid the cabinet where Captain Scull kept his fine whiskeys and brandies. At first he had underestimated the potency of the brandy to such an extent that he represented himself poorly, once he got to the boudoir, a fact which never failed to draw a stinging reproach from Madame Scull.
'It looks as if you've crippled Ben,' he said to the lady, watching the old butler limp away.
'The scabby old beast attempted to quit, just because a few Comanches chased through town,' she said.
'I won't have desertion--y should bear that in mind yourself, Captain McCrae.' Her face was fiery red and she flung him a look of contempt.
'I detest contrary servants,' she said.
'Ben Mickelson has too much damned gall to think he could just walk in and quit.' Augustus got off his horse, a nervous filly. He thought it best to walk along with Madame Scull until she calmed down.
Sometimes a jumpy horse would start bucking even if it only heard a voice it didn't like.
Woodrow Call had some skill with bucking horses, but he himself had none. Three jumps and he usually went flying; better to dismount and walk when Inez Scull was waving her bullwhip around.
'Your husband's in Mexico--t's the news,' he told her. 'Or at least that's the rumour.' 'Not interested in rumours and not especially interested in where Inish is,' Inez said.
'Anyway, I doubt he's that close. Inish usually goes farther afield when he strays--I expected him to be in Egypt, at least. Who says he's in Mexico?' 'It's a thirdhand rumour,' Augustus said.
'A miner heard it from a Mexican, and the Governor heard it from the miner.' 'Does the news disturb you, Gussie?' she asked, smiling at him suddenly and taking his arm as they walked. Then she lifted his hand and gave his finger a hard bite; she set her teeth into it and looked at him as she bit.
'I suppose we'll have to leave off trotting if Inish shows up,' she said. 'He's a very jealous man. I have no doubt he'd find a reason to hang you if he knew we'd been doing all this fine trotting.' 'Well, but who would tell him?' Augustus asked. He had never known quite such a devilish woman. Clara Forsythe could be extremely vexing, but her contrariness was done mostly in play, whereas Inez Scull's devilment had anger in it, and defiance, and even lust; it wasn't a thing done in play, as Clara's was. Inez had just bitten his finger so hard there was blood on her front teeth. He wiped his finger on his pants leg and walked on with her toward the big house.
'I might tell him myself if you displease me,' Inez said. 'I do rather like to be the center of attention when I choose a man, and I can't say you're lavish with your attention. My Jakie was much more attentive, while he lasted.' 'Jake Spoon, that pup!' Gus said.
'Why, he is barely dry behind the ears.' 'I wasn't interested in his ears, Captain,' Mrs. Scull said. 'I've a notion that you're not sorry that Inish is returning.' 'Ma'am, I didn't say he was returning,' Gus said. 'I just said he's in Mexico--y didn't let me finish my report.' 'Why wouldn't he return, if he's in Mexico?' Inez asked. 'I hardly think those brown whores would interest him for long.' 'We heard he was a captive,' Gus told her. 'We think the Black Vaquero caught him.' 'Oh well, no one keeps Inish a captive long, he's too troublesome,' Inez said. 'You don't really like me, do you, Gussie?' 'Ma'am, I'm walking along with you--ain't that a sign that I like you?' Augustus asked. He wanted to curse her, though, for being so bold as to ask such a question. The fact was, he didn't like her; it was just that he had an emptiness in him, an emptiness that hadn't been there until Clara left. It was the emptiness that brought him up the hill to Madame Scull. Being with her invariably left a bad taste in his mouth, yet he kept coming.
'You coward, why can't you say it? You despise me!' Inez said, with bitter scorn. 'You'd be happy to see Inish back. Then you could just drink whiskey all day and moon about that Forsythe girl.
I'm jealous of that girl, I can tell you that.
I've more to offer than any girl who works in a store, and yet you've had her on your mind the whole time I've known you.' Gus didn't answer. He wondered how women so easily found out what men were feeling.
He had never so much as mentioned Clara's name to Inez Scull--how did she know it was Clara on his mind? Women could smell feelings as a dog could smell a fox. He had just told Madame Scull that her husband was a prisoner of the cruelest man in Mexico, and yet she hadn't turned a hair. She was far more disturbed by the fact that he loved Clara Forsythe and not her.
Even in their passion, though he seemed to be there, he wasn't, and Mrs. Scull knew it.
'Well, I better just go,' he said. 'I mainly came up to give you the news.' 'Liar,' Inez said, slapping him. 'You're a liar and a coward--if I hadn't dropped my bullwhip I'd cut you to ribbons. You didn't come up to tell me about Inish. You came here because I know more about certain things than any whore you can afford on your puny little salary.' She was red in the face again--Gus's nervous young horse was backing away.
