by Gwen Bristow
“Luck. Some fellows took out a boat, came back this morning with more salmon than they could eat. Brought the surplus to the store. I’d have been here earlier but I had to finish packing those tools Mr. Sutter ordered. The captain of the launch wants to start back at daybreak tomorrow.”
Eva glanced toward the window. “He’s a brave man. Aren’t we about to have a storm?”
“You never can tell,” said Ted, scrubbing his hands. “Sometimes the clouds hang like this for days with never a drop of rain.” He grinned over his shoulder. “I like San Francisco, Mrs. Taine, but you’re not going to catch me defending the climate.”
Eva laughed, thanked him again for the salmon, and returned to the front room to go on hanging the curtains. Replacing the towel on its rack Ted said to Kendra,
“Shall we step outside and take a look at the weather?”
She agreed, and Ted opened the door to the hall. He smiled at her, Ted’s sweet, beguiling smile, which always gave her such a happy glow when she saw it. As she started to go past him into the hall her arm brushed his.
Without quite meaning to, Kendra paused beside him. Ted looked down at her, his eyes tender and soft as they had been last night at the dance. Again he smiled, slowly, with a look of wonder, as if he had not seen her for a long time and had forgotten she was so enchanting to look at. Kendra did not move. She could not. It was as if she had been caught in a shining web. Slowly, Ted put out his hand and touched her hair. In a low voice he said, “How lovely you are.”
For an exquisite moment they stood still, looking at each other. Then it happened. Ted’s hard bony hands gripped her shoulders and brought her to him. Kendra felt herself go limp with delight. Her eyelashes brushed his cheek, their lips touched, then with a violent movement Ted sprang back from her, and words came out of his throat like gasps of pain.
“Good God, what am I doing?”
He threw her away from him so roughly that she slipped and had to catch the table to keep from falling. Already Ted was rushing away. She heard the clack of his boots in the hall and across the porch and down the steps.
Dizzy with hurt bewilderment, hardly aware that she was moving, Kendra followed him into the hall. In his haste to get away Ted had left the front door open, and she saw him leap on his horse and go dashing down the hill. He did not look back. She could hear the whirring sound of the wind, and through the doorway she saw the fog, blowing past in waves like water.
In a vacant lot near by several small boys were yelling joyously as they built a fort of sticks and clods. A Mexican woodcutter came up the hill, leading a burro loaded with firewood for sale. A wagon creaked into sight, bringing barrels of drinking water from the spring at Sausalito. In another minute the driver would stop here to make his regular delivery, and Eva or Mrs. Riggs would come out to let him in.
While she was not thinking clearly some instinct told Kendra she did not want them to see her now. Unsteadily she crossed the hall and went into her bedroom. As she closed the door she remembered the words of the song the band had played last night.
“Love is like a dragonfly,
Here today, tomorrow gone,
Love’s a teasing passerby,
Blows a kiss and hurries on…”
—Oh Ted, Ted, she cried silently, is that what it means to you?
Though the clouds continued thick all day it did not rain. Kendra cooked the salmon, but she could eat very little of it. When Eva remarked on her lack of appetite Kendra said she thought she was still tired from being up so late at the dance. Speaking of the dance nearly choked her.
All night she was miserably restless, tossing from side to side, waking and dozing and waking again, thinking of Ted.
Did he want her or didn’t he? She had felt so sure! Kendra knew there were men who thought it amusing to win a girl’s love and then throw her away. But Ted’s smile and the warm light in his eyes, the caress in his voice, the eagerness of his simplest greeting—if all these had not been real, never had a girl been so deceived. And that almost-kiss, the shocked dismay of him as he pushed her back—what did he mean?
Here as elsewhere, Kendra could not go halfway. When she wanted something she wanted it. And she wanted Ted. If she could not have him she meant to know why. She meant to ask him plainly—Do you love me or don’t you?
Any answer would be better than not knowing.
In the morning, thank heaven, there was still no rain. Kendra washed her face over and over with cold water to clear her eyes, for if she did not look well Eva might not let her go out. At breakfast she said the weather was so threatening, she thought they ought to shop early. Eva agreed, and as soon as Alex reached headquarters he sent Morse and Vernon to escort them.
Ted was not in the front room of the store. Mr. Fenway, who had been standing by the stove with several other men, ambled over, saying, “Good morning, ladies, good morning, gentlemen.” He spoke like an undertaker greeting the mourners at a funeral.
Strolling to the office door, Mr. Fenway put in his head and solemnly announced that Mrs. Taine and her daughter were here. Out came Mr. Chase, loudly bidding them welcome. He came out alone.
So Ted was avoiding her. Kendra felt a surge of anger. But maybe he was not in the office. She could hear voices from the storeroom, and men rolling barrels in by the back door. —Of course, she thought, he’s in there with the packing boys.
Mr. Chase walked briskly over to where she and Eva and the lieutenants stood with the men by the stove. His chunky face was alight as he asked, “You folks want to see some gold?”
There was a rustle in the group. Mr. Chase was holding out his pudgy hand, on the palm of which was a rag creased as if it had been tied in a knot. The men gathered to peer at it, all but one of them, a lanky fellow standing with one foot on a box and his elbow on his knee. The stranger wore a blue flannel shirt and mud-spattered black trousers. Every pocket of his clothes was bulging—notebooks, money, keys, knife, comb, pencil, red bandana, blue bandana, shoehorn, riding gloves, and a thousand other things. He had a week’s beard sticking out of his lean jaws like pine needles, but his eyes were quick and likable, a warm hazel, and as he watched the other men crowding around the gold he had a friendly smile.
“Now wait a minute, fellows,” Mr. Chase was urging them. “Let the ladies have a look, and the soldier boys. Here you are, folks. This gentleman here, name of Pocket, brought this stuff to town. Took it to Buckelew’s watch shop down by the point, and Buckelew now, he knows gold and he’s got jeweler’s scales to weigh it.” Mr. Chase nodded firmly. “It’s gold.”
Oh, why didn’t he stop gabbling, Kendra thought, and call Ted? The rag was a fragment torn from an old shirt. In it lay about a teaspoonful of dirty yellowish grains. Morse and Vernon murmured doubtfully—after all, the quartermaster had said this so-called gold was mica—and Eva touched the grains with a gloved finger, asking,
“Where did you get this, Mr.—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
With a little start, the lanky stranger took his foot from the box and stood up straight, like a man unexpectedly called upon to make a speech.
“My name is Sylvester Brent, ma’am,” he answered politely, “but everybody calls me Pocket.”
“And no wonder,” mumbled Mr. Fenway, with a disapproving look at his visitor’s overstuffed apparel. Pocket, his eyes on Eva, smiled bashfully and stroked his bristly jaw.
“If I’d known I was to meet fine ladies, ma’am, I’d have gotten a shave. Excuse me please. But you asked about the gold. I’m a clerk for Mr. Smith, at his store up at Sutter’s Fort. Men have been bringing in stuff like this. They want to use it for money.”
“Where do they get it?” she asked with interest.
Pocket shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “They say they pick it up around the sawmill, ma’am.”
“Sawmill?” Eva repeated.
With shy courtesy Pocket explained. “Well ma’am, settlers are coming in, and they want lumber for their hous
es, so Mr. Sutter sent some men up to the hills to build a sawmill on the American River. They found bits like this in the river and in the cracks of the rocks, and they say it’s gold.”
“It’s gold,” Mr. Chase insisted.
Restlessly Kendra tapped her foot. Where was Ted?
“It don’t mean a thing,” remarked Mr. Fenway. His voice was like the drone of a bee.
“What’s that?” demanded Mr. Chase. “I tell you, this is gold.”
Mr. Fenway looked around like a man about to say a thing or two. “How much gold is up there, Pocket?” he asked.
“I don’t know, sir,” Pocket answered in his polite innocent way. “I don’t reckon anybody knows.”
“Well, don’t get excited,” cautioned Mr. Fenway. “This is not the first time it’s happened around here.”
Mr. Fenway spoke with gloomy importance. His slow sandy voice went on.
“Five or six years ago it was, that was before Chase got here, he wouldn’t know. Down near Los Angeles. A ranch hand pulled up some wild onions and saw grains like these on the roots. Word got around. Men quit work and went out to look for gold. Well, the grains on the onion roots were gold, but—” Mr. Fenway wagged his hand at them in warning—“but there wasn’t enough to matter. Hunting from dawn to dark, a man couldn’t find enough to pay for a bowl of beans.” Mr. Fenway nodded with satisfaction. “Well, Pocket, I guess you never heard of that.”
Pocket smiled modestly. “No sir, I never did. I wasn’t here then. I came out with a wagon train last summer.”
Kendra could bear their chatter no longer. She touched Eva’s arm.
“Excuse me, mother, but don’t you think I’d better get the groceries?”
“Oh yes, of course,” said Eva. Kendra began, “Mr. Chase, will you call—” but Mr. Fenway was already drawling,
“I’ll take care of you, miss.”
He moved languidly over to the counter, took her basket from the shelf, and waited by the door to the storeroom. As she followed him Kendra saw the big back door standing open, and a delivery wagon driving away. The boys who unpacked the goods were busy in there, and no doubt Ted was with them. Promising herself to get rid of the others somehow, she went in with Mr. Fenway.
The boys were three young fellows known as Bert, Al, and Foxy. As she came into the storeroom they looked around, grinned at the pleasing sight of her, and said, “Howdy, miss.” Ted was not there.
The storeroom was dim and cold. The room reminded her of a vault and Mr. Fenway reminded her of a ghost. Kendra took a dozen steps, Mr. Fenway accompanying her in sepulchral silence. She could curb her eagerness no longer. In a carefully level voice she asked, “Where is Ted Parks this morning, Mr. Fenway?”
With a sad shake of his head Mr. Fenway answered, “Ted Parks is gone.”
Kendra thought she was going to fall. She steadied herself against a barrel. “Gone?” she repeated faintly. “Gone where?”
“Say, Foxy!” called Bert’s voice behind her. “Don’t put those candles so near the edge of the shelf. They’ll roll off. Push ’em back.”
Mr. Fenway had turned toward another shelf close at hand and was reaching for a box. Over his shoulder he answered Kendra’s question.
“Gone to Sutter’s Fort. On that launch.” With a sigh he droned on. “Don’t know what’s come over young men these days. In my time we didn’t walk off a job without notice. Parks had easy hours, good pay, room over the store to live in. No gratitude. He comes in here yesterday, says he’s leaving. Packs his duds and walks out. Times have changed. Now miss, we’ve got these nice dried pears from Oregon—”
6
LIFE WENT ON, BUT life without Ted was dull and cold. One day was like another. Nothing happened.
Kendra continued to prepare the meals because it was something to do, and the army men continued to tell Alex he was the luckiest man in town. Kendra received several proposals of marriage from lonely young officers, most of whom she hardly knew. She declined as gently as she could. They were fine young men. But no matter how hard she tried she could not think of herself getting into bed with any of these fine young men. With Ted she could think of it; she had thought of it often, without trying.
Now and then she heard people talking about the gold from Sutter’s sawmill, but usually they agreed with Mr. Fenway that it would not amount to much. A few waterfront loafers, always looking for an easy way to get rich, roamed off to the hills. But sensible folk, warned by the fiasco down south, were not excited.
There was no news of Ted. To take his place Chase and Fenway hired a young man named Hodge, from Missouri. Hodge did his duty, but he had not Ted’s winning manners nor his schooling. Ted could write well phrased business letters and read the Latin terms in contracts, both feats beyond the power of Hodge. They missed Ted.
Kendra wished she had a friend to talk to. But she had not. Certainly not her mother. They did not know each other well enough.
But with April the weather brightened, and the Cynthia came in from Honolulu. Kendra felt a lift of her spirits. It would be good to see Captain Pollock and Loren again.
The morning after the Cynthia arrived, Captain Pollock came to call. Kendra was on the porch when she heard the sound of hoofs and saw him riding up the hill.
He rode up Clay Street, and at the corner of Stockton he turned his horse. As he rode he looked awkward, and Kendra was surprised, for she had never seen Captain Pollock look awkward at anything. But of course, she rebuked herself, seamen were nearly always poor riders because they had so little riding to do. You could not expect a sea captain to ride like an army man who spent half his life in a saddle.
A short way past the corner a dwarf oak grew by the side of the road. Here Captain Pollock dismounted, tethered his horse to the tree, and started walking. Before he had taken six steps Kendra knew something had gone wrong.
She watched him with puzzled wonder. Now she could tell that his way of riding had not been merely a seaman’s clumsiness. And the way he walked was not merely the uncertain land-walk of a man just off a ship. He was different.
Whether on sea or land, usually Captain Pollock strode over the world with masterful sureness. But not today. Today his head was bent, his shoulders slumped. He was carrying two packages wrapped in red and gold paper, no doubt gifts he had brought from some palmy shore, and his footsteps crunched on the ground as if these two small packages made a burden almost too heavy to be borne. His whole attitude was so despondent that when he came near the steps and looked up at her, and she saw the lines of strain above his ruddy beard, and his usually steel-bright eyes cloudy like the eyes of a man who had spent a sleepless night, this only confirmed what she had guessed already. Something had gone wrong.
Captain Pollock was trying to act as if nothing was the matter. As he reached the steps he took off his blue cap, and bowed, saying gallantly, “What a pleasure to see you again, Miss Logan!”
With a smile that she hoped was hiding her concern, Kendra showed him into the parlor and went to call her mother. Eva came in and gave him a cordial welcome.
Pollock responded with stiff courtesy. Trying though he was to seem normal, he was finding it hard to do. He handed Eva and Kendra the gifts he had brought. These proved to be lacquered boxes, which later would serve to hold gloves or handkerchiefs, but which were now filled, one with Chinese tea and the other with slices of sugared ginger. They thanked him, and Eva added, “I hope we’ll see you often while you’re in port, Captain Pollock.”
“Won’t you come to dinner,” asked Kendra, “one evening soon?”
Captain Pollock shook his head. “You are very kind, but I must say no. I’ll be in port only a short time, and I have much to do.”
He spoke so crisply that Kendra felt uncomfortable. It seemed clear that he had made this call solely for the sake of good manners and would be glad when he could get it over with. Eva was saying pleasantly,
“But you’ll come back to San Francisco, I hope, before you leave the Pacif
ic entirely?”
Captain Pollock said yes. His plan was to go on to Canton and several other Oriental ports, and call at San Francisco again next spring, before returning to New York.
Eva said she would be glad to see him then. There was some conversation about what ports he expected to visit, but he was so ill at ease that even she could not help feeling chilled. There was an awkward pause. To fill it in Kendra asked,
“Captain Pollock, how is Loren Shields?”
As she spoke Loren’s name the captain gave a start. His answer was almost gruff.
“Mr. Shields,” he said, “is no longer with us.”
Kendra caught her breath in astonishment. Loren was a man who did his work well. Light-hearted he was, but not fight-minded. He would never have broken his contract. Nor could he have been dismissed except for some outrageous breach of duty, and she could not believe him guilty of any such thing. Something had certainly gone wrong.
Eva too was startled. She asked if Loren had stayed in Honolulu.
Captain Pollock said no. Loren had returned to San Francisco on the Cynthia, but upon arrival their contract had been dissolved by mutual consent.
His answer was brief to the point of terseness. Observing that he did not care to discuss the matter, Eva tactfully changed the subject by asking if he would not take a cup of tea, with some cinnamon wafers Kendra had baked yesterday.
Captain Pollock declined. He said he must leave them now. As master of a ship newly arrived he had many imperative duties.
When he had gone Eva spoke to Kendra, mystified. “What is the matter with him?”
Kendra said she too had been wondering, but she had no idea.
When Alex came in that evening he said the Cynthia’s return voyage from Honolulu had been unfortunate. Her journey out had been quick—only seventeen days—and the voyage back had begun well. But on the way she had met a storm, which had blown her off course and lengthened the voyage to twenty-three days.
Eva said this must have been the reason for Captain Pollock’s dejection, but Kendra did not think so. She could understand that Pollock would be disappointed, but she could not believe the storm alone would have made him so depressed. Pollock had been twenty years at sea. He knew the noblest ship ever made could not defy the wind. Besides, this did not explain his break with Loren. Certainly Loren had not blown up the storm.