Calico Palace (25 page)

After a long pause she said slowly, clearly, “Yes, I believe I would.”

Ted gave a start of puzzled astonishment. “Then,” he exclaimed, “why are you so blistery mad with me now?”

“Because you didn’t give me a chance to choose,” she returned. “You didn’t tell me the truth. You haven’t any—” She remembered the word Marny had teasingly told her to use, and she said, “You haven’t any guts.”

Still puzzled, Ted shook his head. Kendra went on.

“If you had told me the truth—I was so in love with you, I wanted you so much, I think I would have said, ‘Yes, I’ll do it. It’s nobody’s business but my own. It’s wrong and maybe I’m wrecking my life but this is what I want to do.’”

She drew a short hard breath.

“But you didn’t tell me. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, but you didn’t love me enough to let me make up my own mind. Do you understand?”

To the end of her life Kendra never knew whether Ted understood this or not. He could not answer. As she talked, her anger had risen. Now she spoke sharply, full of scorn.

“You’re a halfway person. That’s what I can’t stand. A coat with one sleeve, a house without a roof, a bridge that stops in the middle of a river—who wants those? Things are no good unless they’re
done.
”

“What makes you so merciless?” he begged. “Kendra, I was in love with you! I tried to tell you—”

“You did not try. And whatever you call trying, now you can stop it. I’m not married to you and I’m through with you. If you think I’m going to sleep with you tonight in the wagon or anywhere else you’re wrong. I don’t have to and I won’t.”

“You don’t have to,” he said with a tired sigh. “What do you want me to do?”

“Leave me alone!” she cried. “Stop explaining. Stop talking. Just leave me alone!”

“All right,” said Ted.

He turned and walked into the shadows among the trees. She heard his footsteps crunching on the ground.

That had been last night.

Now she had to face today. Now she sat here under the tree, hearing the birds and squirrels, feeling the heat even here in the shade, wondering what she was going to do next.

It seemed to her that there was only one thing she could possibly do. Go back to San Francisco. Tell Alex and Eva what a blunder she had made and ask them to take her in again.

—Oh God, she thought, how I dread that! But where else can I go?

—Face one problem at a time, she told herself. The first problem was how to get to San Francisco. She would have to endure one more talk with Ted, to arrange this. One more talk, then they would say goodby.

“Oh, Ted!” she said, and her voice broke with a little sob. It was the first time today she had spoken aloud. As she heard her own words, it seemed to her that she had two separate hurts. One was what she had learned about Ted, the other was memory of the joy she had had with him. One emotion was as real as the other, and they were there side by side, doing battle within her. She hated Ted for what he had done to her, but she had loved him, and she was finding out that love did not go when it ought to go.

Suddenly she realized that the air was pungent with the odors of coffee and bacon and roasting beef. The day had reached noon, and men in camp were cooking their midday meal. With a twinge of surprise Kendra recalled that she had eaten nothing since that Sunday dinner of dried peas and pork and potatoes—had that been only yesterday?

Last night she had not wanted food, but now she was hungry. She stood up and walked out of the grove, down the open strip. In the gulch a few men were still working, but most of the miners were gathered around fires with their pots and pans. As she came nearer, several lifted their hands in greeting. Kendra waved back. It was cheering to know she had friends, no matter how casual they were.

At their own cook-fire Hiram was doing the work. He had strung chunks of beef on a long peeled stick, and set this over the fire, the ends resting on stones at either side of the trench. Now and then he turned the stick so the meat would be broiled on all sides. On the crisscrossed sticks, the coffee pot was steaming.

Catching sight of her, Hiram ran forward. “Howdy!” he said heartily as he reached her. “Had anything to eat yet?”

—Oh thank God, she thought, he’s not starting right off to talk about Ted. She answered, “Not yet, and I’m starved.”

“Beef isn’t ready,” said Hiram, “but the coffee is. Come on and have a cup.”

They went to the fire. Kendra sat on the ground and he poured coffee into her tin cup. Her spirits rose as she sipped it. What a joy, the day’s first cup of coffee. When he had given the beef a turn Hiram sat by her, linking his big hands around his knees. How vital he was, with his muscles and his thick waves of hair and that rusty-gold beard looking as if it had exploded from his chin. It occurred to her that she had never seen Hiram indoors. He did not seem to belong indoors. With his size and energy, he would make any room seem to shrink when he came into it.

Near the edge of the gulch she saw Ning beside the rocker, while Pocket lugged up water to wash the dirt. They were having a hard time working the rocker with only two men. Hiram turned and shouted to them to make this the last washing, as the beef was nearly done. Kendra wondered where Ted was. She had to know; she might as well ask now.

As she set down her empty cup she drew a deep breath and began,

“Hiram, I’ve got to get this over somehow. I want to ask about Ted.”

He smiled through his shining beard. “Sure. Go on.”

“I’ve got to talk to him one more time,” she said. “Where is he, Hiram?”

Hiram turned and looked at her hard. His whole face changed with astonishment as he answered, “Why Kendra, Ted is gone.”

“Gone?” Kendra repeated.

She had not thought he would go like that, leaving her alone without making any provision for her safety in this camp of strange men. She stared at Hiram. His thick eyebrows drew together in surprise.

“By—the—great—horn—spoon,” he said slowly. After a moment he asked incredulously, “Kendra—do you mean you didn’t know that?”

“I didn’t know it,” said Kendra.

“We were surprised, Ning and Pocket and I,” said Hiram. “We wondered what plans you two had made, but he didn’t want to talk so we didn’t insist.”

“When did he go?” she asked.

“Early this morning. He said he was setting out for another camp, didn’t say which one. He took a saddle horse and two packhorses with supplies. Lucky there was plenty of everything from the fort. He left you a poke of gold, gave it to Ning to keep for you.” Hiram spoke as though appalled. “Kendra, we couldn’t believe you didn’t know.”

Kendra said again, “I didn’t know.”

Her voice was hard and toneless. She felt her lips moving in a tight little smile. Without seeing herself, she could feel that it was an ugly smile.

“You had made no plans?” Hiram asked, still almost unbelieving.

Kendra shook her head. As if in need of something to do, Hiram stood up and turned the meat.

Why on earth, she wondered, had she been surprised, even for a minute? They had made no plans. But now, again, she was reminded that Ted never planned anything. He had not considered what Della was going to do when he left her, now he had not considered what she herself was going to do. How she was to live in a mining camp with no protector, how she would get from Shiny Gulch to Sutter’s Fort, from Sutter’s Fort to San Francisco—he had not thought of that.

Ted had not changed a bit. He had run away again.

I
T WAS AFTERNOON WHEN
Kendra learned that her personal life was not private. After sharing the men’s dinner she had felt more cheerful, and told them she would wash up. She had finished this, and was resting in the shade when she saw Lolo, her black hair bound with a ribbon and her flowered dress still bright in spite of sun and wear.

Lolo came up to her. “Please, Mrs. Parks, Marny says will you come and talk for a few minutes?”

Kendra thought,—I wish she wouldn’t call me Mrs. Parks. I am not Mrs. Parks. I’ll tell her so. Oh, why? She’s not doing any harm.

Aloud she answered, “Why yes, Lolo. Where is Marny?”

Lolo said Marny was down near the tent, by the tree where she had set up her first gambling table. Kendra went to find her.

Under the tree, Marny stood before an up-ended box. She was practicing a game called monte, played with a special Mexican deck. Several cards were laid out on the box, and Marny held the rest of the deck in her hand, but her practice had been interrupted. Mrs. Posey had dropped by for a chat.

Kendra paused. They had not seen her. Mrs. Posey was looking at Marny, Marny was pointedly looking down at the cards. The sun falling through the tree made bright coppery flickers in her hair. Kendra heard Mrs. Posey say,

“…and what’s his real name? I didn’t catch it exactly—Bradford, Bradley, Brandon?”

“He told me,” Marny replied without looking up, “his name was Ted Parks.”

Mrs. Posey giggled. “Oh now, you know better than that! You were right
there.
You
heard
what that man Gene Spencer called him.”

“I wasn’t listening.”

“But you heard, I just know you did! And this girl Kendra—” Mrs. Posey bent forward with intimate glee—“are they really married?”

Marny took a card from the deck in her hand and held it poised over the cards on the box, as if deciding where to place it. “I didn’t witness the ceremony,” she returned. “I didn’t witness yours either. Are you really married?”

“Oh dear, what a question!” tittered Mrs. Posey. “Everybody knows I’m a married woman. But do come on! Tell me! Are they married?”

Carefully placing the card, Marny said, “If you’re so much interested, why don’t you ask Kendra?”

Mrs. Posey’s plump little hands began to flutter. The yellow curls bounced on her head. With another self-conscious giggle she began, “Well now really—”

Kendra had been getting madder with every line she heard. Now she stepped forward, deliberately breaking a twig with her foot so they would know she was there. For the first time Marny raised her eyes, sparkly green in the light. Mrs. Posey turned around with a start. For once in her life she did not know what to say.

But Kendra did. Kendra was so angry that her words came out with no effort at all.

“If you can’t mind your own business, Mrs. Posey, can’t you at least keep out of my way?”

“That,” said Marny, “is a good idea. Keep out of my way too.” She fanned the cards in her freckled hand and snapped the deck together again. “I’ve got work to do.”

Mrs. Posey drew herself up to her full height, which was not very high. With all her dignity she replied, “So have I. Honest work. Decent work. I’m not cheating men out of their money—”

“I don’t cheat,” Marny said tersely.

“—and dragging them down to the gutter,” fumed Mrs. Posey. “And as for
you
,” she continued, turning upon Kendra, “I always knew you were a sham. I knew your fine society airs were a lot of false jewelry. You pretending to be better than other people! I’ve told you before and I tell you again, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out you’re no better than
she
is! Well,” she announced to the air, “I’m no fine lady but at least I know my husband’s
name
!”

Marny sighed and spoke. “Verba, verba, ad infinitum ad nauseam.”

“What?” Mrs. Posey demanded.

“That means,” said Marny, “if you don’t stop talking I’ll throw up.”

Mrs. Posey’s little blue eyes flicked in contempt from Marny to Kendra and back again. “If you want to be so snotty it’s all right with me. Goodby, both of you.”

Marny shrugged. Kendra said, “Goodby, Mrs. Nosey.”

Without waiting for any more words Kendra turned and ran over the rough ground to the tent, pushed aside the flap in front and went in. The tent was empty and dim. She ran to the back, where the boards across the barrels formed the bar. She put her elbows on the bar and put her face into her hands and burst into tears.

She felt torn and helpless and sick at heart. Ted had made her so happy and now he had crumpled up before her and was gone. And already she was wondering where he was and if he had taken enough food with him and who was going to cook it. She tried not to care. But she cared.

It would have been so much easier if only she had been left a shred of pride. She could have made up a story to explain why Ted had left Shiny Gulch—he had gone to hunt venison, to check a report of rich diggings on Weber Creek, or to see a new type of rocker they were using at Horseshoe Flat. For reasons such as these the population of every mining camp was constantly shifting. Nobody would have doubted what she said; nobody would have cared anyway.

But now—Kendra sobbed in despair. Somehow Mrs. Posey had gained a smattering of the facts, and now she would talk to everybody who had ears, and what she did not know she would make up. Oh, to get out of here! To double Cape Horn again, to leave California forever! Kendra fumbled for her handkerchief. The handkerchief was a big blue bandana like those Pocket carried, because in a mining camp a kerchief was more often needed to mop a sweaty forehead than to dry weeping eyes.

“Kendra,” said Marny’s voice.

Kendra gave a start. Marny had walked around to the back of the bar.

“Here,” she said, pushing a tin cup across. “It’s a good white wine, light and dry. Calms the nerves.”

Kendra took a sip. The wine was delicious. She murmured, “Thank you. I’m sorry—but that woman—”

In the half light of the tent she heard Marny laugh gently. “Darling, if Mrs. Nosey—oh, what a beautiful name for her—if Mrs. Nosey had your figure she wouldn’t dislike you so much. Now don’t you want to know why I asked you to come and talk to me?”

“Oh yes. I’d forgotten that.”

Still standing at the bar, Marny spoke practically. “Kendra, I know you want to go home to your mother—”

“I don’t!” Kendra burst out. “I’ve got to go back to her, but I don’t want to.”

She blurted out some facts about her loveless childhood and her dread of returning to a mother who had never wanted her. Marny responded with real fellow-feeling.

“I didn’t know that, but I do know what you mean. I certainly wouldn’t want to see my family again unless I came back in a blaze of glory.”