Squire's Quest (41 page)

He wrapped his arms around her. "Yes, my managing little termagant. I'll sleep. But you
call me if--"

"She will not die tonight. I know this." With a pat to his cheek, she pulled free. "I have a
message for Celeste, as well. Buffalo sent it."

Silas grinned. "I wonder if Siri--"

"Siri does not worry about what Buffalo did before they met. Go to bed, Boss."

He shook his head after she'd slipped out the door. Soomey might call him Boss, but she
ruled the family, second only to its patriarch, Emmet Lachlan.

* * * *

The next afternoon Soomey called to him. "Boss?"

"Uh-huh?" He crossed the room to join her at the window overlooking the back
yard.

"Do you see the girl-child there? The one with hair as black as mine?"

Celeste had told Soomey about the Mother's House next door, where Tilly's girls who'd
borne children could live with them instead of farming them out. Or giving them away. She had
been pleased, but not surprised. Tilly was a good woman. Had she not taken in a Chinese girl and
treated her with honor?

"Pretty little thing. Or she will be, once she gets past the coltish stage."

"Look at her smile."

He slid his arms around her waist. "What about it?"

"Does it not remind you of someone?"

"Can't say it does. Has the doctor been here this morning?"

"That man! He is impossible. He treats me as if I have no brain. And he sneers at
Celeste." She curled her lip and crossed her eyes. "So!"

"Darlin' it's not his fault he's wall-eyed. The important thing is, he's making sure Tilly
doesn't suffer."

"Yes, Boss. Of course you are right." She looked back at the children playing in the yard
behind the adjacent house. "She is Callie's daughter. Celeste said so. She was born in October of
1876."

"That makes her eight. What about it?"

"Look at her, Boss!" She heard the impatience in her own voice. "Look at her smile. So
wide. So happy. Have you not seen a smile like hers before?"

His teeth closed on a tiny fold of skin at her nape and she shivered in anticipation of
what was to come. "Look at her!" she repeated, quelling the desire Boss always aroused in
her.

She felt his stillness, knew he was watching the three children tossing a ball back and
forth across the packed dirt of the large yard.

"She reminds me of...of someone."

"Yes? And she was born in October of 1876."

He became still. "No. I can't accept that."

"Nor could I, when I first saw her. But I asked Celeste. Callie came to Tilly's in the
spring of 1876. She was carrying a child. And she would never, ever speak of what brought her
here. Only that it was vitally important no one know where she came from or what her true name
was."

"What is her name?"

"She calls herself Callie Evans."

Silas snorted. "Evans is Tilly's name. She's no kin of Tilly's."

"But she might have chosen to pretend to be. If she was hiding from bad men."

"Soomey, you're dreaming. You're so worried about Merlin that you're building cloud
castles."

Turning in his arms, she looked up at him, caught his face between her hands. "Boss, I
said nothing about Merlin. But this is a mystery and I do not like mysteries." She went to her
tiptoes but was still too short to kiss him. As always he bent to touch his mouth to hers. "After
dinner, I will question her. But first I will speak with Tilly."

"Good luck," he said. "Celeste said she's secretive as all get out about her past."

"No one keeps a secret from me when I do not allow it."

His chuckle followed her out of the room. It was an acknowledgement of truth.

Denver
Mid-June 1876

Callie hesitated before knocking on the door of Tilly's office. Why on earth did the
Chinese woman and her husband want to talk to her? Were they hoping she would come to be
their cook? Lily had said they were fabulously wealthy. "S&L Shipping is one of the big
ones. He's the man who started it, and he's still running it. Celeste says they've known her since
the early days, back in Idaho."

Idaho? Tilly had come from Idaho? What if-- No, it was simply a coincidence. Besides,
Tilly had been in Denver for at least four years before she came here. There was no
connection.

"Come."

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Close the door," Silas Dewitt said. His was a commanding presence, silver-eyed,
square-jawed, and wide shouldered. His voice was strong, probably made so by years of shouting
commands.

His wife, the Chinese woman, sat at the corner of the desk, at his right hand. Callie cast
her a quick glance, before looking back at Mr. Dewitt. "You wanted me?"

He nodded but said nothing.

"I have three questions for you," Mrs. Dewitt said. "I advise you to answer truthfully,
because I am a very wise woman and I will know if you lie to me."

I'll lie if it will protect Gwennie.
"Yes, ma'am."

"Is Evans your true name?"

She wanted to say yes. "No."

"Did you come here from Cheyenne?"

With a clear conscience, she said, "We changed trains there, but no, that's not where I
came from."

"Ahh." More of a sound than a spoken word. "But you have been in Cheyenne--no, it
was not a question. Do not answer."

The Chinese woman stared at her with eyes black as night. She was tiny, a full head
shorter than Callie, and beautiful, even though she was no longer young. A faint white line
crossed her cheek. She had been badly cut at some time long ago.

The silence lengthened, and Callie was tempted to shift her feet, wring her hands.
Anything to break the tension.

Finally Mrs. Dewitt spoke. "Did your child's father come from Idaho?"

Her vision darkened. The room spun around her. And she felt herself falling down a
deep, deep hole. Spinning. Whirling, sinking....

She awoke to find herself lying on the velvet settee. Mrs. Dewitt sat beside her,
watching. She couldn't see Mr. Dewitt.

"I have one more question."

"Go ahead." She had nothing more to lose.

"Tilly told you your father was dead. The man who was his partner wanted to find you.
Was this why you took a false name?"

"Frisco--one of his men, he wanted me. He's dead too. But Deed--Lily said he would sell
his own mother--he took on Pa's house. I was afraid--"

"Perhaps you were wise. A woman who does nothing to protect herself is a fool. Who is
the child's father?"

The change of subject was so sudden Callie had said, "He's dead," before she could
think.

"You are certain of this"

"Pa gave me his things. His purse." The pain she'd hidden in a secret place in her heard
burst free and sliced through her as it had for months, until her child's needs had taken
precedence.

"His purse? Were you sure it was his? Was his name inside?"

Callie wanted to argue that those had been more than one question. "Yes. He was blind
in one eye. Inside the purse was an eyepatch. Leather, just like the one he always wore. It was
his."

"Ahh. So." Mrs. Dewitt's eyes closed but her lips moved, as if she was speaking to
herself.

"What will you do now? Celeste says she does not want to be whore any longer. She
will pay off the girls, sell this house."

Callie had already known, for Celeste had made no secret of the fact she'd had enough
of what she called the sporting life. "She will let us stay in the Mothers' House until it sells. I'll
find work somewhere. A hotel, or a boarding house. I'm a good cook."

"And your child? Will you be able to care for her?" Mrs. Dewitt's eyes smiled along
with her mouth. "Such a pretty girl. Her name, Guinevere. It has a meaning?"

"She was a queen, in a story. A story about--"

"About bold men who fought for justice and honor, who sought glory and adventure.
And about a wise magician. His name was..."

"Merlin." Callie couldn't have held the name back to save her life. "His name was
Merlin."

Small hands reached to clasp hers. "You loved him." It was not a question. There was
certainty in the Chinese woman's tone.

"Oh, yes, more than life. I'll never stop loving him."

"You are a very lucky woman. I will cast your horoscope. When were you born?"

Startled at the change of subject, Callie blurted, "Christmas Day, 1857."

"Ah, so. Thank you. I will speak with you again. I must go to Tilly now."

* * * *

Tilly died that night, peacefully, surrounded by people who loved her. Soomey, Celeste
and Callie washed her wasted body and dressed her in a scarlet silk negligee.

"She loved red. First time I ever saw her, she was wearing a dress red as fire, with yards
of black lace trim." Celeste made a small sound, somewhere between a hiccup and a sob. "What
a woman."

"Her piano was the first I ever saw. It frightened me. I thought it had teeth and would eat
me." Soomey straightened the crocheted bedspread. "I loved her."

"I did too," Callie said, unable to stop the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I lost my
ma a long time ago, but I can't remember it hurting like this does. She was the kindest person I
ever knew."

"Enough. We must go to bed. Tomorrow there will be business to take care of and
guests to welcome. Come." Soomey shooed them out of the room and pulled the door shut.

Celeste called everyone together after breakfast. "We're closed," she told them.
"Permanently. That's what Tilly wanted. Those of you who live here or in the Mother's House
can stay as long you need to, or until the properties sell. But as of today, we're officially out of
business. Jim, Rufus, will you stay on until everyone's gone?"

Both guards agreed, and followed the women out of the parlor. Callie started to go too,
but Celeste gestured her to stay.

"The funeral will probably be tomorrow. Can you put together a feed for a couple of
hundred by then? A big spread like we usually set out on Saturday nights?"

"I think so. I'll need to hire--"

"We'll all work. You tell us what you need. I haven't forgotten how to peel a
potato."

The funeral was private, but the wake afterwards was not. Callie had thought Celeste
mad when she said they'd probably have two hundred guests, but she prepared food enough
anyway.
I can always send what isn't used to the Poor House, as long as I don't tell them
where it came from.

They ran out of food in two hours. Men, most of them well-dressed and
prosperous-looking, came for a few minutes or an hour, from two o'clock until nearly six. A few were
accompanied by women, and some of the women greeted Celeste and the other girls like old
friends.

Callie, as usual, stayed hidden in the kitchen, but she peeked through the small window
into the dining room frequently.

As long as she was busy, she didn't have time to think about the future. Late that night,
though, when the girls had finished drying the last dish and were headed for bed, she sat at the
table and buried her face in her hands. When she had come here, she could have given good
references. Now there would be none, and she'd be lucky to find work in a saloon. Who else
would hire someone who'd cooked in a whorehouse?

"Callie? Why are you sitting here alone?" Mrs. Dewitt slipped into a chair across the
table. "You are tired. Go to bed. Tomorrow we will make plans."

"I'm fine. Really. You don't need to worry about me."

"I do not worry. Boss will take care of you. Of all the people who were important to
Tilly. Come. I will walk across to the Mother's House with you."

The next morning Mrs. Dewitt summoned her to Tilly's office. Callie wondered if she
was to be sent away, despite Mrs. Dewitt's promise.

"Do you have anything to prove you were married to Guinevere's father?"

She half-rose from her seat, wanting to scream at Mr. Dewitt for insinuating her child
was a bastard.

"Sit." Mrs. Dewitt's voice was sharp. "We do not doubt your word, but some things must
be proven. Do you have proof?"

All the starch went out of her. "No." She closed her eyes, remembering fire, the scrape
when her wedding ring was torn from her finger, the terrible sense of loss when she opened a
stained purse. "No, I have nothing."

"Where were you married? When?" Mr. Dewitt's voice was gentle.

"Cheyenne. The nineteenth of January, 1876."

Did Mrs. Dewitt really say, very quietly, "I told you so"?

"And your husband's name? You said Merlin, but what was his last name?"

Callie tightened her lips. When she had spoken his name the other night, she had felt as
if she was letting him go. Once more and he'd be gone, forever.

"Callie, we can send someone to Cheyenne to get proof of your marriage, but it will save
a lot of time and trouble if we have a name to start with."

His face blurred as tears welled. "Merlin Lachlan. His name was Merlin Silas
Lachlan."

Mr. Dewitt came from behind the desk and knelt in front of her. He took her hands in
both of his. "Callie, Merlin is alive. I spoke with him just over a week ago. I'm the Silas he was
named for."

"No! Don't lie to me. He's dead."

"He came close to it. If he hadn't been found when he was, he wouldn't have survived.
But he is alive."

Hope flickered, deep down inside of her. But so did anger. "He didn't come looking for
me. He didn't care enough to find me."

"There was a woman's body in the ashes of the cabin where you lived. Your wedding
ring was on her finger. He believed you were dead."

"Tell her everything, Boss."

He turned to look at his wife. Callie would have sworn he was silently pleading with
her.

"Tell her. She must know all."

His hands tightened until she cried out. "Callie, Merlin doesn't remember you. He can't
remember anything that happened that winter. He knows he was married, because he was told so
by people who knew you both in Cheyenne. But he has no memory of you at all."