Emmet Lachlan hadn't ever forbade his children to go to saloons, but he hadn't encouraged it, either. Merlin had been curious enough to sneak into one when he was about thirteen, but then he got in the fight with the panther, and after that he'd stayed close to home for a long time. What with this and that, he'd never gone back.
Even inexperienced as he was, he knew the High Grade Saloon was a dump the minute they stepped across the threshold. It stunk of vomit, sweat, tobacco, and spilt beer.
The man behind the bar looked about as unsavory as the place smelled.
"I don't like this place," Cal whispered as she kind of edged in behind him.
Without going more than two steps inside, Merlin said, "We're looking for Lemuel Smith. He around?"
"What's your business with him?"
To prevent her from answering, Merlin stepped back onto Cal's toes. "It's with him."
"Mr. Smith--" The bartender said it with an emphasis on the "mister" "He don't see nobody without an appointment."
"That's fine with me. I'll be at the freight yard for another day. If he wants the news I bring about his family, he can contact me there."
Turning, he pushed Cal ahead of him through the doorway and across the uneven boardwalk. "Quiet. Not a word until we're out of earshot." He was afraid he'd have to pick her up and haul her away before she finally got moving.
He managed to get her fifty paces from the saloon before she turned and faced him, hands on hips. "What the dickens are you trying to do? He could've told us where my pa is. Why didn't you make him?"
"Because he's bigger than me and he had a club in his hand. Keep walkin'."
She did, backwards, so she could jaw at him. "I didn't see no club."
"Neither did I, but I didn't see his left hand, either. If he wasn't holding a club, it was a handgun. Count on it. I had no hankering to be beat or shot. Watch it!"
His warning came too late. She stepped on a chunk of rock and went tail over teakettle.
He kept his face straight and reached down to help her. "Be better if you watched where you're walking. We can sort this out when we get to the bunkhouse."
Callie dusted her britches off. She'd cracked her elbow good, but she wasn't going to admit how much it hurt. "Darn you, Merlin. You think you know it all. Why didn't you just tell him why we were looking for my pa? Why should it be a big secret?"
"If your pa wants it known he's got a daughter, he can tell folks. Until you know if you've got a welcome here--"
"That's awful. My pa will be glad to see me." At least she hoped he would. She had so few memories of him, for she'd been only a tyke when he went off to war. Then when he came home, he'd been different. Quiet and short-tempered. Restless. He'd sometimes gone off for days at a time, and when he came back he'd yell at Ma if she asked where he'd been.
Finally he'd told Ma he was heading West. Callie had been hiding in the kitchen, just inside the door, so she could hear them talking. "To make a better home for you and the girl," he'd said. "I'll send for you in a while, once I'm settled."
That had been more than three years ago. They'd had a few letters, the last one from Virginia City. He'd got himself a mining claim and was working it. "Not getting rich, but making a living and then some," he'd told Ma. She'd been so happy, believing it would be only a little while before he sent for them.
Then she'd got sick, and nothing Doc Barnes could do would make her well. And Pa had never written again.
"He'll be glad to see me," she said again. "I know he will."
Merlin didn't say anything. He just gave her a quick squeeze, one arm across her shoulders.
They waited at the freight yard all the rest of the day. Nobody came. By evening she was fit to be tied. Ready to cry. Scared to death.
Come morning, they helped the teamsters load up the little bit of freight they were taking back.
"We'd leave the wagons here if we didn't need them in Ogden," Murphy said, as he was checking bills of lading. "I purely hate carrying gold. Makes me feel like I'm wearing a great big bulls-eye on my back."
Cal looked at the half-dozen guards standing around the corral. "Is it really dangerous?"
"You bet it is. Hauling gold down that road is like carrying raw meat through a pack of wolves. This trip won't be so bad as some. We're running light." He stuffed the papers into a leather case and tossed it to Merlin. "See that gets to Wallert over at the office, will you? I want to get on the road."
He mounted his horse, as did the hard-faced, well armed men who were to guard the freight train. "You ever get to Ogden, look me up," he said to Merlin. "If I ain't there, somebody can tell you where I'm off to." He paused, looked down at Cal. "I hope you find your pa, kid, and for God's sake, get yourself into a dress. You make a piss poor boy." With a touch to the brim of his hat, he turned his horse and rode out of the corral, followed by nine big freight wagons and the troop of guards.
Cal stared after him, open-mouthed. "He knew," she said at last, her voice cracking. "You told him, didn't you?"
Merlin held up his hands. "Did not. Murphy, he's a noticing man. I reckon he had you figured out within a day of when we hooked up together."
She eyed him, not sure whether to believe him or not.
He raised his chin, looked over her shoulder. "Somebody's coming."
She turned. A well-fed man in a red-and-black checked coat had just let himself into the yard. He had a thick black beard and wore a wool cap pulled down to his eyebrows. He stopped walking when he was about ten paces from them. "You the ones looking for Lem Smith?"
"We are," Merlin said.
The voice tickled her memory. The beard was as black as her hair. And the eyes were as green as spring grass. "Pa?"
"Not me, sonny. I only got one child, and she's just a little girl."
Snatching off her hat, Callie said, "I ain't a boy. I'm Callie... Calista. But I ain't a little girl no more."
He looked at her closely. After a moment, he came closer and peered into her face. She could smell him. His odor was a lot like the saloon's, but fainter, and overlaid with woodsmoke.
"Well, I'll be hornswoggled. I do believe you are my girl. But what the he-- What the dickens are you doin' here? And where's your ma?"
"She...she's dead. I found your letter... I wanted--" The words just tumbled out of her mouth, making no sense at all.
He looked at Merlin from under lowered brows. "Who're you?"
"Merlin Lachlan." He didn't hold out his hand. He didn't sound any too friendly either.
"Huh." For a couple of minutes he just stood there, eyeing her, glowering at Merlin. At last he said, "Let's go. This ain't no place to be talkin'." He turned and led the way across the yard and down toward the river.
Callie glanced at Merlin, who didn't look inclined to follow her pa. "Please," she whispered. "Please come with me?"
His mouth went hard, but he gave a little jerk of his head and started walking.
They followed Pa down across the creek and along a path on the other side, neither one of them saying a word. After a half mile or so, he led them up a draw. Hidden in brush a ways uphill was a little square cabin. Smoke came from the metal chimney sticking out of the roof. One dirty window was set into the wall beside the door. Pa opened the door and motioned her inside, but he blocked Merlin when he would have followed. "This ain't none of your business, boy."
"Pa, he helped me. I wouldn't have got here without him."
She wasn't sure he'd heard, but after a bit he stepped aside.
Pa lit a lamp and gestured for her to sit on the only chair in the place. "What happened to your hair?"
"I cut it. Seemed like I'd be safer traveling as a boy. Pa, don't you care that Ma's dead?" She wanted to cry. She'd been so sure he'd welcome her with open arms. Be glad to see her.
"Can't do nothing about it, can I? First thing we'll do is get you some proper clothes. It's not fitting, you wearing britches." He turned to Merlin. "You lay a hand on her, boy?"
His fists clenched and she could see him holding back the words he wanted to speak. "She's a little girl. I've got sisters."
Pa's suspicious expression didn't change. "How'd you hook up with her?"
"She was alone and hungry. I had food, so I shared. When I found out we were headed the same direction, I told her she could ride along with me." His body stayed stiff and straight and his fists didn't open.
She was real glad he hadn't told Pa the whole story. "He even bought me a molly to ride. I'd been afoot since I got off the train. He treated me real nice, Pa. Just like I was his sister. When we joined up with the freight train, he kept us apart so nobody suspected I was a girl."
One dirty hand scratched in the thick beard. "But he knew."
Merlin spoke up before she could. "I guessed. Like I say, I've got sisters. She doesn't move like a lad."
"Then I'm obliged to you. I'll take care of her now." He stepped to the door and opened it.
Merlin looked over at her. "Cal? You want me to leave Ruth at the yard?"
"Ruth? Who's that?"
"She's my molly, Pa." She felt like crying. She couldn't believe Pa was just running him off, but there was no give in his expression. "If you've no use for her, I'd like that." She swallowed hard. "Merlin, I--"
Pa made an impatient noise and jerked his head toward the outside.
"Remember what I told you at the gate? Well, that still holds. Take care, Cal. Maybe we'll meet up again someday." He stepped through the door and Pa shut it behind him.
"Now then, girl, let's talk about what I'm to expect of you. This ain't no place for a decent woman, but since you're here, we'll be making sure nobody thinks badly of you." His eyes seemed to flicker with green fire, but it was probably just the lamplight. "First thing, we'll get you dressed proper. Then we'll find work for you, so the Devil won't find else for you to do."
* * * *
Merlin caught up with the freight train two days out from Virginia City. He'd thought about striking east and south, for Denver, or maybe St. Louis. On consideration, he decided he needed to earn some cash money to replace what he'd spent on Cal--Callie. Consarn it, her name was Callie. Murphy had offered him guard's wages.
Gold camps weren't all they were cracked up to be. Not the ones he'd seen, anyhow. He sure wished he'd been older, more Buff's age. His brother's adventures in the gold camps had only fed his own yearning. Even Luke, his brother-in-law, had done exciting things, driving cattle from Texas to the railheads in Kansas.
Wonder if they still have those drives. There was a railroad in Ogden, and he'd never seen one. If I was to get on the train, I could go to Kansas, see what's happening there.
* * * *
November 29, 1869
Dear Ma and Pa,I know I promised to write once a month, and I did, but never got the letter mailed. I'm fine. A fellow who's coming that way is going to take Cap and Bul along with him, so watch for them. I've decided to take a train East, see what I can find there.
Virginia City is just like the towns in the Basin. Folks are still finding gold, but there's not much else going on. Lots of empty buildings. The most exciting thing that happened was when some rowdies tried to make the freight train I was traveling with pay toll. We convinced them otherwise.
I met a young fellow, Cal Smith. He's with his father in Virginia City now, but I'm not sure he's going to stay there. I told him how to get hold of you, so if he does, can you help him out? I'm pretty sure his father's a bad man. He's about Reggie's age.
I'll be here in Ogden for a while. Got me a job with a blacksmith. He's teaching me to mount tires on wagon wheels. I got the job because Abel taught me how to shoe a horse. Tell him I'm obliged. I figure I'll head East in a couple of months.
If you want to write to me, send it to General Delivery, Ogden. I'll check every week or so.
Your loving son,
Merlin Silas Lachlan
* * * *
Boise City, Idaho Territory
Mid-December, 1869.
Hattie Lachlan set the letter on the table beside her plate. "He sounds disappointed he didn't have a great adventure."
"He is. He feels like he missed all the fun in the gold camps. I hope he finds his adventure, but just not too much of it." Emmet picked it up and folded it. She knew he'd put it in the same drawer where he kept all their children's letters.
"I almost hope he doesn't have any adventures at all, even though I know he will. Oh, Emmet, what if..."
He rose and came around the table. His hard hands came down on her shoulders with a comforting pressure. "Hattie girl, we did the best we can. He's got manners and a fair education. He can shoot with the best of them and knows which end of a knife is sharp. And even though it was a terrible thing, what he went through after the cat almost killed him taught him some good lessons. He's a lot more wise than Buff was when we put him on that ship for England." Bending forward, he kissed her cheek. "Only thing worrying about him will do is give you more gray hairs."
She tipped her head back and looked into his eyes. "Mothers worry. It's part of our job."
"Of course it is. But you'd be better off worrying about that daughter of ours. Three boys walked her home from school yesterday. Did she tell you?"
"Three? Oh, my word. I'll have a talk with her." She heard him chuckle as she headed for the stairs. She'd warned Regina about the dangers of leading boys on.
As she climbed, she whispered a quick prayer for her sons' safety--both of the wandering ones. If only they didn't have so much of their father in them. Emmet had had his share of adventures before he settled down. Dangerous adventures.
* * * *
Callie stayed in her pa's cabin for five days. She was alone most of the time, and after she'd ventured outside on the second day, Pa locked her in while he was off about his business.
He wouldn't tell her what that business was, other than he had "an interest in this and that."
By the time he brought her a dress to wear and told her he'd found work for her, she was ready to weep with joy. She'd finished the mending he'd given her to do on the second day, and the tiny cabin had probably never been so clean. After living outdoors for so long, she'd hated feeling confined.
"Your ma taught you well. It's a good girl who knows how to keep household," was all Pa said, when he noticed she'd scrubbed the rough plank table until it gleamed.
The dress was faded linsey-woolsey and way too big for her. She hemmed it up, but taking it in was beyond her skill, so she did what she could with a strip of leather he gave her, bunching it around her waist.
"They'll give you an apron at the bakery. See you use it. That dress will have to last you until spring." He'd already told her he didn't hold with bathing often. "Give you consumption," he said.
She was glad to leave. He wasn't the father she remembered from when she was little. That man would never have sold her molly and kept the money for himself.
"What do you mean, you don't know nothin' about makin' bread?" Mrs. Flynn said, once Pa had gone off and left them alone. "If I'd know that, I'd never told your pa I'd take you on."
"Never had a chance to learn," Callie said, feeling as if she'd failed some sort of test. "I catch on real quick, though. And I'm strong."
"You'll have to be, if you want to keep workin' here. Put your things up in the loft. You get one candle a week, and water for washin' every Sunday mornin'. You'll go to church along with me, and you'll behave like a proper lady."
"I'm to stay here?" She couldn't decide whether to be glad or sad. Living with Pa in the tiny cabin had been a strain, but on the other hand, he was her father. This woman was a perfect stranger.
"'Prentices live where they work. You mind your manners and apply yourself, when your 'prenticeship is up, you'll be ready to have your own bake shop." Mrs. Flynn went to turn away, then paused. "You'll get three hours free time on Sunday afternoons, but I won't have you messin' about with boys. And you won't go to your Pa's cabin. He don't keep decent company, so if he wants to see you, he'll come here. Understand?"
"Yes'm."
I could have gone with Merlin. He said his folks would take me in.
Over the next few years, she was to think of his offer often, but somehow she never did write to the Lachlans, in Boise City. Her pa was in Virginia City, and family was important. Besides, she kind of liked working in the bakery. Mrs. Flynn was sometimes cranky, but she was fair and she was kind, in her own strict way.