Calico Palace (55 page)

She could not keep a brave face any longer. Nobody was noticing her. Nobody cared what she did. Marny dropped across the bed and put her face into Mr. Fenway’s blankets and began to whimper like a sick child.

M
ARNY CRIED, AND CRYING
loosened the knots inside her. As her sobs wore themselves out and she dried her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, she felt better. Getting up from the bed she walked over to the glass.

“I look
awful
,” she said aloud.

So she did. The tears had made splotches on her dirty face. The combs that had held her hair had long since fallen out and been lost; all she could do now was push the tangled red locks back from her forehead, which was no use because they immediately fell down again. With some difficulty she pulled her feet out of her broken mud-caked shoes, and looked at the mess—mud between her toes, mud smeared on her insteps and splashed around her ankles. But now that she had let herself give up and shed tears, she felt more like tackling the monumental job of getting herself clean.

She drew down the window shade, poured water into the basin, took off her robe and her bedraggled nightgown, and tore a piece out of the gown to be used as a washcloth. A towel, somewhat used, hung on a nail by the washstand, and she found soap in a tin box where Mr. Fenway had hidden it from the rats. She began to scrub her face.

But it was hard to take off soot with soap and water. She needed oil. The store had oil for sale, but Marny wondered if she had courage enough to put on that filthy robe again, and with her frowsy hair and dirty bare feet, go down and buy it.

As she tried to tell herself that she had better summon courage to do this because she had to, she heard a knock on the door. She called a query.

“It’s Pocket,” said his voice outside.

With a cry of joy Marny threw the robe around her and opened the door. There he stood. In one hand he held a tin plate, in the other a tin cup, and under his arm a bottle of red wine. With his lovable little-boy smile he said,

“I figured you’d need some refreshments, ma’am.”

He made no comment on how she looked. If he guessed that she had been crying he gave no sign of it. Marny realized now that she was hungry. Her dinner at Kendra’s, only yesterday, seemed long ago.

“I was never in my life so glad to see anybody,” she said, and she meant it. “What have you brought me?”

Pocket set the plate on the little table by the bed, and took a horn spoon from one of his pockets. “Nothing but cold beans, ma’am,” he apologized. “It’s the best I could find. So many restaurants were burnt up, and there was so much stealing from the others, folks are having a hard time trying to eat.” He poured wine into the tin cup and held it out to her. “Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel better.”

Marny thanked him with all her heart. She felt a mild surprise as she thought how Pocket, who never took drinks himself, was always ready to provide them for other people. “How is Loren?” she asked.

Pocket said Loren was in good hands. He was weak from loss of blood, of course, and the cut did hurt. But Foxy had found Dr. Rollins, and the doctor was here now, putting professional bandages on his wounds. Hiram had gone to look for a cart and horse so they could take Loren home, and the doctor was going to give him a dose of laudanum so he would not feel the pain as the cart bumped up the hill. While Hiram was getting the cart, said Pocket, he himself had some free time to attend to her.

“But your own work?” she asked him. “What about the library?”

“That can wait,” returned Pocket. “The building wasn’t damaged, and Mr. Gilmore can take care of things there. Now what do you need?”

“Pocket,” she said fervently, “I need everything. Shoes. Stockings. Brush and comb. Hairpins. Toothbrush. Something,
anything,
to wear. Soap. Towels. Olive oil—”

“Yes ma’am,” said Pocket. “All the necessities of life.”

“Right,” said Marny. “Buy them downstairs and put them on my account. And oh yes—pen and ink and paper. I’d like to write a note to Kendra.”

Pocket went down to shop. Marny ate the beans, scooping them up with the horn spoon, and felt stronger with every bean. Before long Pocket came back with his purchases.

He said the store had lots of gloves and bonnets and other expensive doodads for ladies, but no dresses already made. But he brought her a new robe, thick and warm and a sensible dark blue in color; two regrettable pairs of heavy black cotton stockings, and half a dozen pairs of shoes so she could try them on and find a pair that would fit. He would go down again now, he said, to see if Hiram had brought the cart, and would come back to get her letter so he could give it to Kendra when they took Loren home.

Gratefully, Marny pinned back her tangled hair. She wondered where Norman was, and Rosabel, and how much money they had rescued. A new Calico Palace, they would get it built somehow, and paid for somehow. The very thought was refreshing.

She wrote to Kendra, and told her Loren had been hurt while saving a child. If he had not cared what happened to little Zack he would not have come up to Kearny Street at all, and so would not have been near enough to be struck when the El Dorado exploded. When she had given the letter to Pocket she set about washing herself.

After a while she had another visitor, Ralph Watson. He brought an answering letter from Kendra, and a bundle of clothes. The clothes had been wisely chosen, simple dark dresses and plain underwear.

—Bless you, Kendra, Marny thought as she sat down to read the letter.

Dear Marny,

Loren is still asleep from the laudanum the doctor gave him, so I have a chance to write. Thanks for your letter. I am glad—and not at all surprised—that Loren took care of little Zack. It is what anybody would expect him to do.

We have done all we could to see to it that Loren will be comfortable while he is getting well. Hiram and Pocket carried him upstairs and put him to bed. We moved the baby’s crib down to the dining room, because that is close to Ralph and Serena’s bedroom and she can pile Junior’s belongings on the table and take care of him while I am upstairs waiting on Loren. Dr. Rollins says Loren will have to stay in bed for several days, until he makes up for his loss of blood, but with rest and care he’ll be all right. He’s as healthy as a colt.

I know you are heartbroken about the Calico Palace, and to tell the truth so am I. I did want to go there. Now that Junior is born and I am well again I was planning to go in one day and see the mirrors and chandeliers and pictures and all the rest of it. Never mind. I’m sure you and Norman will rebuild, and when the new Calico Palace is open I shall come to see it right away. Mrs. Chase will disapprove and Mr. Chase will be shocked, but I don’t think Loren will care. He doesn’t try to boss me around.

Serena says Loren is waking up. In a hurry—

Kendra

Marny thought—Kendra, Pocket, Mr. Fenway. How good people are. How willing to help in a time of trouble. Well, not everybody. Not those men I saw last night, running off with everything they could lay hands on. But a lot of people are good.

She spent the rest of the day making herself fit to be seen. Wearing her new dressing gown, she went up and down the stairs, drawing water, heating it on the stove in the stockroom, carrying the pails upstairs, bringing down the pails of soiled water and emptying them into the mud behind the store. Messrs. Chase and Fenway came in and out of the stockroom but they seemed hardly to notice her. They were too busy making money.

Every unburnt store in town was doing a roaring business today. Hundreds of people, like Marny, had nothing to wear. Now, dressed in borrowed makeshifts, they were crowding in to buy clothes. Owners of lodging houses, from the respectable St. Francis to the dirtiest flopperies, came in begging for cots, mattresses, blankets, to take care of people who had been burnt out and now were offering any price to sleep somewhere out of the mud. The restaurants wanted food for clamoring hungry men, and plates and knives and spoons so the hungry men could eat it. All day the clerks hurried about, from the salesroom to the various stockrooms upstairs and down. In the afternoon Marny told one of the boys to bring her a tin box of crackers and another of sardines, and on these she made her second meal of the day.

But busy as they were, the clerks were all eager to talk. Bit by bit she heard the news. A lot of men had been hurt last night, by falls, burns, blows from the axes used to tear up buildings, or like Loren, by the explosions. She heard more reports of looting, and sorry tales of men who had stood by, refusing to give aid—whether to fight the fire, save property, or even help an injured man who could not help himself—unless they were paid for it in advance.

The last burning building fell down about noon. By mid-afternoon the fire was mostly out, though there were still many little flames flickering among the ashes. Men who had owned the fallen buildings were going about with pails of water, sprinkling these little lingering fires, the sooner to set about the work of rebuilding. Foxy, sent on an errand, had caught sight of Norman watering the ruins of the Calico Palace. Foxy had stopped a minute to speak to him. Norman had said he and Rosabel and the Blackbeards and the Hawaiian girls and the baby were jammed into two rooms at the St. Francis, the men in one and the girls in the other, and the St. Francis had taken advantage of the fire to double its prices but what could you do? Learning Marny’s whereabouts, Norman had said he would come to see her tomorrow and discuss a new Calico Palace. Marny said she would like to look over the site of the Calico Palace herself.

Foxy exclaimed in dismay. No indeed. She had no idea of the crazy mob she would run into around the plaza. Every looter from last night was there, looking for something else to steal. And half of them were drunk. A lady amid all that riffraff? No. She must positively not show herself on the street unless she had a strong man to take care of her.

In the morning Marny saw the wisdom of Foxy’s advice. She had decided that since she had to stay here she would use the time to make some of those clothes she needed. This was Christmas Day, but with so much money to be made in the business of rebuilding, few men had closed their shops or offices, and Chase and Fenway’s was open as usual. Wearing one of Kendra’s dresses, Marny went into the front salesroom to buy cloth and sewing needs.

Instantly, she found herself in the middle of a mob. These men were not riffraff. They were customers here to do business; many of them she recognized as well-behaved patrons of her parlor. They were good-natured and they meant no harm. But they were men and she was a woman and they wanted her back among them. They grabbed her, they tried to embrace her, they pulled her hair. One cavalier produced a pair of scissors and snipped off a lock and held it up, announcing that he was going to put it into a gold case and wear it next to his heart. They babbled a thousand questions. When would the Calico Palace be up again? While it was under way was she going to deal cards anywhere else? Maybe she could deal a game right here, right now. They would set up a table, or an up-ended box would do. Would she?

It lasted only a minute or two; if it had lasted longer they would have torn Kendra’s dress to pieces. As it was, both sleeves ripped at the shoulders and a button popped off. But before they could do more, Mr. Chase thrust his strong stocky person among them and loudly ordered them to move on. No disorder wanted here. He was holding a gun.

As they fell back, Marny put her hands up to her disordered hair, and managed to smile at them all.

“Let me go now, boys. There’s going to be a new Calico Palace. I promise.”

She saw Mr. Fenway. He too was holding a gun. With his free hand he took her elbow.

“Shame on you all,” said Mr. Fenway. “Pushing and shoving a helpless female. Now Marny, you come along.”

The men were protesting that they hadn’t hurt her, they had barely touched her. Just wanted to ask a few questions—

Mr. Fenway led Marny back into the stockroom. As they turned to go, she saw Mr. Chase giving her a baleful glance across his gun. She guessed what he was thinking: that she made trouble wherever she went. As she was here by Mr. Fenway’s invitation he could not throw her into the street, but the sooner she cleared out the happier Mr. Chase would be. Well, she had nowhere to go, and Mr. Chase would simply have to put up with her. She would keep quiet and out of his way and not enter the front room again. This was the best she could do.

Mr. Fenway asked what she had wanted to buy, and sent Foxy to take her order. When she had told Foxy she wanted cloth and scissors and needles and thread and a tape measure, Marny asked him where he took his meals. Foxy said usually at a restaurant down the street, near the rooming house where he and the other packing boys now lived. She asked if he would bring back meals for her while she was living in the store. He could use a tin plate, and buy a knife and fork for her to keep on hand, so there would not be much for him to carry. Foxy said he sure would, glad to. He figured what she owed the store, and Marny told him to add an extra pinch for himself.

“I’m giving you a lot of trouble,” she explained.

Foxy demurred. Ah, he didn’t want any pay, he said, he was glad to oblige, but she told him again to take it and he did. Marny’s opinion was that no matter how obliging people were, they were even more so when they were paid for their favors.

While Foxy was bringing her supplies from the salesroom Marny pushed several empty boxes together to make a sewing table near a stockroom window. She had begun to work when Norman came in. Norman was carrying something tied up in a rag. Taking off the rag he showed her a shapeless twist of gold, weighing ninety or a hundred ounces.

“This,” he said angrily, “is what became of those coins we didn’t have time to take out. Melted. Gold coins from the Mint,
melted.
” Norman let out his rage in a growl.

He had picked it up yesterday, he said, in the ruins of the Calico Palace. He and the Blackbeards had guarded the site all day, sprinkling the rubble until it was cool enough for them to poke around. Norman was sure this was not the only piece of melted gold that had been found there. He was sure because they had left behind far more coins than could be accounted for by this one lump. But looters were swarming over the wreckage and he couldn’t keep his eyes on them all.