Esther

by Jim Cox

  “It’s been a spell since a man as good looking as you came in here. How about sharing the bottle with me?” the girl said as she lightly rubbed his back and neck. “We could sit at a table and have us a good time.” John felt a touch of excitement run through his body; it had been a long time since anyone had complimented him on his looks. He nodded, reached for the girl’s hand, and led her to a corner table with bottle and glasses in his other.

  The woman pulled her chair as close to John as possible and then started gently massaging his neck as she filled their glasses. John quickly tossed his down and said, “My name is John, what’s yours?”

  “Anything you want it to be,” she said with a broad smile as she gave John’s neck a playful squeeze. His smile left, and he was momentarily silenced by her suggestive remark. “It’s Dorothy,” she said, drawing his attention and tenderly pulling his face back toward her.

  “Is that your real name or are you playing with me?” he asked.

  “It’s my name,” she said, “Dorothy Kelly.”

  “Where are ya’ from, Dorothy?”

  “I was born and raised in New York City.”

  “What are you doing in Paducah?”

  “My husband and I left the city five years ago by river passage on our way to Colorado, but two days after we arrived in Paducah he was robbed of all our money and died from a gunshot wound. I needed work, so I took this job until I could find work in a better environment, but no one will hire me now because I’ve been working in the saloon.” John was about to ask her another question when the smithy from the livery where he’d sold his old horse walked up.

  “Thought you’d be in here,” the smithy said. “If you figure on leaving your horse with me tonight, you’d better bring him over. I’ll be closing up in a few minutes.” The smithy left after receiving a nod from John.

  Turning to Dorothy, he said, “I’d best go tend to my horse, but don’t leave, stay right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes for the good time you promised.”

  When John led the big roan into the livery, the smithy stiffened with lowered eyebrows and a perplexed expression. “What’s wrong?” John asked the smithy.

  “That’s Clyde…Marvin Harlow’s horse. How come you’re riding him?”

  “Who’s Marvin Harlow, and how do ya’ know this horse?” John asked, trying to avoid the smithy’s question.

  “Marvin comes to Paducah two or three times every year; has been for nigh on ten years. He’s a right nice man most of the time, but he’s hell on two legs when he’s mad—known for his gun ability in these parts.” John’s face became sober and turned pale. After a long pause, Smitty cleared his throat and said, “Mister, if I was you and I’d acquired Clyde, and the pearl-handled gun hanging at your side in a suspicious way, I’d high-tail it out of this country as fast as I could.”

  “Thanks,” was all John said as he stepped into the stirrup and headed southwest alongside the Ohio River toward Cairo, Illinois.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It had been two weeks since John arrived in Cairo, but the three men he was supposed to meet there still hadn’t shown. He was starting to doubt their sincerity of including him in their plan or even if they’d told him the truth about coming to Cairo. John’s intention was to replenish his money during the robbery and had not anticipated this much of a delay. He was starting to get nervous. The twenty dollars he had brought from Paducah and all but ten dollars of another forty dollars he’d made gambling since being in Cairo had been spent on a hotel room, livery expense, and liquor.

  In midafternoon, John walked through the batwings with his ten dollars and went to the bar in the back of the saloon and ordered a drink—within the next quarter hour he’d downed three. After downing the last of the three drinks, he ambled toward the card tables and found an empty chair among a lively table of five players. He’d noticed the game was for small stakes, something less than a dollar a hand, and he asked if he could join them.

  John lost nearly two dollars during the first few hands, but then the luck-of-the-cards went his way. By the time the dealing had gone around the table five times, John had won nearly half of the hands, and over a hundred dollars were stacked at the table’s edge in front of him.

  When supper time approached, the players excused themselves, and the game broke up; however, one of the men turned back toward John and said, “Mister, with your luck you ought to play cards on the river’s steamboats…no telling how much money you could make.” John only smiled and headed for the hotel’s dining room for a big steak and all the trimmings.

  After he finished eating and the table was cleared, he sat drinking coffee and thinking about his card earnings. The man at the card table said I was lucky, but luck had nothing to do with it, I’m just a good player. After thinking on the matter for a few more seconds, he smiled. I’m an outstanding player. Setting his empty cup down, John headed back to the saloon.

  He spent several minutes at the bar and then ambled back to the tables. He wasn’t financially able to join the high stakes table, but he could afford something more than he’d played for during the afternoon. A table of four well dressed, middle-aged men were betting a ten-dollar limit. “Mind if I join your game?” John asked. The men’s eyes circled the table, and each one gave a slight nod. Then the one next to an empty chair waved him in. John pulled his money roll from his coat pocket, placed fifty dollars on the table, and returned the balance to his coat pocket as he sat down.

  For the next hour or so, John held his own—not winning, not losing. It was his turn to deal, but before shuffling the cards he offered, “How about I order us a round of drinks?” Three men nodded their okay, but the fourth man waved it off—John waved the barmaid over, ordered the drinks, and then dealt the cards. When the bidding started, all five men stayed in, raising each bid to the limit. As the bidding circled the table, expressions became stern, not giving away any clues whatsoever—the tension rose as the pot grew, and by the time the call was made, over a hundred-fifty-dollars centered the table. John was the last to lay down his cards. Three kings and two tens which won the pot. From that hand until the game ended a little after midnight, the luck of the cards fell to John, which gave him over a thousand dollars. At game’s end, he was accused of being a Mississippi Riverboat gambler. This was the second time today I’ve been associated with riverboat gambling, John thought.

  »»•««

  Two more weeks passed, bringing the total time John had been in Cairo to four weeks, and the three men from the trail who were supposed to come to the city for their plan had not shown; however, this had become of less concern to him because his luck at the tables had continued. His money roll had grown to nearly five thousand dollars. As the days passed, John’s reputation of having shrewd card skills was becoming known, and he found himself shut out of many games. Consequently, John started rotating his card playing among the five saloons along the riverfront and downtown Cairo.

  It was a nice spring morning in Cairo when John saw a storefront poster advertising the arrival of Natchez IV on April 19, 1858. The poster went on to say the steamer would be at the dock for two days and depart on its northbound route to St. Louis, Missouri on April 21, 1858, at nine a.m. John stood thinking on the matter for a few minutes and then continued on to the café for breakfast.

  As he sat over his plate of fried eggs, bacon, and biscuits, his mind kept churning on the riverboat poster he’d seen. My welcome in Cairo has about run out, he thought, and gambling on a riverboat would be quite an experience. After all, I’ve had men tell me I should give it a try. As John sat drinking coffee, he made the decision to board the steamer and head for the big city. It’ll be docking here within a few days, and I’ve got a lot to do before it departs, he thought. I need to pay for my passage and buy a couple of changes of fancy clothes like the high rollers wear. As he was taking a long swallow of coffee, his mind went to Clyde. “I’ll sell him to the young smithy at the livery where I board him; should get over
a hundred dollars for a horse of his quality. If he ain’t up to buying him, I’ll simply leave him there,” he mumbled. “I’m sure that Marvin Harlow fellow will be getting here someday.”

  »»•««

  When John boarded the Natchez, he was wearing the most up-to-date dress clothes available. A dark blue suit, a white shirt with a stiff collar, and a burgundy, silk tie that lay against his chest above a gray vest. A large pearl centered the tie and a gold watch chain looped through the button holes of his gray vest across his midsection. A touch of gray highlighted his dark brown hair beneath the beaver high-top hat he was wearing, and a narrow well-trimmed mustache accented his clean shaven, dark complexion. He even carried an ivory handled walking stick.

  Eyes turned his way as John entered the main cabin of the steamer, especially the women’s. Not only was he well dressed, but he was a tall, slender man who carried himself erect with an extremely handsome face. To the men, he appeared to be a successful businessman who might be a contributor to their card games. John made a fast assessment of the passengers as he passed them; they were well dressed and appeared to have an air of sophistication.

  As John was sitting down in a cushioned chair next to a window, all eyes left him and went to the entrance door as a lady stepped in—she was gorgeous. She was tall, and her dark green dress accented her well-shaped body. Her red hair was piled on top of her head, extending her height. Her face was shaped perfectly with full lips displaying white even teeth when she smiled, and her large, light green eyes sparkled, magnifying her beauty. The lady walked through the crowd with eyes straightforward; however, John noticed she made a quick glance at him as she passed. He smiled as he eyed her from head to toe, and after a brief thought, judged her to be in her late twenties.

  By the time the steamer was in mid-stream, most of the passengers had formed small groups while Negro men dressed in formal attire served pastries and coffee. After the pastries had been offered a second time and the cups refilled, a member of the boat’s staff entered the crowd and announced in a strong voice, “The card room will open in five minutes. Anyone wanting to join in the games, please come to the second floor. There will be a fifty-dollar betting limit at all tables.”

  Several men rose and headed for the nearest stairway, but John stayed seated until the lines were clear and then he proceeded to the second floor. The tables accommodated six players, and most of the chairs were filled when he entered. A distinguished looking middle-aged man waved him over to an empty chair. To his surprise the beautiful, red-headed woman was seated in a chair directly across from the empty chair; John hesitated and then approached the woman. “May I introduce myself, ma’am. My name is John Taylor, and I’m privileged to have you at our table.”

  “Thank you, sir. My name is Marjorie Dempsey, but I prefer to be called Molly…not Miss Dempsey.” John nodded. “And another thing,” she said, “please don’t patronize me because I’m a young woman. Be assured, I can hold my own with the cards.” John nodded, took his seat and after all introductions were made, a sealed deck of cards was placed on the table by the table attendant. The players placed their money at the table’s edge.

  The man to John’s right won the shuffle and dealt the first hand. John threw in ten dollars even though he had nothing to build on—he didn’t want to be pegged as a conservative player. The next two players added their ten dollars and then without any hesitation whatsoever, Molly raised the ante to fifty dollars. The betting closed and Molly raked in her money.

  The table attendant kept the cards fresh and poured liquor upon request. A thirty-minute break was taken every two hours and an hour was taken at noon. Otherwise, the tables continued their constant shuffling and dealing of cards until supper time.

  When the dealing stopped for supper, and the players stood, once more John eased over to Molly. “You’re a master with the cards, Molly. You’ve already won several hundred dollars and the day’s not over.”

  She smiled and said, “You’ve done all right yourself, John. I imagine you’ve won about as much as me.”

  She had just got the words out of her mouth about his winnings when John surprised her with a quick request, “Would you join me for supper tonight, Molly?”

  Molly hesitated for a few seconds, collecting herself before answering, “I’m not accustomed to spending time alone with a man who I hardly know.” John smiled.

  “What would you like to know about me, Molly?”

  Molly’s green eyes stayed fixed on John’s for a few seconds before asking, “Are you married, John?”

  John’s face turned white. “Yes, I am,” he answered, “but…”

  “Then I’ll not associate with you personally under any circumstance,” she said in a huff as she started to turn.

  “Let me explain,” John quickly said, holding her by the elbow. “My wife left me over a year ago. She ran off with my two children and hasn’t contacted me as to her whereabouts. I’m having divorce papers drawn up and will serve them as soon as I find out where she is.”

  Molly stood staring at John with her brilliant green eyes. Finally, she said, “I suppose I can eat with you as long as we consider it a supper between two card players.” John smiled and offered her his arm which she took as they walked to supper together.

  John and Molly’s relationship flourished, and within two weeks of their meeting, they were sharing a stateroom together. Molly wasn’t proud with the arrangement, but she rationalized the situation, and John promised they’d get married as soon as he finalized his divorce.

  During the summer and fall of 1858, the two developed a travel routine to support their gambling and their lifestyle. They would board a Mississippi River steamboat at St. Louis for its trip down the river to New Orleans. The trips usually took two to three weeks, depending on the river current and the number of port stops the steamer made. Then, after a few weeks of city life in New Orleans, they’d catch a northbound steamer back to St. Louis.

  The luck of the cards seemed to fall their way more often than not whether aboard a steamer or in the big destination cities where they enjoyed an extravagant lifestyle. Of course, there were days when one or even both of them left the tables with nothing to show for their time, but other days would make up for it.

  This travel schedule continued for over a year, but at Christmas time in 1859, they decided to stay and spend several weeks in the warmer climate of New Orleans. At first, the tables in the city’s saloons rewarded them both favorably, but then the cards turned, especially for John, and with this change of fortune John’s happy mood turned, and he became disgruntled.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  December 1858 marked the fourth month since Esther and the children had left the Hendrix residence and settled in the rundown boarding house near the river docks. Two months after Mark was hired to do dock work, he accepted a new position as a crew member on a ship that delivered sugar and other cargo to the Caribbean, South America, and Europe. He was presently on a trip to South America and wasn’t expected home for at least three weeks. Esther continued working as a waitress at a harbor café after the move, but within a few weeks, a cafe customer persuaded her to come to work for him doing office jobs at his sugar processing plant with a substantial increase in her pay. After Esther left the café, Joan accepted full-time employment at the café.

  The family was getting along quite well financially. The earnings from all three went into a common fund, and normally, after all of the weekly bills were paid, five to ten dollars was put into savings.

  Most often, Joan got home from work an hour or so before her mother and would have supper started, but during the Christmas week, she began to work a bit longer because the café was extra busy.

  On one such night, when she got home, Joan was not her normal jovial self. She was sober with a long face, and she sat down at the table in her chair without greeting her mother in any way whatsoever, Esther sat down across from her daughter and asked, “What’s wrong honey?” Joan didn’
t respond. “It may help if you tell me about it,” her mother continued.

  As Joan turned toward her mother and made eye contact, tears started rolling down the girl’s cheeks and then hard sobs came. Esther reached across the table for her daughter’s hands and held them for a long minute. After Joan had calmed herself, her mother asked again, “What is it, Joan? Tell me about it.”

  Joan stared at her mother for a considerable time and then said, “I saw Pa today.”

  Esther was stunned as she sat across from her crying daughter. She released Joan’s hands, sat up in her chair, and asked, “Are you sure it was your pa?” Joan only nodded as tears streamed down her cheeks again.

  “Did you speak to him, sweetheart?”

  “No, ma’am,” Joan answered between sobs. “I served him coffee, but he didn’t recognize me.”

  “I wouldn’t hold that against him; you’ve changed a good deal since he last saw you. You’ll soon be fifteen and have taken on the features of a woman.” Silence gripped the two for a spell. Esther hesitated to ask if Joan had made herself known to her pa.

  So instead, as Joan collected herself and wiped away her tears, Esther took on a slight smile and asked, “What did he look like, Joan? Has he changed much?”

  “He sure has,” Joan answered emphatically. “I didn’t recognize him at first, Ma. He was all dressed up in a suit, white shirt, and tie. His beard had been shaved off, and he had a tiny mustache that made him look kind of distinguished.” Joan paused and started smiling, “He even wore one of those tall, beaver hats and carried a walking cane.”