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

by A. H. Rousseau

  “Is that a... crossbow?” asked Cassidy.

  “Yes!” said Jane, pulling out a small crossbow from the cabinet. “I use it to hunt.”

  “Do you... actually kill things?” asked Cassidy.

  “No. My Dad won't let me use real arrows. But I can hit these from across the yard! I want to go to Africa to actually hunt them.” Jane spoke as she pulled out some large, wooden toy animals of elephants and rhinos and walked to the other side of the yard.

  “Training to be a great hunter, I see.”

  “Yes. Watch!” she placed the animals in a row on the table and then ran back behind the bush, a distance of about fifty feet. She grabbed her small crossbow and loaded a bolt with no point into it. She cocked it back. She lifted up her dress, allowing her to kneel down on one knee. Cassidy knelt beside her. She held the crossbow up, aimed with her eye, and fired, knocking the elephant cleanly off of the table. She reloaded, aimed, and knocked the rhino down as well. She then repeated the feat for the hippo and antelope, never missing a shot.

  “I can do it again!”

  Cassidy smiled, laughed, and patted Jane on the shoulder. “No, no. I'm already impressed! Very impressed!”

  “Can you shoot well?”

  “I like to think that I can.”

  “Can I see your gun?”

  “Of course.” Cassidy pulled her St. Claire revolver from her thigh holster. She then popped open both cylinders and dropped the bullets out.

  “Awwww. I want the bullets in it.”

  “Oh, no. Not a chance. I'm not going to have you accidentally shoot yourself.” Cassidy pocketed the bullets and handed the gun to the girl, whose arms dropped under the weight of the gun until she adjusted.

  “Wow. It's really heavy. You must be strong.”

  “I'm pretty strong.”

  “Do you think that I'll be as strong as you?”

  Cassidy paused and smiled. “I think you're going to be stronger.”

  “Yeah?!”

  “Yep. I couldn't shoot like that at your age. Not even close.”

  “I practice every day. My momma doesn't know, so I sometimes do it in the morning. How often do you practice?”

  “I don't practice much anymore. I find myself in enough situations where I have to shoot as it is. I don't like shooting in my off hours.”

  Jane's eyes widened with excitement as she clutched Cassidy's gun. “Like what?!”

  Cassidy laughed and pointed at Jane. “Don't get too excited. It's not good to shoot at people!”

  “I know, but... tell me!”

  “Well just recently I had to stop some men from robbing a train of mine.”

  “You own trains, too! Can I come see them! Please!”

  “That is something your parents must decide. Your father does a lot of work for my company, though. You should ask him to bring you to the rail yard. He'll show you my trains.”

  Jane got fidgety. “Awww. I have to go to this stupid meeting for two days.”

  “Well then, in three days, he can take you.”

  “Will I see you there?”

  Maria's voice came from the house. “Jane! Come along, Jane! We need to leave quickly!”

  “Coming!” yelled Jane.

  Cassidy turned her attention back to Jane. “No. I'll be long gone. I'm going to New Orleans.”

  Jane reached out and grabbed Cassidy's hand to walk together. “Will I get to see you again soon?” she asked as they walked out toward the house.

  “I would like that,” said Cassidy smiling.

  Jane then lowered her voice as they walked. “I want to be like you when I grow up. Do you think I can be like you?”

  Cassidy leaned down a bit and spoke quietly. “Keep practicing. Never, ever, give up. I am not my trains or my guns. I am my spirit. Let yours be your guide.”

  They reached the door and stood in front of Maria, looking magnificent in her dress. “Something tells me that,” she said, pointing to Cassidy's gun in Jane's hands, “is not yours.”

  “Oh, yeah. She let me hold it. She took the bullets out first, though.” Jane handed the gun back to Cassidy who holstered it.

  “Thank you for entertaining her,” Maria said to Cassidy.

  “It was my pleasure. Really. You have a wonderful, wonderful daughter. I think you should be very proud.”

  “Thank you, truly.” Maria looked down to Jane. “Alright Jane, go get your bags.”

  “Yes, Mama.” She looked up at Cassidy. “Don't leave while I'm upstairs, ok?”

  “Not a chance” replied Cassidy.

  Maria sighed. “I'm sorry to be all hustle and bustle with you here.”

  “Oh,” Cassidy waved off the concern. “No worries, please. Where are you going?”

  “To a social meeting up in San Francisco. Los Angeles is a quickly growing city, afterall, and we want to discuss ways to have it grow rightly. Businesses and politicians will be there. It is perhaps a mild condemnation of the city that everyone agreed to have it in another city, but c'est la vie.”

  “Really? All of my operations are in San Francisco. If you would find it agreeable, I would like you to be my guest at my mansion. The gate is always open, rooms are always ready, and my maid cum mother, Marjorie, would love to have you. When I and my merry men aren't there, it can seem empty.”

  “Seriously? Her name is Marjorie.”

  Cassidy smiled. “Yeah.”

  “Good lord,” replied Maria. “Well... yes. I would be honored to accept your invitation. Thank you.”

  “I will send a telegram up to my house after I leave to let them know to expect you. I hope you like gaining weight. Margie will make damn sure that you do.”

  “Oh goodie.”

  The man poked his head in the kitchen from the front parlor. “Darling, the carriage just pulled up.”

  “Thank you, John,” replied Maria. “I better get my luggage out there.”

  “Here. Let me help,” said Cassidy.

  “Thank you, again,” Maria said with a smile. They walked into the parlor where John was picking up two bags and walking out the doorway into the hallway, and then outside. “It's all going out there, so grab whatever,” Maria said, motioning to a stack of bags and cases. Maria picked up two small bags, and Cassidy reached down to pick up a large travel chest. “Oh, be care—” Maria began. Cassidy lifted the heavy crate with relative ease and adjusted the weight against her abdomen. “... Nevermind.”

  Cassidy carried the chest over to the back of the carriage. “Do you want help with that, miss?” asked the driver.

  “No. I've got it,” she replied, placing the chest on the back and strapping it down in a quick, elegant motion. Jane then came running out with her small bags and handed them to the driver, who placed them on the roof. Everyone worked together to load the last bits of luggage onto the carriage. Marjorie than walked out in her travel clothing, ready to go, and stood at the top of the steps on the porch. Cassidy walked up and stood next to her.

  “Excited to go on the trip?” Cassidy asked.

  “Oh yes. Very. I can't wait to go meander around San Francisco while Maria tries to manipulate a pack of imbeciles into spending money on Los Angeles.”

  “Quite ambitious of her.”

  “Oh, Maria is not lacking in ambition. I just wish she would put that ambition toward something better.”

  “Well, it's odd, since I very much agree with you, but perhaps just to play, um, advocātus diabolī, she has a point in reaching for what can be achieved.”

  “Oh no. She's right. But just because she's right now doesn't mean that she should or will be right in the future. I love Maria, and I do like my life, I do. But I want something bigger for Jane. Maria only wants what she has, because she thinks that's all there is. She thinks that all Jane can hope for is a family, a house, and nice clothing. I lived that. I did that. I spent thirty years with a man I hated for that. Luckily, he liked butter a bit too much and died awhile ago. Fat bastard. But Maria doesn't know that, and I d
on't want that for Jane. No, she can't vote, but maybe she'll be one of the people who changes that. I've spent too much of my life being practical. That's it! That right there. That's the difference that Maria just doesn't see. There is living in a dream, and living for a dream. I want to live for a dream.”

  “I wish more people from the older generation felt as you do. They seem to get in the way a lot.”

  “Oh, we very much do. We're like oil in a machine. We start off doing well, but eventually, we get all gunky and stop things from spinning.” She leaned toward Cassidy. “Don't worry, honey. We'll all be dead soon.” Cassidy smiled and put her hand on Marjorie's shoulder, giving a light, friendly shake.

  “Ok, mother, we're all ready,” Maria called from next to the carriage.

  “Coming,” Marjorie said, and she started to walk down the steps. Cassidy followed. Down by the carriage, Jane hopped over to Cassidy.

  “Don't forget me, ok?” pleaded Jane.

  “I couldn't even if I tried,” replied Cassidy.

  “Because you like me, right?”

  “If I was to ever have a daughter, I'd want her to be just like you,” Cassidy said with a warm smile.

  “Alright you little rat,” John said, picking up Jane and nuzzling her in the neck, causing her to giggle. He then put her down. “Now get in that carriage.” Jane obeyed and hopped in, aided by Maria, who got in right after her. John then gave Marjorie a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Have fun, mom.”

  Marjorie grumbled. “Right.” She turned to Cassidy. “Cassidy, it was lovely meeting you. I truly hope to see you again.”

  “Same,” replied Cassidy. Marjorie then got into the carriage. The driver closed the door and climbed up to the driver's seat. Jane's head popped out of the the window as it started to roll away, waving back at Cassidy and John.

  “If your daughter decides that she wants to become a cowboy or something tomorrow, I apologize,” said Cassidy.

  “Oh, no worries on my part,” replied John. “She's a shrewd little thing. She'd probably corner the cattle market.”

  “The world's cutest little robber baron.”

  “She showed you her little hunting collection?”

  “Oh yes, she is an impressive shot, to be sure.”

  “I know that it irritates my wife, but I love teaching her those things. It started because I always dreamed of having a son. In retrospect, that's kind of pathetic, don't you think? Every man dreams of having a son. There's something very selfish about it. Still, I wanted a son.”

  “Why don't you have a son?”

  John stared down the road as the carriage rolled into the distance. “... We can't.”

  Cassidy's gaze fell from John's face in realization as to what he meant. She then turned and looked out toward the carriage again.

  “And besides, what would another boy in the world be worth? I feel that I will never leave something of importance behind. But leaving a woman like her is a legacy I think.”

  “Yeah, well, the world can be pretty scared of women like that.”

  “I'm not scared of you,” he said, looking directly into her eyes. Cassidy made brief eye contact before looking away, then looking back when she realized he wasn't looking away. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, and there was a flash of disbelief in Cassidy's eyes. John replied with a faint smile. Simultaneously, they both then walked inside.

  ---

  Cassidy walked back into Gideon's room. He was sitting on his bed, his leg still elevated, reading a book.

  “What are you reading?” she asked.

  “Oh, hi. Just some potboiler that the nurse gave me. It's no Shakespeare, but it helps to pass the time.”

  “Did you have fun wandering around? You were gone for some time.”

  “Oh yes. Loads.”

  “Find anything good?”

  “I... found some very attractive landscapes.”

  Gideon tilted his head with a suspicious look as he stared at Cassidy. “Did you knock boots with someone?!”

  Cassidy looked at him with annoyed disbelief. “Good god, man! What are you, some kind of mind-reader?!”

  “I ask you if you found anything good and you respond with a cryptic statement like you found attractive landscapes. You're not a painter.”

  Cassidy thought on it for a moment, her eyes looking away. “Well... yes. I did. Don't go yelling it out, though. People already think I'm crazy. I don't want them thinking that I'm a whore, too.”

  “Why? You don't seem to much worry about what others think of you.”

  “Well I do!” she said loudly, giving Gideon an angry glare. “Everyone does sometimes,” she said more quietly.

  Gideon looked away. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

  Cassidy grit her teeth in frustration. “No... no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bitten your head off. Just, keep it quiet, alright?”

  The little nurse walked in, somewhat surprised to find Cassidy. “Oh. Good afternoon. How are you feeling?”

  “Rather good, in fact. I'm still aching, but it isn't too bad,” replied Cassidy.

  “And your hearing?”

  “Acute enough to hear you, so acceptable, I think.”

  “That's very good,” the nurse said with a smile. “I came in here to tell Mr. Atwater that the doctors decided that...” she looked behind her in the hallway. “I will let the doctor tell you.”

  From behind the nurse, in walked the British doctor, clad in a simple shirt, slacks and suspenders with a stethoscope around his neck. “Hi, Mr. Atwater. Nothing too big, I just wanted to tell you that you've healed up marvelously. If you want, you can leave today. I would prefer if you stayed a few more days, but I suspect that you'll be fine.”

  Gideon and Cassidy glanced at each other and Cassidy shrugged. “Uh, no. Leaving today would be very good. It makes tomorrow's schedule all the easier,” said Gideon.

  “Ok then. We just have a few papers for you to sign, and then you're fine to leave.”

  Gideon smiled and glanced at Cassidy. “Great! Just hand me a pen!”

  –-

  Cassidy and Gideon walked toward the train car, still parked on a track away from the main line. Gideon was limping and using a simple cane. “Do you need to use the toilet? asked Cassidy.

  “No. I went just before leaving. I'll be fine for hours.”

  “I never thought that train car would ever look like home,” said Cassidy.

  “I don't even care what kind of food we get. It will be better than what I ate in that hospital. Those sisters may be good at caring for people, but good lord, they cannot cook.”

  “Oh, that's on purpose,” said Cassidy.

  “What? How so?”

  “Well if you're sick, you probably have a devil or something in you. You've got to get it out with penance in the form of awful food.”

  Gideon furrowed his brow in thought. “I know that's not true, but you're saying it in such a flat tone that it sounds like you're honestly saying it.”

  “Did you hear that doctor? He was practically a preacher.”

  “He was just trying to help us. Leave him be.”

  “Ennnh. I don't trust him. Those bastard Brits. They're still upset about losing the war. I know it.”

  They stepped up to her train car and Cassidy gave Gideon a hand in getting onto the first step with his good leg. With a push against her shoulder, he heaved himself up. She then hopped up behind him and opened the door.

  Walking in, the cabin was illuminated with stark squares of sunlight, glowing outward into the whole of the room. Gideon stopped in his tracks as he walked past the wash room and stared. Cassidy stopped behind him, bumping into his back.

  “What's wrong?” she asked. After he didn't answer, she looked over his shoulder. Her jaw dropped.

  Lying on the couch, facing them, covered in bandages and bruises, with his right arm in a sling, was Jebediah, looking at them.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  4

  “Wh
at the hell is this?” demanded Cassidy.

  “I was hoping that you would be happier to see me.”

  “Happy? Yes, I'm happy! But I don't care about that at the moment!” Cassidy's voice continued to rise.

  Jebediah nodded and collected his thoughts. “I can understand that you are confused.”

  “You're damn straight I'm confused! I chased two carriages through the streets of Los Angeles dressed like a tattered old whore trying to get you back! I knew it!” she gestured adamantly to Gideon. “I knew it! It was all the damned State Department!”

  “Please. Please. Sit. Try to calm down. I'm not in a good way right now. I don't want to get excited.”

  “You're worried about getting excited?! I'm the one you should worry about!” Cassidy yelled, starting to pace.

  “For Pete's sake Cassidy. Do you just want to storm around the car or would you like to actually hear me speak?”

  “Mr Secretary, with all due respect, I don't feel like this is a time to be calm,” added Gideon, walking slowly into the sitting area. “This is like meeting a ghost.”

  Jebediah looked at the pacing Cassidy, waiting. “Alright,” Cassidy said, tossing her hand in the air. “Explain yourself.”

  Jebediah breathed in deeply. “Understandably, I remember nothing of the explosion. My last memory is of realizing that you were in the restaurant. My next memory is of waking up yesterday in a special care institute maintained by the Department.”

  “Yes, but why? You were already in a hospital. Why go to another one? And why keep it secret and scare the crap out of us?!” Cassidy yelled. “We could have left! We could have—”

  “It was necessary! I promise you!” Jebediah said emphatically. “It was necessary. Remember how I said that we were good at keeping things secret, but not discovering theirs? Well, keeping things secret requires keeping them secret.”

  Cassidy stared back. Still angry and unmoved. “Well? What do you know?” she asked.

  “I can tell you what I was told. Both the maître d’ and Gregory the guard remember nothing.”

  “They're alive?! God dammit! We were told no one else survived!” Cassidy yelled, freshly agitated. “Next you're going to tell us that the bomb didn't actually go off!”