“Because my coach has aided your escape. One good turn deserves another.”
I can’t deny I owe him that much at least, but I never felt good about it. Randolph is kind of flint-hearted under all that charm and handsomeness and he ain’t the kind I would of wanted Grace to meet up with. Even a strong-willed lady like Lydia come close to getting attracted to him and she was awful in love with Andrew at the time. I just hope Grace is powerful fond of her mansion-building rich man.
Randolph says I can stay at his hotel all day so the bulldog won’t spot me and I’m agreeable, but worried about Jim. He won’t know why I shot away like I done, but I reckon he’s smart enough to figure there ain’t but one thing would of made me do it and he’ll keep low so’s he don’t get spotted neither. When we got to Randolph’s place I seen it’s only a block away from where Grace lives, another fancy hotel but not so grand. When we stepped out of the coach the driver looked considerable surprised to see me, but he never asked how come and Randolph told him to put the coach and team in the stable and have them ready for tonight so’s he can go to the Eagle Theater with me and meet Grace. He ain’t one to waste no time, Randolph. Up in his rooms he had a bite of food sent in and jawed awhile about how he never bothered with mining, just come straight to San Francisco and started gambling.
“Why sweat for gold?” he says. “The miners head for Frisco as soon as they hit pay dirt and scatter their hard-earned nuggets like seed. Whores, liquor and the gaming tables are the natural resting places of that golden rain, and I have taken my share.”
He don’t give a hoot for no one but his own self and I warn’t too comfortable being there with him, but he never talked for long. Gamblers generally work all night and sleep in the day, and that’s what he done all through the afternoon. I stayed quiet so I don’t wake him and smoked one of his cigars, then I nodded off too on the sofa. It’s full dark when he come awake and got supper sent up from the kitchen and we et without talking. There’s still hours to go before Grace finishes the last show but Randolph warn’t inclined to wait around. We got in his coach and bumped and swayed along the streets and come to a building that ain’t showing no lights behind the drapes and went inside.
I ain’t never been inside such a place before but I can reckernize it from lectures the Widow Douglas give me. This here is a Den of Iniquitousness. There’s gambling tables with green cloth under low-hung lamps and a piano player tinkling soft so’s he don’t disturb the players and a bunch of women that must of just this minute got out of bed, because all they got on is skimpy nightdresses that show off their shoulders and chest and legs. A big woman in a piled-high wig seen Randolph come in and throws her arms around him like he’s her son that’s come back after getting drowned at sea or something.
“Randolph, you devil!” she says. “It’s been days. We wondered if some sore loser shot you.”
“Maude, you know even death would not keep me away from here.”
She laughed and says:
“And who might this whippersnapper be?”
“A friend of mine, Jack Winterbough. Say hello to Maude, Jack.”
“Evening, ma’am.”
“Why, he’s polite. I thought you never moved in polite circles, Randolph.”
“I’m cultivating them nowadays in case I decide to become a gentleman. Who’s at the tables?”
“Chickens waiting to be plucked,” she says, and both of them laughed and started talking low together, so I went over and watched the piano player, a real sad-looking man with long hair. He seen me watching and says:
“Do you have a request?”
“No, sir, I like what you’re playing right now.”
“Thank you. It is pleasant to meet a music lover of your discernment. See how you like this one.”
He done another tune, but before he’s finished a lady come up to me and says:
“Are you Jack?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well come with me.” she says, and grabbed ahold of my hand and hauled me over to the stairs. I seen Randolph sat at one of the tables and he give me a wink when I got drug past.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” says I, “but is it something urgent?”
“Not at your age,” she says, “but there’s no harm in starting early. I did and never regretted it.”
She ain’t talking about learning to smoke, I can see that, and when we started up them stairs I got panicky, trying to figure if it’s best to break loose and run out the door or go on up. If I cut and run I just know Randolph and the rest that’s there will laugh and reckon I’m a coward, and I ain’t, I know I ain’t, but I ain’t ready for nothing like this neither. Then we’re at the top and I got pulled along a hall and through a door that got locked behind us and it’s too late.
“Well now,” she says, smiling at me. She’s kind of pretty but with a mite too much paint from the neck up, and she’s got what Jim calls a womanly figure. There’s a hammering in my chest and a shaking in my legs and I’m feeling kind of parched, all at the same time. I should of run when I had a chance. This ain’t what I want at all. They say you got to go through the gate sometime, but there ain’t a law that says you got to use the first one that happens along, not when so many others went through it before you and practickly swung it off the hinges.
“Well,” she says, “are you just going to stand there or what?”
“Thank you, ma’am, I’ll take a seat.”
There’s a chair handy and I perched on it with my knees rattling in my britches, and she says:
“I ain’t paid to stand here all night.”
“You can have the chair if you want, ma’am.”
“You ain’t ever done this before, have you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I been sitting on chairs all my life. This here’s one of the comfortablest I ever had the experience of.”
“Now look,” she says, losing her patientness, “Maude says I have to fix you up. Your friend paid for it and I got picked for the job, so you better do it or I’ll get in trouble.”
“You don’t have to do nothing, ma’am. I won’t tell. We could just pass the time with a yarn or three if you like.”
“Don’t you want to do nothing?”
“Not if you don’t, ma’am.”
“I suppose you think I ain’t pretty enough. Well let me tell you there’s plenty that think I am. I’m real popular, so don’t you tell me I ain’t pretty.”
“Oh, you’re pretty all right, ma’am,” says I, and kind of twitched my shoulders and head a little. “I reckon you’re downright beautiful now I come to look at you.”
“Well I should hope so too,” she says.
I give another twitch and my legs shot out straight and my heels drummed on the floor. She looks at me and says:
“Is there something ailing you?…”
“No, ma’am, it happens every once in awhile. My Pap was the same, but he mostly done it when there’s a full moon. I’ll be my regular self momentarily. Just pay no mind to me. It ain’t nothing harmful.”
I twitched myself clean off the chair and thrashed along the floor and done a few rollovers on the way.
“Ain’t the weather been terrible just lately,” says I, and chewed a hunk of the bed cover that’s hanging in my face, then I twitched over to the bureau and gnawed awhile on the leg, then say:
“But it’s accountable this time of year.”
She never spoke a word, just watched with her mouth hung open, and I give a few more jerks and then quieted down.
“I reckon that’s all just for now. I’m glad you got a carpet in here, ma’am. There’s times I done myself harm falling off horses and such.”
“You ain’t … crazy, are you?” she asks.
“No, ma’am. It’s a body ailment, the doc says, but it’s mortifying when it happens in the street. I reckon I’ll get back on the chair now.”
I done it and she sat herself on the bed and stared at me, and I knowed she won’t come nowhere near me now. I giv
e her a smile and she kind of curled her lip polite, but I figure if I twitch just one more time sudden-like she’ll be up and out the door. I stayed still as can be with her watching me like a mouse does a snake, and after awhile I say:
“Well, I reckon I’ll be getting along now, ma’am. It’s been mighty nice talking with you.”
I stood up and she backed off a little, and she’s still staring at me when I went out the door. Downstairs Randolph is still gambling and he’s got a pile of money in front of him. The others sat around the table was looking mighty miserable on account of it, but Randolph warn’t smiling or nothing, just flicking cards left and right and chewing on his cigar. I stayed out of sight while he gambled on another hour or so, then he looked at his pocket watch and stood up and says:
“Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure matching wits with you.”
“What’s your hurry?” says one. “Afraid your luck’ll run out?”
“I’m afraid of nothing more than overburdening my pockets,” he says, but they never seen the joke. He spoke a few words to Maude and then we left. Back in the coach again he says:
“How was it?”
“Interesting, thank you. I reckon I must owe you money.”
“On the house,” he says, and laughs. He can’t see inside of me no more than he can see through a brick wall, and we never spoke again all the way to the theater. I still ain’t happy with the plan to meet Grace, but he done me a favor this morning and I got to return it honorable.
There’s more moonstruck men waiting by the stage door with flowers, and stood back away from them is Jim. I figured he’d be here seeing as he knowed we got to see Grace tonight and find out if her rich man has got work to give us, and he’s real surprised to find I brung Randolph along. I told him what happened outside the hatshop and he says he figured it must of been the bulldog but went looking for me anyway, then back to the crate when he never found me. I can see he must of been more worried than he’s letting on, but he ain’t too talkative with Randolph there. We went up to the stage door and knocked and got let in by Rosemary. She warn’t happy to see there’s two more besides me, which is all Grace must of told her is coming, but Randolph sweet-talked her and in we went, which give them that’s left outside plenty to howl about.
I knowed the way to Grace’s dressing room and went in first, and there’s Grace and there’s her rich man. He’s around fifty or so and kind of thick around the waist, but it’s his face that grabs your eye, strong and hard-looking with black muttonchop whiskers either side. Grace opened her mouth to do the introductions but he never give her the chance.
“Good evening,” he says, “I am Miles Wyeth.”
I reckon it come as no big surprise to me that he’s the one we already heard so much about, what with sailing into town on his ferryboat and working on his building site and seeing a play about ourselfs in his theater.
“Good evening too,” says I. “I’m Jack Winterbough, and these here are two friends of mine, Ben Rogers and Randolph Squires.”
“Of course,” he says, but his mouth has got a crooked smile that says he don’t believe me. He never made no effort to introduce Grace so I done it for him. He’s rich, but he ain’t got no manners.
“Randolph,” says I, “you proberly reckernize Miss Grace Gentle, but if you don’t, well, this here’s her.”
“Indeed I do,” he says, and kisses her hand gentlemanly-like. “I have been three times to see your play and was more impressed each time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Squires,” she says, looking down at the floor all modest.
“I believe I’ve seen your face in the Crystal Saloon, Mr. Squires,” says Miles. “My manager there has pointed you out to me as an inveterate winner at my tables.”
“He does not exaggerate, sir, but now that we are acquainted I will be less severe upon your hardworking dealers.”
Miles give a short laugh and says:
“Play as you will, Mr. Squires, my bank can hold out against your best efforts.”
“That sounds uncommonly like a challenge, Mr. Wyeth, and that is something no gambler can resist.”
“Take it as such by all means,” says Wyeth, but he ain’t laughing now and they kind of looked at each other a heartbeat or so without no one making a sound, then Grace says:
“Miles, we’ll be late, I fear.”
It ain’t her regular way of talking, but I guess she figures rich men’s ladies is supposed to talk snooty that way. Says Miles:
“Miss Gentle and I are attending a social gathering at Governor Burnett’s home this evening. Maybe you’d like to come along, Mr. Squires. The governor is an informal man and will accept a guest invited by myself.”
“A great honor, sir,” says Randolph. “I accept with thanks.”
“My dear,” says Miles to Grace, “would you accompany Mr. Squires to the coach while I discuss business matters with our young friend here?”
“Certainly, Miles,” she says, and her and Randolph went out. Soon as they’re gone Miles put a less friendly look on his face.
“I know who you are, Finn,” he says, “but do not worry. I have no argument with you and no interest in your past.”
“Did Grace tell you?”
“Of course. She knows the reward on your head and the nigger’s is too small to tempt me. I’m prepared to do you both a favor for Grace’s sake. Work for me and you’ll earn good money. It’s night work, which will keep you off the streets. I happen to know that a famous gentleman by the name of Barrett is in town looking for you, so it will be to your advantage.”
“We’ll take it.”
“What is the nature of your friendship with Mr. Squires?” he asks.
“Him and some others got me and Jim out of a tight corner with Bulldog Barrett back in the Rockies.”
“So he knows who you are?”
“He ain’t tempted by no puny thousand dollars neither.”
“Good. It’s as well to know who your real friends are. You’ll start work tonight, but mark my words, I expect hard labor from you both. I never grant favors for nothing. No businessman does.”
“I reckon we can oblige you,” says I.
He give me a long look then says:
“Very well. Outside with you both.”
We went around the side of the theater where Randolph is talking with Grace by his coach, and they quit jawing when we come up.
“Ahh, yes,” says Miles, “the famous de Villamarga coach. The whole town talked of that game, Mr. Squires, and now I see why. It’s a finely crafted vehicle to be sure.”
“I’d be honored if Miss Gentle and yourself would allow me to convey you to the governor’s house, Mr. Wyeth,” says Randolph.
“A generous offer, sir. I accept. Allow me just one moment to send my own away.”
He give me and Jim a sign to follow him, and when we got to his coach a little way off he whispered a few words to a man sat inside then says:
“Get in. Mr. Portiss will give you your instructions.”
He went back to Randolph’s coach and we got inside of his. Mr. Portiss ain’t a handsome man, big and deep-chested with a scar down his cheek and dressed in rough clothes. The coach started off and he says:
“Mr. Wyeth don’t like people that’s got loose lips. You got loose lips?”
“No,” says I.
“How about you, nigger?”
“I reckon not,” says Jim.
“That’s good. Loose lips ain’t healthy. You can even die from it, know what I mean?”
“I guess we do.”
But we never, not then anyway. I figured Portiss is just trying to let us know who’s boss the way some men always got to do, even when it’s just a boy and a nigger they’re telling.
“What kind of work is it?” I ask.
“You’ll find out,” he says.
The coach jerked along the streets awhile without no more talk inside and then stopped.
“Out,” says Portiss.
We done it
and seen we’re stood right by the exact same warehouse around back of which is the empty crate we slept in, the place I seen Pap and Morg taking stuff into in the early morning hours.
“Pardon me,” says I. “Would this place be the Corneycopey Mercantile Company’s warehouse?”
“This is it all right,” says Portiss.
“There ain’t no sign that says so.”
“Maybe that’s on account of it’d bring thieves,” he says, and give a laugh that ain’t got a smidgen of humorousness in it. “Get around the back.”
We marched along the alley and there’s all the crates same as usual, only there’s a half dozen wagons too and a bunch of men waiting around. I got a notion to run off before I seen their faces up close, but Portiss is right behind us. Says I:
“Mr. Portiss, sir, me and my partner has decided we ain’t partial to Mr. Wyeth’s offer after all, so we’ll just be strolling along.”
“You stroll straight ahead or I’ll break your neck,” he says.
“Well, all right then, if you need us that bad.”
He marched us into the bunch and says a few words to the same man that was handing out money a few nights back, then bawls out:
“Get in the wagons!”
Five or six got in each wagon and they pulled out in line and headed south, near as I can figure. I kept my head low and peeked at the men that’s with us, but none of them is Pap or Morg. It never took long to leave the city behind, then we turned east for the bay and after awhile the wagons stopped and everyone got out. There’s thick fog rolling around, soft and white and making the waves a little way off kind of muffled. I had a mind to slide off into the fog with Jim but Portiss kept too close a watch on us, so we was obliged to go down to the water with the rest. There’s seven longboats drawed up on the shore and the men got in and unshipped the oars. Says I:
“Mr. Portiss, sir, we both get awful seasick on water.…”
“Get in,” he says.
And we done it. You don’t give no argument to a man that’s got a face like Portiss.
“Shove off,” he says, and all the boats got pushed off and the oars was dipped into water black as molasses. They got strung into a line and slid along quiet on account of the oarlocks is wrapped in cloth, and when I seen that I knowed for sure we ain’t bound for no legal work. Jim and me was in the lead boat along with Portiss. He’s got a compass and a piece of paper in his hand that he looks at real close every now and then by the light of a lamp with a shutter he opens just for a second or three then closes again. The paper must be a map I reckon, but how can you have a map of water? Pretty soon we heard a bonging sound, real mysterious till I figured it ain’t nothing but a marker buoy with a bell. Portiss steered us for it and the other boats come along behind without no one talking, and there’s the buoy poking out of the water like a dead tree in a swamp.
The Further Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Page 54
