Squire's Quest (42 page)

"But he knew me before. He took me to Virginia City. I was twelve--almost
twelve."

"He's never mentioned it."

Callie remembered when her mother had died. She'd felt alone, abandoned. But her
father was in Virginia City, or had been several months before. So she wasn't entirely alone.
Even though she'd come to hate him, he was her father. Merlin had been hers, but he'd been
taken from her. And then she'd found Tilly. Now all she had was Gwennie, who needed her to be
strong.

She stood, pulling her hands free from Mr. Dewitt's clasp. "Thank you for telling me. I
don't think it makes any difference, since he doesn't remember me. But I do thank you for letting
me know."

"Sit down and stop being a fool."

Startled, she sat. Mrs. Dewitt shouldered her husband aside. "Your daughter is Merlin's
too. She has a family who will love her--who will love you too. You will come with us to Boise
so you can take your proper place as Merlin's wife. So he can be a father to his child."

"He won't want me. Not if he doesn't remember me."

"That is for you and Merlin to decide. But you will not deprive him of his child. Tell her
so, Boss."

Mr. Dewitt gave her a curious half smile. "Soomey's right, I'm afraid. The Lachlans will
want you to come to them. What'll happen next will be up to you and Merlin, but I'll bet he'll
want you to stay close. He's always liked children."

Callie resisted, but eventually they wore her down. At last she said, "All right. Send
someone for the proof I am Merlin's wife. When you have it, I'll go to Boise with you. But I
won't promise to stay there. We're strangers. Besides, he never loved me."

* * * *

Boise
Early July 1884

IMPERATIVE YOU MEET WESTBOUND TRAIN NAMPA SATURDAY STOP
BRING WHOLE FAMILY STOP IMPORTANT GUESTS ARRIVING STOP DEWITT

Merlin read the telegram a second time. Why the dickens had Silas sent it to him instead
of to his father? "Can you stop by my folks' place on your way back? I'll give you a note to
deliver." He stepped inside and quickly scribbled a message. He handed over the twisted note
and a dime. "Thanks for bringing it out."

"Welcome." The boy kicked his mule and was off in a cloud of dust.

Idly Merlin wondered which of the Sylvester kids he was. There were so many he
couldn't keep track. Still chewing over who Silas might be bringing, he went back to his office.
The bids for reroofing the livery stable were all too high, in his opinion. He picked up his pencil
and started marking the items he believed were overpriced.

It was getting so he spent more time managing his various properties than working the
ranch, not that there was much to do this time of year, beyond feeding the chickens, gathering
eggs, and milking the cow. The cattle were up in their summer pasture, his few goats took care of
themselves, and he'd sold his stallion and three mares to Micah, who was a much better horse
breeder than he'd ever be.
Time to hire me a full time man,
he decided.
Maybe a
couple.

His house on the hillside would be finished before winter, and this one would be better
off lived in than empty.

He knew he should go looking for a likely woman to court. The new house needed
children.
He
needed children. But whenever he thought of having some of his own, they
looked at him from leaf green eyes.

Damn Silas for making me think about it. I was going along just fine until then.
Sometimes weeks would go by when he wasn't reminded of the missing part of his life. "Calista."
That was her name, the woman he'd wed, but hadn't been given a chance to bury. Her burned
body had been interred long before he'd learned he was a widower.
Why can't I feel
anything? It's like something in me died with her.

He walked to the window that looked out toward the river. One of the pair of nesting
eagles was circling above the cottonwoods, dark against the sky. Faintly he heard its keen, just
before it stooped and dropped out of sight. He waited. After a while it rose, climbing swiftly, and
he could see something dangling from its claws.

Suppertime.

Even the eagle had children.

I'm thirty-one. If I wait much longer, I won't live to see mine grow up.

Maybe his sister knew some likely women. He wouldn't mind keeping company with an
educated woman, one who didn't care he was mostly self-schooled. Surely there were some
single lady teachers in the schools.

Somehow the notion of courting a woman, no matter how lovely, how young, how
educated, felt more like duty than desire.

Aboard the Oregon Short Line, Idaho Territory
July 1884

"Is he really my father?"

Callie should tell Gwennie to stop bothering Mr. Dewitt. The terrible lethargy that had
overtaken her when she'd realized she had no choice but to go to Idaho with the Dewitts
prevented it. For two weeks, while she'd helped close Tilly's house and get both it and the
Mother's House ready to be put on the market, she'd moved through the days like an automaton,
doing the tasks assigned to her, eating when food was on the table, going to bed when everyone
else did.

Gwennie had attached herself to Mr. Dewitt as soon as he had told her that her father
was alive. She seemed in awe of Mrs. Dewitt, an awe Callie shared. The tiny Chinese woman
was a force to be reckoned with.

She half-listened as Mr. Dewitt told stories of Merlin's childhood, paid more attention
when he related how Merlin had lost his eye. She had heard that story before, and it still seemed
incredible he had fought a panther and won when he was scarcely fourteen. The train slowed for
a town and the Conductor called out "Shoshone. Transfer for Wood River."

"'We will get off here and have supper," Mrs. Dewitt said. "Come."

Gwennie bounced out of her seat and latched onto Mr. Dewitt. He chuckled and said, "I
think it's time you paid your mama some attention. Maybe you can get her to eat more than two
bites."

Her daughter started to pout, but a raised eyebrow sent her to Callie's side. "C'mon,
Mama. Uncle Silas says they make the best navy bean soup in the whole world here."

The very thought of navy bean soup made her ill.
I know I can't be pregnant, but my
stomach hasn't felt this way since I was.
She forced herself to smile as she took Gwennie's
hand and followed her down the aisle.

"Only about four more hours," Mr. Dewitt told her when they were on the way back to
the depot after supper. She had managed half a dozen spoonfuls of the soup before her throat
closed. "It's been a long journey."

"Yes," she said. "It has." When they reached their seats, she took the window and
hunched toward it, hoping everyone would take the hint and leave her alone.

Four hours! In four hours she'd face the man she'd loved more than life, the man who'd
abandoned her, just as her father had.

"He was shot, beaten and left for dead. It was pure luck young Rye Bates found him,"
Mr. Dewitt had told her, when she'd demanded to know why she had to go to a husband who'd
forgotten her.

"He didn't remember a thing, not even his own name, until they got back to Boise. Even
after that, he had only sketchy memories of anything from the time he left home in October of
1869 until when Rye found him." Silas had sounded sincere and honest when he said that. He'd
looked her straight in the eye.

Pa had looked folks straight in the eye when lying to them. He'd sounded honest and
convincing when he swindled and cheated them.

If Merlin had loved me, he would have come looking for me.

"Mama?" Gwennie had chosen to sit with her when they reboarded, and was now
leaning against her. She sounded half asleep.

"Yes, sweeting?"

"Did you wear a pretty dress when you married my father?"

Closing her eyes, she thought back to an event she'd done her best to expunge from her
memory. "Yes, I believe I did. It was..." Her fingers remembered before she did. Remembered
the sensuous texture of bottle-green velvet, the metallic scratchiness of gold soutache braid trim,
the sleek silk of stockings that were the first, other than wool or cotton, she'd ever worn. Her
fingers curled as if around a bouquet of green leaves. A lump grew in her throat, threatened to
choke her. "It was green, with gold trim." If she had tried to say more, she would have wept.

I was so happy.

Gwennie wormed her way under Callie's arm. "Tell me about him." She never seemed
to hear enough about her father. "Uncle Silas didn't know him after he was grown up. He only
went to Boise four times since my father went home."

"He wasn't grown up when I first met him. Not really. He was only sixteen." Somehow
speaking of Merlin as she'd first known him was easier than speaking of him as a man. She told
Gwennie about their journey to Virginia City, of how he had saved her from the grocer who
would surely have beaten her, of how Merlin had helped hold off the men who'd tried to charge
the freight train a toll. "He was a really good shot."

Glancing down, she saw Gwennie had fallen asleep. Just as well. She didn't want to
admit how foolish her mother had been to prefer a father who owned whorehouses and saloons to
a valiant, smiling boy who would have taken her to his home, expecting his parents to take her
in.

I believed my father would take care of me. How wrong I was.

* * * *

Nampa, Idaho Territory
July 1884

"Any idea why Silas sent me the telegram instead of you?"

His father shrugged. "Nope."

"Did he telegraph you, too?"

"Nope."

"Pa! What the dickens is going on?"

"How should I know. You sent a note in, saying we had to come to the station with you.
Didn't say why. We're here. Even Regina. I reckon when Silas gets here, we'll find out." Pa
sounded irritated, and Merlin guessed he didn't blame him.

I'm jumpy as a cat on a hot stove. It can't have anything to do with the woman they
went to see. I never knew Tilly, never visited her house.

"Yes, I guess we will." He pushed through the door and paced the length of the platform
and back for maybe the twentieth time. Inside his small office, the telegraph operator was
hunched over a chattering key. Merlin walked over and leaned an elbow on the narrow ledge. He
tapped on the glass.

After a minute or so, the man stopped transcribing the message and came to the window.
As soon as it was open, he said, "Thirty minutes."

"Huh?"

"Train'll be here in about thirty minutes. Anything else?"

"No. Thanks. That's all."

The window slammed down.

Merlin resumed pacing. Eventually he heard a faraway whistle. Finally.

He would have sworn the train came the last five miles at a walking pace. When it
finally pulled into the station, it took the Conductor an age to get the vestibule door open and the
stool set down.

He forced himself to stand still and wait. Ma and Pa stood on either side of him, with
Regina just behind. The Conductor got the stool set to suit him, and turned around to help folks
down.

Silas came out first. As soon as his feet landed on the brick platform, he turned and held
out a hand. Soomey appeared and quickly descended. She looked straight at him. "Oh, very
good. You are here, Merlin. We have such a surprise for you."

He would have sworn there were yellow feathers in the corners of her mouth.

The woman who came out next was taller than Soomey by a good head. She wore a
plain dark green dress and a straw bonnet trimmed with yellow ribbon and green leaves. Her face
was shadowed by the bonnet's deep poke. No sooner had she set foot on the platform than she
turned and said, "Hurry, Gwen. There are people behind you."

A girl, young, but not a baby, came into view. Coltish, skinny and long-legged, she wore
a dark red pinafore over a pink dress and a bonnet with ribbons to match both. Black braids hung
down her back. She stepped past the woman and looked around. Looked right at him.

And smiled.

It was like looking into a mirror.

Behind him, Pa whispered, "Great God."

The world spun around and his legs gave way. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on
the hard bricks, leaning against Pa's legs. Ma was crouched before him, wielding her fan.

Images and words tumbled thorough his mind like bubbles in a splash pool, swirling,
spinning, colliding, without rhyme or reason.

He felt someone take his hand, someone else his opposite arm, and pull him to his feet.
Blinking, he tried to make sense of the sounds around him, a cacophony of words, spoken by
several people, all jumbled together into meaningless noise.

"He's sick."

He heard that clearly and wanted to say,
No, I'm not,
but his tongue was thick in
his mouth and wouldn't obey him.

He saw a woman standing in a cabin door, waving, as he rode away behind two freight
wagons, felt his regret at leaving her, for they'd had too little time together.

Her hair was a black cloud blowing in the cold wind, her eyes as green as spring
grass.

He heard, "All my life, I'll take care of you," and knew he'd spoken those words. To her?
But when?

Again someone was guiding him, pushing him up a flight of stairs. "It's been a shock.
He'll be better in the morning." The words made sense, the voice was familiar. He wondered who
his uncle was talking about. Somebody who'd drunk too much, he reckoned.

His wrist was gripped and his arm slung across a wide set of shoulders. "Turn loose,
Rye. I'll walk if it kills me." he said. But those weren't Rye's shoulders. Too wide, too tall. "Who
are--"

"Sit." Silas sounded tired.

He fell back onto a soft bed when someone pushed on his chest. "...last time I drink
absinthe. Tastes like piss."

"I'd sure like to know where you got to in your adventures, lad. Sounds like you had
yourself a wild time."