Another scratch and a screwed-up mouth showed how much work the fellow was making of remembering. "Doesn't seem like it. For all I know, he might have come in here now and then. I wouldn't know him to see him."
"He's tall," Callie said, "and his hair's real black. Like mine." She whipped off her cap to show him.
The clerk peered at her curiously, but shook his head. "Nope. Don't ring no bell."
"What about Mr. Stewart? Is he about?"
"He's in the back."
Catching hold of Callie's arm before she spoke up, Merlin said, "Can you ask him to come out and talk to us? It's real important."
"I reckon I can do that." The clerk turned and walked toward the door at the far end of the store.
Once he was a ways away, Merlin whispered, "Remember, we agreed you'd let me do the talking. You look too much like a little kid. Nobody's gonna take you seriously."
She stuck her bottom lip out, but nodded.
Mr. Stewart looked right prosperous. His suit was fine wool, like the one Uncle Silas had on the last time he'd come home. Merlin introduced himself, told where he was from. Sure enough, the man had heard of his family. "Lemuel Smith is the only living kin the boy has. My pa would take him in, but he felt it was more fitting for him to be with his own father."
"Well, now, I'm not so sure." Stewart sent Cal a pitying look. "Smith keeps some unsavory company. The lad might be better off going back to Boise City with you."
Callie opened her mouth, but before more than a squeak could come out, Merlin elbowed her in the ribs. "That's as it may be, sir, but he should at least see his father. Let the man know his wife is dead."
On cue, Callie sniffed, like a proper little orphan.
"Hmph. I suppose you're right. Chinatown."
"Beg pardon?"
"Chinatown. That's where you'll find Lem Smith, leastwise the last I heard. In the female boarding house with the blue front door. He's the chucker-out. And God only know what else." His glance at Callie was even more pitying than the first. "No place for a lad that young. You take my advice, Mr. Lachlan, and keep him as far from Lem Smith as you can."
Merlin thanked Stewart and assured him he'd let Cal come to no harm. He chivvied her out of the store before she could give the whole game away with the words that were doing their best to come busting out. Once they were in the street, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her around the side of the Mercantile building.
She jerked free as soon as he'd stopped walking. "He's a liar. My pa's a fine man."
"Maybe so, but Stewart sure doesn't approve of what he's up to. Not so sure I do either." Not if it meant the only place for Cal to live was in the house where her pa worked. And probably slept.
"What's wrong with working at a female boarding house? That's respectable."
If he hadn't once overheard his pa's hired man and one of the ranch hands talking, Merlin might have thought the same. "It's a...a house of ill repute. That's what they call 'em in polite company."
She had been stomping away from him but now she stopped and turned around. "A...what?"
"A house of ill repute." At her blank expression, he said, "Consarn it, Callie. A whorehouse."
Her eyes grew very round, until the while showed all around their green centers. "Oh... No!"
"Only way to find out is for me to go look. I'll take you back to the bunkhouse. It shouldn't take me more'n an hour to get some answers."
"I ain't going nowhere but with you. He's my pa."
A quarter hour later, he gave up arguing. "Great God, you are even more stubborn than my sisters. Come along then, but don't blame me if you see sights you got no business seeing."
"He's my pa," she said for maybe the hundredth time. "He's a good man."
Chinatown was down on the other side of the gulch, not too far from the freight yard. Once they were on their way, he said, "The whorehouses are probably on the edge of Chinatown, but we're going to go to the Chinese store first. You keep your mouth buttoned up and stick close to me. No matter what you see or hear, don't you say a single word."
"Why? If we only need to go to the edge--"
"Cal, will you, for once in your life, just do what I say?"
The bottom lip went out again, but she nodded. "Promise we'll go to the house with the blue door?"
"That'll depend on what I learn at the Chinese store."
"But I--"
"Your choice. Shut up, or I'm goin' back to the bunkhouse."
She made an X across her lips, but her eyes shot green sparks at him.
The Chinese store was the largest, most well-built structure in Chinatown. Merlin paused before entering, stretching out an arm to keep Callie behind him. "May this unworthy person enter?"
The woman behind the counter looked at him with narrowed eyes. After a moment she held up a hand and slipped through the burlap curtain behind her.
"Wha--" Callie's whisper was just loud enough for him to hear.
"Shh!"
After a moment, a middle-aged Chinese man came through the doorway. He not-quite bowed. "Please to enter. How may I honor such an exalted one?"
Merlin stepped across the threshold and bowed low. "I am Merlin Lachlan, nephew of Sung Su Mei, the wife of Silas Dewitt. I seek information about someone who is reported to be at the house with the blue door." Behind him he heard Callie take in a sharp breath, and crossed his fingers she'd remember her promise to keep silent.
"I have no business with those in that place." The words were clipped, the tone icy.
"This I believe," Merlin said, doing his best to sound both humble and apologetic. "We only come to you because of its location. Perhaps you know of one who is familiar with those who reside there?"
The suspicion writ plainly on the Chinaman's face faded a little. "May this one know the reason for your request?"
"This insignificant child--" Merlin pulled Callie forward, holding her by the upper arm. "--a female of little worth, but one I have promised to aid, seeks her father. I was told by Stewart, at the mercantile, that he resides there."
"Ahh. I see." The man clapped his hands and called out something in Chinese. "I will send one to ask. While we wait, you will share tea with me."
Shortly the woman appeared, bearing a tray on which rested two cups of white china, painted with delicate flowers, and a pot with steam issuing from its spout. She set it on the counter. She listened to the Chinaman's words, filled each cup, then retreated behind the curtain.
"I am Feng Ji Fei. Your esteemed uncle assisted my family once and I am happy to repay the debt in a small way. You will give him my greetings when next you see him?"
"I will. It is an honor." Merlin hoped he was doing this right. His Aunt Soomey had lectured them all on the good manners expected when dealing with Chinese, but this was his first time alone. He sipped his tea and kept a straight face. It was strong enough to float a canon.
All the while he and Mr. Feng exchanged compliments--he was running out of things to say--he kept hoping Cal would mind her manners. He just knew she was fuming over him getting tea and her not. He'd had to tell Mr. Feng she was female, though. If she stayed around here, having the Chinese community watching out for her might save her bacon.
A boy, about the same size as Cal, poked his head into the door and jabbered something. Mr. Feng answered in a few words and waved him away.
"The man no longer resides at the house with the blue door," he said, "but no more than nine days ago he was seen in Nevada City. The one who saw him believes he has a room at the back of the High Grade Saloon."
"I am deeply grateful," Merlin said, rising. He spoke a few more compliments and several more phrases of thanks. Mr. Feng claimed his house had been honored with Merlin's company. Then Merlin had to claim his was the honor. After ten minutes or so, they ran out of compliments, and he was able to take his leave gracefully.
He caught Cal's arm again. "Not a word," he whispered. "Not until we're back at the yard."
* * * *
&n
bsp; There were still a few claims being worked between Virginia City and Nevada City, but it had been long enough since most were active that alders were starting to come back here and there along the creek. As they walked along the road, Merlin tried to see the place as it had been in his heyday. It was just his luck to be too late here, like he'd been too late in the Boise Basin. There wasn't much excitement to be had in a dying gold camp. He'd be glad to get Cal handed off to her pa, so he could get back to his quest.
Now why did that notion bother him so much?
"How come there's two towns so close together?"
"I don't know. Maybe they ran out of flat places to build in Virginia City."
Callie kicked a rock. It went skittering ahead of them, and when they got up to it, she kicked it again. "That don't make sense. Lots of houses on the hills."
Since he had no notion why folks put towns where they did, he shrugged. Wonder how bad the weather gets hereabouts. I have a feeling we're higher than Cherry Vale. If I don't get out of here soon, I may be stuck for the winter
They stepped aside for a stagecoach to pass them. He looked after it. I could take the stage, I reckon. But what would I do with the livestock? Can't leave Bul behind, nor Cap. "Ow! What'd you do that for?"
Cal had her fist cocked for another slug to his shoulder. "I asked you a question, and you paid no attention."
"I was thinking. What?"
"I wanted to know if you'd sell Ruth to my pa. I've got kind of fond of her."
"Let's find your pa first. Look there. It's the High Grade Saloon," he said, pointing ahead, to an unpainted shack with a canted roof over the sidewalk in front.
Callie stopped walking and stared. "It's not very big."
"Neither's the town. Let's go see if your pa's there." He slung his arm over her shoulders. "Look, you know this could be a wild goose chase, don't you? I mean, your pa may not be here. Miners are always moving on, looking for the next big strike."
"I heard the Chinaman. He said Pa was here nine days ago." Her face screwed up into a grimace of distaste. "He probably lied, though."
Resisting the urge to shake her, Merlin said, "What makes you think so?"
"Chinamen are sneaky liars. Everybody knows that."
He did shake her. "You are crazy. Chinese people are just like us. Some are good and some are bad. Mr. Feng helped us, and he didn't have to. That makes him a good man, far as I can tell."
Her face took on the stubborn expression that told him she didn't believe a word he said. "I don't hold with foreigners."
Knowing it did no good to argue with someone who had her mind made up, Merlin let his arm drop from her shoulders. "Let's go find your pa."
Chapter Six
Emmet Lachlan hadn't ever forbade his children to go to saloons, but he hadn't encouraged it, either. Merlin had been curious enough to sneak into one when he was about thirteen, but then he got in the fight with the panther, and after that he'd stayed close to home for a long time. What with this and that, he'd never gone back.
Even inexperienced as he was, he knew the High Grade Saloon was a dump the minute they stepped across the threshold. It stunk of vomit, sweat, tobacco, and spilt beer.
The man behind the bar looked about as unsavory as the place smelled.
"I don't like this place," Cal whispered as she kind of edged in behind him.
Without going more than two steps inside, Merlin said, "We're looking for Lemuel Smith. He around?"
"What's your business with him?"
To prevent her from answering, Merlin stepped back onto Cal's toes. "It's with him."
"Mr. Smith--" The bartender said it with an emphasis on the "mister" "He don't see nobody without an appointment."
"That's fine with me. I'll be at the freight yard for another day. If he wants the news I bring about his family, he can contact me there."
Turning, he pushed Cal ahead of him through the doorway and across the uneven boardwalk. "Quiet. Not a word until we're out of earshot." He was afraid he'd have to pick her up and haul her away before she finally got moving.
He managed to get her fifty paces from the saloon before she turned and faced him, hands on hips. "What the dickens are you trying to do? He could've told us where my pa is. Why didn't you make him?"
"Because he's bigger than me and he had a club in his hand. Keep walkin'."
She did, backwards, so she could jaw at him. "I didn't see no club."
"Neither did I, but I didn't see his left hand, either. If he wasn't holding a club, it was a handgun. Count on it. I had no hankering to be beat or shot. Watch it!"
His warning came too late. She stepped on a chunk of rock and went tail over teakettle.
He kept his face straight and reached down to help her. "Be better if you watched where you're walking. We can sort this out when we get to the bunkhouse."
Callie dusted her britches off. She'd cracked her elbow good, but she wasn't going to admit how much it hurt. "Darn you, Merlin. You think you know it all. Why didn't you just tell him why we were looking for my pa? Why should it be a big secret?"
"If your pa wants it known he's got a daughter, he can tell folks. Until you know if you've got a welcome here--"
"That's awful. My pa will be glad to see me." At least she hoped he would. She had so few memories of him, for she'd been only a tyke when he went off to war. Then when he came home, he'd been different. Quiet and short-tempered. Restless. He'd sometimes gone off for days at a time, and when he came back he'd yell at Ma if she asked where he'd been.
Finally he'd told Ma he was heading West. Callie had been hiding in the kitchen, just inside the door, so she could hear them talking. "To make a better home for you and the girl," he'd said. "I'll send for you in a while, once I'm settled."
That had been more than three years ago. They'd had a few letters, the last one from Virginia City. He'd got himself a mining claim and was working it. "Not getting rich, but making a living and then some," he'd told Ma. She'd been so happy, believing it would be only a little while before he sent for them.
Then she'd got sick, and nothing Doc Barnes could do would make her well. And Pa had never written again.
"He'll be glad to see me," she said again. "I know he will."
Merlin didn't say anything. He just gave her a quick squeeze, one arm across her shoulders.
They waited at the freight yard all the rest of the day. Nobody came. By evening she was fit to be tied. Ready to cry. Scared to death.
Come morning, they helped the teamsters load up the little bit of freight they were taking back.
"We'd leave the wagons here if we didn't need them in Ogden," Murphy said, as he was checking bills of lading. "I purely hate carrying gold. Makes me feel like I'm wearing a great big bulls-eye on my back."
Cal looked at the half-dozen guards standing around the corral. "Is it really dangerous?"
"You bet it is. Hauling gold down that road is like carrying raw meat through a pack of wolves. This trip won't be so bad as some. We're running light." He stuffed the papers into a leather case and tossed it to Merlin. "See that gets to Wallert over at the office, will you? I want to get on the road."
He mounted his horse, as did the hard-faced, well armed men who were to guard the freight train. "You ever get to Ogden, look me up," he said to Merlin. "If I ain't there, somebody can tell you where I'm off to." He paused, looked down at Cal. "I hope you find your pa, kid, and for God's sake, get yourself into a dress. You make a piss poor boy." With a touch to the brim of his hat, he turned his horse and rode out of the corral, followed by nine big freight wagons and the troop of guards.
Cal stared after him, open-mouthed. "He knew," she said at last, her voice cracking. "You told him, didn't you?"
Merlin held up his hands. "Did not. Murphy, he's a noticing man. I reckon he had you figured out within a day of when we hooked up together."
She eyed him, not sure whether to believe him or not.
He raised his chin, looked over her shoul
der. "Somebody's coming."
She turned. A well-fed man in a red-and-black checked coat had just let himself into the yard. He had a thick black beard and wore a wool cap pulled down to his eyebrows. He stopped walking when he was about ten paces from them. "You the ones looking for Lem Smith?"
"We are," Merlin said.
The voice tickled her memory. The beard was as black as her hair. And the eyes were as green as spring grass. "Pa?"
"Not me, sonny. I only got one child, and she's just a little girl."
Snatching off her hat, Callie said, "I ain't a boy. I'm Callie... Calista. But I ain't a little girl no more."
He looked at her closely. After a moment, he came closer and peered into her face. She could smell him. His odor was a lot like the saloon's, but fainter, and overlaid with woodsmoke.
"Well, I'll be hornswoggled. I do believe you are my girl. But what the he-- What the dickens are you doin' here? And where's your ma?"
"She...she's dead. I found your letter... I wanted--" The words just tumbled out of her mouth, making no sense at all.
He looked at Merlin from under lowered brows. "Who're you?"
"Merlin Lachlan." He didn't hold out his hand. He didn't sound any too friendly either.
"Huh." For a couple of minutes he just stood there, eyeing her, glowering at Merlin. At last he said, "Let's go. This ain't no place to be talkin'." He turned and led the way across the yard and down toward the river.
Callie glanced at Merlin, who didn't look inclined to follow her pa. "Please," she whispered. "Please come with me?"
His mouth went hard, but he gave a little jerk of his head and started walking.
They followed Pa down across the creek and along a path on the other side, neither one of them saying a word. After a half mile or so, he led them up a draw. Hidden in brush a ways uphill was a little square cabin. Smoke came from the metal chimney sticking out of the roof. One dirty window was set into the wall beside the door. Pa opened the door and motioned her inside, but he blocked Merlin when he would have followed. "This ain't none of your business, boy."
"Pa, he helped me. I wouldn't have got here without him."
She wasn't sure he'd heard, but after a bit he stepped aside.
Squire's Quest Page 6
