Squire's Quest (8 page)

The bottom lip went out again, but she nodded. "Promise we'll go to the house with the
blue door?"

"That'll depend on what I learn at the Chinese store."

"But I--"

"Your choice. Shut up, or I'm goin' back to the bunkhouse."

She made an X across her lips, but her eyes shot green sparks at him.

The Chinese store was the largest, most well-built structure in Chinatown. Merlin
paused before entering, stretching out an arm to keep Callie behind him. "May this unworthy
person enter?"

The woman behind the counter looked at him with narrowed eyes. After a moment she
held up a hand and slipped through the burlap curtain behind her.

"Wha--" Callie's whisper was just loud enough for him to hear.

"Shh!"

After a moment, a middle-aged Chinese man came through the doorway. He not-quite
bowed. "Please to enter. How may I honor such an exalted one?"

Merlin stepped across the threshold and bowed low. "I am Merlin Lachlan, nephew of
Sung Su Mei, the wife of Silas Dewitt. I seek information about someone who is reported to be at
the house with the blue door." Behind him he heard Callie take in a sharp breath, and crossed his
fingers she'd remember her promise to keep silent.

"I have no business with those in that place." The words were clipped, the tone icy.

"This I believe," Merlin said, doing his best to sound both humble and apologetic. "We
only come to you because of its location. Perhaps you know of one who is familiar with those
who reside there?"

The suspicion writ plainly on the Chinaman's face faded a little. "May this one know the
reason for your request?"

"This insignificant child--" Merlin pulled Callie forward, holding her by the upper arm.
"--a female of little worth, but one I have promised to aid, seeks her father. I was told by Stewart,
at the mercantile, that he resides there."

"Ahh. I see." The man clapped his hands and called out something in Chinese. "I will
send one to ask. While we wait, you will share tea with me."

Shortly the woman appeared, bearing a tray on which rested two cups of white china,
painted with delicate flowers, and a pot with steam issuing from its spout. She set it on the
counter. She listened to the Chinaman's words, filled each cup, then retreated behind the
curtain.

"I am Feng Ji Fei. Your esteemed uncle assisted my family once and I am happy to
repay the debt in a small way. You will give him my greetings when next you see him?"

"I will. It is an honor." Merlin hoped he was doing this right. His Aunt Soomey had
lectured them all on the good manners expected when dealing with Chinese, but this was his first
time alone. He sipped his tea and kept a straight face. It was strong enough to float a canon.

All the while he and Mr. Feng exchanged compliments--he was running out of things to
say--he kept hoping Cal would mind her manners. He just knew she was fuming over him getting
tea and her not. He'd had to tell Mr. Feng she was female, though. If she stayed around here,
having the Chinese community watching out for her might save her bacon.

A boy, about the same size as Cal, poked his head into the door and jabbered something.
Mr. Feng answered in a few words and waved him away.

"The man no longer resides at the house with the blue door," he said, "but no more than
nine days ago he was seen in Nevada City. The one who saw him believes he has a room at the
back of the High Grade Saloon."

"I am deeply grateful," Merlin said, rising. He spoke a few more compliments and
several more phrases of thanks. Mr. Feng claimed his house had been honored with Merlin's
company. Then Merlin had to claim his was the honor. After ten minutes or so, they ran out of
compliments, and he was able to take his leave gracefully.

He caught Cal's arm again. "Not a word," he whispered. "Not until we're back at the
yard."

* * * *

There were still a few claims being worked between Virginia City and Nevada City, but
it had been long enough since most were active that alders were starting to come back here and
there along the creek. As they walked along the road, Merlin tried to see the place as it had been
in his heyday. It was just his luck to be too late here, like he'd been too late in the Boise Basin.
There wasn't much excitement to be had in a dying gold camp. He'd be glad to get Cal handed
off to her pa, so he could get back to his quest.

Now why did that notion bother him so much?

"How come there's two towns so close together?"

"I don't know. Maybe they ran out of flat places to build in Virginia City."

Callie kicked a rock. It went skittering ahead of them, and when they got up to it, she
kicked it again. "That don't make sense. Lots of houses on the hills."

Since he had no notion why folks put towns where they did, he shrugged.
Wonder how
bad the weather gets hereabouts. I have a feeling we're higher than Cherry Vale. If I don't get out
of here soon, I may be stuck for the winter

They stepped aside for a stagecoach to pass them. He looked after it.
I could take the
stage, I reckon. But what would I do with the livestock? Can't leave Bul behind, nor Cap.
"Ow! What'd you do that for?"

Cal had her fist cocked for another slug to his shoulder. "I asked you a question, and you
paid no attention."

"I was thinking. What?"

"I wanted to know if you'd sell Ruth to my pa. I've got kind of fond of her."

"Let's find your pa first. Look there. It's the High Grade Saloon," he said, pointing
ahead, to an unpainted shack with a canted roof over the sidewalk in front.

Callie stopped walking and stared. "It's not very big."

"Neither's the town. Let's go see if your pa's there." He slung his arm over her shoulders.
"Look, you know this could be a wild goose chase, don't you? I mean, your pa may not be here.
Miners are always moving on, looking for the next big strike."

"I heard the Chinaman. He said Pa was here nine days ago." Her face screwed up into a
grimace of distaste. "He probably lied, though."

Resisting the urge to shake her, Merlin said, "What makes you think so?"

"Chinamen are sneaky liars. Everybody knows that."

He did shake her. "You are crazy. Chinese people are just like us. Some are good and
some are bad. Mr. Feng helped us, and he didn't have to. That makes him a good man, far as I
can tell."

Her face took on the stubborn expression that told him she didn't believe a word he said.
"I don't hold with foreigners."

Knowing it did no good to argue with someone who had her mind made up, Merlin let
his arm drop from her shoulders. "Let's go find your pa."

Emmet Lachlan hadn't ever forbade his children to go to saloons, but he hadn't
encouraged it, either. Merlin had been curious enough to sneak into one when he was about
thirteen, but then he got in the fight with the panther, and after that he'd stayed close to home for
a long time. What with this and that, he'd never gone back.

Even inexperienced as he was, he knew the High Grade Saloon was a dump the minute
they stepped across the threshold. It stunk of vomit, sweat, tobacco, and spilt beer.

The man behind the bar looked about as unsavory as the place smelled.

"I don't like this place," Cal whispered as she kind of edged in behind him.

Without going more than two steps inside, Merlin said, "We're looking for Lemuel
Smith. He around?"

"What's your business with him?"

To prevent her from answering, Merlin stepped back onto Cal's toes. "It's with
him."

"Mr. Smith--" The bartender said it with an emphasis on the "mister" "He don't see
nobody without an appointment."

"That's fine with me. I'll be at the freight yard for another day. If he wants the news I
bring about his family, he can contact me there."

Turning, he pushed Cal ahead of him through the doorway and across the uneven
boardwalk. "Quiet. Not a word until we're out of earshot." He was afraid he'd have to pick her up
and haul her away before she finally got moving.

He managed to get her fifty paces from the saloon before she turned and faced him,
hands on hips. "What the dickens are you trying to do? He could've told us where my pa is. Why
didn't you make him?"

"Because he's bigger than me and he had a club in his hand. Keep walkin'."

She did, backwards, so she could jaw at him. "I didn't see no club."

"Neither did I, but I didn't see his left hand, either. If he wasn't holding a club, it was a
handgun. Count on it. I had no hankering to be beat or shot. Watch it!"

His warning came too late. She stepped on a chunk of rock and went tail over
teakettle.

He kept his face straight and reached down to help her. "Be better if you watched where
you're walking. We can sort this out when we get to the bunkhouse."

Callie dusted her britches off. She'd cracked her elbow good, but she wasn't going to
admit how much it hurt. "Darn you, Merlin. You think you know it all. Why didn't you just tell
him why we were looking for my pa? Why should it be a big secret?"

"If your pa wants it known he's got a daughter, he can tell folks. Until you know if
you've got a welcome here--"

"That's awful. My pa will be glad to see me." At least she hoped he would. She had so
few memories of him, for she'd been only a tyke when he went off to war. Then when he came
home, he'd been different. Quiet and short-tempered. Restless. He'd sometimes gone off for days
at a time, and when he came back he'd yell at Ma if she asked where he'd been.

Finally he'd told Ma he was heading West. Callie had been hiding in the kitchen, just
inside the door, so she could hear them talking. "To make a better home for you and the girl,"
he'd said. "I'll send for you in a while, once I'm settled."

That had been more than three years ago. They'd had a few letters, the last one from
Virginia City. He'd got himself a mining claim and was working it. "Not getting rich, but making
a living and then some," he'd told Ma. She'd been so happy, believing it would be only a little
while before he sent for them.

Then she'd got sick, and nothing Doc Barnes could do would make her well. And Pa had
never written again.

"He'll be glad to see me," she said again. "I know he will."

Merlin didn't say anything. He just gave her a quick squeeze, one arm across her
shoulders.

They waited at the freight yard all the rest of the day. Nobody came. By evening she was
fit to be tied. Ready to cry. Scared to death.

Come morning, they helped the teamsters load up the little bit of freight they were
taking back.

"We'd leave the wagons here if we didn't need them in Ogden," Murphy said, as he was
checking bills of lading. "I purely hate carrying gold. Makes me feel like I'm wearing a great big
bulls-eye on my back."

Cal looked at the half-dozen guards standing around the corral. "Is it really
dangerous?"

"You bet it is. Hauling gold down that road is like carrying raw meat through a pack of
wolves. This trip won't be so bad as some. We're running light." He stuffed the papers into a
leather case and tossed it to Merlin. "See that gets to Wallert over at the office, will you? I want
to get on the road."

He mounted his horse, as did the hard-faced, well armed men who were to guard the
freight train. "You ever get to Ogden, look me up," he said to Merlin. "If I ain't there, somebody
can tell you where I'm off to." He paused, looked down at Cal. "I hope you find your pa, kid, and
for God's sake, get yourself into a dress. You make a piss poor boy." With a touch to the brim of
his hat, he turned his horse and rode out of the corral, followed by nine big freight wagons and
the troop of guards.

Cal stared after him, open-mouthed. "He knew," she said at last, her voice cracking.
"You told him, didn't you?"

Merlin held up his hands. "Did not. Murphy, he's a noticing man. I reckon he had you
figured out within a day of when we hooked up together."

She eyed him, not sure whether to believe him or not.

He raised his chin, looked over her shoulder. "Somebody's coming."

She turned. A well-fed man in a red-and-black checked coat had just let himself into the
yard. He had a thick black beard and wore a wool cap pulled down to his eyebrows. He stopped
walking when he was about ten paces from them. "You the ones looking for Lem Smith?"

"We are," Merlin said.

The voice tickled her memory. The beard was as black as her hair. And the eyes were as
green as spring grass. "Pa?"

"Not me, sonny. I only got one child, and she's just a little girl."

Snatching off her hat, Callie said, "I ain't a boy. I'm Callie... Calista. But I ain't a little
girl no more."

He looked at her closely. After a moment, he came closer and peered into her face. She
could smell him. His odor was a lot like the saloon's, but fainter, and overlaid with
woodsmoke.

"Well, I'll be hornswoggled. I do believe you are my girl. But what the he-- What the
dickens are you doin' here? And where's your ma?"

"She...she's dead. I found your letter... I wanted--" The words just tumbled out of her
mouth, making no sense at all.

He looked at Merlin from under lowered brows. "Who're you?"

"Merlin Lachlan." He didn't hold out his hand. He didn't sound any too friendly
either.

"Huh." For a couple of minutes he just stood there, eyeing her, glowering at Merlin. At
last he said, "Let's go. This ain't no place to be talkin'." He turned and led the way across the yard
and down toward the river.

Callie glanced at Merlin, who didn't look inclined to follow her pa. "Please," she
whispered. "Please come with me?"

His mouth went hard, but he gave a little jerk of his head and started walking.

They followed Pa down across the creek and along a path on the other side, neither one
of them saying a word. After a half mile or so, he led them up a draw. Hidden in brush a ways
uphill was a little square cabin. Smoke came from the metal chimney sticking out of the roof.
One dirty window was set into the wall beside the door. Pa opened the door and motioned her
inside, but he blocked Merlin when he would have followed. "This ain't none of your business,
boy."