Well Traveled

by Margaret Mills

  “You should sleep, Gideon,” Jed said, startling him out of his musings.

  “I thought you already were,” he admitted, and rubbed his hand over Jed’s belly. Jed seemed to like the touch, and it gave Gideon great comfort to offer it.

  “No. I have been listening to the noise in your head.”

  Gideon snorted. “Come on now, Jed, I ain’t even breathed loud.”

  “You have,” Jed said, and finally opened his eyes. The pupils were big and black in the firelight, the midnight blue irises a thin ring around them. “You have sighed many times.”

  Gideon shrugged. “Just thinking,” he said. “Thinking I ain’t looking forward to San Francisco at all, and it used to be one of my favorite cities west of the Mississippi.”

  “It is what you have been aiming for since we left Montana,” Jed said, thoughtful and quiet.

  “Yeah, but you’ll turn around and go back.” He sighed. “Wish we could stay with each other,” he admitted, feeling willful for saying it, but with Jed lying here all comfortable and relaxed beside him, and after all they’d done and been for each other, he had the right.

  Jed’s teeth caught the glinting firelight when he smiled. “You are so young.”

  Gideon frowned at him. “So?”

  “And stubborn. Headstrong. Selfish, seeking to satisfy your own desires.”

  Gideon resisted the urge to whap him on the belly. “So?” he said again.

  “So, I will miss this, too,” Jed said softly, and closed his eyes again.

  THEY woke before the sun rose behind the now-distant mountains, and Gideon moved stiffly in the chill air. He’d been feeling and smelling it for a day now, even this far inland: the Pacific Ocean and all the salt water in San Francisco Bay. Or maybe it was that they weren’t as far inland as he wished they were. At the first town they came across, he stepped into the newspaper office to look at a map. They’d reached Discovery Bay, no more than a wide spot in the road, just as the sun had peeked over the mountains behind them, and the big map of the State of California that was pieced together along one wall told him what his heart already knew; they’d be in Oakland tomorrow night. That was where Bill Tourney camped the show and where he played in these parts, and where they’d be playing now, if they were still in town.

  They’d barely covered twenty-five miles yesterday, across easy roads. Jed was dragging it out.

  “Long day,” Jed said, confirming his thoughts. “We must walk slowly.”

  If Gideon didn’t count the regular satisfaction they found in each other’s bodies, he thought he might miss Jed’s dry sense of humor most of all. Lord knew, it had taken him long enough to learn to recognize it.

  They reached Walnut Creek that night, but for once Gideon didn’t want to see any other people. “We can camp.”

  “We could sleep on a roof more easily, board the horses, let them eat grain,” Jed countered, so they did that instead, paying for board and feed for the animals, sharing a silent meal at a restaurant the livery manager recommended, then slipping late up a ladder and spreading their bedrolls over the shingled roof of a bank. They were too close to people to be together, but Jed slept near enough that Gideon could smell the scent of him. It carried into his dreams, and he woke knowing that he was going to miss that scent for the rest of his life.

  THE sun woke Gideon early the next morning, but not before Jed. Gideon propped up on an elbow to look down at him, and decided the man was feigning sleep. He had to be, because the sun had crept up almost to the horizon already. Gideon felt a smile stretch his lips and touched Jed’s arm, felt his smile broaden when Jed blinked his eyes open, alert, like he’d been lying there waiting for that touch.

  Unlike the last few days, they didn’t talk at all as they rolled up blankets and bedrolls, gathered up their bags, and climbed down off the roof. But Gideon found himself watching Jed, filing away his images for the future. Oftentimes when he looked, he found Jed looking back, and he thought that maybe Jed was doing the same, storing up memories. They ate breakfast in silence, too, and Gideon thought he should compliment the fine cooking, but he just didn’t care that much.

  It wasn’t until they were mounted up, and they’d left Walnut Creek behind them that Gideon said, “Last day,” voicing words that Jed must be thinking, too.

  “Yes,” Jed said.

  “You’ll like the hotel,” Gideon told him. “They take all kinds of people, and treat ’em all the same. That’s part of why Bill always lets us put up there.”

  Jed didn’t say anything.

  It wasn’t far from Walnut Creek to Oakland, but it seemed like Oakland was moving out to meet them. Within just a few miles the road got wider and busier, with far more people than they’d seen so far on this trip, and it seemed like every time he turned around he saw a stretch of new fence or a church steeple rising up in the distance. Where he might have sped up on any other trip, feeling this close to family and his roving home, Gideon found himself slowing down now, moving to the pace of the farmers headed to and from wide, flat fields. This was less the bustle of folks getting somewhere and more of folks walking the steady, plodding pace of people who worked from sunup to sunset. Jed didn’t seem to be in any hurry either, and they took their time over lunch, sitting off the road and munching on biscuits with bacon that they’d saved from breakfast. Gideon smiled as Jed brushed crumbs from his shirt and thighs, a motion he’d grown so familiar with that he’d stopped noticing it weeks back.

  “You’ll fit right in at the Shady View,” he tried again. “You’re tidier than most anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “I should go,” Jed countered, pushing to his feet. “You know how to get to your people from here.”

  The words came easy, as if Jed were discussing the weather, but Gideon felt an ache tug at his innards. Not now, not yet, he wanted to say. Instead he said lightly, “Thought you promised to get me to my family. We ain’t there yet.”

  Jed frowned, but Gideon thought that the look in his eyes might be relief. He hoped it was, anyway, because he didn’t want to be the only one of them feeling this lonesome. “I promised to get you to where they are staying. If we have missed them….”

  Gideon held his gaze, memorizing the deep blue of eyes on a dark face, and the way sunlight glinted in them so that they seemed to gleam. “The least I can do is give you one night in a good bed before you head back out. And one good meal,” he hurried on before Jed had the chance to argue about the merits of the bed. “Let me feed you before you get back on the trail.”

  Jed shook his head and sighed, but he didn’t argue.

  The rest of the way to Oakland, they passed enough folks going in both directions that Jed didn’t even chant. He fell back behind Gideon and pulled his hat low, keeping his eyes down as they rode along with the crowds. Gideon nodded and spoke, chatting when he found someone particularly talkative or interesting-looking, but he didn’t match pace with anybody who rode in from behind them. Weren’t no stranger he wanted to talk to enough that he was willing to share his last few hours with Jed with them. He found himself riding along beside a cart laden with fresh fall vegetables headed into town, squashes, onions and the first winter cabbages, or so he was told by Ham Braddock, the man driving it.

  “Bill Tourney’s group?” Ham asked after they’d exchanged their introductions, and he’d chatted about the weather and the effect it was having on the growing season. “They’ve been staying at the Shady View, haven’t they?”

  “Yessir, they are,” Gideon nodded.

  “Think you’re too late,” Ham said, shaking his head. “I go by there couple of times a week—been supplying them with onions and peppers for years now. Pretty sure I saw them packing out last week, and Norden, one of the kitchen boys, told me that they had a new group coming in this weekend, some doctors or dentists or something, though why a bunch of quacks think they need to get together and commend themselves for God’s work is beyond me.”

  “Well, I’ve seen a broken bone or two
set by a good sawbones in my time,” Gideon said, thinking about Doc MacCray and how he’d saved Jed’s life with poultices and medical knowledge brought all the way over from Europe.

  “I have, too,” Ham said. “Just ain’t seen a need to crow about it.”

  Gideon snorted and nodded his thanks, a little disappointed that Jed wouldn’t meet his folks now, but a little relieved, too. What, exactly, was he supposed to say? And how was he supposed to behave with a feller? He knew how he’d introduce a woman, especially one he’d traveled alone with across half the country—proudly, and lewdly when she wasn’t looking, no matter how much he respected her.

  Gideon might have dismounted and strolled down the street, but he thought Jed might prefer staying a little above it all. The streets were pretty crowded, but the sky seemed bluer as the afternoon sunlight reflected off an ocean not so distant now. Urban homes and tall trees gave way to Oakland’s business sector, stately buildings of limestone and brick, and thick bundles of cable crisscrossing the streets to feed the new lights of city life. Gideon led them through the mire of people and buildings to the inner harbor area south of the wharf—a little shabbier than the shiny streets of the proper city, but teeming with all kinds of people buying and selling all kinds of things.

  “Transcontinental ends just north of here,” Gideon said, pointing up Wood Street. “Ferries over to the San Francisco peninsula every fifteen minutes, and all through the night too.”

  “No one can be in that much of a hurry,” Jed said, rebuking white ways that Gideon had been kind of impressed by.

  “Some folks think they are,” he said with a shrug. It made no nevermind to him, and in truth he reckoned most folks took their own importance in the grand scheme of things too seriously. “But I tend to agree with you,” he said, lowering his voice enough that he could lean closer to say it. “Still, they know how to enjoy the pace of life at the Shady View,” he said. “I really do think you’ll like it.”

  “I am beginning to think you are making it up, that there is no Shady View Hotel,” Jed said. The look he gave Gideon was gentler than the words, and Gideon smiled.

  “It’s not more than a couple of blocks away, now.”

  The Shady View was a big hotel, rambling even, with no true design. It had started out as a house years ago and over the time since, the owners had added to it easily as they could, buying up the few houses and what business would sell around it. Now, its main building was set back from the street, with a big trampled-down yard and a view of the foothills not far off. It and the buildings it had married itself to took up the corner of a block and then some, between the hotel and the stables.

  They dismounted in the front near a long hitch, but before they could tie off the horses, a freckled Irish kid Gideon had known for years trotted out the front to greet them. Jonah’s uniform wasn’t much of one, but he wore the blue chambray shirt and dark work pants that served as the uniform for the staff proudly.

  “Gideon!” he called, trotting down the stairs. He thrust out a hand, smiling like a long lost brother, and Gideon couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Jonah!” he called back, shaking the offered hand. “Good to see you, kid! You haven’t filled out yet?” he asked, teasing. Jonah was sixteen now, if Gideon remembered correctly, and growing up so fast his body was as thin as a rail.

  Jonah blushed, and the pink tinge hid his freckles a little better than his fair skin did. “Met a girl,” he said, trying to keep his voice low, but failing. “Belle Watkins—her daddy owns the feed store on the far edge of town. She’s been trying to fatten me up too. Says the same thing all the time.”

  “She a good cook?” Gideon asked, trying to keep any sly innuendo out of his voice. Jonah’s mother was a good Catholic—gave Jonah all kinds of trouble, to hear him tell it.

  “The best!” Jonah said, rubbing at his flat belly. “Ma says I’ve got a tapeworm or something. I tell her it’s just that I’m still gettin’ taller.”

  Gideon laughed and slapped the young man on his shoulder. “Well good for you, Jonah! I’m sure your ma’s happy—she was worried you were going to roam the world and end up in some far away place with exotic women.”

  Jonah blushed even harder, and Gideon glanced over his shoulder at Jed, wanting to share his amusement. But Jed wasn’t even looking at him. Jed stood beside his horse with his head down, fingers carding through the horse’s too-long mane, and he had his hat pulled so low that Gideon could barely see his chin beneath its shadow.

  Gideon sobered, but held on to his smile, with an effort, for Jonah’s sake.

  “You missed Bill and the group,” Jonah said, drawing Gideon’s attention back. “They left earlier in the week—said they were loading out to Vacaville, then east to Sacramento.”

  “Vacaville?”

  Jonah nodded. “Bill was going on about the heat in the valley, so I guess he decided to save it for last.”

  “I’ll be….” If the show was headed north and east, it would come back through the San Joaquin Valley and stop in Stockton on its way south and east to winter stomping grounds. He could have waited three weeks in Stockton for the show to catch up to him.

  “Gideon? I think your ma and pa left letters for you.” Jonah’s smile faded to mild concern. “The manager said Bill did, too, but that he looked more put out than worried.”

  Gideon nodded and felt his smile come back. Letters from his folks would cheer him up, maybe—they usually did—and Bill was more bark than bite. “Lookin’ forward to those,” he admitted, meaning it. “Jonah, I want you to meet a good friend—this is Jedediah Buffalo Bird,” he said, holding out his hand to wave Jed over.

  Jed looked up then, his face empty of any expression but his eyes were wary. He looked at Gideon then nodded to Jonah, but he didn’t come any closer.

  Jonah smiled and made the step instead, holding out a hand. “Welcome to the Shady View, Mister Buffalo Bird. I can settle your horses for you in the stable—that’s the better part of my job here, when I ain’t hauling luggage. Or, if you want, I can just turn ’em out in the corral for right now, and you can settle them when you get ready. Some folks prefer to take care of their own animals.”

  When Jed blinked, his eyebrows drew together in what most might mistake as a frown. Gideon raised his own eyebrows. “I let him take care of Star, have for a couple of years now,” he said, and shrugged. Jed looked back at Jonah and nodded, taking Jonah’s offered hand in a quick shake. “The corral will be fine,” he said. “Thank you.” He patted his pony on the neck, murmuring something to him that Gideon couldn’t make out even though he could recognize Jed’s own tongue after all this time, and after, he offered the reins to Jonah.

  Gideon gave Star’s reins to Jonah without a second thought, but he did take the time to grab up his saddlebags and suitcase. “Jed, grab your pack if you want it.” He didn’t look because he didn’t know if Jed would do it, so he was relieved when he turned to see his friend hoisting the pack onto his back. At least Jed was staying the night.

  For his part, Jonah stood there holding two horses’ reins with his mouth open wide enough to catch flies. “It’s a good thing your daddy ain’t here,” he said, shaking his head as he looked back at Star. “She looks like she could stand to eat and rest for a few days or more—Robert Makepeace ain’t gonna like how rough she’s looking, and you aren’t taking care of her yourself? When was the last time you washed her down, Gideon?” He shook his head again, reaching out one hand to rub his fingers against Star’s mane. “You leave her with me tomorrow, and I’ll get her looking better—and your pony, too, Mister Buffalo Bird. He ain’t shod? We need to get some shoes on him before he comes up lame. Horses’ hooves aren’t made for gravel and brick after all.”

  “No, they are not,” Jed said. “But he is fine as he is. If you wish to brush him down later, I will pay you for it.”

  Jonah shrugged, eying the gelding critically. “Yes, sir, I’ll see what I can do.” He shook his head again as he led
the horses off, talking to them as politely as he would a guest.

  “He’s right about the shoes,” Gideon said as they headed up the wide stairs to the building’s entrance.

  “Indian ponies do not need steel shoes,” Jed answered. “We walk on grass and dirt, not the hard roads of the white men.”

  Gideon wanted to make a joke of it, but this close to their parting, he couldn’t think up one easy word to say. Fortunately, as he came through the doors and into the hotel lobby, someone called his name, and he turned to see Jonah’s mother, the hotel’s clerk, pushing her way from behind the long wooden desk and heading straight for him.

  She was a big woman, but she carried herself with the polish of someone born to high society. Her dress was russet satin with cream lace trim at the neck, sleeves, and ruffle, and she wore enough underskirts to make it rustle and flow. She took Gideon in an embrace that was motherly but left him with no doubt about her cleavage or her corset, and he could swear he heard Jed snort out a laugh.

  “Your mother was so disappointed that you hadn’t made it before she left!” she said as she pulled him back in for a second hug before finally letting him go. “That last hug is from her, son. I’ve got letters from her and from your father—and Bill Tourney himself said to tell you to get your hind end on the next train. They’re heading off to Vacaville and then parts south, and from there on to New Orleans—well, you know the route better than I do. And who do we have here?”

  She had turned her attention on Jed, her hands on her hips and her features pulled down into a frown. Gideon had known her all his life, so he knew it was just her way, but for the first time, it occurred to him that this was the look Jed probably got from most white folk—and one that would make him worry.

  “Why ever in the world are you running around with the likes of him?” she asked, and for a split second, Gideon opened his mouth to chastise her good and proper—until he realized that she was talking to Jed about being with Gideon, not the other way around. “Surely you could find better than this horse-boy to talk to on the road.” She grinned and extended one hand to Jed. “Welcome to the Shady View. I’m Ruby, and I’ve known Gideon since before he was walking. Known him long enough to know better than to expect good manners from him, so I’ve learned to just ask myself—who are you, young man?”