Scent of Tears

by M. Juan Knecht

  Chapter Seventeen

  Several rivers converge before you get to Portland, looking like a portrait, rather than a scene in nature. In the background is a towering snowcapped mountain and then the ocean. It was like nothing I had ever seen. Lucinda also seemed awe struck and speechless for a moment at the grandeur of the powder puff clouds and white peaks.

  We rode into the bustling center of Portland. Everything seemed to be under construction. There were wagons filled with building supplies everywhere. Stacks of lumber were set alongside the streets and alleys. Most of the men scurrying looked to be involved in the erection of wooden buildings.

  I was debating on whether to sell the three horses or board them until I could get back to Portland. At some point, Lucinda’s comment about not sleeping much on the voyage back to Monterey overcame my desire to get back to the herd. Now it was a matter of money. Lucinda wanted to see the town, or at least see the linen, perfume and shoe shops before we boarded the ship. I suggested she take her elbow to the doctor. Lucinda informed me that if the doctors in Portland were as drunk as the doctors in Monterey, a bottle of horse liniment would be more restorative. The excitement of a new city lessened her concern for her elbow to the extent she didn’t ask me to help her with a sling.

  I found a barn to put the horses in and a hotel with a bath house so Lucinda could take a bath. She announcing she was throwing her old clothes away, and, after careful instruction regarding color and size, sent me to buy a new dress. I found and purchased the dress as ordered, taking it back to the hotel. I then inquired about the price of passage to Monterey. After adding up the cost of the tickets for the voyage down the coast and the price of the hotel, the air went out of me. It was evident that even with the sale of the three horses, we were going to come up short of being able to afford the kind of shopping spree Lucinda had planned on.

  After her bath Lucinda was energized. It was if she had never made a forced horseback ride across Oregon. I expressed my concern that we might be underfunded for her shopping excursion. Instead of throwing a fit she smiled and bade me to accompany her to the wharf after I had bathed.

  I was in the big tub when Lucinda walked in with a shaving mug and a razor.

  “Should I leave the beard and mustache?” she asked.

  “As you think best,” I said, conscious of my nakedness under the water. In a very businesslike way, Lucinda shaved off my thin beard with her straight razor, leaving the mustache. She washed my hair with some shampoo she had gotten from the front desk then combed it back. After all of this was done, she held up a mirror in front of my face. It was one of the first times I had ever looked at myself in a decent mirror in the daylight.

  “Leave your hair long, Charlie. It hides your ears.”

  She stood back and gave me an appraising look as she cupped her injured elbow with her hand.

  “Once, at the mission in San Jose I saw a painting of the savior. With your hair washed, and your face free of dirt, you resemble the figure in that painting. Did Jesus have green eyes, Charlie?” Lucinda said and quickly kissed me on the lips. I rose from the tub as she skipped out the door, laughing. I put on the clean clothes I had bought along with the dress and walked out the door of the bathhouse after her.

  Lucinda took my arm and held it against her high, firm breast. It was a cool day with a slight breeze bringing the smell of the ocean. I had no idea where Lucinda was going, but it didn’t matter. We walked down the rough planks, providing a way to stay out of the mud. It was the first time I could remember she had taken my arm. Thinking about the other things she had promised me, I was walking on air. I couldn’t remember why I was ever angry with her in the first place.

  We finally arrived at the Boch Lumber Company Offices at the end of Jefferson Street on the waterfront. Lucinda marched in like we owned the place and asked to speak to Mr. Boch. The clerk at the front desk got up and went to fetch him.

  “Good morning, Mr. Boch. I am Lucinda Topo Horn, the daughter of Don Topo of Monterey. This is my husband, Charles Horn. You were at our home many years ago. It is very good to see you again.” Her smile was very sincere and warm.

  The portly, balding man stumbled over himself to shake her hand and was rewarded with a brief hug. When she finally let him go the old gentleman looked like he was in a state of shock. I smiled and wondered what the small embrace and quick whiff of perfume was going to cost him.

  “We are looking for transportation. If I remember correctly, one of the many business interests controlled by you involves shipping lumber to Monterey. We are in need of passage and I was wondering if you could accommodate us?” she said and gave the old boy another brilliant smile.

  “Count on me to see to your needs, Madame. How is your father? We have done much business in the past. I always considered Don Topo a valuable friend.”

  He wanted to know why we were in Oregon and what else he could do to help. He absolutely insisted we join him at the Columbia House that evening for dinner. After a few more smiles from Lucinda, he said that steerage accommodations was available to us at no charge. He could do no less for the daughter of his old friend. Lucinda asked where the best shops were to be found in Portland and the jolly old buzzard told her in some detail where she might spend our money.

  Boch told her to sit right there while he sent for his carriage to take us around town. He gave her the address of his house and said to pick him up when it came time for dinner. Soon, a black carriage with a matched team of tall black horses pulled up to the front of the office. The old man gave the driver orders to take the young lady where she wanted to go.

  Lucinda escorted me back to the barn. There I arranged to sell my geldings and store our saddles until we could load them on the ship. In the meantime, Lucinda went to find dress shops to spend the money I received through the sale of my prized horses.

  That night at dinner, I had to admit the money was well spent. Lucinda’s hair was fixed so it spilled down her neck into a shining jumble of curls. Her eyes had never looked more blue, her skin had never been more radiant. She drank and laughed. Neither I or the owner of the ocean-going lumber freighter could take our eyes off her. At the end of the dinner, Boch took us back to our hotel where we gathered Lucinda’s new purchases, our saddles and tack. The lumber ship was sailing on the tide with a load of lumber for San Francisco and wheat for Monterey.

  The docks were alive with the sound of water slapping against the hulls and the never ending creaks and groans of the wooden ships flexed with the tidal surge. The tall masts shifted gently in the moonlight. A small breeze fluttered the sails. With nearly uncontainable excitement, I hauled the chest Lucinda had bought in the city. She couldn’t get the other items she had found into the trunk, so it was two trips before I had everything stowed in our cabin. After a heartfelt goodbye, our host struggled back into his carriage and rolled into the night.

  Like children playing in the dark, Lucinda and I hurried below deck and went into our berth. She lit the lamp. The light flickered on the walls, creating shadows that shifted with the rocking of the ship.

  “Take off your clothes,” she commanded.

  “Take off yours,” I said, proud that my voice didn’t crack. I was expecting an argument but, without hesitation, Lucinda removed her blouse and skirt, then her silk undergarments until she was naked, save for her button up shoes. She reclined on the bed and I thought I was going to faint.

  She was not voluptuous, probably because she had been eating a very limited diet and had spent the last month horseback. Still, she was so well proportioned that her body was breathtaking. The muscles played out in her shoulders, her neck and her stomach as she squirmed around on the bed striking several poses while she laughed at me.

  “Are you going to stand there with your mouth open or are you going to let me look at you as well?”

  I tried to take my boots off without sitting down which nearly caused me to fall. Finally, I sat on the bed and taking several deep breaths, successfully pu
lled them off, followed by my new pants, long johns and shirt until I was naked as well.

  “Come here, Charlie, and let us forget the hardships we have faced.”

  “Your elbow will be alright?”

  Lucinda looked at her arm and moved her elbow a few degrees.

  “I don’t need both elbows to make you forget the cold and hunger of the cattle drive.”

  She was as good as her word. I quickly recovered after an embarrassing start, then slowly and wonderfully, new worlds were opened up to me. Had the ship sunk in the next hour, I wouldn’t have noticed. We finally lay exhausted in the small bunk.

  “What are my faults, Charlie?” she asked, out of the blue.

  I had hopes of repeating what had just happened a dozen more times before we docked in Monterey so I was hesitant to explain Lucinda’s shortcomings.

  “Come on, Charlie. I know you are often upset with me, even though you have no reason to be. I am curious. What are my faults?”

  “You are brave. You can ride for a longer distance without complaint than anyone I know.”

  She hit me in the shoulder with her fist.

  “Those aren’t faults. Do you want me to tell you your faults?”

  “No,” I blurted, wondering why she couldn’t lay there in the afterglow, murmuring soft words of endearment if that was what she felt or at least make something up if she didn’t.

  “Answer my question,” she said.

  “You sit a horse better than I do. You rope with great skill and you are very accurate with a shotgun.”

  “I am trying to be serious.”

  I waved my hand around the room and then pointed at Lucinda.

  “I have wanted this since I was twelve. Why would I say something that might upset you now?”

  I looked down at where our feet were entangled. Lucinda had large, well defined feet. Her foot was nearly as long as mine. Suddenly, she jabbed her elbow into my ribs and I yelped.

  “You think my feet are too big?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “But you compared yours with mine and started to smile,” she said.

  “I am really not trying to upset you.”

  “You are worried I didn’t like what happened between us just now?” she asked.

  “No, I think you liked it fine. I also believe you like to argue. One might get in the way of the other,” I replied.

  “So you just want to resume rutting?” she said.

  “Of course but it is more than that, and you know it. The sight of you has always caused me to catch my breath. I find it hard to form words when you are looking at me. After this night, all I want out of life is to smell your hair and your skin and feel your body pressed against mine. The feelings I have for you frighten me.”

  “Why would you be afraid to love me?”

  “Because you are never going to ask me before you do something. You are never going to concern yourself with how I feel. You play with me like Luna toys with a cow, jumping back and forth, confusing me with every move.”

  “I had no idea you put so much thought into this, Charlie.”

  “I had the whole trip from Monterey to Oregon to think about it.”

  “So I have big feet and I am a selfish woman who does not take your feelings into account?”

  I sat up straighter in the bed and pulled the bedding up over my stomach. I would no doubt spend the rest of the voyage sleeping on the floor of the cabin.

  Lucinda stared at me with her eyes narrowed and her mouth in a frown. Then she laughed, jumped up from the bed and went to her packages stacked in the corner. Tearing into one of the packages, she brought back a large purple silk scarf and an inlaid silver keeper to hold the scarf at my throat. She laid those out on the bed and returned to her stack of boxes. She retrieved a flat brimmed black hat with a silver hat band. Lucinda threw the hat at me and laughed when I caught it.

  “So you wanted me to say something bad about you so I would feel embarrassed when you gave me my gifts?”

  “Did it work?” she said and laughed again. She reached up, put the hat on my head and then pulled it down.

  “You misunderstood when your sisters called you a witch. That wasn’t the word they used.”

  Lucinda held up her finger and wagged it in my face to discourage comment. Once more, she bounded off the bed and rummaging around in her trunk. Giving a sharp cry of satisfaction, Lucinda straightened up and whirled around. In her hand was a small dagger the approximate size of the one I had lost in the creek when she nearly drowned. She held it out to me and I took it. The knife had a bone handle and silver filigree engraved in the iron blade. It occurred to me that she had spent more on my gifts than she had on herself. I was speechless.

  “It won’t have the significance to you your father’s knife held, but it is from me. I give it to you from my heart. I owe you my life, Charlie.”

  I shook my head in wonder. Lucinda looked at me and smiled.

  “I have more gifts and surprises for you, Charlie, but none that come in a box. You are a very lucky man. You have me trapped in this small cabin. Give me a minute.”

  Lucinda rolled off the bed and fetched the bed pan, squatted and peed. The sight of her body hunched over the bed pan, muscles bunched up in her strong thighs caused the breath to catch in my throat. She wiped herself, never taking her eyes from mine. She climbed back on the bunk and hovered over me, balancing on her knees. She dropped her face down onto my neck and began licking and softly biting the skin on my neck. Her fingernails brushed my ribs and chest. For a moment I visualized her doing the same thing to Tiburcio, but then her smell and the sensations she was sending through my body enveloped me. I was again lost inside her, a place I would have stayed forever if I could.

  When I finally did sleep it seemed like the whole ordeal of fighting the Indians, driving the cattle through the mountain pass and exploring previously unknown carnal ecstasies with Lucinda caught up with me. I awoke with no idea what time it was or where I was. I reached over on the bed. Lucinda was gone. I lay there for a moment then pulled on my pants and shirt. Outside, was a narrow hallway that led down to a communal bathroom with running water. The stink that all wooden ships have permeated my nostrils and I wondered why I had not smelled it before. It was exceedingly dim in the hallway but I could see one of the younger sailors leaning against the bulkhead, waiting. Lucinda stepped out of the lavatory. She started to move past the sailor. He put his hand on her shoulder and murmured something in her ear. I felt for the knife on my belt and started down the hallway. Suddenly, a hand came up from behind the sailor and grasped his hair. The sailor’s torso flew back then jerked forward. His head violently collided with a low bulk head.

  A deep Irish brogue filled the cabin.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice, laddy, if Mr. Horn could enjoy the cruise with his young wife without interference? He would probably put that knife he’s holding back into its sheath rather than in your gullet where it belongs,” the gruff voice said. I looked past the addled sailor to see a man as wide as the corridor. He had hands the size of hams and forearms bigger than my calves. His voice was deep and scratchy.

  The thick hand released it’s hold on the hair and the sailor collapsed on the floor. A moment later he sat up, scrambled to his feet and moved off down the hallway. Lucinda slid past me, and to my surprise silently slipped back into our room.

  “How do you know my name?” I asked.

  “If you aren’t Collander Horn’s son, you sure ought to be. Ya look just like him,” he said.

  “You knew my father? Where is he?”

  “I shipped with your father on many a voyage. We sailed on the clipper ship that still holds the record from Vera Cruz to Monterey. Sadly, your father died of the sickness in Panama, while bringing pilgrims to the gold fields in Sacramento. If you be Charlie, he had your name on his lips when he died. It’s good to meet you, son,” the burly old man said and stuck out a huge hand that I shook.

  “I had better
get back up on deck and continue my watch. I’ll see you tomorrow. I have your father’s watch and three Spanish gold pieces he said represented your mother, you and him. I’ll give those to you when I see you in the morning.”

  Back in the cabin, I found Lucinda demurely sitting on the bunk. When she saw my face, her eyes widened.

  “What is the matter, Charlie? I swear to you I only said hello to that ruffian. I simple exchanged pleasantries on deck. I had no idea he was going to follow me.”

  I took a seat on the single chair in the room.

  “Charlie, what is it? You look like you have seen a ghost.”

  I studied Lucinda in the lamplight. Her bright, shining eyes seemed to inflate my chest.

  “The big sailor told me my father was dead. I have lived in hope he would return for so long it is a shock to know the truth.”

  “At least you know for sure. I am sorry.”

  “I had always hoped he might come back,” I said.

  She smiled at me and slipped out of her dress. Her words were mocking, but her tone was as soft and sweet as I had ever heard.

  “Come here, my little savior, and I will hold you close and make all of your sadness go away. I will keep you inside of me and rock you like the ocean rocks the ship till we reach Monterey.”

  For the rest of the voyage down the coast Lucinda fulfilled her promise. Her way of raising up and looking at whatever I was doing, then giving me a slow, approving smile has stayed with me ever after.

  Scent of Tears