Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III

by A. H. Rousseau

  The lift clanked into place and the operator pulled a lever and threw some switches on his control panel. The sound of gas escaping and gears turning locked the lift down. Three motorcarts rumbled over and men started to move crates from the elevator onto the floor. The front guard turned to Anna and motioned into the main chamber before beginning to walk. Anna trotted to catch up to him.

  As they approached the rail car, simple and made from iron and redwood, it started up with a hum, went around the curve and out the chamber just as another car came rolling in behind it. The front guard trotted up to a man standing by a large control panel near the rail.

  “Special delivery,” the guard said to the control man. The control man nodded and, leaning over past the guard, waved his hand in the air. Another man with a clipboard, inspecting crates, looked over and, assessing the situation, gave the thumbs up.

  “All aboard,” said the control man. The first guard stepped onto the car, followed by Anna and then the second guard. The rail car was spartan but attractively designed. Its walls were thin and the entire thing gave them impression of a very pretty, wooden box simply set on wheels. At the front of the car was the driver in a small sitting area, perched on a padded bench.

  “We're going all the way,” said the second guard to the driver. The driver nodded and flipped a large switch, causing a hum, and then slowly actuated a lever which caused the car to creep forward. The car slowly rolled around the turn. Anna watched the bustling building rotate around and move past before her car began to go down the straight track out of the building. As the car traveled toward the far end of the chamber, the bright lights and commotion behind them, Anna kept her eyes forward. It seemed like a black expanse, with nothing but a few points of light, floating in the distance. Anna's eyes slowly adjusted to the low light levels as the car made its way to the edge of the floor, and as it emerged, her jaw dropped.

  Before her, five-hundred feet high, five-hundred feet wide, and immeasurably long, was a cave. They were in a cave, deep underground. Powerful lights strained to provide a modicum of illumination to the expansive cavern. In the middle of the cave, along a leveled path, ran the rail lines. The two rail lines ran directly beside each other on a large, reinforced, raised rail platform. The lights of the previous car could be clearly seen, slowly rolling off into the darkened distance. As Anna's car moved farther away, she was able to turn and finally see from the outside what she was exiting. All around her was a large rail switching yard, with cars going in and out of structures. Parts of sheer rock peaked out from behind some of the metal, indicating that the structures were built directly against the rock face. Powerful lights beamed out from everywhere as the sheer size of the glittering, underground edifice was made apparent to Anna.

  The sounds of heavy work and machinery echoed off into the distance as the rail car slowly rolled on into the twinkling void. Anna watched the main complex slowly shrink behind them, making out a large, brightly lit, central tunnel on the ground level, in which none of the train cars seemed to be coming or going. The structure climbed the full height of the tunnel, with metal framework traveling directly into the ceiling. A thicket of cables and wires extended from the body and ran down the cave into the dark.

  ---

  Jebediah, Cassidy, and Gideon walked out from the train station and down the ramp into the bustling market. One of the two flirtatious women, parasol in hand, waved to Gideon with a smile before the second rushed up and bumped her out of the way to give her own wave.

  “Once more unto the breach,” said Cassidy into his ear, giving him a pat on the shoulder. Gideon grumbled.

  The three of them milled about in the market. The sound of chatter was punctuated by the sounds of merchandise being moved about, money being exchanged, and carriages rolling by. Cassidy again returned to the woman with the scarves and began to inspect one of vibrant oranges and yellows. She glanced up and, between people, saw Mr. Caesar standing there, staring at her as the world slowed to a crawl. Her eyes widened as her heartbeats became long, echoing thuds and each eye blink took an eternity. A woman in a hat. Then, nothing. He was gone. Time returned to normal as Cassidy looked all about, breathing quickly. She hurried over to where she had seen Mr. Caesar and looked all over, her hand on her revolver. She found nothing. She ran her hand deep into her hair as she glanced everywhere. Gideon walked up behind her.

  “You alright?”

  Cassidy didn't immediately answer. “Yeah... Yes. I just thought I saw someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone... I don't like.”

  Cassidy kept a suspicious look as she turned slowly, analyzing the crowd. Jebediah walked up to her as a trio of rugged-looking men in dusty suits walked up, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as they approached. The lead man, a tall, broad figure with a curly moustache and about four days of stubble, walked directly up to Cassidy as she inspected the crowd. She turned to face him as he got near.

  “My name is Stoudenmire, Dallas Stoudenmire. I'm the marshal for this God-forsaken shit hole and am the beginning and end to the law around these parts.”

  Cassidy maintained a calm, steely-eyed gaze right into Marshal Stoudenmire's eyes who looked back, suspicious. “Alright,” Cassidy said. “How can I help you?”

  “I hear tell that you are the famous Cassidy St. Clare, the little lady from out west who thinks she can run with men.” The Marshall spoke with an undisguised tone of condescension.

  “You hear correctly.”

  “I also hear that you have a habit of causing trouble wherever you go.”

  “Well I don't like to brag.”

  “Just because you're from San Francisco, just because you've got a lot of money in your pockets, and just because you're a woman don't mean that I won't shoot you dead. If you want to cause trouble, do it someplace else.”

  Cassidy's eyes thinned and she shifted slightly in her stance. Jebediah placed his hand lightly on her hand in a calming motion. “Marshall, I have no intention whatsoever of causing trouble,” Cassidy said. “And will be gone from here just as I arrived. Tomorrow morning, I will be out of your hair.”

  “Good. And who are your two little tagalongs?” he asked, making a slight motion of his head in the direction of Jebediah and Gideon.

  Cassidy looked to Jebediah who glanced back and nodded. “This is Secretary Jebediah Ames from the U.S. State Department, and this is agent Gideon Atwater from the same.”

  “State Department? What's all this about?”

  “Nothing Marshall,” replied Jebediah. “We were not even supposed to be here. We were forced to stop because of engine troubles.”

  The Marshall stared at all of them. “I am suspicious,” he said.

  “There is no need,” replied Jebediah. “We travel to Houston, where our actual business resides.”

  The Marshall maintained his distrusting gaze on them. “Alright. I'll have my eye on you. And I don't sleep much.”

  “That... does not surprise me,” replied Cassidy.

  The Marshall tipped his hat to Cassidy and crew. “Good day,” he said as he turned and walked off with his two deputies.

  “Pleasant fellow,” said Cassidy.

  “Indeed,” replied Gideon.

  “Not surprising. To be a Marshall out here requires a degree of... grit,” said Jebediah.

  “And a degree of alcohol,” said Cassidy. “Good god, I think he bathes in it.”

  “Sometimes grit comes in a bottle,” replied Jebediah.

  “A piece of real-world wisdom. Again you impress me,” said Cassidy.

  Jebediah smirked. “As I said, I have experience.”

  “To the hotel, then?” asked Cassidy to her friends.

  “Please. I'm already tired,” said Jebediah. Gideon nodded.

  “Oh, right!” Cassidy said, walking around Jebediah to the woman at the stand. Cassidy handed her some coins and took her scarf. She turned, faced Jebediah, smiled, and then wrapped it around his neck and into a little poof on his
chest. “There! You look beautiful,” Cassidy said with a smile and a pinch of his cheek as she turned and walked off.

  Gideon looked at Jebediah. “It goes well with your complexion.”

  “I couldn't care less,” said Jebediah, walking away.

  ---

  Cassidy walked up to the service desk of the Central Hotel. Jebediah and Gideon walked up behind her.

  “This is rather nice,” she said, looking around.

  “Yes. Quite luxurious for a rough-&-tumble frontier town,” said Gideon.

  A short, bookish man — the hotel manager — walked out from a thin door and up to the counter. “Good afternoon, miss, can I help you?”

  “Yes, we were on the train that is undergoing repairs. I'm Cassidy St. Claire.”

  “Ah yes! Of course,” the hotel manager said has he started to look behind the counter. “We have three rooms ready for you. First, would you mind signing in?”

  “Well it's quite the inconvenience, but I'll see if I can manage,” Cassidy replied in faux seriousness.

  The hotel manager pulled out a leather-bound book from behind the counter and opened it to a page that was half-filled with entries.

  “Nice place you've got here,” Cassidy said as she wrote.

  “Thank you,” replied the man. “The nicest place in town, ma'am. Indeed, I'd go so far as to say that it's the only nice place in town.”

  “I don't know,” said Cassidy. “Some of the other hotels along the street seemed nice enough.”

  “Please,” replied the man with a sneer. “Don't compare us to them. Houses of ill repute, the lot of them. No one like that here, no sir.”

  “Ooh, houses of ill repute. Sounds like fun. You want to go partake, Jeb? I'll pay,” Cassidy said, stepping back to let Gideon sign the book.

  Jebediah gave her a nasty look. “Please,” he replied, obviously annoyed. He then stepped up to the book, giving Cassidy an evil eye as he walked past her. She replied with a shit-eating grin.

  “Thank you,” said the hotel manager. “I've got your keys right here. Your rooms are ready and your bags have already been brought up. You can go in whenever you please.” The three of them thanked the man and took their keys.

  “I am going to go up and give my face a wash and then, I don't know, maybe come down here for a drink?” Cassidy asked, looking to Jebediah and Gideon.

  “If you would like, the restaurant here is of the highest order,” interjected the hotel manager. “You can get to it through that door and by walking through the bar.”

  Cassidy glanced back at the other two.

  “Sounds good,” said Gideon. “I'm hungry enough.”

  “Yes. Sounds agreeable. I don't want to be down here for too long, though. I am already tired and rest is important.”

  “Of course it is!” Cassidy replied. “Old men like you need their sleep. Helps them get up early to yell at children.”

  Jebediah stared flatly at her for a moment. “Yes,” he said, walking upstairs.

  “Barrel of laughs, that one,” Cassidy said, watching him. She turned to Gideon who was staring at a handsome young man across the room. Cassidy backhanded him on the shoulder. “Pay attention,” she said.

  “Huh? What?” He looked back at Cassidy, wide-eyed.

  “You got the reflexes of a cat,” she said, starting to walk upstairs herself. “Should have been an assassin or something.”

  “Oh, I'm deadly,” Gideon replied. He then turned back to the attractive young man who was now staring at Gideon. He gave Gideon a come-hither look. Gideon's eyes widened and he nervously looked all about the room before scurrying upstairs.

  ---

  Cassidy and Jebediah sat at a corner table, the late-day sun washing over them, the mellow glow of orange and yellow filling the outside world. Couples walked by on strolls, women with their parasols and silly hats, men with their bland clothing that make them almost indistinguishable. The horse-drawn rail carriages clopped by as a small crowd of people gathered in the park abutting the hotel to hear a band. A waiter was placing drinks on the table as Gideon walked in from the lobby.

  “Glad you could make it,” said Cassidy as Gideon sat down.

  “Happy to be here,” he replied.

  “So, Jeb. Tell me about yourself,” said Cassidy.

  Jebediah paused, looking at her. “There's not much to say,” he replied.

  “Oh of course there is. I'm not so poor a judge of character where I can't tell the difference between someone with a story and someone without. You, sir, have a story.”

  “Why the sudden interest?” he asked, dodging the question.

  “Secret codes and communications, clandestine meetings: it's all very interesting.”

  “That still doesn't answer why now.”

  “So people aren't allowed to be spontaneously curious?” she asked.

  “Not when it's you,” Jebediah replied, suspicious.

  “Come on. Wife? Children? Faithful dog? Hamster, maybe?”

  Jebediah hesitated before finally entertaining Cassidy. “I have a wife and three children. Two sons and a daughter.”

  “How old?”

  “My sons are thirty-seven and thirty-six. My daughter is twenty-nine.”

  “And are they as pretty as you?”

  “I don't know,” Jebediah replied. “I... haven't seen them in a long time.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I haven't.”

  “Do they still live in Delaware? Actually, do you still live in Delaware?”

  “I have never lived in Delaware. I don't know where you got that.”

  “I went looking around in your private effects when you were missing.” Jebediah breathed in deeply, obviously infuriated and trying to keep it subdued. “Now, before you go and lose your mind, remember, I thought you were gone. I wasn't looking just to be a snoop. I was looking in the hope of finding a clue.” Jebediah looked away as he rotated his drink between his fingers. “So, where do you live?”

  Jebediah sipped his drink. “I don't like to talk about myself.”

  “Which is probably one of the reasons why I don't trust you. A man who doesn't like to talk about himself is a man with secrets.”

  “That's absurd. There are many men who simply dislike the sound of their own voice sometimes. I'm one of them. And for another thing, of course I'm a man with secrets. It's what I do.”

  “I'm not talking about those sorts of secrets. I'm talking about secrets that reveal a man to be something other than he claims. A history. A past. Actions that he would rather keep under wraps. Men with those hate talking because they are afraid those secrets will come tumbling out one day when they aren't careful. And that's what I want to find out. Are you... a man with secrets?”

  “If I am a man with secrets, I'm obviously quite good at keeping them. As such, no matter what you say, I will not talk about myself. Why don't we talk about you, instead. You're suitably self-centered to fill up our time.”

  “There's no point! You two already have an entire report on me. I'm sure that you know the last time I took a shit!”

  “Please! Try not to curse quite so loudly.”

  “Oh, calm down, Mr. Manners. This is a frontier town. We're lucky we weren't accosted by chain-swearing drunkards immediately after leaving the train.”

  “That may be, but we do not need to convince everyone that we are among those drunkards.” He sipped his drink. “There's something we can talk about. Why do you persist in being crass and confrontational? I know that you have been educated with manners, and yet you seem to gleefully ignore them in your interactions with people.”

  “Manners are a prison,” Cassidy replied.

  “No, manners are respect.”

  “I can respect someone in other ways.”

  “Yes, but by being courteous you are showing a degree of respect for everyone in your surroundings. You cannot enter a restaurant and be directly kind to every person to make up for loudly swearing and belching.”

&n
bsp; “When you show me a room full of people worthy of respect, I will buy you a drink.”

  “Stop being childish. A good person shows deference to strangers. They may be boors, but they may also be kind, normal people, simply living their lives. They do not need some woman with a chip on her shoulder blowing stomach gas in their face.”

  “I have never belched directly in someone's face,” Cassidy chortled. “At least not recently.”

  “It doesn't matter. By maintaining a calm, measured demeanor, you allow others to pass through that space unperturbed. By... doing what you do, you make a person's progression through a space more difficult, upsetting, and perhaps intolerable. They aren't bad people. They are merely people.”

  Cassidy leaned back in her chair. “Why are you so concerned with my manners, anyhow? Your own daughter not proper enough as is? You need to spread the gospel to other women?”

  Jebediah was silent, lightly tapping his glass on the table. “It's not just women. Everyone should be polite, especially those of privilege. Haven't you ever heard of the term noblesse oblige? If you demand the perquisites of your station, you must carry yourself according to that station.”

  “I don't demand the perquisites. People are forced to give them to me because of who I am.”

  “Than all the more reason to be kind to them!”

  “I am kind. I am always kind.”

  “Fine, respectful. I meant respectful.”

  “See, that perfectly encapsulates a fundamental issue that I think you and I are having. You equate certain behavioral prescriptions as kindness, as niceness. I've met many a cruel person, worthy of nothing, who conforms to everything that you believe.”

  Jebediah sighed. “Our society is defined by rules. All societies are defined by their myriad and different rules. Dressing in a respectful manner here would be disrespectful in China or India. Even if we assume that those rules are arbitrary, the rules exist to communicate things to other people within that society. Acting well... It shows breeding. It shows intelligence. Swearing, fighting, and the wonton display of bodily functioning is the domain of trash.”