"Oh, no, Frau Trebelhorn would have a fit. I can get some food and bring it back here."
He looked around the storeroom. She did too, and wondered why she'd never paid mind to how little comfort it offered. There was a barrel in the corner, with a stool beside it, where she usually sat for her lonely suppers. Shelves full of cans and supplies for the dining room lined three walls. Crates and bins stood here and there across the floor, some of them with goods spilling out of them. Mouse droppings still lay in the corners, even though she was fairly sure she'd finally trapped the last of the little pests.
She chewed her lower lip. "That won't do, will it? Why don't you go on into the dining room? We can talk afterward."
"That's crazy. Get your coat."
He sounded mad. The little crawly creatures she hadn't felt since her pa disappeared were suddenly back again, making her stomach cramp.
"Get your coat," he said again, this time with a bite to his words. "We'll go to the Bijou."
She pulled on the too-big greatcoat. Its cuffs were frayed, and the hem was stained from dragging on the ground before she'd shot up half a foot one summer.
When he held the door for her, she saw him glance at the stains. And wince.
I'm not ashamed. It's better than being cold.
But cold she was, as they stepped around the corner of the building and into the wind's full force. She'd known cold back in Virginia City, but never like this. Never cold that froze the inside of her nose so her very breath slowed and clung to the ice lining it. Never cold that made her feel all but naked, despite layers of clothing.
By the time they reached the Bijou Café, only two blocks from the hotel, her fingers were numb inside her thick mittens and she couldn't feel her toes.
Chapter Eleven
He'd hurt her feelings. Merlin had seen her wince when he'd reacted to her shabby coat.
He put a tight rein on his anger. "Where'd you learn to bake?" He remembered her attempt at biscuits on the road to Virginia City. He'd seen harder rocks.
"From Mrs. Flynn."
When she stepped aside to let a man pass her on the sidewalk, he wanted to yell at her. She had as much right-- Biting back thoughts as well as words, he said, "Friend of your pa's?"
Her quick glance upwards was almost like a flinch. "No. She didn't... Pa set me up to apprentice to her. He said I needed to learn a trade, not be a burden on him."
"Huh!"
"It wasn't so bad. I had a room all to myself, up in the attic. It was right by the kitchen chimney, so it was real warm all winter."
"All summer too, I reckon."
Her shrug was matter-of-fact. "Well, yes, but there were windows on both ends, and they kept the air fresh." She started to step aside again.
Before she could, he caught her arm just above the elbow and pulled her tight against him. The other fellow touched a finger to his hat. "Evenin' ma'am," he said.
Callie's mouth dropped open and she turned to look back as he passed, stumbling as Merlin pulled her along. "Did you hear?" she whispered after they'd gone on a few paces. "He called me 'ma'am'."
"As well he ought." Great God! Hasn't she ever been treated like a lady?
They added their coats to the rack just inside the door of the Bijou Café. In the brighter light of the café, he could see how faded and shabby her dress really was, and he got mad all over again. What kind of man was her father, that he couldn't clothe his daughter decent?
A waving arm drew his attention to the back of the room. "There's Murphy. Do you remember him?"
"The teamster? Yes. He came back to Virginia City once, a couple of months after you...after I got there. I saw him on the street, but didn't get a chance to say hello." She jumped.
As Merlin had only touched the arch of her back just above her waist, he wondered at her reaction. Again it had almost been a flinch. What the dickens?
"Buffalo stew's good tonight," Murphy said, once they'd settled. He looked at Callie, a question in his eyes.
"Don't recognize her, do you?" Merlin had to grin, but at the same time he felt a little twinge of uneasiness. Murphy was a good-looking man, tall and lean, with an air about him Merlin's sisters would probably have said was romantic.
"Should I?" Murphy peered closely at Cal. "Wait a minute. Back in Idaho, wasn't it? Headin' for Virginia City?"
She ducked her head and gave a little gurgle of laughter. "I was a lot younger then. And you thought I was a boy."
"Only for about an hour." He laid a hand over his heart. "Swear to God, I'd never mistake a girl, even a young one." He winked. "Sal... No, that ain't right. Cal. You're Cal."
"Callie. Only Merlin calls me Cal." She gave another of those little gurgles of laughter, and Merlin wondered what he had to do to get one for himself.
When the waiter came to take their order, she bit her lip. "I guess I'll have a bowl of vegetable soup. I...I'm not very hungry."
"She'll have the buffalo stew," Merlin said.
Again that little not-quite-flinch. Her lips tightened and she gave him such a look from under her brows. She didn't say a word, though.
His sisters--any of 'em--would have skinned him alive for bossing them around.
Murphy flirted with her while they waited for their dinner, but when their food came, he stood up. "I'll see you later. Got a shipment going out early, and I still have to check bills of lading."
Cal looked after him as he wove his way among tables to the front door. "He's nice."
"A good friend," he agreed as he picked up his spoon.
There was close to a quart of stew in the bowls the waiter had set before them. Half a loaf of bread and a short crock of butter were in the middle of the table. Bottles of Yerkes' ketchup, Tabasco sauce and the English steak sauce with the name he'd never learned to pronounce were there too, along with a salt cellar and a pepper shaker. He reached for the pepper, but paused, hand suspended over the table, when he saw a tear sliding down Callie's cheek. "What's wrong?"
"N-n-nothing." She picked up her spoon and dipped it into the stew. Stirred. Sniffed.
Another tear found its way to her chin and dripped into the bowl.
Glad he'd seated her with her back to the room, Merlin scooted his chair around so it was right next to hers. Gently he removed the spoon from her hand and laid it on the table. "Cal, if you really didn't want buffalo stew, all you had to do was say so. I just didn't think a little bowl of soup was enough supper for you."
She shot him a quick glance, this one lacking the mad he'd seen in the other. "It's fine."
"Then what's wrong?" He knew something was, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure what. None of his sisters had ever been shy about speaking her mind. Neither had the Cal he'd known, back on the trail.
Her shrug wasn't so much a denial as a what-do-you-care challenge.
Tarnation. "Fine. You can sit and stare at your supper if you want. I'm hungry." If he'd learned nothing else growing up with four sisters, he'd caught on that sometimes there was just no arguing with a female. He scooted back in front of his plate and doctored his stew to his taste. All the while he ate, he kept his eyes aimed anywhere but at her. Even so, he saw her start eating after a few minutes of brooding. By the time he was scraping his bowl clean and wondering if he'd room for a piece of pie, she'd eaten about half.
He used the crust of his bread to clean his bowl. As soon as he sat back, she put her spoon down.
"Full?"
"No...yes. I've had enough."
He'd bet his bottom dollar she hadn't. Suddenly tired of trying to sort out what was going on in her mind, he said, "Let's go then. From the sound of that wind, I'll have a cold walk home. No sense in putting it off."
"Walk? All the way out to the fort? You'll freeze to death." Before he could get around the table, she was on her feet. "Can't you stay in the hotel one more night?"
"Nope. And it's only about halfway, half a mile or so. I'll be fine." He waved her ahead of him, leery of touching her again.
>
When they were all bundled up and ready to brave the cold, she said, "I've got a couple of rocks warming on the hearth. I'll give you one."
"That'll be good." He could put it inside his wool shirt, long as it wasn't too hot. No need to hurt her feelings by turning it down. Besides, he realized as they stepped outside, he might be grateful for it before he got back to the cabin. The wind had grown stronger and was blowing sharp little shards of ice pretty much sideways across the wide street.
They wasted no time getting back to Lambert House. He followed her inside instead of saying goodnight at the door.
"Wait here," she said, and stepped inside her curtained cubby.
Merlin loosened his coat. While it wasn't exactly cozy here in the storeroom, it was a sight warmer than outdoors. She'd be fine.
"Here. I hope it's enough."
The hand she was holding out to him held coins. "What's this for?"
"To pay for my supper. Is it enough?"
For the longest moment he was at a loss for words. A hot anger started to swell in his gut, but before it could flare, he dampened it. "Keep your money. When I ask a lady to supper, I pay the tab. Any gentleman would."
"But--"
Gently, even though he wanted to be anything but, he closed her hand around the coins. "Cal, I can afford to treat you to supper. Honest. Now if you wanted to bake me a pie sometime, I'd take it and be grateful."
Her smile paid him well for his self-restraint. "I'll do that. What kind? I can--"
He laid a finger across her lips. "Let's talk about it another time. I need to be gettin' on. Remember, I'm starting a new job in the morning. Being late wouldn't look good."
"Oh, no! Of course not. You should go. Wait, though." She bustled through the door at the far end and came back almost immediately, carrying something wrapped in a length of linen toweling. "Here's your rock. It's probably too big for your pocket. Maybe you can tuck it in inside your coat."
"Or in my britches." He winked, and knew he'd gone a little pink. His ma would've washed his mouth with laundry soap if she'd heard him say that to a good girl.
She turned beet red.
He was half tempted to kiss her, she looked so flustered and pretty. But only half. If she nearly jumped out of her skin when he touched her back, she'd likely faint if he kissed her.
He tucked his scarf more firmly around his neck, pulled his hat low on his head, and buttoned his coat up all the way. "Good night."
She opened the door and held it against the wind long enough for him to slip out.
He'd never seen a brass monkey, but Merlin decided it was a good thing they weren't common in Wyoming Territory. Any monkeys out in this wind would have lost more than their balls.
* * * *
"Who was that young man?"
Callie wanted to pretend she hadn't heard Abner's question, but she knew it would do her no good. He'd just keep asking. "An old friend," she said, willing her voice to be toneless. "I knew him when I was just little girl."
"Was he just a little boy?" Abner's voice had a sly tone to it, as if he was making a joke he didn't want her to understand.
"He wasn't grown up, not all the way. I think he was sixteen. Or maybe seventeen. We traveled together for a while. I was--"
"First love," Abner said, with a wide grin. "You never get over the first one. And now he done found you again. That's good, girl. You grab hold of him, hold on tight. He'll take good care of you. I got a feelin'."
"I don't need taken care of."
"Sure you do. Everybody needs to be took care of." He cocked his head to one side. "Just like we all needs somebody to take care of our ownselves."
"I've got somebody to take care of," she snapped. "Myself." She grabbed a big bowl and headed for the pantry. She really didn't need to bake another cake, but it wouldn't hurt. Frau Trebelhorn had told her to use up the dried out raisins before mice got to them.
A nice raisin spice cake would go over well at dinner tonight. She hoped she could remember how to make it. If only pa had given her more time...
Stop your wishing for what you can't have. At least you're shut of him. You can save up enough to get back to Mrs. Flynn, and you'll be fine.
The cold spell lasted near a week. Everyone who came in talked about how they'd never seen such cold. She'd heard folks talking about how cattle had been found standing upright, froze solid. Three families had moved into the Methodist Church when they ran out of firewood, and she'd bet other churches had folks sleeping in the aisles too. Every room in Lambert House was full, some with two and three to a bed, because Abbie Lane's boarding house had burned down the second night and Mrs. Gonzalez's chimney had caught fire the same night, smoking all her girls out into the street.
Callie had helped the girls clean up, and hadn't they looked a sight, with black smudged around on their faces and all over their fancy clothes--what there was of them. It was a wonder they hadn't all froze off their nearly bare bosoms when they came running down the street.
Frau Trebelhorn hadn't wanted to take them in, but her husband had overruled her. He had put his foot down on them plying their trade while they were in the hotel, though. And he'd made them sleep three to a bedroom.
At least she had a bed all to herself, such as it was. Warm too, right against the chimney.
She was worried about Merlin, though. Neither he or Murphy had showed their faces since the night he took her to dinner. He'd said his little cabin was snug and warm, but what about in the daytime? She'd bet he was outdoors then.
Was he all right?
* * * *
All week she and Frau Trebelhorn waited tables, washed dishes, and cooked early and late, because the waiters refused to work more than fourteen hours a day.
She didn't blame them. Each night she fell exhausted into her bed, and every morning she had to force herself upright. She listened to the talk about how cold it was, and decided having a warm place to live was worth all the extra work. Besides, Frau Trebelhorn had promised her an extra dollar a day until the weather warmed up.
On the sixth day, while taking care of those who'd lingered after supper, she overheard, "...saved the mules, but lost the barn."
She stopped her half-trot across the dining room and listened. Murphy had mules. Merlin had said the forge where he worked was next to the barn.
"I hear they found a body."
"Looked like he was sleepin' in a stall. Wonder if he froze to death before the fire."
"Drunk, more'n likely."
"Where?" She set the coffeepot on the table with a thump. Coffee erupted from the spout and splashed on the gray-haired man's hand.
"Ow! Watch it, there, girlie!"
"I'm sorry. Where was the fire? Which barn?" She snatched the wipe rag from her apron pocket and dried his hand.
"Stedleman's. 'Bout a mile out the Crow Creek Road."
"More like two miles, wouldn't you say, Frank?"
"Sounds right. Here, girlie, I'll take some of that coffee." He held out his cup, as did the other two.
She filled them, now she was able to breathe again. Merlin was all right. "Would you gentlemen like some pie? We've still got apple and there was one piece of peach, the last time I looked." Frau Trebelhorn had told her to call every man a gentleman, no matter how he acted. These three were mostly polite, so it didn't bother her like it sometimes did.
The front door slammed, as it often did when the wind snatched it from someone's unwary hand. Folks were so used to the sound that no one even looked around. Callie wondered why anyone would willingly go outdoors this time of night.
She'd never felt such bitter cold as when she'd taken chamber pots out to dump them earlier. Mary, the maid who usually took care of that unpleasant chore, had not come in today. Both waiters had refused. Since Callie had finished her work until the last batch of bread finished baking, she'd been stuck with the task.
"Hey, Jeb! You folks gettin' along out there?"
The newcomer was wide and tall, grizz
led and none too clean. When he took off his heavy sheepskin coat, she saw the stains on his shirt, long, dark streaks that looked like blood.
He tossed the coat in the general direction of the tree beside the door and strode across to join Frank and his friends. "We're doin' jest fine, but let me tell you. I have shoveled more shit-- 'Scuse me ma'am, I have shoveled more manure these past days than I have in my whole life. That new smith, he felt plumb sorry for the mules, out in the corral. Said it was too cold for 'em. So he moved 'em indoors."
"He what?" That was Frank, but Callie saw most of the men in the room were just as interested.
"The damnedest thing. He said it didn't make sense to leave the mules outside in the cold when there's room in the barn. Convinced Murphy to help him." He sipped at the coffee Callie had brought as soon as he'd sat down. "Thanks, ma'am. You know how many mules we got out there?"
There was a general murmur of interest.
"Ninety-seven, that's how. And he had us bring all of 'em in." He looked up at Callie, who wasn't about to walk away as long as he kept talking about what Merlin was up to. "I've a powerful hunger for pie, ma'am. Is there any left?"
"I'll get you some." She nearly ran into the kitchen, almost dropped the pie slice on the floor in her haste to get back before he went on with his story.
"You know mules," he was saying when she set the pie before him. "Contrary critters. The big spotted one--best wheeler we've got, but notional--made up his mind he didn't want to come indoors, and he had himself a conniption fit. Kicked the new man. Bit Murphy on the shoulder, even got me a good one." He held up his hand, wrapped in a red bandana. "No harm done, but it bled like a sunuvabitch. And on my best shirt, too." He paused long enough to scoop up a third of the pie slice and shove it into his mouth.
Biting her lip, Callie resisted the urge to ask how badly Merlin had been kicked. The next moment she was glad she had.
"The new man--Merlin he calls hisself--he had a rope on Spotty in no time atall and the next thing that damned mule knew, he was in a stall. Simmered down then, but Murph said to leave him there until we turn 'em back into the corral." He scraped the last of the pie from his plate and the corners of his mouth turned down. "Mighty good pie. Only thing wrong is there wasn't much of it."
Squire's Quest Page 11
