My Calamity Jane

by Cynthia Hand

  “Yes, Doctor! I believe! I want to be changed!” She gave Al Swearengen a wrinkled hundred-dollar bill. Swearengen thanked her and tucked the bill into her pocketbook. Then she helped the old woman climb into the metal cage before locking it firmly. The assistant handed Swearengen a long stick and a whip.

  Jane felt her body tense. The entire crowd drew in a worried breath.

  Swearengen held out her hand. “No need for concern, ladies and gentlemen. Mrs. Hoagy here has agreed to let us see the wolf part of herself, so you can be assured that we are curing a garou here today. She will not be harmed. In fact, she will be freed from the constraints this life has put upon her until now.”

  Jane sat back again.

  Swearengen whipped the cage. Mrs. Hoagy startled. Swearengen reached between the iron bars and poked her with the stick, then whipped at her again.

  At such provocation, Mrs. Hoagy reared back against the cage, away from the bite of the whip, and then lurched forward again, collapsing onto the floor. The crowd gasped and sat up, straining to see her as she writhed and screamed at the bottom of the cage. There was the sound of clothing tearing and teeth gnashing. The old lady gave a loud, bloodcurdling howl, and stood up onto her back legs. And suddenly Mrs. Hoagy wasn’t Mrs. Hoagy anymore.

  She was a garou, a shaggy brown beast with the head of a wolf.

  People in the audience were standing up and pointing and exclaiming among themselves. Many of them had never seen a real-live garou before. It was exciting and upsetting all at once.

  Jane waited—holding her breath—as Swearengen and her assistant quieted the crowd and urged folks back into their seats. The garou paced the cage, snarling. Al Swearengen stood at the podium like nothing had happened, perfectly calm.

  “She’s all right,” she assured the crowd. “Now it is time to administer the serum.”

  Men appeared next to the cage. They opened a small window on each side and somehow managed to capture the garou’s arms. Then Al Swearengen quickly produced a syringe (which Jane had never seen before, either) and stabbed the needle into the forearm of the garou. The wolf lady howled in rage.

  Swearengen withdrew a watch from her pocket and looked at it. “Sixty seconds,” she said loudly. “That is all it should take.”

  Sure enough, something began to happen to the beast who had formerly been Mrs. Hoagy. It gave a strange, strangled cry. Its body jerked this way and that, and suddenly flopped once again to the floor of the cage. For several heartbeats it didn’t move. Then the crowd gasped again as Mrs. Hoagy stood up shakily where the garou had been.

  She was human. Her hair was disheveled from all the tossing about, a wild mess around her face. She snatched up and put on her glasses, and clutched the remains of her tattered dress around herself.

  Swearengen unlocked the cage and helped the old lady out from it, giving her a long robe to cover her torn clothing.

  She was still bent and old and frail-looking, but she was definitely human.

  Jane’s breath whooshed out all in a rush.

  “Oh, Doctor, Doctor, thank you,” rasped Mrs. Hoagy.

  “Come here, madam,” Al Swearengen said. “I wonder if you might tell me something. We all know that one symptom of the garou’s disease is color blindness. Could you differentiate color, Mrs. Hoagy, since you became a wolf?”

  She shook her head. “I could not,” she croaked, and then smiled.

  There was something familiar about the old lady, too, Jane realized. Something about that smile.

  Al Swearengen lifted a brightly colored handkerchief in each hand. “What color is the kerchief on the right?”

  “Blue,” the lady chimed sweetly.

  “And the left?”

  “Why, it’s red!” she exclaimed. “Oh dear! I’m seeing red!”

  Jane had no idea what color they were, of course, but by the dumbstruck reactions from the people around her, Mrs. Hoagy had named them correctly.

  Al Swearengen said something about the old woman having been through so much this afternoon, and needing to rest now and recover fully. But she would, Al assured the audience, recover fully.

  The painted lady led Mrs. Hoagy from the room.

  All eyes returned to Al Swearengen.

  “My friends, you’ve seen a miracle tonight,” she said. “And you’ll see many more if you stick around this place. If you have a family member—or a friend, or even a passing acquaintance—who’s a garou, I beg you, for their sake and yours, tell them what you’ve seen here today. Spread the word. Help them save up the money to be treated. And wolf by wolf we shall wipe this plague from our great land!”

  The crowd clapped and clapped, Jane more enthusiastically than any of them. She could hardly believe what she’d just witnessed. It was true. All that Jack McCall had said. The cure was real.

  Jane’s heart surged with hope.

  The crowd dispersed, but Al Swearengen motioned to her assistant again, who nodded and took Jane aside after Swearengen disappeared into one of the back rooms.

  “You’re Calamity Jane, aren’t you?” the painted lady asked.

  “Maybe,” Jane said. “What’s it to ya?”

  “We’re so honored to have someone of your celebrity grace our humble establishment,” said the lady. “Ms. Swearengen has asked to see you. In private.”

  Jane didn’t think that sounded like a good idea. She’d meant to slip into town all incognito-like, find some work as a scout or a driver, save up the hundred dollars, get the cure without drawing any unnecessary attention, and rush back to Frank and Bill and Annie pronto. She didn’t want it to be known that the famous Calamity Jane was or had ever been a garou.

  She was pretty sure Charlie would consider such a thing bad for business.

  But the painted lady was insistent that Jane go with her, and in short order Jane was ushered up the back stairs into a large, expensively furnished bedroom, where Alice Swearengen was seated at a vanity, her back to Jane.

  “Calamity Jane, I presume,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

  “Uh, likewise,” said Jane. The hairs were standing up on the back of her neck again.

  “What did you think of the show?” Al Swearengen asked.

  “I found it mighty interesting,” admitted Jane. In truth, she wanted to whoop. She wanted to sing and dance, even though she didn’t know how to do neither. She wanted to get working straightaway on earning some money. “I should get going, though. I got some things to attend to.”

  “Stay awhile,” said Al Swearengen, and then, still with her back to Jane, she took off her top hat and started unpinning her hair. Jane squinted at the reflection in the vanity mirror, but the glass was warped a bit. She knew this woman, she was certain of it now. Al’s features had been shaded by the hat before, and the fancy dress and booming voice had been distracting, but—

  Then Al Swearengen turned to face Jane, wearing a triumphant smile Jane knew as well as her own, and she said, “Hello, baby.”

  And Jane didn’t know what to say, except, “Oh. Hello, Ma.”

  Because Al Swearengen wasn’t Al Swearengen at all, but Charlotte Canary. Jane’s mother.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, eyes shining. “I’ve been waiting for so long.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Frank

  Frank’s first impression of Deadwood was that it was dusty and crowded. The streets were lined with tents, with people selling everything from whiskey to mining tools to baths. Frank saw hordes of prospectors sifting through mud and rocks in metal trays, no doubt looking for gold. New construction was going up everywhere.

  One merchant pushed a live chicken right in front of Frank’s face. “Chicken, mister?”

  “No, thanks,” Frank answered.

  By far, most stores and tents were selling prospecting supplies like picks, pans, and shovels. It was a street full of commotion, and Frank and Bill had to work hard to weave through the crowds without being accidentally struck by a pickaxe. There wa
s obviously gold on the brain here. One man was even carrying a chamber pot, which Frank didn’t know what to make of. A second man came by with a chamber pot.

  “What’s with the commodes?” Frank asked.

  The man tilted his head back. “New hardware store running a special,” he said. “You need a new commode?”

  “No,” Frank said. “But I need information. You know a fellow by the name Swearengen?”

  “Everyone knows Swearengen, but she ain’t no fellow. That’s the lady who runs the Gem.”

  “A lady? The Gem?”

  “Yep. It’s right smack in the middle of town. You can’t miss it. Just look for the painted ladies out front.”

  Unfortunately, there were painted ladies out in front of most of the buildings in town.

  “Thanks,” Frank said. He and Bill walked some more and sure enough, there was the Gem. And sure enough, there were the ladies, advertising their wares on a balcony out front.

  And sure enough, someone was trying to shimmy up a post on the side of the building and sneak in through a window.

  And sure enough, Frank would know that tailored dress and long brown hair anywhere. Even from behind.

  “That. Is. Annie,” Frank said. His heart leapt.

  George snapped his head. Where’s Annie?

  “She’s climbing up that wall. What in carnation is she trying to do?”

  “Do you mean tarnation?” Bill asked.

  “I always thought it was carnation,” Frank said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because that. Is. Annie.”

  Bill tipped his hat up and squinted. “It can’t be. What would a girl like Annie be doing in a place like this?” he said.

  “I don’t know. And how did she get here so fast?”

  “Can’t be her,” Bill said, but we’ve established that his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be.

  The two men crossed the street and went around to the side of the building to get a closer look, where the girl was still shimmying up the post. She was most definitely Annie.

  She hadn’t made it very far. She sure as heck would never reach the window, at least not by nightfall.

  “Annie?” Frank called out.

  “Hang on, I’m almost—” She froze and then turned her head slowly to see Frank and Bill. “Frank!” she exclaimed. “Mr. Hickok! When did you get here?”

  “Just now.”

  “Me too,” Annie said.

  “And you’re already breaking and entering?” Frank couldn’t help but smile.

  “Not yet, but if all goes well, I soon will be,” Annie said cheerfully.

  “I’ve got news for you,” Frank said. “It’s not going well.”

  Annie looked up at the window and sighed.

  “Won’t you come down here and talk to us?” Bill asked.

  “I can’t. I have a job to do,” Annie said.

  Bill and Frank exchanged glances. What job could Annie possibly want at a brothel?

  “Oh, calm down. It’s not that kind of job,” she said.

  Well, that was a relief. But it didn’t explain what she was doing here. “Please come down,” Frank pleaded.

  “Okay, fine.” She shimmied down and dusted off her dress. “What would you like to know?”

  “Start with why you’re trying to break in.”

  Annie clasped her hands together. “So I was taking a walk in the woods, definitely not thinking about anyone in particular, when I ran into a Lakota girl, who made an unfortunate joke about pee, and then we ran into a bear, who, I might add, we fought bravely, although you can’t really fault the bear for being aggressive because she had cubs with her.”

  Annie’s eyes were bright, and she was gesturing animatedly with her hands. She was so cute when she told a story. Frank remembered why he had fallen in love with her in the first place.

  Bill looked worried. “How did you fight off a bear?”

  “Well, most of our efforts went into not looking like food, and not smelling like food, and there was a lot of waiting in a tree.”

  “Wow,” Frank said. “I guess that bear really had it coming. So is she staying at the Gem? Is that why you’re breaking in? To finish off the bear?”

  “No, I—” Annie started to protest and then smiled. “I see. You’re being funny.”

  Frank felt his face getting red. “I was trying to be funny, anyway.”

  “Yes. That was hilarious. So, back to my story, Many Horses—that’s the Lakota girl’s name—got to talking and she told me that there’s a nefarious villain here by the name of Swearengen who’s been turning people into garou and then mind-controlling them. I know, right? Swearengen is obviously the Alpha you’ve been hunting. And Swearengen is holding Many Horses’s sister hostage. So she asked me to help, and that’s why I’m here.”

  Frank and Annie stared at each other in silence.

  “Wow, that was a long story,” Bill said.

  “I think it’s safe to say I’ve solved the mystery of the Alpha,” Annie said proudly.

  Frank opened his mouth to tell her that actually he’d solved the mystery, back on the train, but he stopped himself. Annie loved winning.

  “Anyway,” Annie continued breathlessly. “It’s good to see you.”

  Frank wanted to ask her if she was sure about that, considering how they’d parted ways, and considering that she knew he was a garou, but instead, he said, “Why don’t you use the front door?”

  She tilted her head. “A girl like me in a place like that? I’d stick out like a sore thumb.” She gestured to her long sleeves and high-neck collar. “Not the thing you want to do when you’re doing reconnaissance.”

  From what he’d seen of Deadwood, Annie would stick out like a sore thumb everywhere.

  “You have a point,” Frank said. “How about Bill and I go in first and check things out? If we see any sign of your friend’s sister, we’ll let you know.”

  “You would do that for me?” Annie asked.

  Frank nodded.

  “We’d do it for us,” Bill clarified. “We’ve been hunting the Alpha for a long time. If it’s Swearengen, our job is almost done.”

  And then Bill would retire. Frank sighed and turned his attention back to Annie. “You never told us why you’re here, though.”

  “I did tell you. I’m here to break into the Gem.”

  “He means why are you in Deadwood?” Bill said.

  She glanced shyly at Frank. “Oh, um, I wanted to get my ten dollars back from Jane. Do you know where she is?”

  Frank shook his head. “Not yet. But she’s probably around here somewhere. Or she will be.”

  “Why would she even come here in the first place?” Annie asked.

  Frank scratched the back of his neck. Annie had traveled all this way, and sure, she was being nice to Frank, but she probably hadn’t changed her mind about the garou. After all, she came here for Jane. Or at least Jane’s ten dollars. Which also didn’t make sense, because she’d probably spent more than that getting here.

  Maybe Annie just needed some friends. But if she found out the truth about Jane . . .

  “Jane wanted some time away,” Frank said. “She’s done this before—taken off on us. She calls it her restless soul.”

  Of course, this was a big fat lie. Jane had never wanted time away from the gang.

  “Deadwood isn’t that big,” Frank said. “We’ll run into her eventually. For now, Bill, let’s go check out the Gem and see what we can find out about this Swearengen.”

  “We need to be very careful,” Bill said.

  “I’m always careful.” Frank grinned at Annie. “I’m the most careful out of everyone in my whole family.”

  Which was not even close to true.

  Ten minutes later, Bill and Frank sauntered into the Gem and quickly realized there was nowhere safe to look. Scantily clad women decorated every nook and cranny of every room. Annie was right. If she had come in, it definitely would’ve raised suspicion.

  They snooped around fo
r a while, but didn’t see anything that was out of the ordinary for a brothel, or any obvious garou or outright villainy. “What now?” Frank asked.

  Bill smoothed his mustache. “Let’s see if we can locate this Swearengen fellow. I want to get a look at his face.”

  Frank’s heart started beating fast. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Wise? Nah. But I’ve come to this conclusion in life, son: The boldest plan is the best and the safest.”

  Frank wasn’t sure he agreed. A few men had already recognized Bill. They were whispering excitedly among themselves.

  “We need to move fast,” Bill said. “It won’t be long before the whole town knows I’m here.”

  “Maybe we should have sent Annie,” Frank said.

  One of the girls approached them. She was dressed in a white slip with a matching corset over top. “You looking for company, handsome?” she purred.

  “Where would we find the owner of this fine establishment?” Bill asked.

  Frank wondered if his use of the term fine establishment was a bit loose.

  “Al’s in the back,” she said curtly, less friendly now that she knew she wouldn’t be getting paid. She smiled at a man at the bar. “You lookin’ for company?”

  “I guess we’ll find our own way,” Frank said. They headed toward the back, to what looked like an office. Presumably Swearengen’s office.

  “You look in there first,” Bill directed. A solid plan, since Bill couldn’t see.

  Frank paused by the doorway, his shoulders to the wall, and leaned over quickly to peek inside. Then he froze. Because he saw Jane.

  “Jane!” he whispered. She was reclined in a chair, her feet up on the desk. Frank smiled, relieved. He would have walked in and thrown his arms around her right then and there, but Bill grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back. Bill put a finger to his lips.

  “But it’s Jane,” Frank hissed.

  “Jane and who?” Bill replied.

  Oh, right.

  Frank inched over a ways to get a look at who Jane was talking to.

  “It’s a woman,” he reported to Bill.

  Bill relaxed a little. “So not Swearengen.”

  “But she’s wearing a top hat,” Frank said warily. He’d learned his lesson about people in top hats.