The Siren's Tale (18 page)

“
What shall I do?” he bleated.

“
Do?” said Drake coolly, standing up and adjusting his belt. “Go home, of course, and look at your pictures.”

He watched Thomas stagger off into the darkness. He hefted the box and chuckled. Then he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Is my money any good here?” asked Caleb Scattergood. “Or perhaps you play only with halfwits, Mr. Drake, or when the dice are loaded.”

“
By Mungo, you shall pay for your insolence!”

It is said Wyoming has only three months—July, August, and Winter. The weather was lovely in the first week of July, 1901. Even scruffy Hatter’s Field was sage-covered and gorgeous, dotted with patches of pink, purple, and yellow wildflowers. In the three hamlets, celebratory bonfires and homemade firecrackers in advance of the Fourth were set off by villagers in their shirt-sleeves and summer hats. 

The degree of smokiness in the hot air,
Widow Brown said, was “the breath of the devil invading the territory.” She told everyone who would listen she still had her eye on me, “that siren who snared Master Brighton.” Grandfather reported the slander to me, but I didn't care about the Widow's evil eye. I was happily married to a handsome, accomplished, and doting man, and I had not used my powers to get him as a husband.

Be
yond our rude Bulette cabin lay a field of blue bonnets, Indian paintbrush, lupine, and shooting stars. We were living in a state of domestic tranquility which delighted us both. A cane-backed rocker and a gas-fired chandelier were recent acquisitions for indoor comfort. The warm weather made it pleasant for walking out of doors. 

During this halcyon
interval, my mind was active, planning for our future life in San Francisco. Even during the act of lovemaking with my husband, I would think about the time ahead when I would go out in my pony carriage onto the bustling streets of San Francisco. I visualized passing through the throngs along the Embarcadero, with all the aromatic smells of coffees, teas, and foreign spices in the air, living in the gay world Nicholas had described to me. There was a society we were both well suited to. I would not be consigned to loneliness; my Nick would be at my side.

After the first week, Nick
brought out his books. The sight of those dusty tomes, with the image of change they represented, made me every day more eager for the launch of our future. Unlike Mother Brighton, I had a high regard for the intellectual class of men to which Nick belonged. I was confident my brilliant husband was destined for greatness. One day soon, he would submit to my will about the appropriate stage for his efforts. Though I found his choice of temporary employment distasteful, I kept my opinion to myself, knowing it was best to select my battles wisely. I was resigned to Nicholas's chasing after summer ice in the mountain peaks. It served to keep him well occupied, which was more than I can say for myself, alone in our dingy cabin.

It was hard not to suggest to my impoverished husband how
willing my grandfather was to lend us money to lease a more proper home. The modest money he made was put aside. In my mind, it was earmarked for the founding of a private school on Nob Hill. I didn't realize my husband was just as fervently wrapped up in his own scheme, to educate the downtrodden American Indian in Wyoming. I kept my mind focused on his promise we would be out of the tiny cottage in a few months. I was so confident of having my way, that I told grandfather we would soon be making our permanent home San Francisco, a comment that drew a long face from poor Horatio.

A
fter a few weeks, I summoned Horatio and Annie May to attend to our simple needs once a week. They came to the cabin together on horseback or on foot, and would sometimes stay overnight in a garden shed at the back of the little cabin.

One day I left the two in charge and rode over to Mill's Creek, to pay grandfather a long-overdue visit.

I was standing at Mill Creek's old mill pond, dwelling on the memory of passionate nights spent out on Hatter's Field in Curly Drake's embrace. I was startled by the sight of a hatless Mother Brighton, galloping toward me on her roan. I felt a pang of guilt about the sexual content of my daydream. Human guilt is not a comfortable emotion for a siren. It has always put me seriously out of sorts.

“
I've come to talk to you,” said the Widow Brighton breathlessly, getting down from her horse.

“
Why, hello. I didn’t at all expect you.”

“
I've come on family business. I need to ask you a question. Have you recently received a gift from Clare’s husband?”

“
A gift?”

“
I mean money. Valuable coins, minted from the Colorado Silver Exchange.”

“
What—for myself?”

“
I meant yourself, though I wasn’t going to put it that way.”

“
I accept a favor from Mr. Drake? No—never! Madam, what do you mean by that question?” At the mention of my old flame, I had fired up fast. 

“
I simply ask the question,” said Mrs. Brighton. “I've been worried—”

“
From the first, you were against me,” I interrupted, more heatedly than I intended, but I was keenly stung by the insinuation in her question.

Said she, slowly and coldly
. “You are wrong. I was simply for Nicholas.” 

“
Do you suggest he required guarding? Why do you think so badly of me? I have never done anything to hurt you.” Tears of passion and outrage were in my eyes, blinding me to whatever painful emotions might be expressed on my mother-in-law's face.

“I only did what I thought was best for Nicholas,” said Mrs. Brighton.”A mother’s instinct is to look out for her own. I would rather not be having this conversation, Cassandra, but you have forced it. I tried to dissuade him by any means in my power from marrying you. But it is done now, and I shall have to accept the Lord's will.”  

“
Yes, now you want to see your son, you can perhaps bring yourself to accept it. But your accusations are outrageous. Why do you think there is anything between me and Mr. Drake? We are both married to others. I won’t be falsely accused by you or anyone. It was a sacrifice for me to marry your son.”

Mrs. Brighton
drew up taller. 

“
A step down, you regard it? Our lineage is every bit as good as yours. Better, I would venture to say.”

I had been thinking of my ancient siren heritage, not my social position, so her assertion of superiority only made me angrier.

“
You mistake my meaning. If Nick had not insisted, I—I would never have agreed to marry.”

“
You would be better advised not to say that to my son. I’m not aware of any deception on his side. If there was any, it was on your side. I have heard the stories about you and Drake.”

Truly incensed, I stomped my foot.
“Oh, this is too exasperating! I only hope in the future you will be silent on this mistaken idea of my eagerness to marry. You’ll only be making a fool of yourself.”

My eyes shot fire, but hers fired back. She countered,
“How dare you speak to me like that? Are you implying I would talk against you in public?”

“
Of course! You did so before our marriage. You now falsely accuse me of secretly favoring a former lover for money, even after my marriage.”

“
I can’t help what I thought before, and I was doing what I thought best. I stand by that.”

“
As I will now.”

“
Which will be, I'm sure, to poison Nick against me, his poor mother!”

“How noble you are to bear up under your fate as the sainted mother, whose relationship with her son is poisoned by the evil witch! The citizens of Alta will all say it is so, the same who cast spells against me.”

She shook her head.
“Don’t rage, girl! The spiteful cat needlessly shows her claws against a dead mouse. I say I am only an old woman who has lost a son.”

“
You'll get no pity from me. You have brought this folly on yourself by creating an evil division.”

“
I have done nothing. You are the evil one, and your audacity is not to be borne.”

“
You asked for it,” I panted. “Now, will you please leave my grandfather's property?” 

The next moment,
I was sorry for having allowed my siren nature to howl, also for having recklessly thrown down the gauntlet. But it was too late to retreat. Mother Brighton looked me up and down with her cold, brown eyes.

“
God has been unjust in letting you stand here and insult me, Cassandra. I will go and leave you to Him, after I’ve spoken one more word. I fear my son’s happiness does not lie on this side of the grave. He has ignored much good advice by marrying you on a whim. You stand on a collapsing precipice. Do not ever give Nicholas cause to doubt you, or you will rue the day. If you show my son one half the temper you have shown me today, you’ll find out that though he appears to be mild-mannered as a child, he can be hard as steel.”

Earlier that morning, the Widow Brighton had called in Thomas from weeding her garden. She told him she had heard her daughter-in-law was expected at Mill's Creek, and she intended to pay a call on her. As she turned aside, she said, half to herself, “I received a note of thanks from Clare about the coins, but I haven't heard a word from my son. Such rude behavior isn't like him. Something must be wrong.”

Thomas then burst into tears and was forced to report the incident of the gambled coins to his employer.

“So Drake has all the coins?” the Widow demanded.

“
I-I-I don't know, ma'am. I think so. I told him one bag was Clare's and the other belonged to Master Nicholas. Drake said you should have give one bag to Mrs. Brighton by rights.”

“
So Cassandra has them all! Just as I thought! Get me my horse, Thomas, and make sure you ask God to forgive your terrible sin in your prayers. Gambling will take you straight to hell.”

“
Y-y-yes, ma'am.”

Poor Thomas had no way of knowing the information he had reluctantly given to his employer was itself misleading…

On the night of the gambling party, after Thomas had gone stumbling into the darkness, Caleb Scattergood had come out of shadows and challenged Clare's husband to play for Clare's coins.

Drake had mentioned nothing about the half of the legacy that belonged to Nicholas, as he felt sure of winning.
The battle was fought hard, but in the end, victory belonged to the ice man. Gnashing his teeth, Drake turned over Samuel's coins to the man who loved his wife more than he did and stomped off. 

Caleb's victory was doubly sweet, giving him an
excuse to visit Clare the next day. Not knowing one sack belonged to Nicholas, he presented the two sacks to Clare. She stood up on her tiptoes and bestowed a sweet kiss on the deliverer.

Caleb did not wash his neck for weeks afterward. Nor did he mention the gambling games to anyone.

After the bitter interaction with her mother-in-law, Cassandra quickly left Mill's Creek and took her horse at a gallop to
Bulette.

Her premature departure left Horatio h
eart-broken, while Captain Vye privately attributed her behavior to the impetuousness of newlyweds.

“
Didn't think Brighton had it in him,” he muttered to himself.

In her tiny cabin, Cassandra waited for her husband's homecoming and plotted. Hearing
Nicholas shout to his horse outside the door, she started to run out to greet him, as she always had done before. Then she stopped and waited. As Nicholas came through the door, she began to weep bitter and copious tears.

“
My darling love! Are you hurt? Tell me what's wrong.”   

“
I've seen your mother.  We'll never speak again.”

“
Why?” he asked, feeling a strong pang of disappointment. Often during the day he had wondered,
Has she gone to see Mother?  Are they getting to know one another?

“
Well, I—I hardly remember. We can't see each other again. That’s all I know.” 

Of course
she remembered every word.

“
Why can't you?” he urged.

“
Why not ask your mother why she insulted me? Oh, Nick, it was too humiliating and hideous! She asked me if I had accepted a gift of money from Clare's husband.”

“
No! Why would she say such a thing?”

“
I don't know. Her accusation couldn't have been clearer.”

“
She would not treat you so without a reason. I don’t believe it.”

“
Believe it, Nick. It is so.”   

“
Cassandra, there must be something else. Tell me exactly what she said.”

“
Never mind. We both said words that can never be forgiven. And…and…if you are taking her part, that would be just too much for me to bear!” 

She threw herself into his arms, still weeping. From the corner of her eye, she watched her husband's face for a propitious sign. Perhaps this was the
moment she had been waiting for, the moment when he might be most receptive to hearing the case for leaving the district. Finally she stopped her crying and spoke out impetuously.

“
Oh, Nick, do say you will take me to San Francisco and get me away from all this! I don’t care how humbly we live there. You can go on with your plans for a school, and I will help you as much as you like. My grandfather will invest in whatever business you start. Oh, Nick, do agree. It will make me so happy. Will you say it now, my love?”