Squire's Quest (7 page)

"I reckon it does." For some reason, that didn't bother him like it would have a while
back.

* * * *

The rest of the journey was so uneventful it came close to being boring. The weather
held, with high, thin clouds and heavy frost at nights, but no snow. The gut-shot bandit had used
his one bullet, and they'd buried him beside the trail he'd tried to charge toll on. The others rode
on top of crates, tied down so they wouldn't roll off, because the teamsters agreed their own men
should get the comfort of the mounded flour and feed sacks. Merlin reckoned by the time they
got to the mining camps, they'd probably have been punished enough, but he said nothing. Let
the law decide what to do with them.

He took a turn driving, since they were short handed, but it wasn't to his taste. After the
first day even Murphy agreed he lacked the knack for it and suggested he ride shotgun.

That suited him just fine. He ranged wide of the trail, forging ahead at least twice a day,
so they wouldn't be caught napping as they had at the gate. The road eventually led down into
another valley, and he could see a cluster of buildings ahead. He wanted to yell with joy. Instead
he turned back and let the rest of them know the end was in sight.

Cal didn't cheer like the others did.

He turned Bul to ride beside her. "How come you're not excited? You'll be seeing your
pa in a day or so."

She shrugged.

"Cal? Look at me."

She angled her eyeballs his way, but kept herself faced forward.

"Does he know you're coming?" It was a question he should have asked her back in
Eagle Rock.

Another shrug.

He crowded close and leaned over to catch Ruth's halter rope. The country here was flat
enough they could ride alongside without being half-mountain goat. He led the molly out about a
hundred yards from the train and pulled her up beside Bul. "Does your pa know you're
coming?"

She stared off towards the hills enclosing the valley through which they rode. "Maybe. I
don't exactly know."

"You wrote to him, didn't you?"

"Well, of course I did. I ain't stupid."

He bit back a chuckle. In a way it was funny, but what in thunder was he going to do if
they got to Virginia City and her pa wasn't there? "But you didn't sit around waiting for an
answer, did you? You don't know if he's expecting you."

"Uh-uh." She turned to look at him then, and he saw the tears making clean little tracks
down her dirty cheeks. "I had to come," she said. "I had to get away from my cousin. He was...
he could be real mean."

After a spell of just looking at her, Merlin decided there was plenty she wasn't telling
him. It was plain to him she'd been scared of her cousin, and he had a feeling he knew why.
Bastard. She's just a little girl.

Remembering his own reaction to sleeping next to her--something that happened right
regular, until he'd got so he dreaded bedtime--he could understand.

But he couldn't condone. His pa had raised him to respect women, even little girls who
weren't women yet.

* * * *

The closer they got to Virginia City, the slower they seemed to move. Leastwise that's
how it seemed to Callie. They'd come down into the flats yesterday, and she'd expected to see the
town before sundown. Now it was another sundown, and they were camped alongside the big
mule corral at Alder Creek. According to Murphy, it was still half a day's drive to Virginia City,
but they had to unload a pile of freight first, so they weren't likely to get there much before
supper time.

The closer they got, the more scared she was her pa wouldn't be there. And then what
would she do?

Merlin was itching to move on. She'd seen how fidgety he was in the evenings, even
though he'd promised to stay around long enough to teach her to shoot. She really didn't expect
him to. All he'd agreed to was get her here. Nice as he could be, he was still a man, and she'd
never known a man yet could be depended on.

"Cal! Git over here, boy. Got spuds for you to peel."

She stomped over to the grub wagon and sat on the low stool beside the bucket of spuds.
"Where'd they come from?" He'd cooked the last spuds from the grub wagon a week ago.

Peeling spuds for Hiram wasn't near as bad as it had been for Aunt Sadie. He wasn't all
that particular about bits of skin left on, and he didn't insist they be soaked in cool water before
he fried them. "A little dirt gives 'em flavor," he'd told her the first time he'd put her to work.

"Bought 'em here. I was gettin' damn tired of dodgers and biscuits. Nothin' like a good
spud to fill a man up."

She tossed the first spud aside and picked up another. "How long will you be around?"
Maybe if her pa wasn't here, Hiram would hire her on as cook's helper. He'd complained more
than once about his helper who'd broke his leg down around Fort Hall.

"Couple of days, I reckon. Murphy wants to get back soon as he can. We're takin' a
chance on the weather already. I disremember ever coming up here so late." Picking up the
canvas log tote, he strode off toward the pile of firewood by the corral.

She bit her lip as she watched him go.
What if I can't find Pa in a couple of days?
What will I do?

I should have thought about that before I came.

It was full dark when they pulled into the freight yard at Virginia City. The teamsters
made plain their relief at seeing the end of the long journey with cheers and loud boasts of what
they intended to do while in town. Merlin hoped Cal didn't understand half of what they
said.

He only understood about three-quarters, and that was enough to make his ears burn
and his doowhacker stand up, when he thought about doing what they talked about.

"It's too late for you to go looking for your pa tonight," he told her as they were
unloading Cap. Murphy had offered them space in the bunkhouse and he was grateful for it. He
was tired of sleeping under a wagon and bundling with her to keep warm. The bunkhouse had a
fireplace at either end.

"Yeah, I know." She kept her head down, like she was avoiding his eyes. All day long
she'd been real quiet.

"You got any idea of where to start?"

"Uh-uh."

He was starting to get a bad feeling about this. He decided to wait until they'd unpacked
and got their supper before he asked the questions that were forming in his head.

Two hours later he stopped her before she could go into the bunkhouse. "Let's go for a
walk."

"I'm tired."

"Me, too, but a walk'll limber us up before bed. There's no place for private talk in
there."

She stuck her lip out a mile, but didn't argue.

He kept silent as they walked along the road toward town. From what he'd seen before it
got too dark, Virginia City was going to be a disappointment. It was bigger than any of the gold
camps he'd been to, but no livelier.
Guess Pa was right. The gold boom is slowing down. I'll
have to find my excitement somewhere else.

About every third place on the main street was boarded up. Those that showed some life
were saloons. He guessed they'd have to do their talking while they walked.

"Where'd your pa work the last you heard?"

He didn't have to turn his head. He could almost
hear
her shrug.

"Consarn it, Cal. When was the last you heard from him?"

"Last year." She walked on two or three steps. "Ma got a letter from him on her
birthday. In January."

Great God! That's nearly two years ago.

Fed up, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her back the way they'd come. To his
surprise, she'd didn't resist. By the time they'd come to the turn-off to the corral, he'd cooled
down a bit. He pulled her over to the fence and pushed her down on the edge of the horse trough.
"All right now, suppose you tell me how you know your pa's here and how you plan to find
him."

"I was going to ask at the Mercantile. That's where he said he worked. In his letter, he
said he had a snug little cabin, and as soon as he got some money saved up, he'd send for me and
Ma." She sniffed, and her voice was not so steady when she added, "We never heard from him
again."

One time Merlin had heard his uncle Silas say something about a Chinese obligation--if
you saved somebody's life, you were responsible for him forever more. With a terrible sinking
feeling in his belly, he wondered if that's what Cal was going to be. His Chinese obligation.

What am I going to do if her pa's not here?

Well, he'd worry about that when it happened. "We'll start there, first thing
tomorrow."

"You're gonna help me find my pa?" Her smile seemed to light up the night. "You really
are?"

"I don't see I've much choi--" Before he could finish, he was enveloped in her hug.

"Oh, thank you, Merlin. You're wonderful! I could kiss you." She did, smacking him a
good one on the cheek.

"Here, now, that's no way for a big boy like you to behave," he said, making his voice
real stern, in hopes she'd hear his warning.

"Oh. I forgot." She said, sounding thoroughly chastened. She released him and stepped
back.

"Well, see you remember from now on." The last thing he needed was for the teamsters
to get a hint she was female. Or anybody else, either.

* * * *

"Lemuel Smith? Hmm. Now where did I hear he'd gone?" The clerk at the mercantile
scratched his nearly bald head. "He moved on afore I come to work here, but Mr. Stewart, he
said something..."

Beside him, Merlin could feel Cal's excitement. And her disappointment. He knew she'd
hoped to walk on in here and find her pa, right off. "Did he leave town?"

Another scratch and a screwed-up mouth showed how much work the fellow was
making of remembering. "Doesn't seem like it. For all I know, he might have come in here now
and then. I wouldn't know him to see him."

"He's tall," Callie said, "and his hair's real black. Like mine." She whipped off her cap to
show him.

The clerk peered at her curiously, but shook his head. "Nope. Don't ring no bell."

"What about Mr. Stewart? Is he about?"

"He's in the back."

Catching hold of Callie's arm before she spoke up, Merlin said, "Can you ask him to
come out and talk to us? It's real important."

"I reckon I can do that." The clerk turned and walked toward the door at the far end of
the store.

Once he was a ways away, Merlin whispered, "Remember, we agreed you'd let me do
the talking. You look too much like a little kid. Nobody's gonna take you seriously."

She stuck her bottom lip out, but nodded.

Mr. Stewart looked right prosperous. His suit was fine wool, like the one Uncle Silas
had on the last time he'd come home. Merlin introduced himself, told where he was from. Sure
enough, the man had heard of his family. "Lemuel Smith is the only living kin the boy has. My
pa would take him in, but he felt it was more fitting for him to be with his own father."

"Well, now, I'm not so sure." Stewart sent Cal a pitying look. "Smith keeps some
unsavory company. The lad might be better off going back to Boise City with you."

Callie opened her mouth, but before more than a squeak could come out, Merlin
elbowed her in the ribs. "That's as it may be, sir, but he should at least see his father. Let the man
know his wife is dead."

On cue, Callie sniffed, like a proper little orphan.

"Hmph. I suppose you're right. Chinatown."

"Beg pardon?"

"Chinatown. That's where you'll find Lem Smith, leastwise the last I heard. In the female
boarding house with the blue front door. He's the chucker-out. And God only know what else."
His glance at Callie was even more pitying than the first. "No place for a lad that young. You
take my advice, Mr. Lachlan, and keep him as far from Lem Smith as you can."

Merlin thanked Stewart and assured him he'd let Cal come to no harm. He chivvied her
out of the store before she could give the whole game away with the words that were doing their
best to come busting out. Once they were in the street, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her
around the side of the Mercantile building.

She jerked free as soon as he'd stopped walking. "He's a liar. My pa's a fine man."

"Maybe so, but Stewart sure doesn't approve of what he's up to. Not so sure I do either."
Not if it meant the only place for Cal to live was in the house where her pa worked. And
probably slept.

"What's wrong with working at a female boarding house? That's respectable."

If he hadn't once overheard his pa's hired man and one of the ranch hands talking,
Merlin might have thought the same. "It's a...a house of ill repute. That's what they call 'em in
polite company."

She had been stomping away from him but now she stopped and turned around.
"A...
what
?"

"A house of ill repute." At her blank expression, he said, "Consarn it, Callie. A
whorehouse."

Her eyes grew very round, until the while showed all around their green centers. "Oh...
No!"

"Only way to find out is for me to go look. I'll take you back to the bunkhouse. It
shouldn't take me more'n an hour to get some answers."

"I ain't going nowhere but with you. He's
my
pa."

A quarter hour later, he gave up arguing. "Great God, you are even more stubborn than
my sisters. Come along then, but don't blame me if you see sights you got no business
seeing."

"He's my pa," she said for maybe the hundredth time. "He's a good man."

Chinatown was down on the other side of the gulch, not too far from the freight yard.
Once they were on their way, he said, "The whorehouses are probably on the edge of Chinatown,
but we're going to go to the Chinese store first. You keep your mouth buttoned up and stick close
to me. No matter what you see or hear, don't you say a single word."

"Why? If we only need to go to the edge--"

"Cal, will you, for once in your life, just do what I say?"