“I’m a wonderful cook and housekeeper. Tonia is good at chores. I need to settle down for awhile. I must admit to you, sir, that I’m a little desperate. As I said, we have no place to sleep tonight. If I were alone it wouldn’t matter so much. You yourself don’t by any chance have an extra bed for Tonia and me?” She lifted her big eyes and gave a look that was sorrowful, modest, and grand, all at the same time.
The small hairs on Charley’s arms rose at the strong brown gaze. She had to give her credit. This woman had grit.
Since arriving in California, Charley had remained distant and taciturn with most folks she met…for obvious reasons. But in spite of herself and her apprehension, she found herself moved by the mother and daughter’s plight and mettle. She decided to take the risk and give them temporary lodging. She could handle sleeping in the barn for a few days until the mother and girl were settled.
Charley’s place was a homey old two-room cabin on River Road, just outside of Sacramento. There was a fenced-in garden in the front, with potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, and a little strawberry patch. To the side was a small barn and corral and next to that a well and a tiny shed with a few chickens and a goat. In the back was an outhouse.
The two horses in the corral were looking round just now, snorting as if in disbelief at the procession making its way across the straggly grass. First came Charley, the sun beating down on her sweating face, carrying a large, overstuffed cloth valise. Behind her came Anna holding her head up with pride. She had once again found a way to provide for Tonia. She always made her own opportunities.
Behind Anna, came Tonia—she was looking at everything, smiling, skipping. “Oh, a goat,” she said. “I love goats.” Anna turned around to give her one of her warning looks. Tonia blatantly ignored her. “Oh, horses,” she said. “What pretty horses. I love horses.”
Charley pushed open the cabin door and entered.
Anna and Tonia stopped at the doorway and looked in. They could see a table and chairs, a fireplace, some cooking pots, a small iron stove. There was also a door to another room.
Charley dropped the valise on the floor. “You can stay here while you look for something. You both take the bed in the other room. I’ll sleep in the barn.”
With a brush of her skirt and a flirtatious thank-you, Anna swept past Charley through the bedroom doorway to take possession of the room.
Ten
The following evening when Charley came back from town she could smell dinner even before she dismounted. She’d never smelled anything this good, this rich. What could it be? What on earth could there have been to cook? She opened the door in a kind of trance of anticipation. Inside, on the stove, was a large pot of rich-looking soup, beads of golden fat swimming in pools on the surface. The table was set for three. In the center of the table was a bowl of pasta and a roasted chicken, plump, golden-brown and juicy, sprinkled with herbs. For a moment Charley stood in awed silence, and in that silence she heard a tiny sound. It was the fragile crust of the bread, pulled from the oven just an instant earlier, crackling as it started to cool. Simple tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back.
Anna saw it and gave Charley a sweet smile. Her face was flushed with the heat of cooking, and wisps of her black hair curled around her face.
“My God, where did you find all this food to cook with?” Charley asked.
Tonia, who was so excited she was gulping air, blurted out, “Well, mama stole Luigi’s food before we left, some bread and pasta and she took some lard, oh, and some cheese, my favorite. Mama always does that when we get fired. That’s how we eat until some nice person takes us in.”
Anna, her face turning from flush to horror, pinched Tonia hard on the arm. “No, no, no, Tonia, you’re mistaken.”
Tonia giggled, as her mother gave her a dark look.
Charley didn’t even notice, so hypnotized she was by the feast on the table.
She washed up and they all sat down, Charley at the head of the table and Anna and Tonia on either side. They all grabbed their napkins, which to Charley, looked oddly like torn pieces of her bed linen.
“I do hope that you like soup?” said Anna.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Charley. She picked up her spoon and dipped it into the broth. The fat bubbles shimmered as she lifted the spoon to her mouth.
The three of them ate in silence by candlelight. Charley kept her head down; the soup commanded total commitment.
“Is it good, Mr. Parkhurst?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sure is good.”
Anna served the pasta. Swirls of aromatic steam rose above each plate. She must have picked wild herbs for the flavoring, Charley thought. Or did she carry them in that perpetually bestowing valise as well?
Just as she was about to say thank-you, a wave of unexpected melancholy came over her. She realized for the first time how much she had needed this…to be taken care of. But Anna was bestowing this miracle on her because she believed Charley a man…a man very much in need of Anna’s special mothering.
As if reading Charley’s thoughts, Anna asked, “Where is your wife, Mr. Parkhurst?”
“My wife?” Charley looked away. “I’m a single man, ma’am.”
Tonia sucked a long noisy strand of pasta up through her lips.
“Spaghetti, don’t do that,” Anna said. “Wrap it with your fork inside your spoon, like I taught you.”
“Spaghetti?” laughed Charley.
“I call her ‘Spaghetti’ because when she was little, it was the only food she would eat. Not just any spaghetti. Spaghetti her mama would make. Isn’t that right, my little noodle?”
Tonia hated this. “Oh, mama,” she said in anguish, twisting her body in the rough wooden chair.
“And she still loves my spaghetti. Maybe a little too much.”
Now Tonia out-and-out glared at her. “Mother!” She got up, knocking the chair down behind her. She covered the distance of the room in a moment, stamping out the front door of the cabin and slamming it behind her.
Anna was embarrassed. She looked at Charley. “Excuse her. It’s the age. I will speak to her.” She started to rise from her chair.
Charley got up and gestured for Anna to stay. “I’ll go talk to her.” She was relieved not to have to explain further her lack of a wife.
Tonia was outside leaning on the corral fence. She was watching the horses in the twilight, her fingers drumming on the wooden slats. Charley approached and stood next to her without speaking. The horses noticed them and ambled over.
After a few moments Tonia said, “I don’t know why my mother says such stupid things to me.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mean to hurt you,” Charley said. “But you know, sometimes grown-ups don’t always think before they speak.”
Charley began to stroke one of the horses.
Tonia copied Charley’s movement.
“You know my mother used to never criticize me,” Tonia said. “We used to live in this big house with all these nice ladies who were actresses. I was just a little girl then. I had so much fun there. And Agnes, who ran the house, was always so nice to me and she always gave me cake. Anyway, I know my mama loved me, but she was always so busy with all her boyfriends that she never paid much attention to me. But now all she does is criticize me.”
Tonia was talking so fast she had to stop to catch her breath.
“Oh, my goodness,” Charley said. “So…were you born in Italy or America?”
“Oh I was born in New York City. I’m an American. My mama came over from Italy when she was sixteen. My daddy brought her over and then my mama said he died. And that’s when I was born. There was this other man, Frank, she said…who taught her to be an actress. And then there was Alfred, and we all toured in a funny play but then Luigi discovered us, and we went with him. And he let me be an actress.”
Tonia stopped pettin
g the horse. She turned and looked up into Charley’s face.
“You know, I don’t think I will be an actress when I grow up.”
“No?” said Charley.
“I wanted to be, but mama says I don’t have the artist temperament.”
“What do you want to do then?”
“I didn’t know until yesterday.” She paused. “Now I know I want to be a stagecoach driver.”
“Well now. A stagecoach driver.” Charley turned that one over in her mind. “That’s no occupation for a young lady.”
“I don’t want to be a young lady.”
“Wait a few years until you meet a handsome boy. You’ll change your mind.”
Tonia looked straight at Charley. “No, I won’t.”
“Well, maybe you won’t at that.”
The girl was awkward and honest and spunky Charley thought—reminded her of herself. “Maybe you will be a woman stagecoach driver. Shock everyone. Shock your mother. It wouldn’t shock me much. In fact, it wouldn’t shock me at all.” Charley winked at her. “You know…while you’re here, if your momma gives us permission, I’ll give you some coaching lessons.”
Tonia’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“And I have another idea. Have you ever seen one of those Concord stages?”
Tonia shook her head no.
“Well, how about you come to work with me tomorrow to see a brand new one?”
“Yes,” she squealed.
“Good. Now come inside. Finish your dinner. Pinky deserves to be enjoyed.”
“Pinky?”
“The chicken.”
“Oh, no. It had a name?”
“No matter,” chuckled Charley. “Your mother has a great talent for cooking.”
Walking back in the darkness towards the cabin, she added, “Don’t be too hard on her, Tonia. Everything she does is because she loves you. It may be that your path, growing into a woman, ends up different from hers. If that’s so, that’s because you live in more modern times.”
Tonia, flattered at Charley’s serious attention, took her hand.
Anna was waiting in the doorway.
“I’m sorry, mama,” Tonia said. She felt sorry for her mother now, not privileged to have grown up in modern times.
Anna touched her arm. “It’s all right my baby.” She was aware of Charley standing there. It would go easier for them with a man in the picture: two strong women. They needed someone to keep them at arm’s length. He would do that for them.
And at that moment, Anna made up her mind; someway, somehow, she would find a way to make them a family.
Eleven
A brand new Concord stagecoach stood before them. It had bright yellow wheels with a vermilion body and black trim. The side panels were decorated with a hand-painted landscape, and fine oiled leather curtains hung from the windows. Jim Birch, president of the stage company, stood with some of his top drivers, Hank Monk and Charley among them. At Charley’s side was an excited Tonia.
“Here she is,” said Birch, “tidy and graceful as a lady, and— like a lady—barely a straight line in her body.” He ran his hands over the coach. “But that’s not why I love her. That’s not why I had her brought round the Cape. The Concord is the best. It’s as smooth a ride as you’re ever going to get. You’re going to feel like a baby rocking in its cradle. The Concord Company is sending over three more just like her. Sacramento is now the busiest stage hub in the country. We need the best because we are the best. We’ve got the best horses, the best runs, and by far the best whips. I’m proud of you boys. You are nickel-plated and don’t you forget it. That’s why I chose you and that’s why you work for us. Now to cap the climax, I have some important news. In a few months our company will be merging with Wells Fargo & Company. We will be known as the Wells Fargo & Company Overland Stage. For those who are willing, there will be more frequent and longer runs with pay to match. All coaches will be outfitted with new green mailboxes. You will note the new middle bench inside the coach as well, with the hanging leather straps to hold on to. This is the new second class travel. Up top is now third class, the hangers-on. And this here is a poster of the Wells Fargo Stagecoach rules.”
He held one up to show the group. “Each swing-station will have one posted.”
WELLS FARGO RULES FOR RIDING THE STAGECOACH
Adherence to the Following Rules Will Insure a Pleasant Trip for All
1. Abstinence from liquor is requested, but if you must drink, share the bottle. To do otherwise makes you appear selfish and un-neighborly.
2. Abstain entirely in cold weather—you’ll freeze twice as fast under the influence.
3. If ladies are present, gentlemen are urged to forego smoking cigars and pipes as the odor of same is repugnant to the Gentle Sex. Chewing tobacco is permitted, but spit with the wind, not against it.
4. Gentlemen must refrain from the use of rough language in the presence of ladies and children.
5. Buffalo robes are provided for your comfort during cold weather. Hogging robes will not be tolerated and the offender will be made to ride with the driver.
6. Don’t snore loudly or lop over your neighbors while sleeping or use your fellow passenger’s shoulder for a pillow; he or she may not understand and friction may result.
7. Firearms may be kept on your person for use in emergencies. Do not fire them for pleasure or shoot at wild animals as the sound riles the horses.
8. In the event of runaway horses, remain calm. Leaping from the coach in panic will leave you injured, at the mercy of the elements, hostile Indians and hungry wolves. If the team runs away, sit still and take your chances.
9. Forbidden topics of discussion are stagecoach robberies and Indian uprisings. Also, don’t discuss politics or religion, nor point out places on the road where horrible murders have been committed.
10. Gents guilty of unchivalrous behavior toward lady passengers will be put off the stage. It’s a long walk back. A word to the wise is sufficient.
11. Expect annoyance, discomfort and some hardships. If you are disappointed, thank heaven.
Birch continued on, “Please make sure all passengers are familiar with these rules.”
He then turned to look down at an enthralled Tonia.
“Hey Tonia, what do you say? You and Charley want to take the Concord on her first ride? Make sure she’s all in good working order?”
Tonia squeezed her eyes shut at the utter joy of it and nodded her head up and down.
It wasn’t long before the bright red Concord, with its dazzling yellow wheels, was on the road. Tonia was riding shotgun alongside her handsome Charley. They grinned at each other, their eyes narrowed against the bleaching sunlight, the wind sanding their faces. Tonia thought how like a god Charley looked. With such ease he flicked a finger coiled with the reins, and the horses, like something so powerful, rippled this way or that in response to his bidding. She would be just like him someday.
Tonia ran pell-mell through the cabin door later that afternoon as drunk as can be on happiness. Of course, Anna was displeased when she learned the cause of it, but at that point it was too late to matter much—Tonia was smitten.
And from then on, from time to time, they would sneak off and Charley would take her along on a real run.
When they’d return home, Anna would, of course, scold them both. Charley would then say to her, “Aw, shucks ma’am, I clear forgot your feeling about these matters.” And then she’d wink at Tonia.
Somehow those few days that Charley thought Anna and Tonia would stay, turned into something much longer. Anna was taking care of the cooking and the upkeep of the place, which suited Charley just fine. Tonia was in charge of feeding all the animals. And she had also started attending school in town.
It worked well enough, satisfying all their needs to belong to a
family. With pleasure now outweighing loneliness, Charley’s fear of being discovered subsided.
Charley behaved towards Anna like a little boy, somewhat irresponsible and mischievous, and Anna in turn, had no choice but to respond somewhat like a half-exasperated mother with a second, albeit extra-big, child.
As much as Charley was son of sorts to Anna, he was also an indulgent father of sorts to Tonia—and this in turn, as well as the fact that Charley provided for the two of them, made him in Anna’s eyes man enough to husband her.
Anna began to work on Charley with deliberation, opening those top buttons, leaning enticingly in the serving of dinner, touching Charley’s arm in conversation. “Don’t you think so?” she’d say, bending in, her lips moist.
“Yes, ma’am,” Charley would say and then change the subject.
And Anna would think: Doesn’t he see that I’m willing?
Tonia, of course, saw it all, coming and going.
Twelve
It was an unusually warm, muggy day and Charley with Tonia beside her were taking a run to Stockton. As usual, they were having a wonderful time together, sharing private thoughts, telling funny stories and finding solutions to all of Tonia’s predicaments, particularly surrounding her mother.
“Now Tonia, when you grow up to be a famous whip and need to handle any unruly ladies aboard, perhaps like your dear mama, all you have to do is yell ‘Indians!’ It will quiet them down quicker than 40 Rod Whiskey does a man.”
Tonia giggled.
The Concord went around a curve, slowing as it approached the steep grade outside of town.
Charley brought the team to a stop. “First class passengers, stay where you are,” she yelled. “Second class, get out and walk. Third class, get down and push.” And as always, the second and third class passengers, grumbling and mumbling, got out and milled around beside the coach waiting for further instructions.
There was the sound of snapping twigs. In the bushes next to the road someone was lying in wait. The barrel of a sawed-off shotgun snaked out from between the leaves. The hammer cocked with a loud click. A shot rang out. There was pandemonium—screaming passengers diving for cover.
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