Calico Palace (45 page)

Very good, said Norman. He had another errand to attend to, so he would do this now. Marny and Rosabel could wait here till Mr. Chase returned, and he would meet them at the warehouse.

Mr. Fenway glanced at Rosabel. “And while she’s waiting,” he said solemnly, “maybe Miss Rosabel would like to see a fine new guitar that just came in.”

Rosabel said she would
love
to. Norman went out, and Mr. Fenway went to the storeroom to get the guitar. While he and Rosabel examined it, Marny and Kendra, Pocket and Hiram, sat down to talk. The miners joined the croakers by the stove.

Marny said Norman had gone to look at a roulette wheel advertised in the
Alta
by another firm. If it was any good he would snap it up before anybody else had a chance.

Pocket and Hiram told the girls about Sacramento. A town of tents, they said. Population always changing, men going to the mines or coming back. All of them half wild with excitement, whether of hope or success or despair. Riches thundering out of the hills, yet every day you met men begging the price of a meal.

They said everything at the mining camps was different now. Last year the miners had been men who lived in California and knew each other, in general a pretty decent lot. This year they were men who had poured in from everywhere, some of them good fellows, others trash from the back alleys of the world. It would be a brave man who would bring his wife to a mining camp this year. Last summer, you panned anywhere you pleased; now you had to stake a claim and be ready to defend it.

“And do you remember,” said Hiram, “how we used to leave our dust while we worked, and nobody bothered it? No more.”

He paused as he heard a tinkle of music. Rosabel sat on the counter, blissfully thrumming her new guitar. The miners and the croakers had turned their chairs eagerly. Rosabel began a song.

“I knew she’d buy that thing,” said Marny. “Well, that’s what we’re here for, to spend money.”

Her words about spending money caught the ear of Mr. Fenway. Leaving Rosabel to play her guitar, he came strolling over to say he had a mighty fine painting in the storeroom and maybe Marny would like to have a look.

Marny consented, and he called Bert and Foxy to bring the painting. Rosabel ended her song, the men by the stove gave her rapturous applause, and she began another. At Mr. Fenway’s direction Bert and Foxy set the painting against the wall.

About six feet by eight, the picture showed the sawmill in the mountains where the workman named Jim Marshall had first found gold in the water. Marny looked at it thoughtfully, walked a little way off and turned to study it again.

Mr. Fenway told them the artist was a man named Bruno Gregg. He had come around the Horn from New York, bringing oils and canvas with him. His picture was good, wasn’t it?

Marny said yes, the picture was good. But she would have liked it better if instead of scenery Mr. Bruno Gregg had chosen to paint a pretty woman with not too many clothes on.

Mr. Fenway sighed. Kendra spoke.

“I think men will be interested in this,” said Kendra. “The place where the first gold was found—why, that’s a historic spot.”

Marny thought a moment, and said Kendra might have an idea there. What did Pocket and Hiram think?

They agreed with Kendra. Hiram added that Bruno Gregg might also be good at painting women. While they talked Pocket spoke to Kendra in an undertone.

“I’d like to say something to you, please ma’am.”

She went with him back to the chair she had occupied before. Pocket stood by her, his elbow on the counter. At the other end of the counter Rosabel continued to play and sing for her delighted hearers. Pocket spoke in a low voice.

“I wanted to tell you, Kendra, how glad I am you’re married to a fine man now, and happy.”

How likable he was, thought Kendra. “Thank you, Pocket,” she said.

Pocket went on, “And—excuse me for getting personal, but—about Ted, did it happen the way I said it would?”

“Yes, Pocket,” she answered. “Just as you said it would. That’s over. I don’t care any more.”

Pocket smiled, his gentle endearing smile. “That makes me mighty happy, Kendra. I’m glad you’re in love again.”

Kendra did not tell him she was not in love again. She might have reminded him—he had gone past that episode with that other girl, but he had not been in love again. Maybe he never would be. Maybe all he would ever reach with a girl would be the sort of pleasant affection she had reached with Loren. Well, no doubt this was better than what either of them had had before.

For several minutes they listened while Rosabel went on singing to the music of her new guitar. She looked pretty as she sat there on the counter, her black curls dancing and her fingers skipping over the strings. Rosabel liked to play and sing and she liked to entertain admiring men.

The admiring men sat facing her, their backs to the stove. There were six of them: Bert and Foxy, the two miners in their bright new clothes, and the two croakers, looking happy now instead of sad. By the side wall Marny and Hiram and Mr. Fenway were discussing pictures for the Calico Palace.

The front door opened, and Kendra saw Mr. Chase. He was holding the door for some important personage to come in. Pocket spoke with regret.

“There’s Mr. Chase. Now Mr. Fenway will take Marny and Rosabel to the warehouse.”

Kendra looked up at Pocket. “Why don’t you and Hiram go along?”

“You don’t think they’ll mind?” he asked.

“Why no,” she said. “I think Marny will like your opinions.”

As she spoke, Kendra became aware that something was taking place. Rosabel’s music had stopped on a discord. Voices and other sounds were ceasing. One by one the men facing Rosabel were turning away from her. By the wall, Marny and Hiram and Mr. Fenway were turning too. Kendra looked where they were looking, toward the front door. She saw Captain Pollock, the important personage who had come in with Mr. Chase.

But Captain Pollock did not see her. He saw nothing in the room but Marny.

He stood looking at her. He stood motionless, a figure of fury and rage and breathless hate.

On Marny’s face was a look of shock. In spite of Kendra’s warnings, Marny had never until now realized the scope of Pollock’s wrath. For a moment the two of them stood without moving, silently challenging each other.

It was only a moment, only a flick of time. But like the time when Pollock’s eyes had thanked Kendra for her virgin presence as he doubled the Horn, this was a moment that struck and pierced. Now that Mr. Chase and Pollock had come in, there were fourteen persons in the room. For this instant, not one of them moved or spoke.

Later, all that most of them could say about it was, “Gosh, that man was mad, mad with her—I tell you, it was gruesome.”

Most of them knew Marny had come to San Francisco on the
Cynthia,
but they did not know about her adventure with Pollock, nor that he bore her any ill-will. But Kendra knew, and as she saw Pollock now she shivered before him as if before a cloud of evil.

The first of them to move was Hiram. He took a step toward Marny, not a heavy step, but the sound of it was as startling as a crash. Almost at the same time the rest of them unfroze. Mr. Chase demanded, “Say, captain, what’s the matter?” Pocket exclaimed, “Who is this man, Kendra? Why is he mad with Marny?”

Foxy and Bert and the strangers all began to ask what was wrong. Rosabel, sitting on the counter, hugged her new guitar as if afraid somebody was going to attack it.

Pollock took a stride toward Marny. He blurted, “Shameless creature!”

With a quick movement Marny had whipped out her little gun. “Keep your hands off me,” she ordered.

But neither her gun nor her speech was necessary. Hiram’s big powerful hands had already caught Pollock and halted him. Pollock was no weakling, but Hiram had spent the past year doing the hardest kind of physical work, and he stood like an oak tree. Pollock exclaimed,

“Do you know this woman?”

Hiram, still with no idea of why Pollock should dislike Marny, answered simply, “Yes, I know her. Let her alone.”

Mr. Chase, looking around at Marny with her gun, at Rosabel with her guitar, at Rosabel’s audience blinking in wonder, was asking at the same time, “What are we having here anyhow, Fenway? A variety show?”

Now, all of a sudden, they noticed Mr. Fenway.

He was walking across the floor toward Pollock, slowly, dragging his feet, but steadily, like the approach of fate. In his hand he held a big astonishing revolver. Without looking around he answered calmly,

“One thing we’re
not
having here, and that’s trouble.”

Hiram, seeing that Mr. Fenway’s gun made his own grip on Pollock needless, let him go. Mr. Fenway took another step toward Pollock, serene with menace.

“Look, you,” he droned, “maybe you’d better get out of here.”

Wheeling toward him, Pollock demanded, “You’re ordering me out?”

“Yes I am,” drawled Mr. Fenway, “unless you behave yourself. I know you’re an important man. But there’s no man important enough to start disorder in my place of business.

“And do
you
know this woman?”

“Sure, I know her. She wasn’t raising any dust before you came in.”

Pollock shouted, “She is killing my ship.”

Standing like an embodiment of vengeance, he looked around to he sure they were all listening for what he was about to say. They were. Pollock pointed to Marny.

“Look, all of you!” he thundered. “Do you see this woman? She has brought evil to my ship. Evil and death. Out there in the bay my beautiful
Cynthia
is dying. Dying, because of this woman. My fair, unspotted
Cynthia
—”

He slumped into a chair, and dropped his head upon his hands. Disconsolate, despairing, he sat there.

As she saw him now, Kendra thought she understood him better than she ever had before. He was a man condemned to watch the slow disintegration of the being he loved. Kendra had never in her life seen anything so pitiful. With an impulsive movement she went to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Captain Pollock,” she said, “may I speak to you?”

He did not lift his head. He muttered, “What do you want?”

“I want to tell you,” she said gently, “the
Cynthia
isn’t lost. She’s a fine ship. She can still be put to service.”

Hiram gave her a nod of approval. But Pollock, still staring down between his knees at the floor, shook his head.

Hiram came to stand by Kendra. Hiram had come around the Horn with Pollock’s crew, and they had told him how the captain loved his ship. With a quiet sincerity, he continued the counsel Kendra had begun.

“Captain Pollock, we know it’s hard for you to see your ship deserted. But this has happened to other ships, and their captains have turned it to account. You can do the same.”

Shaking his head again, Pollock looked up. He gave no sign of recognizing Hiram. Probably, thought Kendra, he did not. Hiram had been only a common sailor, and it was a long time since their voyage. Nor, in his grief, did Pollock seem to recognize Kendra herself. He said,

“Thank you, sir, and you, madam, for your sympathy. I know you mean to be kind. But if you think I am going to force my ship to become a saloon, a brothel, a gambling den—” With a shudder of loathing he exclaimed, “No!”

Like a man without hope, he looked up.

“No!” he repeated.

Now for the first time he noticed Kendra, and she saw a start of recognition on his face.

“As for you,” he said to her sadly, “of course you must side against me. You married Loren Shields. Has he told you he was the man who let that woman board the
Cynthia
? That he was the man who insulted my ship and broke her heart?”

Facing his disaster, Pollock could not be comforted. Kendra’s eyes met Hiram’s. Neither of them knew how to say anything more.

Pollock started to get to his feet, stumblingly, like an old man. Hiram gave him a hand. As he stood up, Pollock said,

“Mr. Chase, Mr. Fenway, forgive me. I am sorry to have made a disturbance. I shall not do so again.”

“Come into the office,” said Mr. Chase, eager to end this whole puzzling scene. “We have a lot of business to—”

“Later,” said Captain Pollock. “I can come back
later.
”

He spoke the last word with a glance at Marny, as if to say he did not care to stay under the same roof with her. Putting away her gun, Marny answered in a level voice.

“It’s all right, Captain Pollock. I’m about to go out with Mr. Fenway.”

“Come into the office, captain,” Mr. Chase urged him again.

This time Pollock yielded. As the office door closed, Foxy edged toward Marny.

“Say,” he demanded, “what’s that man got against you?”

“He doesn’t like red-haired women,” Marny retorted. “Says they bring bad luck.”

“You get on about your work, Foxy,” Mr. Fenway ordered him.

The other men began to scatter. Pocket gave his hand to Rosabel and she wiggled down from the counter. Saying, “I’m ready whenever you are, Mr. Fenway,” Marny went to look across the counter into the mirror, and began to adjust her bonnet ribbons. Kendra followed and stood beside her.

“Now what do you think?” Kendra asked.

“You’re right,” Marny returned. “He does think that ship is alive. And he’s in love with her.”

“I was hoping,” said Kendra, “when we reminded him about the shored-up vessels—but that was no use.”

Marny answered tersely. “He’s as crazy as a fifty-card deck.” She tied the ribbons. “But you’re right again, Kendra. He’s dangerous.”

T
HAT DAY IN THE
store Kendra had felt sorry for Captain Pollock. But as the summer went on, her sympathy turned to exasperation.

Kendra believed the
Cynthia
’s crew had deserted because the men wanted to look for gold, not because of any mystical heartbreak of the ship. But this was not the basic reason for her change of attitude. She simply had no patience with people who went off and sulked when they could not get their own way. She could understand Pollock’s distress when he found that the
Cynthia
could not finish her voyage—though she thought if he had had any sense he would have stayed away from San Francisco in the first place—but since the ship could not go on, Kendra could not condone his refusal to let her do anything else.