Ten Thousand Charms

by Allison K. Pittman

  “So why not try to make a go of it again? Try South Pass, it's not ten miles from here, and 1 know it's still going strong. Or maybe Virginia City. I've been there. It's still spitting silver faster than a man can spend it.”

  As she spoke, Gloria's voice was rising. There was a tiny rustle from the basket atop her bed, and the tiniest squawk came from little Kate's mouth. John William scooped up his daughter and held her, cradled in the crook of his arm. He bent his head to hers, whispered a greeting, and looked at Gloria again.

  “I don't want her livin’ where the land spits silver,” he said. “There's nothin’ good for her here. I don't want her to be wild, to grow up around—”

  “People like me?”

  “I didn't say that.”

  “You were about to.”

  “No, I wasn't.”

  Kate was fully awake now, her blue eyes taking in the full vision of her father's face. A contented gurgle escaped her mouth, and another escaped her other end. The tension in the room was immediately broken, and both Gloria and John William laughed.

  “I think she needs a change,” Gloria said, reaching to take the baby.

  “I think you're right. Should I leave?”

  “Leave." Gloria said. “Listen, MacGregan, if you're planning to take this little one off to the Oregon Territory you're going to have to learn to change a diaper. Open that top drawer and fetch out a clean one.”

  John William pulled a clean square of linen from the top drawer of the bureau in the corner.

  “You're forgetting somethin',” he said, handing Gloria the clean diaper and watching, fascinated, as she deftly removed the soiled one. “I asked you to come with me. I need you to take care of Kate.”

  Gloria was thankful to have the task at hand to command her attention. She couldn't decide if she felt gratitude or fear. She'd never been needed before, not for any noble caus, anyway. How many evenings had she sat around various parlors with her fellow prostitutes, talking about the moment when some man would come along and offer to take them away from that life? Rescue by marriage had never been Glorias longing, but from the dreamy expressions of younger girls and the hardened expressions of the older women, she knew that any life with any one man was preferable to life with hundreds of them. Now, here she stood, on the threshold of an opportunity to take her away from the shame she'd created, and she was gripped with crippling indecision. This was no leap she was willing to take without being certain of just how and where she would land.

  “What about Danny?” she asked. Kate was freshly diapered, and Gloria handed her back over to John William.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, how does he figure into the picture?”

  “Danny's your son,” John William said softly. “He figures in with you, of course.”

  “What about his father?”

  “His father?”

  “Yes. Or didn't you think he had one?”

  “I guess I never—”

  “No, of course you didn't. I know Fm a whore, but 1 do have some sense of…” her voice trailed in search of a word. “I mean, it wouldn't be right to just take off in the night with another man's child, would it?”

  “Do you know, then, wh—um, where his father is?”

  “You meant to ask if 1 know who his father is. And the answer is yes to that one. Where he is is another story”

  “Is he here, do you think? Is that why you came here?”

  “Here seemed just as good a place to look as any,” Gloria said. “I came where I had friends.”

  “No family?”

  “Not until Danny.” Gloria turned her attention to the baby boy, still asleep despite the rise and fall of the voices in the room.

  “And while 1 appreciate your offer, 1 just don't think I'm ready to go off and become some farmer's wife.”

  There was a beat of silence in the room, then John William said, “I'm not askin’ you to be my wife.”

  The life Gloria led to this point offered few opportunities for her to feel embarrassment. Shame, sometimes, but true embarrassment was a reaction she wasn't sure she was capable of. Until now.

  “Oh,” was all she could reply

  “Don't get me wrong,” John William said. Kate was beginning to fuss, and he jostled her a bit to comfort her. “I just—”

  “You just what? Figure I have no life so I can just pull up what I got and haul off with you? You think I got no better future than to play wet nurse to your brat until she takes herself off and you can drop me off in some God-forsaken ditch in the middle of the wilderness?”

  Gloria's voice swelled with anger even as her breasts swelled with milk for the now crying Kate. She was infuriated at her body's betrayal, wishing she could refuse John William the help he needed. With a sound of impatience, she took the fussy girl away from this man who, all of a sudden, seemed too clumsy and inept to hold a child much less comfort one. Gloria made a soft shushing noise as she placed the knuckle of her first finger into the baby's mouth. Little Kate's powerful gums gripped her finger, and Gloria knew this child would not be appeased for long.

  This cozy picture of maternal comfort seemed out of place with the glare of pure hatred she leveled at John William, who met her gaze head on. The previous air of bumbling apology was gone. When he spoke now, it was with a voice of authority and resolve.

  “Look, I meant no harm in askin’ you to come with me. I didn't figure I had a choice but to ask you, and it ain't no kind of life living without choice. And as much as I need you, I didn't want you to feel locked into anythin’ you didn't want. I need you now,” he said, reaching across to stroke his daughter's face, “but I won't need you forever.”

  Gloria took a few deep breaths, composing herself and allowing her heart to resume its normal, steady beat.

  “How much do you have?” she asked.

  John William looked confused.

  “You said you had enough to start over,” Gloria said, her voice low and calm. “Just how much is that?”

  “In ounces or dollars?”

  “Dollars. Ounces don't mean anything north of California.”

  John William raised his eyes as if in calculation before replying, “About nine hundred.”

  “That's it?” Gloria said. “You weren't meant for this, were you?”

  “I've done some tradin'. A wagon, a team, some supplies.”

  “Here's our deal,” Gloria said. “I'll come with you, me and Danny that is, and I'll do my part.” Gloria felt as if she truly had the upper hand for the first time in her life.

  “And?”

  “And when I'm no longer needed” she felt a twinge of triumph when John William winced, “111 be on my way”

  “Sounds fair.”

  “With five hundred dollars—”

  “Hey, now—”

  “For my services.”

  “I'm not interested in your services”

  “Maybe not,” Gloria said, “but men pay me for the use of my body, and you're using my body. You'll pay for it. Oh, and one more thing.”

  “I can't imagine.”

  “When I leave, I leave Danny with you.”

  “You can't mean that.” John William's eyes darted over to the tiny boy nestled in slumber. “You can't think of abandonin’ your son.”

  “Think of it this way,” Gloria said. “I save Kate's life, you save Danny's. I don't plan to live any kind of life that a child should be a part of.”

  “What about his father? Is it right for you to leave another man's child with a stranger?”

  Gloria looked at John William with the expression that practically guaranteed any man's compliance. “I guess I owe you the truth. I don't really know who Danny's father is.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Don't be," Gloria said. “It's nothing to do with you. It's just like my own mama used to say: ‘Darlin', I could marry myself to the king of France about as easy as I could name your daddy'”

  Gloria had never spoken these words alou
d, and was shocked that they held none of the humor they always seemed to when her mother spoke them to her. Maybe it was the whiskey slur that had lent them warmth all those years ago.

  “So you see,” she continued, “I got no reason to stay And nowhere to go. I got no choice, either. When do we leave?”

  “How soon can you be packed?” John William awkwardly brushed the hair from his face. It was the same gesture he'd done that first night he brought Kate, and Gloria noted that it was a telltale sign of nervous resolve.

  “How soon do you need me?” she asked.

  “The next payout is Friday. I'd like to leave the next mornin'.”

  Three days.

  Gloria took a quick mental inventory. Three dresses; two babies. Everything else—the furniture, the bedding—all of it belonged to Jewell. Just as her mother had done, Gloria would fill the little green suitcase with all her possessions, hers and the children's, and migrate to the next place.

  “How early?”

  “First light.”

  “We'll be ready. Now go, I need to feed this little one before she chews through to the bone.”

  John William smiled and said, “Thank you, Gloria.” He looked up and said, “Thank you, God.”

  Then he bent to kiss his daughter before leaving. As he did so, long strands of his brown hair brushed Gloria's chemise. She looked down and realized she'd never, in all her years, felt this close to any man.

  It terrified her.

  John William opened the cabin door to the spring afternoon, but before leaving he turned to say one last thing.

  “By the way, France doesn't have a king.”

  Gloria stared, puzzled.

  “You said you couldn't marry the king of France any more than you could name Danny's father. Well, from what I've heard, France doesn't have a king right now, so I guess you're no worse off than any other woman. See you at dawn on Saturday.”

  n her life, Gloria had never said good-bye to anyone, but there would be no sneaking away from Silver Peak. Sadie was at Gloria's door the minute John William left, peppering Gloria with questions about their plans.

  “What makes you think we have plans?” Gloria asked. Sharing her life was a new experience, and not one she was completely comfortable with.

  “Oh, everybody knows you have plans,” Sadie said. “A man doesn't sell off his tools and buy a team unless he is planning something.”

  “That doesn't mean—” Sadie shot Gloria such a look that she sighed in resignation. “We're leaving on Saturday.”

  “I knew it!” Sadie poked Gloria's shoulder. “I knew he would take you with him.”

  “It's not forever,” Gloria said.

  “Nothing is. But it's for now, and that's enough. Let's go tell the girls.”

  Then came the flutter of activity. Gloria found herself in the center of such bustling and care, she didn't know whether to be grateful, humble, or annoyed. A dozen petticoats were sacrificed to make diapers and dresses for the babies. Jewell's kitchen was combed through, and any spare dish or utensil was packed in a straw-lined crate. Sadie took the quilt from her own bed, cut it in half, and created a soft, downy lining for the babies’ makeshift cradles. Mae took stock of Gloria's wardrobe and decided that none of it would do. After giving Gloria a sly wink and a pat on the shoulder, she secluded herself in her room.

  The night before Gloria was to leave, the women gathered in her cabin, sitting where they could find space and nibbling some of Biddy's delicious apple spice cookies.

  “I made an extra batch for you to take,” Biddy said shyly. “I hope Mr. MacGregan thinks they're good.”

  “Of course he will,” Gloria said through a mouthful of cookie. “It'll be nice to have a treat when we're out in the wilderness.”

  “Wilderness." Sadie said, laughing. “Where do you think you are now?”

  Gloria and the others joined in her laughter. True, Silver Peak was nothing like the larger cities where Gloria had lived, but she'd heard about the vast miles of loneliness on the trail to Oregon, and she wasn't sure if she was up to the hardships of such travel.

  “Well, you certainly can't wear that out in the wilderness,” Mae said, gesturing broadly toward Gloria's dress. Although Gloria had worn some of Mae's much larger skirts during the final months before Danny was born, her slim figure had returned and she was again wearing her own dresses.

  “What's wrong with this?” Gloria asked. She had never worn flashy clothes, but she did insist on rich, quality fabrics. Now she wore a two-piece dress, peacock green with black velvet trim.

  “It'sjustabit…”

  “Fancy?” Biddy's tiny voice filled the awkward silence.

  “That's the word,” Mae said. “Fancy. You'll need clothes that are just a bit more…”

  “Ugly?” Sadie chimed in.

  “Serviceable," Mae said, tossing Sadie a disdainful look. “Simple clothes. Looser, easy to clean.” As she spoke, Mae was delving into the satchel she'd brought with her to the cabin. Out of it came heaps of fabric that, with a flourished snap, were seen to be blouses and skirts.

  “Mr. Brady brought such lovely bolts in the last supply,” Mae's musical voice continued. “I've been working on these since you told us you were leaving.”

  The cabin was filled with excitement as Gloria tried on the new clothes. They were a perfect fit, the blouses lightweight and long sleeved, each one dressed with a row of pretty wooden buttons. There were three in all, and two skirts of a solid, sturdy fabric to go with them. Mae fussed over every seam, and the women giggled with each new outfit, declaring that Gloria looked like quite the “farmer's wife” despite her protests that she was nothing of the sort. When their giggling escalated, Gloria hushed them, lest the sleeping babies wake.

  “Let me just take up the hem on this one,” Mae said. It was a third skirt, made from the same fabric as one of the blouses—dark brown littered with tiny red flowers. “I'm afraid it will just get dragged through mud and ruined. I'll have it ready by morning.” These last words were spoken as Mae headed toward the door, skirt flung over one arm.

  “Mae,” Gloria called after her, “that's really not—”

  “Let her do it,” Sadie said softly, her hand on Gloria's arm. “It will make her feel good.”

  The window was open, and the fresh spring evening floated past the curtains. The absence of Mae's chatter left a comfortable silence in the room. Gloria, Sadie, and Biddy sipped steaming mugs of tea and made a collected effort to ignore the wave of masculine laughter drifting across the yard that separated them from Jewell's parlor.

  “Sounds like a crowd,” Gloria said.

  Nobody spoke.

  “Brisk night like this,” she continued, “brings them out of the woods, it seems.”

  Still no response.

  “Reckon Jewell's gonna be tearing over here lookin’ for—”

  “The new girls can handle it,” Sadie said. “Tonight, I just.

  Silence returned for a moment until Biddy's tiny voice said, “You are so lucky.”

  “Who's lucky?” Gloria asked.

  “You are." Biddy lifted her eyes and forced Gloria to meet her gaze. “You don't have to go over there.”

  “Listen, Liebling,” Sadie said, “none of us has to go over there tonight. Tonight, we are just sitting here talking. Like old friends.”

  “That's just tonight,” Biddy said. “What about tomorrow night? And the next? Gloria's getting a home. A family She'll never have to do this again.”

  “Now wait just a minute,” Gloria said. “I'm going to be back, you know.”

  Biddy looked at Gloria with a wide-eyed, incredulous stare. “Why would you come back?”

  “Because the alternative is spendin’ the rest of her life dirt poor and pregnant, stompin’ kitchen mice with her bare feet.”

  The three women turned, startled as Jewell's husky voice invaded their conversation. Her pudgy hand reached in through the open window, grasped the curtain, and snatched it aside to reveal
her puffy, rouged face.

  “Jewell, you dog,” Sadie cried, blotting at the tea she'd spilled in her lap. “You scared us to death!”

  “Hush!” Gloria hissed. “You'll wake up the babies.”

  “In case you ladies of leisure hadn't noticed,” Jewell continued, her lowered voice taking on a more menacing quality, “we're getting quite a crowd gathered over at the house. Rumor has it they're looking for some company. And here I see some lovely ladies who would be just perfect for the job.” She perched her elbows on the windowsill and seemed to be settling in for a long conversation. It was the same pose Gloria had seen her in when she first arrived at Silver Peak.

  “Please, Jewell,” Sadie said, “we are just having a nice evening here.”

  “Yeah. And there's some gentlemen with pockets full of money who want to have a nice evening, too.”

  Biddy seemed to be shrinking into her chair. Her head drooped down until her chin touched her chest.

  “So break out a bottle and give them some cards,” Sadie said, one hand drifting protectively to Biddy's shoulder. “These men are pretty easily entertained.”

  “They don't pay to play cards,” Jewell said. “I think it's time you girls remember that you work for me. 1 ain't exactly runnin’ a tea room.”

  “Why don't you come in and join us?” Gloria asked, gesturing toward the chair recently vacated by Mae.

  “Aw, I don't know,” Jewell said. “I've got some company to tend to.”

  “Come on, Jewell,” Sadie said. “Sit and have a drink with us. It is Gloria's last night.”

  “I'll get you some tea,” Biddy said, scuttling from her chair.

  But the next second Jewell burst through the door holding her slim silver flask. “Never mind the tea, little one. I brought my own drink.”

  Jewell settled her generous bottom into the chair. Her breathing was labored, and each puff carried the tiniest whiff of pungent gin. Baby Danny let out a little yelp and stretched himself into a state of full wakefulness.