Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III

by A. H. Rousseau

  “There is something to be said for doing it of your own, free will,” added Professor Jacobson.

  “Perhaps, but as with many things, it's best not to dwell on that. Come along, you two. I'll show you around.” The three of them walked away, out into the main promenade, leaving Professor Jacobson looking grumpy at his table.

  ---

  Cassidy gasped awake, caked in sweat. She was breathing heavily as she pressed her face into her hands. She sat up, and placed her feet on the floor. Her hospital room was illuminated only by the crescent moon and stars and the faint, comforting glow of gas lamps out in the hallway. She got up and walked over to her sink, giving her face a washing with cool water. She raised her face up, dripping with water, and stared at herself in the mirror. She reached up and touched at the small scabs and scrapes that covered her face before dropping her hand again down to the sink and splashing more water on her face. Back to the mirror, she stared and stared, unblinking, into her own eyes.

  Cassidy choked out a quiet sob as her face began to distort with a an irresistible frown. Tears were lost in the water on her face. She closed her eyes and dropped her head.

  “Damnit... goddamnit,” she quietly cried to herself.

  “Miss?” a little voice called from the doorway. Cassidy immediately collected herself and turned.

  “Yes?” Cassidy responded. The nurse was tiny, not even five feet tall. Cassidy couldn't tell if she was small or just twelve.

  “Are you alright, miss?”

  “Yes. I'm fine. Just had a nightmare and am giving myself a little refresh in the sink.”

  “A nightmare? About what?”

  “Oh, the usual nightmare material. Enemies, chases, people you can't defend.”

  “Oh, I'm terribly sorry, miss. Would you like anything to calm your nerves? Maybe some rum?”

  “No. Thank you, but no. I'll calm down. Just a start, that's all.”

  The nurse nodded. “I only ever have nightmares about tigers,” she said.

  “Tigers?” Cassidy smiled. “Have you ever seen a tiger.”

  “Of course I haven't. But I've read about them. And they are scary.”

  “Have you ever heard about ligers?”

  “Oh lord, what's that?”

  “It's when a lion and a tiger have a baby.”

  “Whaaaat?” the nurse replied, shocked.

  “Yep. They're even bigger than tigers. A thousand pounds even.”

  “You're joking. You're just pulling my leg.”

  “No. I'm serious,” Cassidy said with a smile, wiping the last of the water off with a towel. “They can also make a tigon, but I don't know anything about them. Ligers are huge.”

  The little nurse thought for a moment. “Do you know where I can read about them?”

  “I think I read about them in Scientific American, but I'm not sure. I bet you could ask at the library.”

  “No,” the nurse replied in a grumpy tone. “The library here is awful. Nothing good. I've heard that they want to expand it, but first they need to build it, or find another building, or something else that stops them.

  Cassidy nodded. “Politicians are like that. They care little for places like libraries unless it glorifies them.”

  “Are they vicious?” asked the nurse.

  “Libraries? No. Not usually.”

  The little nurse smiled. “Are they man-eaters?”

  “Ha! No. I don't think so. I remember reading that they're usually fat and lazy. That's not to say they aren't dangerous. One thousands pounds of claws can be dangerous even if its playing, but they're far from killing machines.”

  The sound of a bell rang in the background.

  “I'm sorry miss, duty calls,” said the nurse.

  “It always does,” replied Cassidy.

  “If you need anything, please ring your bell. The sun will be up in a few hours and breakfast will be served at eight.”

  “Thank you,” Cassidy said with a nod. The little nurse than hurried away down the hall.

  Cassidy sighed deeply, then sat back down on her bed. She groaned a bit before lying back down onto her pillow. She stared at the ceiling briefly, sighed, then closed her eyes.

  ---

  The little nurse, visibly young in the morning light, walked into Cassidy's room. Cassidy was bathing her face in the sink.

  “Good morning, miss.”

  “Morning,” replied Cassidy.

  “We have a tub down the hall with hot water if you would like to use it.”

  “Really? Hot water? Is it occupied?”

  “Not currently. It's for patients only and this floor is empty except for you and Mr. Atwater.”

  “Then absolutely. I would love it.”

  “Wonderful. I'll draw it for you,” the nurse said with a smile. She departed down the hall.

  Cassidy grabbed a towel and tied her robe tightly before walking out. She walked two doors down the hall and into Gideon's room, who was sitting up in his bed.

  “Ah, you're awake,” Cassidy said.

  “Been awake for awhile. It doesn't hurt a great deal, but does hurt enough to make sleep difficult.”

  “Can you bathe?”

  “Thankfully, yes. They want to wrap the wound in some special cloth first, but after that, I'm fine to get wet.”

  “Good, because you stink.”

  “Do I?” he asked with a look of self-deprecating concern. “I figured I did. Ah well, I have an excuse.”

  “That's the spirit. So, I'm going to bathe first, then I'm going to pick up my clothing and stuff that we left at the tailor. After that, I'm going to head over to the station and see what our schedule looks like tomorrow, assuming of course that they let you out.”

  “Could you get me some of that pain medicine that you stole from The Professor while you're there? I swear, they enjoy me being in pain here.”

  “Can do. I'll see you in a bit,” said Cassidy, giving Gideon a pat on the shoulder. She then got up and walked out into the hallway.

  ---

  Cassidy walked toward the train station. Her old clothes back where they belong: on her. Her gait was still somewhat stiff but far superior to a day earlier. She walked up to the yard manager's office door. The thin, elderly man was standing over his desk reading a handful of papers. She knocked on the door frame.

  “Good morning. Can I help you?”

  “Hi. I own the personal car over,” she moved her finger around in the air, trying to get her bearing. “in that direction.”

  “Ah yes, the St. Claire industries car,” he said, adjusting his small bifocals and putting the papers down on his desk.

  “Yes. When do you suppose a train that can take on another car will come through?”

  “Oh, I'd imagine a few trains like that come in every day. Let me check the schedule for passenger lines.” The old man thumbed through a number of open shelves on his wall, looking for a particular paper. “Ah,” he said, pulling out some stapled papers. He flipped up a few sheets before turning to Cassidy and looking at her over his spectacle lenses.

  “Where are you headed?” he asked.

  “New Orleans,” said Cassidy.

  “Hmmmm... that means you'll want to go at least as far as El Paso... It looks like tomorrow at the earliest. As I said, you can ask around, but it might be more work than its worth.”

  “No, I'll take your word for it. How can I get my car hooked up to it?”

  “It's going to be pretty pricey, miss. It's a luxury line.”

  “Do I look like someone who cares about that?” asked Cassidy.

  “Just pointing it out, miss, I like to be sure. I'll mark you in on the chart. The train comes in at three in the afternoon. Make sure you're here or your car may leave without you.”

  “Oh, I'll be here. Thanks.”

  “My pleasure, miss. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my pile of papers.”

  Cassidy nodded and left his office. She stood in the hallway and placed her hands on her hips
as she thought. She pursed her lips as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the small revolver that Marjorie had given her on the horse trolley, looked at it for a moment, then pocketed it and walked out of the building.

  ---

  Cassidy's rough, injured hand reached up to the brass knocker and gave three quick strikes. After a moment and some audible movement inside the house, a man about Cassidy's age, handsome and well-dressed, answered the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Hi. My name is Cassidy St. Claire, is this where Marjorie Bell lives?”

  “Yes, she's my mother. What's this about?”

  From behind the man, further inside the house, came Marjorie's voice. “I know that voice!” Marjorie came walking around a corner and, seeing Cassidy, smiled a big smile. “Hi Cassidy!”

  Cassidy bowed with a smile. “I'm flattered that you remembered my name.”

  “Flattered? Pah! I'm going to remember the name of a battered and bloodied woman, built like an Olympian, chasing carriages through the streets of the city! You are not an easy character to forget!”

  “This is her?!” asked the young man. “She told us all about it,” he said, turning to Cassidy.

  “Did you catch them?” asked Marjorie.

  “No. No I didn't. I caught the wrong carriages. I don't know where they went.”

  “And your friend?”

  Cassidy held her head down. “I don't know.”

  “I'm sorry, honey. Here. Come in. Sit down. Sit, sit, sit. Have some tea.”

  Cassidy smiled and walked into the kitchen. Large windows filled the arts & crafts style room with light, making the pastel blues and yellows glow with life and comfort. At the table, set in white with fine China on top, was a young woman, feminine, attractive, and about Cassidy's age as well, with a young girl of no more than eight in her lap. The girl stared wide-eyed at Cassidy as she walked in.

  “This is my daughter-in-law, Maria.”

  “Good afternoon, Maria. It's a pleasure to meet you,” said Cassidy.

  “Oh no, the pleasure is all mine. Marjorie's story of you provided for some rip-roaring dinner entertainment yesterday evening!”

  “And this adorable little thing,” Marjorie squeezed the young girl's cheeks as she spoke, “is my grand-daughter, Jane.”

  “Good afternoon, Jane. I'm Cassidy,” Cassidy said, bowing down to the child's face.

  “You're enormous!” ejaculated the girl. Everyone chuckled.

  “Don't just say things like that,” said Maria, slightly chiding the girl.

  “It's the boots,” Cassidy said to the girl. “They make me look tall.” Cassidy turned to Marjorie. “I brought your gun back. I never ended up using it.”

  “Gun? Mother!” the man chided.

  “What? I have a gun. I never promised to get rid of it.”

  “I told you not to carry that around,” he said.

  “And you've never been able to give me a good reason for not carrying it.”

  “Well, first, it's not very ladylike,” said Maria.

  “In her defense,” Cassidy interjected, “the world is not very ladylike.” Jane smiled at this.

  “Thank you, Cassidy,” said Marjorie. Maria shook her head disapprovingly.

  “Cassidy, please, sit,” said the man, pulling out a chair at the table.

  “Oh, yes, thank you,” said Cassidy, sitting.

  “Now, the important thing,” said Marjorie. “How do you feel?”

  “I...” Cassidy paused in thought. “I feel tired.”

  “Was your, uh, your quarry a good friend?” asked the man.

  “In a sense,” Cassidy said. “He wasn't a good friend per se, but he will be... he will be missed.”

  “What will come of him?” asked Marjorie.

  “I don't know,” replied Cassidy.

  “I'm very sorry, dear. I wish I knew more about all this so I could properly give you comfort. But hopefully some good tea will help.”

  “Good tea always helps,” said Cassidy with a smile.

  Marjorie brought over the tea kettle and placed it on a trivet in the middle of the table. “Milk is in this, sugar is in this,” she said, patting a small pitcher and covered bowl.

  “Thank you,” said Cassidy.

  “Did you call the police,” asked Marjorie.

  “Yes,” replied Cassidy. “I also sent telegrams to the various agencies around the state that may be able to help. I don't hold out high hopes.”

  “Nor should you,” said Marjorie. “If you're not wealthy business owner who's had stuff stolen, the police are useless. Why do you think I carry that gun?”

  “Oh. I know that full well. I actually take advantage of that in my business up north.”

  “Oh, what do you do?” asked Maria.

  Cassidy poured a small amount of milk into cup. “I am the owner of St. Claire Industries, up in San Francisco. But we have a metal works down here just outside of the city.”

  “Seriously? You're that St. Claire?” asked the man. Cassidy nodded as she put a small spoonful of sugar into her cup. “The company for whom I work sells a significant amount of hardwood lumber to your company. In fact, it could be said that you paid for this house.”

  “Well it's a beautiful house, so I'm feeling rather good about this investment.”

  “You own a company?” asked Jane.

  “I do. My parents founded it out East then moved to San Francisco when the railroads came. I now run it.”

  “Wow! Do you think that I could run a company?” asked Jane, excited.

  “Of course. It's not hard. It just requires a great deal of time.”

  “It's also something of an unrealistic dream, I think,” said Maria.

  “Maria, don't be such a faultfinder,” said Marjorie.

  “I'm not being a faultfinder, mother, I'm being realistic. It is not the place of a woman to create and run a company.”

  “I'm not going to argue with you on this again. A woman's place is wherever she chooses to make it.”

  “I don't like you putting silly ideas in Jane's head.” Maria turned to Cassidy. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to say that you're silly or anything that you do is silly. It's not, obviously.”

  “Oh, no, I didn't... I didn't take it that way at all,” Cassidy said, sipping her tea somewhat nervously.

  As Maria and Marjorie argued, Jane and Cassidy made eye contact, with Jane smiling at Cassidy. Cassidy returned a sly, mischievous smile as she drank some tea. She looked up to see the man, also smiling at both of them.

  “She is going to be a young woman when the new century arrives. I want her to see it with fresh, strong eyes,” said Marjorie.

  “She will! I keep telling you that she will. I don't want to argue about this right now. We have guests.”

  “Yes, and she is exactly what you think women can't be. I'm sorry to drag you into this Cassidy,” Marjorie said.

  “Cassidy,” said Maria. “You at least agree that the world demands certain things of women, right?”

  “Oh yes. Absolutely.”

  Maria then turned to Marjorie and gestured emphatically with one of her hands. “See. We can't keep giving her dreams, we have to give her reality.”

  “Reality is sitting across from you drinking tea,” said Marjorie.

  “A multimillionaire adventurer barely counts as reality for an eight-year-old girl.”

  “I think that there is nothing that she can't overcome,” said Cassidy, looking at Jane. “I can see it in her eyes.” Jane smiled.

  Maria looked at Cassidy, an expression of both appreciation and irritation, agreement and dissension. “We can't even vote, Cassidy.”

  Cassidy looked back through sad eyes. “No. We can't.”

  “Good lord, what time is it?” said Maria as she looked about the room.

  “Oh, um, just about two,” said the man, checking his pocket watch.

  “Blast it all,” Maria said, getting up. “Jane, you... never mind, you're fine. I'm going to go upstair
s and get ready. Cassidy, I'm very sorry to get you all wrapped up in our family dramatics, and I'm especially sorry for cutting this short. I hope my grumpy behavior won't affect my husband's work with your company.”

  Cassidy laughed. “Oh, no. Not at all. I'm only sorry that I didn't get a chance to talk longer with you.” Cassidy got up to shake Maria's hand, who stared at Cassidy's outstretched hand awkwardly for a moment before taking it. Cassidy gave her a hearty shake. Maria responded with a chuckle and a broad smile that traveled deep into her eyes.

  “Maybe we'll see each other again,” Maria said.

  “I hope so,” replied Cassidy.

  “Ok. I will be down in a few minutes. Mother, could you make sure that Jane's effects are ready?”

  “Of course. Go, go!”

  “Yes, yes,” Maria said, scurrying out of the kitchen.

  “Cassidy?” asked Marjorie. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Jane for a few minutes? I think she would enjoy it.”

  “Uh, yes. Of course,” replied Cassidy.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let's go outside!” yelled Jane. “I can show you my things!”

  “Well alright. Let's go!” Cassidy said, as Jane ran over and took her by the hand. Jane led Cassidy out the kitchen door into a back yard. The garden was beautifully manicured, with bushes and flowers sprouting in the warm spring air. A concrete walkway extended from the house with a wrought iron table and chair set with a frilly umbrella providing seating. A brick walkway ran from the concrete in a winding path deep into the garden, around mounds of soil and plants. Jane led Cassidy down the path to a large, intricate, mini-house.

  “This is my house. It's fun, but I really only play in it because Mama likes to see me play in it. Do you want to see my real toys?”

  “Of course I do,” replied Cassidy, who looked up to see the man standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame, watching with a smile.

  Jane led Cassidy off the path behind a large, robust bush. Hidden up against the wooden fence was a large, beaten-up cabinet. Jane opened the cabinet, revealing a collection of weapons, toy animals, and a pith helmet with what appeared to be crude, tribal designs drawn in pencil.