Squire's Quest

by Judith B. Glad

  She eyed him. "Just how almost?"

  "March. When will you turn fifteen?" He watched her, to see if she'd lie.

  She bit her lip. "December."

  She was lying. He'd bet his shirt on it. "Which December?"

  Instead of answering, she kicked Ruth into a trot.

  So she's not fourteen. Older than ten, I reckon, but not by much. Not that it matters, but I'd like to know the truth. Wonder if she's told any other lies.

  He rode along for a while, chewing on the possibility he'd been taken in by a pair of sad green eyes and a silent plea for help. After a while he decided it didn't matter. He liked Cal. She was mostly good company, and so far she'd pulled her weight. Besides, they'd be in Virginia City in a week or so, and that would be the last he'd see of her.

  His ruminations were interrupted by the sound of a shot. A high-pitched, sharp crack, it sounded more like a handgun than a rifle. He turned Bul off the trail and into the scant cover of a stand of pine, pulling Cap along. After waiting a moment and not hearing any more gunfire, he tied Cap's leadline loosely to a drooping branch and eased Bul forward, keeping him a few yards inside the timber. Round the next bend, he saw Cal half hidden behind a house-sized rock. She was peering forward, her body tense. He gave a hoot, like an owl's, and walked Bul forward, keeping him on the thick layer of pine needles where his footfalls were muffled thumps.

  She looked back over her shoulder. One hand went out, warning him to stop.

  A quick look around showed him he'd have to cross an open place to reach her. He pulled his rifle from its scabbard and slid from the saddle on the off side, keeping Bul between him and the trail.

  Again Cal looked back, saw him afoot, and raised up in the stirrups.

  He wanted to yell at her to get down out of sight. Hopefully her dirty gray cap would look like more rock to anyone looking her way. After what seemed like a half-hour, she lowered herself in to the saddle and motioned him forward.

  He dashed across the fifty feet of open ground and came up beside her. "What?" The rock was too big for him to see around.

  She kept her voice low. "There's a gate across the trail. Five men on horses. One of 'em shot into the air when Adolph got down and went to open the gate. Now he's got his handgun aimed at Adolph, and the others have long guns pointing this way."

  "Where's Murphy?"

  "I don't see him. But I can't see the whole train. There's trees in the way."

  "Let me take a look." He stuck his foot into the stirrup she vacated and hoisted himself high enough to look over the rock. Not good. There was scattered cover between him and the gate. Two men with both long guns and handguns were behind it, not protected, but with a clean line of escape and some cover afforded by the gate. Another three were strung out beside the line of freighters, their rifles aimed at drivers.

  He had just one reload's worth of cartridges in his pocket. One rifle against five. Those weren't his favorite odds.

  Something caught his eye up on the hillside. He looked closer.

  Murphy!

  He was creeping along through the brush, moving so slow he was hard to see. If he could get closer to the gate, he'd have a good field of fire, but did he have any more ammunition than Merlin?

  Once again Merlin peered over the top of the rock. If he could get across the road, he could make his way up to where Murphy was. Cover was scant, but adequate, given that his clothing was about the same color as the dead shrubs and grass up there. Best of all, none of the bandits were looking back this far.

  He dropped to the ground. "Stay here," he told Cal. "Cap's back there a ways, loose hitched. If this goes bad, pick him up and head back the way we came. There's enough food to hold you to Eagle Rock. Let my folks know. Lachlans, in Boise City."

  Before she could do more than gape, he'd scooted across the road and thrown himself prone among the brush on the hillside.

  Excitement bubbled in his veins. All those years of playing hide and seek were going to pay off. He knew how to fade into the background, how to slither and sneak his way across open ground without looking like more than breeze-stirred bunchgrass. Rolling to his side, he plucked a twig from the shrub he lay under, stuck it into his hatband. A second one went on the other side. Next he sliced off half a bunch of dry grass with his knife and knotted the bottom ends together. It went under the hatband too, at the back. It would have to do.

  Moving in a series of short dashes and long slithers, he ascended the hillside and traversed it, until he was scarce twenty feet behind Murphy, who was still moving with slow caution.

  "Hsst."

  No response. Murphy was concentrating on what was happening below, where raised voices showed there was no agreement between the freighters and those holding the gate. Merlin had heard of folks closing roads long in common use and charging tolls, but this far from anywhere he'd never expected to see it.

  Apparently neither had the freighters. They'd already paid their tolls at the bridges and at Beavertail Canyon.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a dove call, then another.

  I sure hope Murphy knows they've moved to the lowlands for the winter.

  Ahead of him, Murphy stilled, then turned his head. When he saw Merlin, he motioned him forward.

  "Sure am glad to see you," Murphy whispered when they lay side by side. "How's your ammunition?"

  "Enough to take care of them, if I get clear shots. How about you?"

  "No reloads."

  A shot from below had them both hunkering down. When Merlin cautiously raised his head, he saw one of the teamsters lying on the ground beside his wagon.

  "That does it," Murphy said. "Cover me." He went across the slope at a fast crawl, until he was just above the gate. Merlin crept ahead to a rocky outcrop and wedged himself behind it. If he bent just right at the hips, he could get a bead on the rifleman farthest from the gate. Not good enough. He clawed his way uphill and found a good rest under a young fir tree. Murphy wasn't in sight, but every one of the gatekeepers were. The two behind the gate were screened by shrubs, so he doubted he'd get either one with a single shot.

  Again he called, and a real gruff-spoken owl answered. Holding back his laughter, Merlin checked again to make sure he could get every one of the men in his sights. He drew bead on the last one. Shot. Went on to the next. Shot again. He missed that time, but not the next. By the time he'd taken down the third man, the other two lay in the dirt. He got to his feet and half-leapt, half ran down the hillside.

  The teamsters had clambered from their wagons. Two of them were tending to the driver who'd been shot. Adolph was sitting on the ground, holding a kerchief to his bleeding shoulder, the rest were clustered around the would-be toll collectors.

  He shouldered his way into the nearest group. "They still alive?" He'd aimed at shoulders and legs, not chests or guts.

  "Not for long," the big Swede said. "We kill 'em quick." He brandished a long-bladed knife.

  "No, keep them alive. Let the law handle them."

  "Law? What law? There ain't no law hereabouts," another said.

  Murphy pushed between two teamsters. "The three you shot are alive. Did you do that on purpose?"

  "I only kill what I'm likely to eat, given a choice."

  "He's right," Murphy told the teamsters. "They could've killed Handley, but they didn't. We'll take 'em to Alder Gulch, let the law there handle them." He motioned Merlin to step outside the cluster. "You're a better shot than me. I gut-shot one."

  They both knew what that meant. Merlin grimaced. "Just luckier. What are we going to do with him."

  Murphy's expression was grim. "Give him a pistol with one bullet. His choice."

  "What if he turns it on you?" Merlin couldn't help but ask.

  Their shared grins were not amused.

  Camp was made where they stood. Some of the teamsters tore the fence down and used it for firewood. One who claimed to have doctoring experience, patched up Adolph and Handley, along with the four like
ly-to-survive bandits. He was less than gentle.

  Cal came riding up, leading Cap and Bul, about the time the fence had come down. The first thing Merlin did was dig more cartridges out of his pack and reload his rifle. He made sure there were enough in his pocket to reload twice. No telling when they'd run into more ruffians.

  "I saw you shoot. Will you teach me how?" Cal said as they were unloading Cap.

  "You don't have a rifle."

  "I will someday." She looked so hopeful, he had to smile.

  "Yes, I'll teach you to shoot." He held up a hand. "After we get to where we're going. I'm not going to waste ammunition until I know I can get more."

  "Does that mean you'll stay around a while?" He'd already told her he meant to move on once they found her pa.

  "I reckon it does." For some reason, that didn't bother him like it would have a while back.

  * * * *

  The rest of the journey was so uneventful it came close to being boring. The weather held, with high, thin clouds and heavy frost at nights, but no snow. The gut-shot bandit had used his one bullet, and they'd buried him beside the trail he'd tried to charge toll on. The others rode on top of crates, tied down so they wouldn't roll off, because the teamsters agreed their own men should get the comfort of the mounded flour and feed sacks. Merlin reckoned by the time they got to the mining camps, they'd probably have been punished enough, but he said nothing. Let the law decide what to do with them.

  He took a turn driving, since they were short handed, but it wasn't to his taste. After the first day even Murphy agreed he lacked the knack for it and suggested he ride shotgun.

  That suited him just fine. He ranged wide of the trail, forging ahead at least twice a day, so they wouldn't be caught napping as they had at the gate. The road eventually led down into another valley, and he could see a cluster of buildings ahead. He wanted to yell with joy. Instead he turned back and let the rest of them know the end was in sight.

  Cal didn't cheer like the others did.

  He turned Bul to ride beside her. "How come you're not excited? You'll be seeing your pa in a day or so."

  She shrugged.

  "Cal? Look at me."

  She angled her eyeballs his way, but kept herself faced forward.

  "Does he know you're coming?" It was a question he should have asked her back in Eagle Rock.

  Another shrug.

  He crowded close and leaned over to catch Ruth's halter rope. The country here was flat enough they could ride alongside without being half-mountain goat. He led the molly out about a hundred yards from the train and pulled her up beside Bul. "Does your pa know you're coming?"

  She stared off towards the hills enclosing the valley through which they rode. "Maybe. I don't exactly know."

  "You wrote to him, didn't you?"

  "Well, of course I did. I ain't stupid."

  He bit back a chuckle. In a way it was funny, but what in thunder was he going to do if they got to Virginia City and her pa wasn't there? "But you didn't sit around waiting for an answer, did you? You don't know if he's expecting you."

  "Uh-uh." She turned to look at him then, and he saw the tears making clean little tracks down her dirty cheeks. "I had to come," she said. "I had to get away from my cousin. He was... he could be real mean."

  After a spell of just looking at her, Merlin decided there was plenty she wasn't telling him. It was plain to him she'd been scared of her cousin, and he had a feeling he knew why. Bastard. She's just a little girl.

  Remembering his own reaction to sleeping next to her--something that happened right regular, until he'd got so he dreaded bedtime--he could understand.

  But he couldn't condone. His pa had raised him to respect women, even little girls who weren't women yet.

  * * * *

  The closer they got to Virginia City, the slower they seemed to move. Leastwise that's how it seemed to Callie. They'd come down into the flats yesterday, and she'd expected to see the town before sundown. Now it was another sundown, and they were camped alongside the big mule corral at Alder Creek. According to Murphy, it was still half a day's drive to Virginia City, but they had to unload a pile of freight first, so they weren't likely to get there much before supper time.

  The closer they got, the more scared she was her pa wouldn't be there. And then what would she do?

  Merlin was itching to move on. She'd seen how fidgety he was in the evenings, even though he'd promised to stay around long enough to teach her to shoot. She really didn't expect him to. All he'd agreed to was get her here. Nice as he could be, he was still a man, and she'd never known a man yet could be depended on.

  "Cal! Git over here, boy. Got spuds for you to peel."

  She stomped over to the grub wagon and sat on the low stool beside the bucket of spuds. "Where'd they come from?" He'd cooked the last spuds from the grub wagon a week ago.

  Peeling spuds for Hiram wasn't near as bad as it had been for Aunt Sadie. He wasn't all that particular about bits of skin left on, and he didn't insist they be soaked in cool water before he fried them. "A little dirt gives 'em flavor," he'd told her the first time he'd put her to work.

  "Bought 'em here. I was gettin' damn tired of dodgers and biscuits. Nothin' like a good spud to fill a man up."

  She tossed the first spud aside and picked up another. "How long will you be around?" Maybe if her pa wasn't here, Hiram would hire her on as cook's helper. He'd complained more than once about his helper who'd broke his leg down around Fort Hall.

  "Couple of days, I reckon. Murphy wants to get back soon as he can. We're takin' a chance on the weather already. I disremember ever coming up here so late." Picking up the canvas log tote, he strode off toward the pile of firewood by the corral.

  She bit her lip as she watched him go. What if I can't find Pa in a couple of days? What will I do?

  I should have thought about that before I came.

  Chapter Five

  It was full dark when they pulled into the freight yard at Virginia City. The teamsters made plain their relief at seeing the end of the long journey with cheers and loud boasts of what they intended to do while in town. Merlin hoped Cal didn't understand half of what they said.

  He only understood about three-quarters, and that was enough to make his ears burn and his doowhacker stand up, when he thought about doing what they talked about.

  "It's too late for you to go looking for your pa tonight," he told her as they were unloading Cap. Murphy had offered them space in the bunkhouse and he was grateful for it. He was tired of sleeping under a wagon and bundling with her to keep warm. The bunkhouse had a fireplace at either end.

  "Yeah, I know." She kept her head down, like she was avoiding his eyes. All day long she'd been real quiet.

  "You got any idea of where to start?"

  "Uh-uh."

  He was starting to get a bad feeling about this. He decided to wait until they'd unpacked and got their supper before he asked the questions that were forming in his head.

  Two hours later he stopped her before she could go into the bunkhouse. "Let's go for a walk."

  "I'm tired."

  "Me, too, but a walk'll limber us up before bed. There's no place for private talk in there."

  She stuck her lip out a mile, but didn't argue.

  He kept silent as they walked along the road toward town. From what he'd seen before it got too dark, Virginia City was going to be a disappointment. It was bigger than any of the gold camps he'd been to, but no livelier. Guess Pa was right. The gold boom is slowing down. I'll have to find my excitement somewhere else.

  About every third place on the main street was boarded up. Those that showed some life were saloons. He guessed they'd have to do their talking while they walked.

  "Where'd your pa work the last you heard?"

  He didn't have to turn his head. He could almost hear her shrug.

  "Consarn it, Cal. When was the last you heard from him?"

  "Last year." She walked on two or three step
s. "Ma got a letter from him on her birthday. In January."

  Great God! That's nearly two years ago.

  Fed up, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her back the way they'd come. To his surprise, she'd didn't resist. By the time they'd come to the turn-off to the corral, he'd cooled down a bit. He pulled her over to the fence and pushed her down on the edge of the horse trough. "All right now, suppose you tell me how you know your pa's here and how you plan to find him."

  "I was going to ask at the Mercantile. That's where he said he worked. In his letter, he said he had a snug little cabin, and as soon as he got some money saved up, he'd send for me and Ma." She sniffed, and her voice was not so steady when she added, "We never heard from him again."

  One time Merlin had heard his uncle Silas say something about a Chinese obligation--if you saved somebody's life, you were responsible for him forever more. With a terrible sinking feeling in his belly, he wondered if that's what Cal was going to be. His Chinese obligation.

  What am I going to do if her pa's not here?

  Well, he'd worry about that when it happened. "We'll start there, first thing tomorrow."

  "You're gonna help me find my pa?" Her smile seemed to light up the night. "You really are?"

  "I don't see I've much choi--" Before he could finish, he was enveloped in her hug.

  "Oh, thank you, Merlin. You're wonderful! I could kiss you." She did, smacking him a good one on the cheek.

  "Here, now, that's no way for a big boy like you to behave," he said, making his voice real stern, in hopes she'd hear his warning.

  "Oh. I forgot." She said, sounding thoroughly chastened. She released him and stepped back.

  "Well, see you remember from now on." The last thing he needed was for the teamsters to get a hint she was female. Or anybody else, either.

  * * * *

  "Lemuel Smith? Hmm. Now where did I hear he'd gone?" The clerk at the mercantile scratched his nearly bald head. "He moved on afore I come to work here, but Mr. Stewart, he said something..."

  Beside him, Merlin could feel Cal's excitement. And her disappointment. He knew she'd hoped to walk on in here and find her pa, right off. "Did he leave town?"