Later, as Cassandra went out for her evening turn on Hatter's Field, she walked alone. Meantime her besotted houseboy was building up his bonfire behind the house with brushwood and juniper logs. He erected the pyre on exactly the same spot as last year, on the knell by the pond. He glanced from time to time at an old disused mill wheel that loomed nearby, a shadowy reminder of more productive days in the past. He had heard Cassandra suggest that it be restored and used as a decorative effect. That would be his next project on her behalf, he thought, and it would be quite an undertaking.
The bonfire at Mill's Creek joined the rounds of bonfires being lit in the district well after the first one at the Hat. At nine thirty, Horatio heard the rumble of the returning roadster, and the slam of front door as the Captain came in. A few minutes later, the young man ducked into the parlor to check on the fire laid for his returning master. It was then he found the note from Nicholas Brighton and promptly destroyed it.
As he went outdoors again, his thoughts were focused not on the note from husband to wife he had just destroyed. Rather he was obsessed with the surprise he was building for his mistress. It was time to spur it to its capacity, as she would soon be returning. Horatio enlarged the lungs of the fire with vigorous bellows work and added log after log, exceeding the number he had used the previous year. The flames leapt higher and higher.
He left the fire and came around to the side of the house where he could watch the window in Cassandra's bedroom. After a few minutes, he saw the light was turned on. She had returned from her walk, and the hour was his.
“Look there, at Mill's Creek. The best one yet!” declared Fairwell from his usual position at the Hat. “And the Captain said he didn't go in for bonfires! What a show!”
The colorful flames of the fire winking on the remote hillside were drawing the keen attention of one man who was on horseback, drawing nearer to Mill's Creek.
Curly Drake was less than a mile away from the Mill's Creek Pond when Horatio's bonfire reached its peak. To the innkeeper, it was more than an impressive bonfire; it was a signal with a specific meaning, one he had been anticipating for days.
Tonight Drake had left his wife and son alone, and ventured out precisely on the chance such a message might be forthcoming. Like Horatio, he remembered how much Cassandra enjoyed this night, and he was also aware, thanks to the buzz of the local grapevine, she had left her husband. He plodded along with his eye on the mountain, waiting for the signal.
And there it was, just as he had expected! Grinning, he took out his whip and spurred his black horse forward.
Flushed from tending to the roaring flames and also lit up inside by the glow of romantic anticipation, Horatio rushed indoors. He nodded once at the Captain, who gave him an enormous wink and then pointed to Cassandra's cloak and walking shoes drying by the fire. Horatio picked up the items and winked back. The Captain then went up to bed and tightly closed his door.
Horatio traipsed upstairs and knocked three times on Cassandra's bedroom door. “Miss, would you please go with me outdoors for a minute?”
“What is the matter, Dode?” she said, a bit crossly. “You know I’m not dressed for outdoors.”
“It's a surprise for you, Miss. Please, only come out and see for yourself. Then you can go right back in. I promise. Please?”
“Oh, all right. Will you fetch my cloak and walking boots for me?”
“Already got them right here.” Whistling merrily, Horatio waited for Cassandra to unlatch the door.
Cassandra opened her bedroom door and gazed warily at the smudged face and large grin on her houseboy. He swiftly reached around her shoulders with the drab cloak.
“My, you've got to be such a young gentleman, Dode.”
He dared not say a word for fear his voice would squeak. The white creaminess of her skin under her thin cotton nightdress was giving him heart palpitations and a painful tumescence.
“You are full of surprises since I moved back, my little knight,” purred Cassandra, smiling at him so archly, he thought his heart would leave his chest.
“I ain't so little anymore. I'm taller now than you are, Miss.”
“Why, so you are. You must have shot up six inches since my wedding!”
When she took his arm, Horatio had never felt prouder. They walked slowly downstairs, then out into the fragrant autumnal darkness. The native lad was keenly aware of his exotic mistress, leaning on him under a vast carpet of stars.
“Is that fire I smell nearby?” asked Cassandra, sniffing the air.
“Uh, Miss, do you mind wearing this around your eyes?”
From his jacket pocket Horatio pulled a grimy scarf. “I'll lead you along to the surprise blindfolded. That will be best.”
“Why, not only have you become quite the gallant, but now you are full of new tricks! Very well, then, sir knight, please do blindfold me and lead on. Mind I don’t stumble, Dode, or the surprise I’ll deliver to you will be quite painful in the shins.”
“No fear of that. I've got you, Miss.”
After blindfolding her, he carefully steered his mistress by the elbow. She was giggling like a schoolgirl as he slowly led her to the bank where the bonfire roared forth. Then he gently pulled the scarf away.
The leaping red and gold flames of the bonfire were reflected in her widening eyes.
“It is tremendous!” she cried. “But why such a big fire, Dode?”
“First Fire Night, milady!” he crowed. “Behold, your own bonfire!”
Horatio danced a little jig. As she clapped her hands, her young knight solemnly bowed. Then he gently drew off her cloak, just like a grand gentleman, and laid it carefully on the ground. Next, he grabbed her by both hands and danced her around the fire. Around and around they flew under the starry sky in the crackling heat, grinning at each other foolishly, hands laced together, and feet pattering in the same rhythm.
Cassandra was dizzily exhilarated. Her head thrown back, her hair streaming freely in the wind, she felt light as a feather in her partner’s grasp. Her dancing feet barely touched the ground.
“Oh, Dode, please stop!” she gasped after several long, delirious minutes of incessant movement. “One moment to catch my breath!”
Reluctantly, he let go of her hands.
“Oh, Dode, what fun! But is it really First Fire Night?”
“I knew I would surprise you,” he gloated. “You have always loved a bonfire on this night.”
“Indeed I have,” she said, staring at the fire with a thoughtful look.
She left Horatio's side, her hands clasped behind her, and walked away from the fire.
I looked out over the bank of the pond toward the road, listening carefully. It was then I heard from across the pond the distinct sounds of ker-plunk! ker-plunk! It was the noise of stones splashing in the pond—Drake’s old signal! Could it be that what I had just begun to contemplate had already come to pass? If so, to what desired end might this act of fate be applied?
Once again, the ker-plunk, ker-plunk. But this time the sounds were followed by a low whistle. So, Curly was waiting on the other end of the pond, just as I had surmised.
I commanded my mind and memory to resume their normal rapid operations. They were sluggish since my break-off with Nicholas, or I would never have missed the fact that it was a bonfire night. Simultaneously, I was trying to make time stand still so I could make a decision. I clasped my traveling cloak against the cold night and reviewed the dazzling possibilities. Two facts emerged: I could bend Drake to my will, and what I wanted most was an immediate escape from Alta.
Escape, sighed the wind. Escape and find a better life.
“Horatio, dear,” I said. “I need you to carry out a very special mission. Will you?”
“Yes, milady. Name it!”
He was gazing into my eyes lovingly. Was it wrong to enlist the lad in such an enterprise? I dismissed the concern. My need was too great. I had left my zither behind, and I must have that item for the journey ahead an
d the remainder of my life. I had already decided I would never set foot in Alta again.
“Take the Captain’s horse and the light gig. Go over to the Brighton Grange and inform Mr. Brighton, or whoever is there, that I need as many of my trunks as you are able to pack in the gig. Then bring them here. Now listen carefully, Dode. Make sure of bringing my zither. If you take nothing else, make sure you have my zither.”
“You need it tonight, Miss?” His voice squeaked in amazement.
“Yes, I do. Please don't ask questions, Dode. Will you do it, fast as you can?”
“Of course, milady. What shall I do about the fire?”
I could see Horatio was naturally reluctant about this new test of his loyalty, which was occurring at the very moment of his childish triumph. But I had no time to explain myself, and I didn't have the heart to mitigate his disappointment with false bribes. “Leave it to me, Dode, and do hurry. If Annie is there, ask her to help you.”
Horatio looked forlorn, but he did my bidding. He had not been out of my sight for more than two minutes when I turned my back on the beautiful bonfire and walked quickly toward the other end of the pond, where the old mill wheel sat unused.
As expected, Curly Drake emerged from the darkness in a black cloak. My lover swaggered toward me, a lantern swinging on his arm. As he moved closer, I noticed he was dressed for the evening festivities, in a starched high collared white shirt, string tie, and Stetson hat.
I felt simultaneously an impulse to run from him and an opposing desire to run straight into his arms.
“I saw your signal light, lass. In truth, I have been waiting for it all year. I knew I would see it one day. So here we are, just the two of us.”
“It wasn’t my fire. Our lad lit it, thinking to please me.”
I expected Curly would not believe me. Sure enough, there was an amused gleam in his expression as our eyes met.
“And are you pleased, Cassie?”
“You mean to see you here? No, not particularly. I find my nature is misunderstood by everyone in this town, including you.”
“How disappointing that must be.”
“Human life is full of disappointments.”
“Cassie, come away with me! That is what I thought of, the minute I saw the signal fire. Your troubles have grown, while my passion for you has not diminished. I have money, you have left your husband, and we have the world before us. Let us fly, my sweet! What is to stop us?”
“Your sweet wife and baby. Honor and decency.”
“What about Paris and San Francisco?” was his answer.
“Curly, I am not surprised you have leapt to the conclusion that I am ready to run away with you. But it simply isn't so. It is sadly true I have left my husband, and I do intend to leave here tonight. Some instinct tells me I must escape before it is too late. I need a friend now, not a lover. You may be my friend if you like. Nothing more.”
My little speech seemed to have only further inflamed Curly. From his foolish expression, I doubted he had heard half of what I said.
“Your friend, your lover, your escape artist, your financier! Darling, whatever it is you wish to make of me, I am that man!”
I sighed. He was so impetuous! I did love him for that, but my firm intent was to do no harm in my escape.
I looked directly in his eyes and asked: “Can you—will you help me safely get out of here tonight? With all the other activity going on, no one will notice if we slip away. If you could drive me to Casper—” I stopped, unsure if I should go on.
His answer was a graceful bow and a sweep of his hat.
“At your service, madam. But why Casper?”
“If I can get to Casper without my husband or my grandfather interfering, I have a friend there, a girl who once nursed my mother. I can stay with Jayne Anne temporarily, and she will help me with the next step. Eventually I'll take the train to San Francisco. I'll need a little money, a loan, I mean, for my train ticket. I walked away with no money of my own, unfortunately.”
I was ashamed of my weak position. It was then I silently vowed never again to allow myself to be dependent on a human being for what I needed to survive.
“Will it be safe for you to live in San Francisco, unprotected?”
“Of course. I will work. I will find suitable lodgings. I am not afraid to live alone.”
“May I hope to offer you a better alternative? I can take you to San Francisco, or abroad, or wherever your heart desires. I am rich now.”
“You continue to misunderstand me. I will repay your loan when I find work in San Francisco. Tonight I leave Alta and the protection of men forever. Please understand that your role is necessarily a limited one. I have two trunks with me, which I sent for. I ask again. Will you be content with driving me and my belongings safely to Casper, and only that? You can tell your wife you are going there on business. I don't want her alarmed. Those are the conditions.”
He opened his mouth as if to say more. But then, taking in the current streaming from my eyes, he changed his tune.
“Certainly, as you wish, madam. One o’clock will be a quiet time, after the bonfires have gone out. What say you? Meet at the old spot, on Hatter’s Field?”
I glanced at the sky. Its clarity had suddenly diminished. Black clouds were scudding over, too close for comfort, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. I heard the first rumble of thunder from the mountain. Nonetheless, I felt that nothing short of my own death would stop me from making my escape tonight. I had wasted too much of my young life among unforgiving souls. If I left now, perhaps the curse would not follow me.
“Yes, that will do. Goodbye, Curly, until then. And thank you for your courtesy.”
I silently turned away and drew up my drab cloak tightly around my throat, thankful I had special powers at my disposal, if the occasion demanded protection. Curly tipped his hat, got back on his horse, and rode fast towards Alta.
I went inside the house. Before going upstairs, I held my cold hands over the parlor fire. I thought of poor Horatio, who had hoped to spend an hour or so sitting by his glorious bonfire. Instead he was gathering my belongings at the Grange. Would he be back in time?
If he was delayed past midnight, I would go without them. I could send for the zither later. I thought of Curly's wife with momentary concern, but surely she would never know about her husband's part in my escape.
As I stepped away from the flickering light of the fireplace, I thought briefly of how I would miss its warmth, and the company of my grandfather and Horatio. Had I known my husband's note was burning there, would it have made a difference? That I will never know. Our powers do not extend to changing past events and extrapolating an alternative universe. Only novelists can do that.
I moved quickly to my room, where I wrote and addressed a brief note to grandfather, beseeching him to remain silent about me henceforth. “I would prefer the natives think I am dead.” Then I packed the few personal belongings I had with me in a light satchel. Lying on my bed, eyes wide open, I waited for Horatio to return.
Around midnight, the noise of the gig crunching stones and the soft whinny of the horse startled me from my thoughts about the future.
After first checking to see if grandfather was asleep—he was in bed, snoring loudly—I left my farewell note at his door and crept downstairs. I was dressed in my traveling cloak and walking boots, with the packed satchel in hand. Horatio drew up in the gig as I opened the heavy wooden front door.
“Miss!” he called out softly.
I stepped quickly into the seat beside him. “My zither?”
“In the belted trunk.”
“Good. Then please drive on. I’ll tell you where to go.”
The sky appeared wild, with wind and gathering clouds. The thunder was rumbling, the peals getting closer and closer together. There was already lightning flickering in the distance.
“Not a good night for a ride, milady.”
“I know, dear Dode. I am sorry to cause you this tro
uble. But if you love me, I must ask you to do exactly as I say, this one last time.”
I had spoken words of command. He drove off without another word.
Chapter Thirty-One
A Hasty Departure
October 25, 1901
The Plush Horse Inn
In the owner’s apartment at the Plush Horse Inn, a tense domestic scene was playing out. The debate was audible beyond their bedroom, where only a thin wall separated them from the guest room where Caleb Scattergood sat with his ear pressed to the wall.
“I have plans for a better life together, Clare. Yet at the first opportunity to investigate, my little wife pesters me with a million insinuating questions. By Mungo, I have a mind not to move with you to Casper at all!” Drake roared.
“Remember the baby’s little ears, dear,” Clare whispered. “I am sure it is best you go to Casper on our behalf. It is just that—”
“Just what?” he thundered.
“It is so very late to be setting out. I sometimes get scared when you are not here on a night such as this one, with the bonfires lit, and so many coming and going. I would feel so much safer if you were near me and baby. That is all I meant, not to hinder our future plans in any way.”
“Well,” he huffed, “you certainly know how to take the wind out of a man’s sails.”
“What are you doing now, dear?”
“I am looking for my money box. Was it not in the armoire?”
“It is right there.”
“Oh yes, here it is.”
“Are you taking a good deal of money with you, then?”
“Now that, madam, is none of your damn business. This is my money, advanced on the property I will inherit. What I do with it is none of your concern.”
“I am sorry, dear. Of course it is none of my business.”
Her voice contained a sob, but Drake was impervious. He gave a cursory kiss to his son and brushed his wife’s cheek with his lips before leaving with an angry slam of the door. Clare remained sobbing, with the babe sleeping in her arms.
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