"I'll worry," she said, leaning her head against his chest. "Every single day, I'll worry."
"Every single day I worry about them all," he admitted. "Being a father's about the scariest thing I can think of."
"Being a mother, too."
They stood together in their yard while an autumn breeze blew dry leaves around their feet. Neither needed to speak of the void left behind when a child departed. This was the fourth, and they should be used to it.
As if I ever could be, Hattie thought, and clung a little tighter to Emmet.
* * * *
The first night he cried himself to sleep. Merlin would never admit it to another living soul, he swore as he let the tears flow freely. This was the first time in his life he'd ever been away from family, and he missed them more than he'd thought possible. When he woke the next morning, the skin around his eyes was puffy and his nose runny. His body ached too, as if he'd done something he wasn't accustomed to.
The remnants of last night's fire were cold. Too much work to build a new one. He decided to forego breakfast and he hadn't ever got the taste for coffee. Besides, there was no water here, and he might not find any tonight. According to Pa, this stretch of the trail was dry unless there had been recent rains.
As he rode, he chewed on a strip of dried elk meat and enjoyed the scenery. Since he'd chosen to ride off the well-used trail, he met no other travelers. By noon he had reached the turnoff he wanted, one leading up toward the wide prairie where the Bannock still gathered camas root. He didn't expect to encounter any Indians this late in the year, but if he did, he knew they would welcome him, once he identified himself. Emmet Lachlan was known as a friend to the tribe.
For a week he traveled what had once been called Goodale's Cutoff, never meeting another human being. Thrice he saw other riders at a distance, and once a moving dust cloud told of something traveling fast. The sky remained cloudy, but no rain fell. It wasn't even very cold, and Merlin counted his blessings. He'd slept in snow and could do it again, but it wasn't something he wanted to do.
Eventually he reached the vast beds of rough lava Pa had described. The description was nowhere as stark and harsh as the reality. As far as the eye could see was nothing but black rock, jagged, impassable. He followed the old road around the north edge, wondering why critters would come into this unwelcoming place, yet game was abundant. He brought down a deer one afternoon and ate well for nigh a week.
Eagle Rock wasn't much of a town. Just a few buildings and several ramshackle houses. He found space for his horse and mule at the livery stable and checked into the small hotel. The food at the eating house was not up to Ma's standards, but after two weeks of his own cooking, he was ready for a change.
After supper he stood on the hotel porch and took stock. It was after sunset, but a couple of torches flared at the corners of the hotel, casting flickering shadows across the street. Besides the livery stable and the hotel, there was a bank--not much bigger than the chicken coop at home, but better built--and a stage station with lighted windows. Some way outside of town he'd earlier seen corrals where big freight wagons were parked. Pa had said this was the main route to the gold towns up in Montana.
He had a hankering to see a rip-roaring gold camp. The Boise Basin was about played out. He'd been real disappointed when he and Micah had ridden over there last summer. The towns were quiet. Folks went about their business in the daytime and went home at night. Nothing at all like the stories he'd heard of how it'd been back in its heyday.
The shriek made him jump. Before he could more than turn his head, a kid came tearing out from between the hotel and the bank. Right behind him was a heavyset, coatless fellow in a dress-up shirt and an eyeshade, but he was losing ground with every step. The kid could move.
The kid dove between the livery stable and a shed. His pursuer followed, but almost lost his footing as he stepped in something that looked suspiciously like a cowpie. Merlin heard him curse. There was a crash from somewhere beyond the shed, and then another shriek.
Curious now, Merlin sauntered across the narrow, rutted street and into the gap, avoiding the cowpie with the ease of long practice. It was dark, but not so much he couldn't see the kid dangling from the heavyset fellow's hand by the scruff of his neck and doing his best to avoid the man's fist.
Having been raised right, Merlin just naturally didn't like seeing anybody pick on someone smaller than him. "Hey, there, Billy! What the dickens have you been up to?" He stepped right up to the heavyset fellow and caught his wrist. "He's a scamp, mister, but I can't believe my little brother did enough damage to warrant more than a few swats."
"He robbed me!" The fellow relaxed his arm, even though he still held the boy high enough his toes didn't quite touch the ground. "Took a box of crackers and an apple."
It was all Merlin could do not to chuckle. The boy had gone limp as soon as he'd spoken, and was now hanging limply with a pathetically innocent expression on his dirty face. "I'll be happy to pay for what he took, sir. He knows better, but sometimes temptation gets the best of him." He smiled his widest. "He does like his apples."
The fellow let the boy down. Before he could take a step, Merlin caught him by the collar and pulled him close. "Hold on there, Billy. I've been looking for you this past while and you're not getting away again. Now, then sir, how much did you say I owed you?"
"Oh, fifty cents ought to do it. I sure hope you'll lambast him good. He needs to be taught a lesson."
Merlin dug out change. He deliberately miscounted, and gave the fellow sixty cents. "Oh, you can be sure of that. Here you go. Now, then, Billy, you apologize to this gentleman." He gave the boy a good shake when he didn't speak.
"Sorry," came a grudging near-whisper.
"That's fine. Let's get on back to the room. We'll be making an early start in the morning." He touched his hat in farewell, and pushed the boy ahead of him toward the street.
Before they entered the hotel, he said, "You got a place to sleep?"
The boy's shoulders lifted in a shrug.
"Well, I reckon you'll have to sleep with me. Walk like you've got someplace to go." He released the collar but got a good hold on the boy's threadbare jacket. With an occasional nudge, he guided him across the small lobby and up the narrow stairs. The desk clerk looked at them curiously but said nothing.
Once in the room, Merlin locked the door and went to the window to make sure it couldn't be easily opened. That done, he picked up his saddlebags and tossed them on the bed. "Hungry?"
Another shrug.
"I don't want to take you down to the restaurant tonight, but I think I've got something in here that'll tide you over 'til morning. There's water in the pitcher. I reckon it'll do more good inside of you than outside of me." He unearthed a strip of dried elk meat and tossed it to the boy. "Take little bites and chew slow. You're apt to choke if you try to gorge on it."
The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple, shriveled but not rotten. "I dropped the crackers."
"Yeah, I figured so. He'll pick 'em up and pat himself on the back for gettin' the best of us. What's your name?"
Having torn off a big chunk of meat, the boy was working to chew it. After a minute he said, "Calli--uh, Cal. Cal Smith." He went back to gnawing on the meat.
"A-huh. You live around here?" He didn't entirely believe the Smith part, but Cal was as good a name as any.
A shake of the head was the only answer.
"You're travelin' then?"
A nod this time.
"North or south."
"My pa's in Virginia City. Leastwise that's where his last letter come from."
"Well, you are in luck. It so happens I was heading in that direction myself. I've been travelin' for a couple of weeks now, and I was getting right tired of having nobody to talk with. We can go along together and keep each other company." He sat in the straight chair and unlaced his boots. As he toed them off, he wiggled his toes. "Now that feels good. First time I've had 'e
m off in a week." He stood and removed his coat. The room was some warmer than outdoors, so he'd be able to strip down to his longjohns. He never had liked sleeping in his britches.
Cal made a funny noise and turned his head towards the window.
Merlin paused with his shirt half over his head. He looked again at the boy, whose eyes were closed. He'd gone tight again, like he was getting ready to run. His thin fingers were clenched on the edge of the mattress and his feet were pulled back, ready to catapult him to his feet.
Before he'd left home, Pa had warned him of things he'd rather not even think about. Now he recalled some of them. "It's O.K., kid. I'm not going to lay a hand on you. But I've been sleeping in my clothes for a while and I'm plumb tired of it. You can use my bedroll, spread it on the floor, if you choose. I'm planning on sleeping in that nice soft bed."
Cal relaxed a little, enough to set down his little bundle and take off his coat. He averted his face when Merlin removed his britches and stretched. His scrawny shoulders tensed again when Merlin used the thundermug.
It was too early to go to bed, but Merlin had made up his mind to stay in his room, even before he'd acquired a traveling companion. His brief assessment of Eagle Rock had told him the only place to go after supper besides the hotel lobby was the small tavern. And he wasn't ready yet for that step.
His pa and his uncles had told him too many tales of the troubles a man could find in drinking establishments.
He pulled out the one book he'd brought along. It wasn't as thrilling as he'd hoped, but since it was all he had to read, he went at it. If only he'd been able to find a copy of his favorite book, Tennyson's poems about King Arthur. No matter how many times he read it, it was still new and exciting.
"What's that?"
Merlin sat on the other side of the bed from Cal. "Five Weeks in a Balloon. Ever read it?"
The boy shrugged, something he did a lot of. "I don't read much."
Can't, I reckon. "Well, then maybe you wouldn't want me to read it out loud, like I was planning to do."
Another shrug. "I wouldn't mind."
It was a hard thing to hold back his grin, but Merlin managed. He opened the book to his marker. "'Chapter Thirteen. Change of Weather--Kennedy has the Fever--'"
He read until he was hoarse. By then Cal had shed his shoes and crept under the covers.
"That's the best story I ever heard," the boy said, sleepily. "Can you read more tomorrow night?"
There was something caught in his throat, so Merlin just nodded.
Chapter Two
He was almost asleep when the boy slipped out of bed. Merlin lay still, wondering if he was going to try to get away, and not sure what he'd do if Cal managed to get the door open. The key was on the dresser, but he might not have noticed.
The room was dark, with the window a faint rectangle scarcely lit by a torch outside. He listened as Cal edged his way around the bed. After a minute, he heard with relief the scrape of the thundermug across the wood floor. He'd been a little worried he might wake up in a wet bed when the boy had said he didn't need to use it before Merlin extinguished the candle.
A rustle of clothing, another scrape, and then the expected sound of liquid hitting heavy porcelain. But it didn't sound right. Slowly, carefully, Merlin turned his head. Cal was little more than a dark shape hunched on top of a pale one, but Merlin could still see enough to make him realize he had a bigger problem than he'd counted on. He watched as Cal stood and pulled up the raggedy britches.
He still couldn't see much, but Merlin had sisters. Cal was a girl. He'd bet his bottom dollar on it.
Great God, what am I gonna do now?
He closed his eyes, lest Cal see them gleaming. After a while, when the bo...Cal's breathing settled into a slow rhythm, he let himself relax. But he didn't go to sleep for a long time.
* * * *
There was new snow on the hills to the east, only a slight dusting, but a sure sign that sooner or later they'd be fighting their way through drifts. Merlin wiped the fog from his breath off the window and tried to see to the north, but the angle was wrong. There was at least one pass between Eagle Rock and Virginia City, but he didn't know how high or how difficult it was.
I reckon I could ask one of the teamsters. Probably missed them this morning, but we'll catch up.
He'd slept poorly, after his surprising discovery and it was late, well after sunup. For a long time last night he'd fretted about what he should do, before making the only decision he could. Now he was waiting for Cal to awaken.
I wonder what her name really is. Something close to what she told me, I reckon. It came out too easy for her to have made it up. But her other name? Pa always said there was more folks named Smith out here than ever left the East.
He heard the rustle of bedclothes, but didn't turn far enough to see the bed. "I'm goin' down for some coffee. If you're here when I get back, we'll talk about how we're goin' to get you to Virginia City." Without giving her a chance to reply, he slipped out the door.
Callie breathed a sigh of relief. She was nigh to bursting, and had been pretending to be asleep for the longest time, wondering how she was going to manage. There was some things a girl just had to do different from a boy.
Quickly she scrambled out of bed and used the chamber pot. She cleaned her teeth with her finger, but there was still a nasty film on them. Wisht I had me a toothbrush. She eyed the washcloth Merlin must have used, but decided to let it be. Sure as shootin', soon as she got her clothes off, he'd be at the door.
She found her boots and socks under the bed. The socks were smelly and threadbare. Just like her coat. For the hundredth time she regretted the pack she'd left behind when she ran away from the man who'd caught her in the railroad yard down there in Ogden. It had held extra socks, a good wool shirt and nearly ten dollars in coin. She'd figured to pay her way on a freight wagon once she got off the trains, but after her money was stolen, all she could do was hitchhike.
Not every freighter wanted a kid riding for free. She been lucky to catch a ride from Box Elder to north of the Bear Lake. From there she'd mostly walked, sleeping wherever she could find a sheltered spot. She'd stolen food every chance she got, but had gone hungry more often than not.
Her empty belly was the biggest reason she'd let Merlin bring her up here. He had money and food, and he seemed inclined to treat her decent. All she had to do was keep him believing she was a boy.
And that ain't gonna be easy, livin' cheek by jowl.
He'd left the door unlocked. She could take off and he'd never find her. Her belly spoke about then, and she decided she'd wait 'til after breakfast, at least. If he was plannin' to feed her.
I sure hope so.
* * * *
The freighters had departed. "Afore daybreak," the hostler told Merlin.
"A-huh. You happen to know where they were heading?"
"Most of 'em was goin' south. Not much traffic this time of year. Likely the passes'll close soon enough." A rangy bay stuck its head over the stall door and nipped at the hostler's shoulder. "Here now, you cut that out!" The hand that swatted the horse was gentle, though. "A train went through here three, four days ago. Headin' for Bannack. Or was it Alder Gulch?"
Not too far ahead. Even if they were using mules instead of oxen, he could travel faster than freight wagons. "What're my chances of pickin' up another horse? I'm thinking I'd like to carry extra feed, given the time of year."
The hostler scratched his head. "Well, now, I ain't got no spare stock. Unless..." He looked off toward the mountains, gleaming white in the slanting morning light. "There's that molly--" His chin aimed toward the last stall. "She's not much good on the trail. Blind in one--"
Merlin saw him redden as he realized what he'd said. He forced himself to grin. "Which one?"
"Uh. The right one. Freighter rolled his wagon. Killed couple of mules. We had to shoot the third. Only hurt she took was her eye. I can let you have her for twenty dollars."
"I'll
give you fifteen. Between us, we'll see both sides of the trail."
Still red in the face, the hostler didn't even hesitate. "Done. I ain't got no spare saddles, though."
"A blanket and a strap will do."
"I can fix you up there. You want extra feed, too."
"Another thirty pounds of oats, maybe."
Shortly they settled on seventeen dollars for oats, a rope halter, a buckled strap, a moth-eaten saddle blanket, and fifty feet of slightly used hemp rope. "One thing I forgot to bring," Merlin admitted. He wasn't sure what he'd use it for but he knew if he didn't have rope, he'd surely need it.
"I'll be back in an hour or so to settle up. I'd take it kindly if you'd give all three an extra portion of oats before then. And water 'em good."
His next stop was the general store. They didn't have any blankets as good as the thick Hudson's Bay in his bedroll, but those were hard come by these days. He bought portable soup, another five pounds of cornmeal, a good-sized wedge of cheese and a flitch of bacon, and two pounds of coffee. As he was waiting while the storekeeper--a lot friendlier than he'd been last night--toted up his bill, he thought of something. "Got any good wool socks?"
The storekeeper pointed. On the shelves was also a stack of wool shirts. He took one, along with two pair of socks, thinking as he did that pretty soon he'd have to find work. At the rate I'm spending, I'll be broke before Christmas. Maybe he should have taken the five hundred dollars Pa had offered him.
With his purchases in a gunnysack, he went back to the hotel, wondering if he'd find Cal still there. He'd been gone longer than an hour, and she was probably starting to think he'd abandoned her, even though his saddlebags were still in the room.
He opened the door to an empty room. Or he thought it was until he stepped inside and heard someone behind him. Turning, he saw her just slipping a small knife into her pocket. "You figuring on fighting me off with that little toy?"
"It's sharp, and don't you forget it." A fierce scowl accompanied the brave words.
Squire's Quest Page 2
