The Gentleman Outlaw and Me-Eli (11 page)

The moment the door closed behind us, I flung
myself on the nearest bed. It was the softest I'd ever lain on. Like all the furniture, it was made of walnut, and its high headboard was carved with leaves and vines and scrolls. The bureaus had marble tops, and there was a pretty little sofa under the window, the sort most women would put in a parlor and forbid anyone to sit on.

Red velvet drapes kept out the afternoon sunlight. The floor was carpeted. The walls were covered with flocked paper in a fancy pattern. A pretty picture of the mountains hung over the washstand.

Calvin sat down on his bed and smiled at me. "Now aren't you glad we stopped in Durango?"

As much as I liked the Strater, I'd rather have gone on toward Tinville. But I didn't want to make Calvin mad or hurt his feelings by saying that, so I shrugged and told him the Strater was a mighty grand hotel. "Almost too grand," I added. "The very air smells costly."

I glanced at Caesar, who was scratching his fleas on the pretty little sofa. I swear he took to luxury quicker than I did.

***

That evening we had dinner in the hotel dining room, where I devoured a steak more than half my weight. Too full to budge, I gazed at the molding on the walls and ceiling, the potted palms, the waiters
tiptoeing around with trays of food, and all the pretty ladies and handsome gentlemen dressed so nicely and eating so politely.

Turning to Calvin, I stretched out my hand and asked him to pinch me. "I can't believe I'm sitting here eating my dinner. I swear I must be dreaming the whole thing. Even the steak I just ate."

Calvin smiled. "I'm pleased to see you appreciate the finer things in life, Eli. Perhaps my efforts to civilize you have not been in vain. You may grow up to be a gentleman after all."

There wasn't much chance of that happening, but I kept my thoughts to myself.

Calvin drank the last of his coffee and got to his feet. "Come along, Eli. It's time to select a saloon and make our entrance."

Reluctantly I left the dining room, casting one last admiring look at the pretty plaster garlands adorning the walls and ceiling. Maybe Calvin was right, maybe Tinville could wait a little longer. Why, for all I knew, Papa was long gone from there. He could be anywhere by now, even California.

Caesar was sitting outside the hotel, tied to a hitching post where we'd left him. He seemed glad to see the big steak bone I'd saved for him, especially since I'd made sure there was plenty of meat on it.

I perched on a rail beside Calvin and watched Caesar crunch that bone to nothing. "We better take him with us tonight," I said. "If he barks in our
room, there's no telling what might happen to him."

Calvin sighed. "I suppose you're right, Eli, but I wish he were better groomed and not quite so odoriferous."

Much as I hated to admit it, Calvin had a point. Poor old Caesar wasn't what most folks would call a handsome dog. Nor did he smell especially good. But he had a noble nature that shone in his eyes. And that's all that mattered.

The three of us ambled down the street, following the crowd to the Silver Queen Saloon, a likely place for miners to spend their hard-earned wealth.

At the door I went into my act and begged Calvin not to break his promise to Mama. He responded with a little speech about whiskey's effect on sorrow. Caesar got into the spirit of things by whimpering most pitifully.

We'd no sooner made our way to the bar than a golden-haired lady touched my arm. "What a pity to waste such a pretty face on a boy," she murmured, but it was Calvin's broad shoulders she was eyeing.

'Yes, ma'am," Calvin murmured. "Elijah here is the image of our dear, departed mother. Every time I see his face, I'm reminded of her." His eyes filled with tears and he turned his head to hide them.

As the lady began sympathizing with Calvin, I tugged at his sleeve. "Let's go back to the hotel," I begged.

The lady gave me a nasty look behind Calvin's back, reminding me for all the world of Millicent.
"A shot of whiskey is what your brother needs," she said sweetly. 'You'll see him smiling soon, just you wait."

The bartender was quick to provide a glass and a bottle. Calvin went through the motions of drinking, but, like the night before, he dumped the whiskey so fast no one saw but me. Soon he was sitting at a card table, as bleary-eyed and slur-tongued as any fool.

The lady perched herself on Calvin's knee, whispering in his ear and kissing him in the mushiest way, but every now and then, I caught her winking at the big-time gambler dealing the cards. Like the mysterious stranger we'd met in Pueblo, he wore a fancy diamond stickpin in his ruffled shirt and his fingers sparkled with rings. From the hard way he glanced at Calvin and me, I knew
he'd
never help a poor boy.

My fear of the dealer must have shown in my voice for Calvin looked right vexed at the way I was begging him to quit before he lost everything. I guess he knew I wasn't playacting.

The lady frowned. She'd lost patience with me a long time ago. "Maybe you should send your little brother home to bed," she suggested. "It appears to me he's up past his bedtime."

Calvin looked at me thoughtfully. "I believe you may be right," he told the lady.

Putting all the iron I could muster into my voice, I said, "I'm not leaving unless you come with me."

Calvin pulled me close and whispered, "Do as I
say, Elijah. I understand this situation better than you do."

'You and your airs," I muttered. "Sometimes I think Miss Nellie was right about you, Calvin Featherbone. You don't have the sense you were born with."

Fed up with watching him make a fool of himself, I stalked out of the saloon with Caesar at my heels. Behind me, the lady laughed and some of the ruffians at the card table joined in, but I paid them no heed. Let Calvin do what he pleased. I wanted no more of him.

Halfway back to the Strater, I saw something that changed my mind fast. A man lurched out of a saloon just ahead, followed by two others. Flattening myself against the side of a building, I watched Roscoe, Baldy, and Shovel Face stagger past. The three of them were heading in the direction of the Silver Queen.

There was nothing to do but cut down an alley and hope I got there first. No matter how vexed I was, I didn't want anything bad to happen to Calvin.

O
NE THING YOU SHOULD NEVER DO IS TAKE
a shortcut in a strange town. The alley I ran down had a fence across the end. Even if I could have climbed over it, Caesar couldn't have followed me. We turned and ran back to the street, but we'd lost precious time. Before we even got in sight of the Silver Queen, we heard gunshots.

Inside the saloon, chairs and bottles were flying through the air, accompanied by fisticuffs and blasphemy vile enough to curdle milk. The smoke was so thick I couldn't see Calvin anywhere, but that didn't stop Caesar and me from going in to rescue him. Like Calvin, I don't have the sense I was born with. It must have leaked out my ears when I was no more than a baby.

From somewhere in the fire and brimstone, I heard a voice holler, "Come out and face me like a man, you lily-livered, no good, worthless son of..."

I won't tell you what else he said, but when the smoke cleared I saw Roscoe standing in the middle of the room, a gun in his hand. Backing him up were Shovel Face and Baldy.

'You won't cheat me again, Featherbone," Roscoe bellowed, waving his gun. "Nor nobody else neither."

Calvin was standing by the card table, his chair on the floor behind him, his face as white as his shirt front. The dealer was on his feet, gun drawn and smoking. I reckon he'd already taken a shot at Roscoe. As for the pretty lady, all I saw of her was a bit of frilly red lace sticking out from behind an overturned table. I guess she wasn't crazy enough about Calvin to risk getting killed.

While I stood there taking in the scene, Caesar let out a fierce snarl and hurled himself at Roscoe. Before the scoundrel knew what was happening, Caesar was standing over him, slavering like a wolf ready to rip his throat out.

Sizing up the situation, I ran to Calvin's side and pointed at Roscoe, who was rolling around on the floor with Caesar as if they were wrestling. "Don't believe a word that lying scalawag says," I sobbed. "Mr. Suggs tried to bamboozle us out of our inheritance back in Kansas. Why, he stole our mama's farm and broke her heart. He might as well have shot her dead like he's aiming to do to Calvin now."

My tears swayed the crowd to Calvin's side. Every man and woman turned on Roscoe and his boys
with shouts and curses and cries of "Shame!" In a trice, that gang of no-goods were scampering toward the door.

Shaking off my dog, Roscoe paused just long enough to yell, "I won't forget this, Featherbone! Sooner or later, I'll get you and that little varmint alone somewheres and then we'll see, oh yes, we will!"

With that, the doors swung shut and Roscoe was gone. Satisfied, Caesar trotted back to me, panting a little, and dropped the seat of Roscoe's trousers at my feet. Folks laughed and cheered. The piano player suggested hanging the rag over the bar as a souvenir of the night's merriment, and the bartender obliged.

In a few minutes things were back to normal. I guess the customers were used to brawls and destruction.

But I wasn't. And neither was Caesar. We found us a nice quiet corner out of everybody's way and waited for Calvin to finish playing. The pretty lady hung over him, trying to peek at his cards, but he kept them close to his chest. Every now and then she flashed a smile at me as if to apologize for the harsh words she'd spoken earlier, but I was too weary to return the courtesy.

I watched Calvin lose hand after hand till it seemed I'd saved his life only to see him gamble away our fortune. Just as I was about to fling myself
at him and beg him to quit, he started winning. If he was cheating, I couldn't tell, nor could anybody else. Except for the dealer, the folks gathered around the table seemed happy to see Calvin's luck change. Especially the pretty lady, who hopped all over him like a flea, kissing him and stroking his hair and whispering in his ear.

When the last man quit, Calvin raked in his winnings and turned to me, his face flushed and his eyes fever-bright. "Are you happy, little brother?"

I got to my feet, too tired to do anything but nod. "Can we go back to the hotel now?"

"The night is still young, my handsome darling," said the pretty lady, caressing Calvin's face as if she were blind and couldn't see what he looked like without touching him.

"Alas," Calvin murmured, "I promised dear Mama to take good care of my little brother. I fear I've neglected my duty and kept him up long past his bedtime. Good night to you all."

Tipping his hat, the Gentleman Outlaw took my hand as if I were a helpless child and moved toward the door, with Caesar trotting along beside us.

The pretty lady came along with us, clinging to Calvin's arm and promising him all sorts of things. Behind her, the dealer watched, one hand resting lightly on his revolver and the other smoothing his mustache, looking for all the world like a villain right out of a Western story.

When Calvin continued to decline as courteously as a knight from olden days, the pretty lady finally lost her temper and called my companion a stupid boy, a fool, and other things too nasty to repeat.

"I know you was cheating," she screeched. "Next time I'll catch you at it. Then Jack McGraw will shoot you dead! He don't like cheats at his table!"

So saying, she took off down the dark street, pausing every now and then to shout a few more unladylike things at us. I swear I was tempted to sic Caesar on her. He'd have gladly ripped her frills to shreds.

"Step lively, Eli," Calvin hissed, yanking me along by one arm. "It appears we've made yet another enemy."

Calvin, Caesar, and I ran to the hotel, slipped in the side entrance, and raced up the steps to our room. After we shut and locked the door, Calvin went to the window and peered down into the street.

"Is McGraw coming?" I whispered, too afraid to go see for myself.

Calvin shook his head and pulled the drapes shut. Lighting the lamp, he busied himself counting his winnings. It looked like a goodly amount.

"Now we have two evil men to worry about," I said. "Roscoe Suggs and Jack McGraw. It seems to me we'd better move on to Tinville while we're still alive."

Calvin stretched out on his bed and stared at the ceiling. "The Silver Queen isn't the only saloon in Durango," he said.

"Jack McGraw was watching you real close," I said. "Like that lady, I wager he knew you were cheating. He's bound to tell others."

Calvin surprised me by agreeing. "Perhaps you're right," he said. "From what I hear, Silverton has a goodly number of saloons and gambling halls."

"Why can't we go straight on to Tinville?"

"Oh, Lord," Calvin sighed. "I wish I'd never heard the name of that town. You've worn it out saying it so often."

"But—"

"No 'buts,' Eli." Turning his back, Calvin blew out the lamp and prepared for bed.

Without saying another word, I undressed too and slid under my soft blanket. I was too worn down to argue. Wouldn't do any good anyway. It was clear Calvin had made up his mind. The most I could hope for was to be run out of Silverton as fast as we'd been run out of Durango.

T
HE NEXT MORNING WE ATE A GOOD BREAK
fast at the Strater, paid our bill, and headed down Main Street to the depot. Everything looked clean and shiny in the sunlight, including the train itself. Pure white steam billowed from its smokestack, rising up like a cloud against the blue sky. Steam hissed out from under the locomotive too. It was huffing and puffing, just raring to go.

The dark green cars were already filling with passengers. Families and fancy ladies, a man of the cloth, several gamblers, assorted miners. It seemed like half of Durango was heading north to Silverton. Those that were staying crowded the platform, waving and shouting to the ones who were going.

"First class again," Calvin said, guiding me to a Pullman car. "It's a three-hour journey, so we might as well avoid the hoi polloi and travel in luxury. We can afford it."