Calico Palace

by Gwen Bristow

  Near the edge of the gulch she saw Ning beside the rocker, while Pocket lugged up water to wash the dirt. They were having a hard time working the rocker with only two men. Hiram turned and shouted to them to make this the last washing, as the beef was nearly done. Kendra wondered where Ted was. She had to know; she might as well ask now.

  As she set down her empty cup she drew a deep breath and began,

  “Hiram, I’ve got to get this over somehow. I want to ask about Ted.”

  He smiled through his shining beard. “Sure. Go on.”

  “I’ve got to talk to him one more time,” she said. “Where is he, Hiram?”

  Hiram turned and looked at her hard. His whole face changed with astonishment as he answered, “Why Kendra, Ted is gone.”

  “Gone?” Kendra repeated.

  She had not thought he would go like that, leaving her alone without making any provision for her safety in this camp of strange men. She stared at Hiram. His thick eyebrows drew together in surprise.

  “By—the—great—horn—spoon,” he said slowly. After a moment he asked incredulously, “Kendra—do you mean you didn’t know that?”

  “I didn’t know it,” said Kendra.

  “We were surprised, Ning and Pocket and I,” said Hiram. “We wondered what plans you two had made, but he didn’t want to talk so we didn’t insist.”

  “When did he go?” she asked.

  “Early this morning. He said he was setting out for another camp, didn’t say which one. He took a saddle horse and two packhorses with supplies. Lucky there was plenty of everything from the fort. He left you a poke of gold, gave it to Ning to keep for you.” Hiram spoke as though appalled. “Kendra, we couldn’t believe you didn’t know.”

  Kendra said again, “I didn’t know.”

  Her voice was hard and toneless. She felt her lips moving in a tight little smile. Without seeing herself, she could feel that it was an ugly smile.

  “You had made no plans?” Hiram asked, still almost unbelieving.

  Kendra shook her head. As if in need of something to do, Hiram stood up and turned the meat.

  Why on earth, she wondered, had she been surprised, even for a minute? They had made no plans. But now, again, she was reminded that Ted never planned anything. He had not considered what Della was going to do when he left her, now he had not considered what she herself was going to do. How she was to live in a mining camp with no protector, how she would get from Shiny Gulch to Sutter’s Fort, from Sutter’s Fort to San Francisco—he had not thought of that.

  Ted had not changed a bit. He had run away again.

  23

  IT WAS AFTERNOON WHEN Kendra learned that her personal life was not private. After sharing the men’s dinner she had felt more cheerful, and told them she would wash up. She had finished this, and was resting in the shade when she saw Lolo, her black hair bound with a ribbon and her flowered dress still bright in spite of sun and wear.

  Lolo came up to her. “Please, Mrs. Parks, Marny says will you come and talk for a few minutes?”

  Kendra thought,—I wish she wouldn’t call me Mrs. Parks. I am not Mrs. Parks. I’ll tell her so. Oh, why? She’s not doing any harm.

  Aloud she answered, “Why yes, Lolo. Where is Marny?”

  Lolo said Marny was down near the tent, by the tree where she had set up her first gambling table. Kendra went to find her.

  Under the tree, Marny stood before an up-ended box. She was practicing a game called monte, played with a special Mexican deck. Several cards were laid out on the box, and Marny held the rest of the deck in her hand, but her practice had been interrupted. Mrs. Posey had dropped by for a chat.

  Kendra paused. They had not seen her. Mrs. Posey was looking at Marny, Marny was pointedly looking down at the cards. The sun falling through the tree made bright coppery flickers in her hair. Kendra heard Mrs. Posey say,

  “…and what’s his real name? I didn’t catch it exactly—Bradford, Bradley, Brandon?”

  “He told me,” Marny replied without looking up, “his name was Ted Parks.”

  Mrs. Posey giggled. “Oh now, you know better than that! You were right there. You heard what that man Gene Spencer called him.”

  “I wasn’t listening.”

  “But you heard, I just know you did! And this girl Kendra—” Mrs. Posey bent forward with intimate glee—“are they really married?”

  Marny took a card from the deck in her hand and held it poised over the cards on the box, as if deciding where to place it. “I didn’t witness the ceremony,” she returned. “I didn’t witness yours either. Are you really married?”

  “Oh dear, what a question!” tittered Mrs. Posey. “Everybody knows I’m a married woman. But do come on! Tell me! Are they married?”

  Carefully placing the card, Marny said, “If you’re so much interested, why don’t you ask Kendra?”

  Mrs. Posey’s plump little hands began to flutter. The yellow curls bounced on her head. With another self-conscious giggle she began, “Well now really—”

  Kendra had been getting madder with every line she heard. Now she stepped forward, deliberately breaking a twig with her foot so they would know she was there. For the first time Marny raised her eyes, sparkly green in the light. Mrs. Posey turned around with a start. For once in her life she did not know what to say.

  But Kendra did. Kendra was so angry that her words came out with no effort at all.

  “If you can’t mind your own business, Mrs. Posey, can’t you at least keep out of my way?”

  “That,” said Marny, “is a good idea. Keep out of my way too.” She fanned the cards in her freckled hand and snapped the deck together again. “I’ve got work to do.”

  Mrs. Posey drew herself up to her full height, which was not very high. With all her dignity she replied, “So have I. Honest work. Decent work. I’m not cheating men out of their money—”

  “I don’t cheat,” Marny said tersely.

  “—and dragging them down to the gutter,” fumed Mrs. Posey. “And as for you,” she continued, turning upon Kendra, “I always knew you were a sham. I knew your fine society airs were a lot of false jewelry. You pretending to be better than other people! I’ve told you before and I tell you again, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out you’re no better than she is! Well,” she announced to the air, “I’m no fine lady but at least I know my husband’s name!”

  Marny sighed and spoke. “Verba, verba, ad infinitum ad nauseam.”

  “What?” Mrs. Posey demanded.

  “That means,” said Marny, “if you don’t stop talking I’ll throw up.”

  Mrs. Posey’s little blue eyes flicked in contempt from Marny to Kendra and back again. “If you want to be so snotty it’s all right with me. Goodby, both of you.”

  Marny shrugged. Kendra said, “Goodby, Mrs. Nosey.”

  Without waiting for any more words Kendra turned and ran over the rough ground to the tent, pushed aside the flap in front and went in. The tent was empty and dim. She ran to the back, where the boards across the barrels formed the bar. She put her elbows on the bar and put her face into her hands and burst into tears.

  She felt torn and helpless and sick at heart. Ted had made her so happy and now he had crumpled up before her and was gone. And already she was wondering where he was and if he had taken enough food with him and who was going to cook it. She tried not to care. But she cared.

  It would have been so much easier if only she had been left a shred of pride. She could have made up a story to explain why Ted had left Shiny Gulch—he had gone to hunt venison, to check a report of rich diggings on Weber Creek, or to see a new type of rocker they were using at Horseshoe Flat. For reasons such as these the population of every mining camp was constantly shifting. Nobody would have doubted what she said; nobody would have cared anyway.

  But now—Kendra sobbed in despair. Somehow Mrs. Posey had gained a smattering of the facts, and now she would talk to everybody who had ears, and what she did not know she would
make up. Oh, to get out of here! To double Cape Horn again, to leave California forever! Kendra fumbled for her handkerchief. The handkerchief was a big blue bandana like those Pocket carried, because in a mining camp a kerchief was more often needed to mop a sweaty forehead than to dry weeping eyes.

  “Kendra,” said Marny’s voice.

  Kendra gave a start. Marny had walked around to the back of the bar.

  “Here,” she said, pushing a tin cup across. “It’s a good white wine, light and dry. Calms the nerves.”

  Kendra took a sip. The wine was delicious. She murmured, “Thank you. I’m sorry—but that woman—”

  In the half light of the tent she heard Marny laugh gently. “Darling, if Mrs. Nosey—oh, what a beautiful name for her—if Mrs. Nosey had your figure she wouldn’t dislike you so much. Now don’t you want to know why I asked you to come and talk to me?”

  “Oh yes. I’d forgotten that.”

  Still standing at the bar, Marny spoke practically. “Kendra, I know you want to go home to your mother—”

  “I don’t!” Kendra burst out. “I’ve got to go back to her, but I don’t want to.”

  She blurted out some facts about her loveless childhood and her dread of returning to a mother who had never wanted her. Marny responded with real fellow-feeling.

  “I didn’t know that, but I do know what you mean. I certainly wouldn’t want to see my family again unless I came back in a blaze of glory.”

  She paused a moment and went on.

  “Well, you’ll have time to get used to the idea, because here’s what I wanted to tell you. You can’t ride to San Francisco alone. You can go when we go, but we’re not leaving yet. Business is too good. In the meantime, you can’t sleep alone up there in the grove. It’s not safe, ‘Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold,’ said Shakespeare, and he was right as usual. Let’s have the Blackbeards move your wagon down here, close to mine.”

  “How thoughtful you are,” said Kendra. “I’ll pay them for their work,” she added hastily. “I’m not asking any favors.”

  Marny began to laugh. “Don’t be so quick on the draw, Kendra! I’m not offering you a favor. I was about to ask for one.”

  “I’m sorry, Marny.” Kendra tried to steady herself. “What did you want?”

  Marny rested an elbow on the bar. “Well dear, I have some problems. Lolo is pregnant. Poor kid, I’ve told her everything I know but maybe she didn’t listen and anyway nothing works all the time. Her Blackbeard—Troy—is quite fond of her, says he’s going to marry her. But cooking in this weather is hard work and I’d like to make things easier for her. I wondered if you’d let me share your meals.”

  “Why yes!” Kendra exclaimed gladly. “I haven’t had time to think about meals.”

  “Well, I have,” said Marny. “I spoke to Ning about it this morning. We made a plan and we hope you’ll approve. You’re to cook for Ning and Pocket and Hiram as before, and now for me too. That’s four. We’ll pay you a salary.”

  “A salary? From my best friends?”

  “You don’t owe us anything. We’re making it a straight business proposition. Two ounces of gold a week from each of us, that’s eight ounces together. Agreed?”

  Again Kendra felt tears spring into her eyes. Eight ounces of gold a week was a better salary than most men earned in New York or Baltimore, but this was not the reason for her tears. In a low voice she said, “That will be wonderful. I’ll be independent—no burden on anybody.”

  “You’ll never be a burden on anybody, Kendra,” Marny said quietly. “Well, that’s settled. Lulu and Lolo will have only the Blackbeards to cook for.”

  Kendra had a sudden thought. “But what about Delbert?”

  Marny moved away from the bar. She sat on one of the upside down pork tubs that served for chairs at the Calico Palace.

  “Kendra, you are not the only one who has had—shall we say—a change of fortune.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m saying, dear, I too am about to be deserted. Left high and dry on the beach. Thrown away like an old shoe.”

  Kendra made a gasping sound of comprehension.

  The night she had come here with Pocket, had sat on a bottom-up pork tub, had heard Ellet talking at the bar. The look of Delbert as he listened—ugly, sensual, like the look of those men who had stared at her that first day on the beach in San Francisco.

  She said, “The Big Lump?”

  “Right,” said Marny.

  “When did he tell you this?”

  “Last night.”

  Kendra was amazed at Marny’s composure. She seemed to be accepting this as she would have accepted a change in the weather. “Is he going alone?” Kendra asked.

  “Oh no. It seems he has been dreaming of the Big Lump ever since he heard of it, but he wasn’t convinced it was real. Then at Sutter’s Fort he met three men buying an outfit for an exploring trip. Smart fellows, he says. They’re sure it’s there, somebody is going to find it, why not themselves? Delbert was well supplied with dust, could pay his share and more, so they were glad to have him join the party.”

  “Did those men ride in with the others yesterday?”

  “Yes. And now they’re ready to set out.”

  “But what are you going to do about—” Kendra swept her arm up and around—“all this?”

  “We’ll split what we’ve made already, and I’ll carry on here.”

  “Do the Blackbeards want to go with him?”

  “No, thank heaven. They’re a pair of canny Yankees, they don’t believe in any Big Lump.”

  Kendra struck the bar with an angry fist. “How can you be so calm? After all the time you and Delbert have been together—don’t you care?”

  “Of course I care, Kendra. We worked together in Honolulu, we came together to California. We’ve been partners. I’ve never cheated him out of a penny. Now he’s leaving me in this wild country with this enterprise on my hands, and no warning. I think he’s an absolute rotter.”

  “Wouldn’t you like to break his neck?”

  “Why yes, but why worry about it?” Still sitting on the pork tub, Marny rested her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in her slim strong hands. “I suppose he can’t help being the way he is.”

  In a wondering voice Kendra asked, “Marny, have you ever been in love?”

  “Oh yes, often,” Marny said. “But never really.”

  Kendra did not answer. She had nothing to say to this.

  Delbert and his new partners rode on to look for the Big Lump. Kendra cooked as before, with Marny sharing the meals. Mrs. Posey talked.

  Ted had been gone a week when Hester Larch and Sue Gibson came up to Kendra as she was putting jerked beef into water to soak before being cooked. Hester and Sue had been washing, and carried baskets of damp clothes ready to be hung out to dry. As Kendra looked up Hester spoke.

  “We just wanted you to know,” she said, “how sorry we are.”

  “Edith Posey told us,” said Sue. “Now dearie, if we can help at all, you say so.”

  Kendra tried to speak evenly. “Thank you. But I—I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Naturally,” said Hester. She smiled, pushing some stray locks of hair under her sunbonnet. “And don’t you pay any attention to what anybody says,” she added kindly. “We know you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  They meant well. But as she watched them hang their clothes Kendra shivered with rage at Mrs. Posey.

  The following Sunday, while Hiram and Pocket were scrubbing their own clothes in the pool and Kendra sat in the shade watching the camp, a young man paused before her to give her a bashful bow and say, “Good morning, ma’am.”

  He had a brand new shave and haircut, and his red neck showed a white streak where the hair had been. His shirt was clean and his water-cracked shoes had been brushed, and he stood holding his hat with both hands. Kendra vaguely remembered having seen him around, and as he looked harmless she answered, “Good morni
ng.”

  Turning his hat between his hands the stranger began, “Well ma’am, I heard about your—husband, only it seems he wasn’t really your husband, and I thought—my name is Frank Turner and I thought—”

  “You thought what?” Kendra almost gasped.

  “I thought maybe you and me—don’t get me wrong, ma’am, I mean everything to be all honest and legal—there’s an alcalde down at Sutter’s Fort, he could hitch us up—”

  Kendra’s mouth fell open and stayed open. To receive a proposal of marriage from a man she had never spoken to was so astounding that for a moment she thought Frank Turner must have come straight from Marny’s bar. But as she stared up at him he took her silence for leave to go on talking, and he was not drunk. He was merely lonesome, and she was that rarest of treasures in California, an American woman not attached to a man. He said again, he wanted to marry her, all legal and right. Kendra began to shake her head.

  “Please ma’am,” Frank Turner begged as she did so, “I’m no loafer nor convict nor anything bad. I worked my way to California on the brig Rainbow out of Salem, two years ago. I’ve been living in Monterey, always had an honest job, ask anybody—”

  Kendra managed to speak. “No, no—I don’t want to get married!”

  “—and I’ve been right lucky at the diggings, ma’am, nearly four hundred ounces already—”

  Kendra was standing now. It was all a shock, and yet she felt an almost overwhelming impulse to laugh. If that hat in his hands had been a bouquet he would have looked like a stage yokel calling on his lady-love. She tried to be considerate. “You are very kind, sir—it’s an honor, I’m sure—but I don’t even know you.”

  “We could get acquainted easy, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, no,” said Kendra.

  She had to say it several times before he would accept it. At last she got rid of him, but as he went shambling in disappointment down the strip she looked after him with apprehension. It was not hard to foresee that this was only the first of many such offers she was bound to receive as her story went around. Mrs. Posey, she thought. Damn Mrs. Posey.