Calico Palace (12 page)

Ning shouted, “Catch up!”

This was the signal on the Western trails. It meant they were starting to move. Ning rode ahead to lead the line, and the others fell into place: first Ted’s wagon, then the two wagons driven by the Blackbeards, one behind the other. After the wagons came the packhorses and the spares, linked by long braids of leather and guarded by Pocket and Hiram. Kendra, Marny, and Delbert had been told to ride alongside the train in any order they pleased.

Kendra looked around. Delbert was riding near the first wagon. He rode calmly, saying nothing, lost in his thoughts—if he had any, which she was beginning to doubt. Marny, near the line of horses, was watching with interest the way Pocket and Hiram were managing them. Kendra wondered if she would get to know Marny on this journey. She hoped so, though she could not think how to open a conversation. She could not go up to Marny and say, “I’ve never met anybody like you and I’m dying of curiosity.”

Well, there must be a way. Ning had said they would be about two weeks on the road. Anything might happen.

The ride was pleasant that morning. Once past the fog-ridden hills of San Francisco they came into a land of sun and grass and April flowers, and trees lively with birds. To her left Kendra could see the bay streaked pink and silver by the sun, to her right the hills that divided the bay from the sea. On the hills she saw herds of grazing cattle, and little houses of plank or adobe where the ranchers lived. Sometimes she saw a man on horseback, or a woman carrying water, or a child who waved as they rode by.

Once she caught sight of a dozen Abs, staring from beyond a line of bushes. They were ugly creatures, a dark grayish brown, their hair sticking out in all directions from their heads, their little beetle eyes batting greedily as they looked at the horses, which they would have liked to eat. They wore tatters of cloth and strings of beads, but not much of either, and they were so dirty that Kendra could smell them as she rode by. Ted had told her that except for stealing anything they could carry, the Abs were harmless unless some fool let them have liquor, but she was glad when the train had left them behind.

These first days were going to be easy. Ning had said they would rest early and often, to keep the horses fresh for the hard pulls ahead. The army couriers made forty miles a day, but those men rode horseback with no burdens but a few clothes in their saddlebags. With wagons, said Ning, twenty miles was enough. And Kendra’s meals would be no problem, for she had brought baked ham and beef and other foods ready to eat, enough to let her ease gently into the ways of cooking outdoors.

There was only one detail that worried her, but worry her it did. She liked roughing it this way. But she
was
a civilized person, and there were certain private necessities that ought to be
private.
On a journey such as this, what did you do? Just slip behind a bush and hope nobody would pass?

Well, she would soon find out. Ning kept his word about an early rest, for it was still long before noon when they came to a stream lined with willows and he called that they would stop here. He had divided the party into two messes. Kendra would prepare the meals for Ning and Ted, Pocket and Hiram, while Marny’s group would be responsible for their own. Kendra dismounted, Hiram took charge of her mare, and she went to the wagon for the coffee pot. Ted, unhitching the team, called to say he would gather wood for the fire. When he had put the horses in Hiram’s care he started off to look for sticks.

Kendra climbed into the wagon, took the coffee pot from the corner where she had carefully put it this morning, and came to the front to climb out. To her surprise she saw Marny, standing by a front wheel as if waiting for her. Marny had taken off her bonnet, and in the sun her hair was like a crown and the freckles almost danced on her nose.

“Won’t you share my bathroom?” asked Marny.

M
ARNEY’S VOICE WAS DEMURE
, but about her lips and her green eyes there were mischievous flickers that added plainly, “We’re in this together, let’s manage together.”

A hundred thoughts rushed into Kendra’s head. She had never spoken to—or been addressed by—a woman of easy morals. The nearest she had ever come to it was that day in the store, when she had watched Marny manipulating her cards, and she did not know if Marny had noticed her then or not. She did know that if Eva had been in her place now Eva would have given Marny a cold gaze, replying, “No, thank you,” and would have gone back into the wagon and stayed there until Marny had taken her impudent presence somewhere else.

But as she thought of this, Kendra wanted to laugh. For of course, Eva would not have been here at all. Eva would not have consented to be part of a group that included such people as Marny and her friends.

—And I, thought Kendra, am not Eva. I’m me.

She said, “Thank you, I’d like very much to share it. But what do you mean by a bathroom?”

Marny pointed with her crop. Looking around, Kendra saw a clump of bushes around which the Blackbeards were draping a piece of cloth like a long sheet. On the sheet was painted in big black letters, “Ladies Only.”

“I have all the needed utensils,” said Marny, “including a washbasin. Just bring your own towel.”

As fast as she could, Kendra took a towel from the wagon pack and scrambled down. “What a good idea!” she exclaimed. “Who thought of it?”

“Me,” said Marny. She said it with a little smile of amusement, as if to add,—Who do you think has the ideas around here?

As they started toward the clump of bushes, behind them they heard the men laughing. Marny said calmly, “They’ll get used to it.”

When they reached the bushes Kendra saw that the two ends of the sheet had been sewn around two stakes, and now these were stuck into the ground behind the clump, providing an entrance to the “bathroom” and privacy on all sides. Marny gestured with a slim freckled hand.

“You go in first. You’re my guest.”

This was a strange way to have an introduction, but an introduction it was. Kendra went into the bathroom, and when she came out she said, “I do thank you!” Marny smiled and answered, “You’re welcome, see you later,” and they were friends.

Kendra spread out her towel to dry. She started the fire, brought water from the creek, and tied the coffee beans in a cloth so she could grind them between two stones as Ning had taught her. While the coffee was brewing she took out the “eating pans,” stout pans with wooden handles, easily held by men sitting on the ground. When she had filled the pans with beef and ship’s bread and olives and dried figs, she called that dinner was ready.

While she was working she had noticed that Delbert was not as useless as she had thought. He and Pocket were guarding the camp. On opposite sides, they walked up and down, speaking to nobody, holding their guns ready. When Ning had finished his dinner he took Pocket’s place, and one of the Blackbeards relieved Delbert. Ning told the others to stretch out and rest.

An hour later they began the afternoon ride. When they stopped for the night, again the Blackbeards put up the sign around more bushes, again Kendra and Marny shared the bathroom. Lulu and Lolo went in after them. As the girls passed they both politely said, “How do you do,” and Lolo added to Marny, “We’ve started the fire.”

“They speak good English,” Kendra said to Marny.

“Oh yes,” said Marny. “They went to a mission school. Not that it did them much good, I’m glad to say.”

Kendra saw Ning bringing an armful of sticks. “I’d better go now,” she said, “and get my own fire started.”

“You’re better than I am,” Marny said with a smile. “I’m tired and I’m going to rest. But you’re going to cook.”

Kendra said she did not mind, though in fact she was tired too. Her riding masters had made her a good horsewoman and the hills of San Francisco had made her a better one, but she was not used to riding all day long. She could not help feeling envious as she scorched her face over the frying pan and saw Marny sitting under a tree with Delbert, sipping wine and playing a card game while Lulu and Lolo cooked supper for them.

But just then Ted, on guard duty, walked past her fire and took the chance to say softly, “Sweetheart, you’re great.” A moment later the other men of their mess came hungrily to the fire. Kendra filled their eating pans with ham and applesauce and hot fried potatoes. Hiram grinned and said, “This is better food than I’m used to,” and Pocket said, “It sure is good, ma’am,” and Ning said, “I told you she was gonta be handy,” and Kendra thought she would not have changed places with anybody else on earth.

That night, on her bedroll in the wagon, she slept as if a black curtain had fallen over her. In the morning she was awakened by Ted’s putting a kiss on the tip of her ear, and she said to herself, “Oh, I’m happy, happy, happy! I’m married to the most delightful man in the world and I’m on my way to a mountain full of gold.”

When they mounted their horses, she and Marny rode side by side. Marny was easy to talk to. “Did you see me in the store,” Kendra asked, “when you came in that first day?”

“Oh yes. I liked having you there. You looked so fascinated.”

“I
was
fascinated. I’d never seen anybody handle cards like that.”

“I like cards,” Marny said simply.

“I don’t know much about them,” Kendra said, a little shyly. “Oh, I know games like whist—parlor games—but not—” She hesitated.

Marny smiled. “But not games like faro and twenty-one? You can watch us at Shiny Gulch when we set up our tent.”

“What sort of tent are you bringing?”

“Just a shelter, but I want it bright. I’m bringing some red calico to drape around, and lots of candles. And I’ll have a sign. But first I must think of a name. Golden Bar—we’ll have a bar, naturally—only that isn’t quite right.”

A tent in the wilderness, Kendra thought, a tent with many lights and bright calico hangings—men would have fun there, whether they played cards or not. Marny would see to this. Marny had a talent like Eva’s for taking a shack and some calico—Kendra said, “Calico Palace.”

Marny burst into laughter like a happy child. “Calico Palace! That’s it! Thank you! I’ll tell Delbert.”

Kendra glanced at Delbert, serene in his solitude. “Why does Delbert keep to himself?” she asked.

Marny answered with a merry green sparkle. “Delbert doesn’t like the human race.”

“Not anybody? Why not?”

Marny laughed. She had a soft, silken laugh. “Darling, he decided long ago that people were pests.”

“But he likes you,” said Kendra.

“He doesn’t really like me,” Marny returned good-humoredly. “He just thinks I’m less objectionable than most.”

Kendra wanted to ask, “Why do you like him?”—but she did not feel she knew Marny well enough. Instead she inquired, “Is Delbert his first name or his last? I mean, like John Delbert or Delbert Smith?”

“Just Delbert. He writes ‘John Delbert’ when he’s required to give a full name, like on the Hawaiian passport, but otherwise he’s just Delbert. I don’t know why—I suppose he thought it was an elegant way to name himself.”

“Name himself? But what’s his right name?”

“Oh dear, I don’t know. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’d forgotten it himself by now.”

Kendra was so startled that she could not think of anything to say. Marny and Delbert had shared a wagon last night, and yet she did not even know his right name. Kendra wondered how it felt to be so frivolous. She wondered if Marny really thought, as Ted had suggested, that the affair of the
Cynthia
had been a trivial incident. Kendra could not imagine how anybody could think going to bed with a man was trivial, but Ted usually knew what he was talking about.

But however Marny regarded it, to Captain Pollock the incident had not been trivial. Pollock thought Marny had insulted his ship.

—Oh, moonshine, thought Kendra. Still, he’s in love with that ship. In love, the way any other man would be in love with a woman. But what can he do to Marny? Nothing. All the same—maybe I’m as silly as he is but all the same—I’ll feel better when he’s on his way back to New York.

That evening they made camp at the southern tip of the bay. In the morning, their third day out, they turned north. The country was wild and green and nearly empty. Here and there an Ab peered from behind a tree, or a group of Mexican horsemen went by on some errand of their own. Nobody else. They saw cattle grazing, and in the distance deer and elk, running away as the wagons rumbled by. Ning warned Kendra and Marny to ride close to the train, and be careful. Here east of the bay they might meet wandering no-goods—runaway sailors, deserters from the army, all sorts of men who found it advisable to keep away from the law.

Kendra was realizing, better than ever, how wisely Ning had chosen his company. Hiram and Pocket did their work well, Delbert continued an excellent guard by day or night. Delbert might not think highly of his fellowmen but he did value the coins he and Marny had packed as capital for their gambling venture, and he had no intention of letting any outlaws get near. While they were washing in the bathroom at noon Marny told Kendra that Delbert used to play cards on the Mississippi River boats. “In that trade,” said Marny, “a man has to be quick on the draw if he wants to survive.”

“Was he playing on the river boats when you met him?” Kendra asked.

“No, I met him on the way to Honolulu. He boarded the ship at Valparaiso. Delbert likes to roam.”

Marny buckled the belt of her riding dress. Kendra observed that Marny carried a little firearm of her own, in a pocket on this belt. “May I look at that?” asked Kendra, who had never handled a gun in her life.

Marny held out the gun and explained how it worked. It was a tiny Colt revolving pistol, a .28 caliber six-shooter, with a barrel only two and a half inches long. “Isn’t it a dear?” said Marny.

“Is it loaded?” Kendra asked with awe.

“Of course. What would it be good for if it wasn’t?”

As Kendra gave back the gun, rather fearfully, Marny fondled it, smiling.

“This was a present,” she said, “from the man who ran the best gambling parlor in New York. A Frenchman from New Orleans, named Norman Lamont. I used to be one of his dealers. When I decided to move to Honolulu I wanted him to come too, but he wouldn’t. He wanted to go back home. He said New Orleans was the best gambling town in the country.”