Calico Palace (22 page)

“But Captain Pollock would have recognized you, so you didn’t go to table that evening nor the next morning. You weren’t seasick, were you?”

“No, I felt fine. I just wanted to keep out of sight. I’d brought some fruit with me, I ate that.”

“So by the time he saw you, it was too late.” Kendra sighed with admiration. “You planned every single detail.”

Marny shook her head. “No I didn’t, Kendra,” she said soberly. “Up to here, you’re right. But I didn’t plan anything else. If you’ve guessed so much you’ve probably guessed the rest of the story, and that just happened.”

Kendra had not meant to speak of this. She was too modest to bring up a subject that belonged to Marny’s private life. But since Marny had brought it up herself, she answered,

“I didn’t guess that. Ted did.”

“Well, Delbert didn’t, and if you told him he wouldn’t believe it, he thinks he’s too captivating.”

There was another pause. They could hear the sigh of the wind, an occasional call of a bird or the rustle of a night-prowling animal, and now and then a voice outside saying things were all right. Evidently the men who had gone down to the Ab village were holding the Abs there. Marny spoke softly as she went on.

“Kendra, I knew Pollock had given me yearning glances, but then so had most of the other men who came into our place in Honolulu. I didn’t know he was so excited about me. Maybe I should have thought of that, but I didn’t. All I thought about was getting to San Francisco. But a voyage, day after day and night after night, you know how dull it can get.”

Kendra remembered her own dreary weeks at sea. She remembered how careful Loren had been not to touch even her elbow unless it was needful. She understood this better now than she had then. “Yes,” she said, “I know.”

“And at night,” said Marny, “the stateroom was dark and stuffy and I was restless. When I couldn’t sleep, I would put on a wrapper and go sit in the cabin under the skylight. There was more air in the cabin, and I could watch the stars and the clouds, and hear the men on deck, and see the moon come up. The moon was beautiful, getting bigger every night. After a while I would get sleepy and go back to bed. I never bothered anybody.”

There in the dim flicker of the candle, Marny sounded so innocent.

“Then one night, Captain Pollock came into the cabin. He didn’t expect to find me there. He stopped, he stood looking at me, and I looked at him. We could see each other perfectly well. He was dressed, but he wasn’t wearing his coat, and his shirt was open at the throat and it made him look so different—you know how formal he is all day. As for me, I was right under the skylight, and the moonshine was pouring through. And my hair was down and I had on nothing but a nightgown and a silk wrapper over it—”

Marny paused a moment. Kendra could almost see her there, in her light silk robe, her hair shimmering and her green eyes shining under the moon. Marny said,

“So, things started to happen. After a while I said—oh, whatever one says on these occasions, you never remember afterward.”

Marny turned, and through the flickers she looked at Kendra squarely.

“Kendra, I didn’t plan that when I took the
Cynthia.
”

“Of course you didn’t,” said Kendra. “Are people supposed to plan things like that?”

With a whisper of laughter, Marny shook her head. She continued, “Well, the next morning I was waked up by the wind screaming in the sails. The ship was tossing like a handkerchief. The storm had started.”

Marny shrugged and shivered.

“I really did get seasick after that, and I was scared half to death. And then that crazy fool said I caused the storm! Does he think I’m a witch?”

Kendra felt the same uneasiness she always felt before this aspect of Captain Pollock, but she did not want to admit it. She said, “Let’s hope he makes a million dollars trading in China and goes back to New York and stays there.”

“Right,” said Marny, and yawned. “Meantime, let’s go to sleep.”

They had not undressed, but now, as everything was quiet, they decided it would be safe to do so and sleep in their chemises. They carefully placed their clothes on the bar so they could get dressed on a moment’s notice if they had to, and lay down on the bedroll under a blanket Marny had provided. From outside they could hear Delbert’s steady footsteps as he walked up and down, guarding the tent.

“Delbert is a good watchman,” Kendra remarked.

“Delbert loves money,” said Marny.

Kendra spoke abruptly. “Marny, are you in love with Delbert?”

Marny began to laugh. “Good heavens no. I’m not that big a fool.”

“Then—why do you like him?”

In the darkness Marny’s laughter was soft and candid. “Well, I like money too.” After a moment she added, “And Delbert doesn’t
talk.
Kendra, my whole family was full of words. They talked all the time. They talked in languages old and new. They quoted everything from the ancient Greeks to the morning paper. They talked
to
me,
at
me,
about
me. Why can’t you be like the rest of us? What’s going to become of you? Oh dear, what are we going to
do
with that girl? It’s refreshing to live with somebody who doesn’t give a damn what becomes of me and keeps his mouth shut.”

After a moment Marny added,

“Besides, dear, you know the facts of life. He’s rather good there too. Now go to sleep.”

N
OT ALL THE ABS
had had a chance to try Stub’s liquor, and before morning a drunken stupor had overtaken most of those who had. However, to be sure, the guards kept watch till sunrise. They came back red-eyed and weary and sputtering with rage. After being up all night they would now have to sleep, and this meant the waste of a day. Not a Sunday either, but a workday that should have been full of gold. If Stub ever showed his rat-face around here again—

Some of the men had wanted to shoot him last night. But Pocket had insisted that it was enough to march him a mile down the river with a warning that they would shoot him if he ever came back. Pocket said he did not like to kill people unless it was really necessary.

They had to rest that day, but the next morning Pocket and Hiram, with Delbert and one of the Blackbeards, took the pack-horses and set out for Sutter’s Fort. They were strongly armed, for the horses were carrying three thousand ounces of gold. When she had told them goodby Kendra went to look for mustard leaves. The sun was hot, and gathering the wild plants was hard work. But they stretched her food supply, now so scant that if Pocket and Hiram didn’t come back soon she feared she would have to buy from Ellet, cockroaches and all.

The very next day, however, Foxy approached her to ask if she would buy some provisions he and his friends had brought with them. The boys had decided to move on and look for richer diggings. Who could tell, maybe they would find the Big Lump. The farther upstream they went the steeper the way would be, and the mules had to carry their picks and pans. No use piling on bulky foodstuffs. They were taking only jerky and hardtack. Foxy wanted to sell Kendra a bag of potatoes and another bag of dried peas.

Kendra knew she ought to tell him that if he tried to live on jerky and hardtack, with no vegetable food at all, he would get scurvy. But she knew that Ning and other frontiersmen had said this till the townsmen were tired of hearing it. She also knew she ought to say that if he would stay in one place and work he would be more likely to get rich than if he kept looking for some marvelous spot where he could pick up a hundred ounces a day. But like the warnings about scurvy this had already been said, and still many men spent more time looking for new placers than they spent gathering gold after they had found one. And nobody wanted free advice anyway, and she did want the peas and potatoes, and Foxy wanted to sell them, and if she didn’t buy them somebody else would.

So she bought them. She paid with gold dust, ten times what she would have paid for peas and potatoes last spring in San Francisco, and she and Foxy were both happy with their bargain.

Several days later Marny also had a happy surprise. A peddler came up to Shiny Gulch driving a wagon holding a little salt pork and a lot of good wine and brandy. The peddler told them their friends had reached the fort before he left. All fine, he reported.

Marny bought his liquor, and lifted the limit on drinks at the Calico Palace. The peddler then divided the pork among several purchasers, and turned back toward the fort rejoicing.

Marny rejoiced too. But Kendra, standing with Marny in front of the tent, looked sadly at the small piece of pork in her basket. “Why on earth,” she exclaimed, “didn’t he bring more meat?”

“There wasn’t room in the wagon,” Marny returned with some surprise.

“But he should have brought more meat and less liquor.”

“Why?” asked Marny.

“Because people
need
food. They don’t
need
liquor.”

“Kendra dear,” said Marny, “he’s not in business to do good deeds. He’s in business to make money. And people will pay better prices for things they don’t need than for things they do.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I didn’t say it made sense,” Marny replied serenely. “I said that’s the way people are. I get two ounces a quart for liquor—who’d pay two ounces of gold for a quart of milk?”

Of course, Kendra thought with a start, she was right. Kendra asked, “Why are people that way?”

“I don’t know,” said Marny. “All I know is, that’s the way they are. It’s time to set up my bar.”

With a wave of goodby, she turned and entered the tent. Kendra went back to her own campsite, where Ted was resting on the grass after his afternoon plunge in the pool. She sat down by him to tell him he must get a haircut and a shave. The men in camp cut each other’s hair now and then when it grew long enough to be a bother, but these were clumsy jobs at best, and Ted had not used a razor since they left San Francisco two months ago. His beard was an inch long and it stuck out in all directions. Now, however, a barber had come to Shiny Gulch. He had brought shears and razors, and had spread the news that while he expected to pan gold on weekdays he was going to add to his income by barbering on Sundays.

Ted demurred. Why should he get a shave? The man would charge an outrageous price and his beard would only grow back.

Kendra insisted. “If you had a nice neat beard like Delbert’s—”

“My darling,” Ted answered with a lazy stretch, “that’s as much trouble as keeping clean-shaved.”

“Your head,” said Kendra, “looks like a bunch of straw with eyes in it. And when you kiss me your whiskers scratch.”

“But sweetheart, it’s natural for a man to be whiskery.”

“If you’ll go to the barber Sunday morning,” said Kendra, “and get a shave and haircut, I’ll have a clean gingham shirt all ready for you.”

“I’d rather you gave me a new pair of boots,” said Ted, looking sadly at those he was wearing. Bruised by rocks and water, boots and shoes wore out faster than anything else in the gold fields.

“They’ll bring those from the fort,” said Kendra. “Go to the barber Sunday morning and at noon I’ll have a regal dinner. Peas cooked with chunks of pork, and fried potatoes—or would you rather have them boiled?”

After a few more protests Ted yielded. Kendra was learning that if she really made up her mind to something Ted would yield, as he had when she wanted to get married and he did not. They seldom disagreed, but when they did, she liked knowing she could get her own way.

Sunday morning the barber set up shop under a tree. His chair was a fallen log, his razor strop hung on the tree trunk, and leaning against the tree was a piece of cracked mirror in which he showed his customers the change in their faces. Many of the men scoffed at the idea of getting dandified in the wilderness, but others liked it, and most of the married men, such as Ted, went to the barber whether they liked it or not. Shaved and shorn, wearing his clean gingham shirt, Ted did look well as he came back toward the cook-fire, where Kendra was preparing the dinner she had promised.

Ning stroked his grizzled chin and said it was all kind of interesting and he might drop around to the barber one of these days himself. Regarding Ted, Kendra spoke her admiration. “You look the way you did the first day I saw you,” she said.

He smiled at her happy face. “And you,” he answered, “are the prettiest woman here.”

“I am not pretty. Nutshell brown, wearing a sunbonnet and a faded dress and these clumpy shoes—”

“Against that tan,” said Ted, “your eyes are a real sapphire blue, and as you bend over that kettle you’re as graceful as a flower.” He sniffed at the rising steam. “And you can cook too!”

They had a luscious meal. When they had finished, Ning and Ted stretched out on the grass, their hats over their eyes. Kendra sat under a tree, and through the waves of the afternoon heat she watched the camp keeping Sunday. Some men were dozing, some washing their clothes, others going in and out of the Calico Palace. A loner was playing solitaire on a flat rock. Another man sat on a log reading his Bible. Most of the women had gathered in groups to chat, and brag about how much gold their husbands had taken during the past week. Two little girls were cradling dolls they had made of sticks. A short way down the strip, between Kendra and the Calico Palace, Orville Posey sat under a tree, watching a group of small boys playing leapfrog.

Orville seemed to be enjoying their game. Kendra, watching, began to enjoy it too. But then she caught sight of Mrs. Posey.

Mrs. Posey had been washing her cooking pots at one of the high pools, where the water fell over the rocks with such force that it did half the work. Now, carrying the pots, she was on her way down to join Orville. As she came near Kendra she paused to look with disapproval at the noisy children. Mrs. Posey, who had none of her own, disapproved of children in general. She spoke sharply to Kendra.

“Shameful, isn’t it?”

“What?” Kendra asked in surprise.

Mrs. Posey tightened her lips and tensed her plump little person. Her yellow curls trembled on her head. “Playing games on Sunday!”