Squire's Quest (2 page)

As they left the barn, Merlin put one arm around his little sister. "Iris, can I depend on
you not to show Ma that you don't want her to leave? She's so excited about Katie's baby. No
need to ruin it for her."

"Uh-huh." It was said grudgingly, he was sure.

"And you won't let Pa see either, will you? He's gonna be missing Ma something awful,
so I'm depending on you to help keep his spirits up."

Her little body stiffened and she straightened. "No, I won't upset Pa. I'll take good care
of him."

Well, I guess I won't be going anywhere for a while.
Merlin pushed the back
door closed behind him, resisting the urge to slam it.
But soon as Ma's back from
Katie's...

* * * *

Luke rode in one rainy day to announce the birth of his son, Isaiah Charles. He stayed
just long enough to describe the baby, wolf down a sandwich and deliver a message from
Ma.

The mood in the house was much lighter as they gathered in the library after supper.
"Your ma will stay a week or so, to make sure Katie and the baby are all right," Pa said. "She
sends you all her love and warns Iris to get outdoors for an hour every day."

"Oh, Pa--"

"I'm making sure," Regina said. "If she doesn't go out, she knows I'll hide her
books."

Pa reached for his pipe. "Who's reading tonight?"

"I am," Rhys said. He picked up the copy of
Journey to the Center of the Earth
and began to read.

Merlin tuned him out. He'd decided he couldn't wait any longer to tell Pa. Winter was
coming, and if he didn't get away before the first snowfall, he wouldn't go until spring, not with a
clear conscience. While his brother kept the others enthralled with Professor von Hardwigg's
adventures, he mentally listed what he would take with him.

Rhys' voice ceased. Merlin waited impatiently for the others to say their goodnights. "I
need to talk to you," he said when Pa looked at him in silent question.

"I wondered when you would," Pa said, setting his pipe aside. "When do you reckon to
go?"

Merlin's jaw dropped. "Y-you knew?"

"I figured." Pa's eyes seemed to look past Merlin, into a distant place, far beyond the
walls of the library. "You've been restless since spring. Even your Ma noticed, but I don't think
she understands what's driving it." His gaze came back to Merlin. "I do."

"You remember when I was about Rhys' age? I said I wanted to go on a quest, like the
knights did back in the olden days."

The corner of Pa's mouth kicked up. "There's a restlessness sets in when a lad's at the
edge of becoming a man. Nothing much satisfies it but testing his mettle. Call it a quest or
running away from home or having an adventure. It's all the same. A man's got to know what he
can do and what he can't. What he's willing to fight for and what he's not. The only way he can
learn is to go out and try."

Merlin simply nodded. Pa had put into words his exact thoughts.

"Only trouble is, the trying has a price," Pa went on, his voice deepening, slowing.
"Some pay with their lives, some with their honor."

"And some come home safe," Merlin said, thinking of his older brother. They hadn't
heard from him for three months. "I figure to do that."

"I pray you will." Pa rose and stepped across the space between them. He laid a hand on
Merlin's shoulder. "If you're wise, you'll be ready to go when your ma comes home. Say goodbye
to her and scat on out of here. Lingering will only be painful, for the both of you."

When Buffalo had gone to Europe he'd had five hundred dollars in his pocket. He'd
never writ home for more. "I gamble," was all he'd ever say about how he supported himself.
Merlin knew his older brother did some work for an covert organization that fought white
slavery and drug dealing through Europe and Asia, but he didn't know whether Buff was paid or
not.

He had no inclination to visit Europe or any other foreign country, not until he'd seen his
own. Nor did he want to be any kind of policeman or soldier. Both seemed too regimented, too
dangerous. He wasn't sure what he wanted to be, to do, except see grand sights and have grand
adventures.

* * * *

Hattie Lachlan watched her middle son ride away and let the tears she'd held back flow
freely. When Emmet's arms came around her, she leaned back into his embrace. "He's so
young."

"Older than Buff was when we sent him off to a gold camp with a herd of cattle. Older
than Silas was when he went off to see the world. About the same age I was when I went to sea.
He's sixteen, Hattie-girl, and man tall. Besides, we couldn't have held him long. He was ready to
go."

"But a hundred dollars! How long will that last him?"

"Long enough." He gave her a squeeze. "It's a fortune. You only offered me fifty dollars
to marry you."

"And you'll never let me forget it, will you?" she turned in his arms and looked up at the
tall man she'd chosen because his gaze was level, his stance proud and his voice strong. They
were yet, and after twenty-odd years she still figured she'd gotten a bargain. "One of these days
I'll have to pay you, won't I?"

They both laughed, for the fifty dollars in gold had been lost when Emmet had chosen to
leave part of her cargo behind after her second wagon was wrecked.

"I'll worry," she said, leaning her head against his chest. "Every single day, I'll
worry."

"Every single day I worry about them all," he admitted. "Being a father's about the
scariest thing I can think of."

"Being a mother, too."

They stood together in their yard while an autumn breeze blew dry leaves around their
feet. Neither needed to speak of the void left behind when a child departed. This was the fourth,
and they should be used to it.

As if I ever could be,
Hattie thought, and clung a little tighter to Emmet.

* * * *

The first night he cried himself to sleep. Merlin would never admit it to another living
soul, he swore as he let the tears flow freely. This was the first time in his life he'd ever been
away from family, and he missed them more than he'd thought possible. When he woke the next
morning, the skin around his eyes was puffy and his nose runny. His body ached too, as if he'd
done something he wasn't accustomed to.

The remnants of last night's fire were cold. Too much work to build a new one. He
decided to forego breakfast and he hadn't ever got the taste for coffee. Besides, there was no
water here, and he might not find any tonight. According to Pa, this stretch of the trail was dry
unless there had been recent rains.

As he rode, he chewed on a strip of dried elk meat and enjoyed the scenery. Since he'd
chosen to ride off the well-used trail, he met no other travelers. By noon he had reached the
turnoff he wanted, one leading up toward the wide prairie where the Bannock still gathered
camas root. He didn't expect to encounter any Indians this late in the year, but if he did, he knew
they would welcome him, once he identified himself. Emmet Lachlan was known as a friend to
the tribe.

For a week he traveled what had once been called Goodale's Cutoff, never meeting
another human being. Thrice he saw other riders at a distance, and once a moving dust cloud told
of something traveling fast. The sky remained cloudy, but no rain fell. It wasn't even very cold,
and Merlin counted his blessings. He'd slept in snow and could do it again, but it wasn't
something he wanted to do.

Eventually he reached the vast beds of rough lava Pa had described. The description was
nowhere as stark and harsh as the reality. As far as the eye could see was nothing but black rock,
jagged, impassable. He followed the old road around the north edge, wondering why critters
would come into this unwelcoming place, yet game was abundant. He brought down a deer one
afternoon and ate well for nigh a week.

Eagle Rock wasn't much of a town. Just a few buildings and several ramshackle houses.
He found space for his horse and mule at the livery stable and checked into the small hotel. The
food at the eating house was not up to Ma's standards, but after two weeks of his own cooking,
he was ready for a change.

After supper he stood on the hotel porch and took stock. It was after sunset, but a couple
of torches flared at the corners of the hotel, casting flickering shadows across the street. Besides
the livery stable and the hotel, there was a bank--not much bigger than the chicken coop at home,
but better built--and a stage station with lighted windows. Some way outside of town he'd earlier
seen corrals where big freight wagons were parked. Pa had said this was the main route to the
gold towns up in Montana.

He had a hankering to see a rip-roaring gold camp. The Boise Basin was about played
out. He'd been real disappointed when he and Micah had ridden over there last summer. The
towns were quiet. Folks went about their business in the daytime and went home at night.
Nothing at all like the stories he'd heard of how it'd been back in its heyday.

The shriek made him jump. Before he could more than turn his head, a kid came tearing
out from between the hotel and the bank. Right behind him was a heavyset, coatless fellow in a
dress-up shirt and an eyeshade, but he was losing ground with every step. The kid could
move.

The kid dove between the livery stable and a shed. His pursuer followed, but almost lost
his footing as he stepped in something that looked suspiciously like a cowpie. Merlin heard him
curse. There was a crash from somewhere beyond the shed, and then another shriek.

Curious now, Merlin sauntered across the narrow, rutted street and into the gap,
avoiding the cowpie with the ease of long practice. It was dark, but not so much he couldn't see
the kid dangling from the heavyset fellow's hand by the scruff of his neck and doing his best to
avoid the man's fist.

Having been raised right, Merlin just naturally didn't like seeing anybody pick on
someone smaller than him. "Hey, there, Billy! What the dickens have you been up to?" He
stepped right up to the heavyset fellow and caught his wrist. "He's a scamp, mister, but I can't
believe my little brother did enough damage to warrant more than a few swats."

"He robbed me!" The fellow relaxed his arm, even though he still held the boy high
enough his toes didn't quite touch the ground. "Took a box of crackers and an apple."

It was all Merlin could do not to chuckle. The boy had gone limp as soon as he'd spoken,
and was now hanging limply with a pathetically innocent expression on his dirty face. "I'll be
happy to pay for what he took, sir. He knows better, but sometimes temptation gets the best of
him." He smiled his widest. "He does like his apples."

The fellow let the boy down. Before he could take a step, Merlin caught him by the
collar and pulled him close. "Hold on there, Billy. I've been looking for you this past while and
you're not getting away again. Now, then sir, how much did you say I owed you?"

"Oh, fifty cents ought to do it. I sure hope you'll lambast him good. He needs to be
taught a lesson."

Merlin dug out change. He deliberately miscounted, and gave the fellow sixty cents.
"Oh, you can be sure of that. Here you go. Now, then, Billy, you apologize to this gentleman."
He gave the boy a good shake when he didn't speak.

"Sorry," came a grudging near-whisper.

"That's fine. Let's get on back to the room. We'll be making an early start in the
morning." He touched his hat in farewell, and pushed the boy ahead of him toward the
street.

Before they entered the hotel, he said, "You got a place to sleep?"

The boy's shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"Well, I reckon you'll have to sleep with me. Walk like you've got someplace to go." He
released the collar but got a good hold on the boy's threadbare jacket. With an occasional nudge,
he guided him across the small lobby and up the narrow stairs. The desk clerk looked at them
curiously but said nothing.

Once in the room, Merlin locked the door and went to the window to make sure it
couldn't be easily opened. That done, he picked up his saddlebags and tossed them on the bed.
"Hungry?"

Another shrug.

"I don't want to take you down to the restaurant tonight, but I think I've got something in
here that'll tide you over 'til morning. There's water in the pitcher. I reckon it'll do more good
inside of you than outside of me." He unearthed a strip of dried elk meat and tossed it to the boy.
"Take little bites and chew slow. You're apt to choke if you try to gorge on it."

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out an apple, shriveled but not rotten. "I
dropped the crackers."

"Yeah, I figured so. He'll pick 'em up and pat himself on the back for gettin' the best of
us. What's your name?"

Having torn off a big chunk of meat, the boy was working to chew it. After a minute he
said, "Calli--uh, Cal. Cal Smith." He went back to gnawing on the meat.

"A-huh. You live around here?" He didn't entirely believe the Smith part, but Cal was as
good a name as any.

A shake of the head was the only answer.

"You're travelin' then?"

A nod this time.

"North or south."

"My pa's in Virginia City. Leastwise that's where his last letter come from."

"Well, you are in luck. It so happens I was heading in that direction myself. I've been
travelin' for a couple of weeks now, and I was getting right tired of having nobody to talk with.
We can go along together and keep each other company." He sat in the straight chair and unlaced
his boots. As he toed them off, he wiggled his toes. "Now that feels good. First time I've had 'em
off in a week." He stood and removed his coat. The room was some warmer than outdoors, so
he'd be able to strip down to his longjohns. He never had liked sleeping in his britches.

Cal made a funny noise and turned his head towards the window.

Merlin paused with his shirt half over his head. He looked again at the boy, whose eyes
were closed. He'd gone tight again, like he was getting ready to run. His thin fingers were
clenched on the edge of the mattress and his feet were pulled back, ready to catapult him to his
feet.