Calico Palace (43 page)

“Yes,” Kendra said in a low voice, “I see.” She tried to recall how much gold Delbert had stolen from Marny. She could not remember the exact amount, but it was enough. Enough to kill him. She asked, “What did the other men do with the gold, Foxy?”

“Why, they divided it up,” said Foxy. “They said this was nearly as good as finding the Big Lump. I’ll have to tell Marny. I hope she won’t be too upset.”

“I don’t think she’ll be too upset,” Kendra said. She felt herself smiling, and wondered if Foxy thought she was a cold-hearted woman, smiling as she heard of a man’s death. She wondered again how Marny would take the news.

Two days later she found out. Loren had heard about it at the store, and he told her.

Foxy went to the Calico Palace, eager to tell Marny about Delbert before she could hear the story from somebody else. Elbowing his way to her table, he stood with several other men watching the game. Foxy was not aware of Marny’s talent for fixing her mind on her cards so that she was almost unconscious of everything else. After a moment’s watching he exclaimed, “Evening, Marny!”

She did not look up. One of the other watchers warned him, “Don’t bother her while she’s dealing.”

Foxy was restless. He tapped his foot on the floor. He had brought big news, and he wanted to be noticed. Marny did not notice him.

Foxy said eagerly, “Marny, I’ve got something to tell you.”

Marny did not turn. She said, “Place your bets, gentlemen.”

The coins clinked down. The eyes of the other onlookers bulged at the array of gold and silver. But Foxy persisted,

“Marny, this is
important.
”

Troy Blackbeard came over to him. “Let her alone,” he ordered. “Don’t interrupt.”

“But I’ve got something to tell her!” Foxy argued. “Marny!” he exclaimed. “Marny, that friend of yours, Delbert—remember?”

Marny did not lift her eyes. She went on with the deal.

“Let her alone,” Blackbeard said again.

“Marny!” Foxy insisted. “Marny, Delbert is dead.”

Marny asked, “Cards, gentlemen?”

“Marny,” urged Foxy, “don’t you hear me? Delbert is dead.”

One of the gamblers spoke with annoyance. “Oh, be quiet, fellow. Save it for later.”

Marny turned up her own cards. She paid the winners, gathered up the coins of the losers, and dealt again. Foxy demanded,

“Marny, aren’t you even
interested?
I tell you, Delbert is
dead
.”

Marny’s eyes did not flicker from the cards. But now at last she answered. She said, “May he rest in peace, that son of a bitch. Place your bets, gentlemen.”

Foxy felt Blackbeard’s hand closing on his shoulder. In another minute he was outside, blinking at the glare of Kearny Street.

O
N THE FOURTH OF
June the third steamer of the line, the
Panama
, came into the bay. She brought Yankee newspapers that had been carried on muleback across the Isthmus, and Yankee dollars of gold and silver—nobody in California trusted paper money. She also brought three hundred gold seekers. They were squeezed into space meant for eighty, and they reported that thousands more were waiting on the Isthmus.

The next day, Marny came up the hill with Duke Blackbeard and Lulu. Unlike his brother Troy, Duke had not married his Hawaiian charmer. But Serena thought he had, and she cordially led them into the kitchen for cake and coffee. Kendra and Marny went into the parlor. Here, after a few minutes of chat, Marny announced,

“Kendra, I’m having a little problem with my gentleman friend.”

Kendra started. “You mean Norman Lamont?”

“No, dear, I mean Warren Archwood.” Smiling regretfully, Marny explained, “Warren is getting homesick.”

“Don’t tell me he’s tired of you!”

“Not of me, but of everything else. He’s had the adventure he came for, so now he’s noticing that this town is a dirty stinky place. He’s lonesome for New York.”

Marny stood up and walked over to a long mirror that hung on the wall opposite a window, reflecting the roofs that went like steps downhill toward the bay. Looking not at the roofs but at herself, she remarked,

“After a winter in this rainy town my freckles are fading. Kendra, Warren wants me to go back with him.”

Kendra hated to think of doing without Marny. But it was no business of hers to protest, so she asked, “Does he want to marry you?”

Marny began to laugh. “Of course not. He wants to take me as a trophy. A scalp at his belt. He wants me to deal in one of the fancy gambling parlors in New York, so other men will see what a treasure he brought back from California. —Look at her! Any of you would be glad to have her, but I’ve
got
her.”

Kendra laughed too. She liked Marny for being so clear-headed about herself. “Will you go with him?” Kendra asked.

“No,” said Marny. She adjusted a lock of red hair before the mirror, came back to her chair and sat down.

Kendra said how glad she was. “I’d have missed you,” she added. Marny said, “He keeps asking—Don’t you miss New York? The restaurants, hotels, theaters, fine stores? Don’t you miss living in luxury, driving down Broadway in a carriage?”

“Don’t you?” Kendra asked keenly.

“Of course I do. Don’t
you
miss living in a clean well-mannered town? Don’t you miss having all the fresh food you want, instead of raising radishes in a window box?”

“Yes,” said Kendra, “but I don’t miss
anybody
in the States. And there’s nobody in the States who wants me back.”

“Right,” said Marny. “That’s how I feel. My brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins are a bunch of self-righteous moth-eaten relics and they can stay on their side of the Rocky Mountains and I’ll stay on mine.”

Kendra thought of the property Archwood had bought in San Francisco, expecting the price to rise. Well, the price had certainly risen. He could sell his lots now for two or three times what he had paid for them last fall. She asked Marny if this was what he intended to do.

“Oh yes, he’ll sell them,” Marny said. “Norrington, that moonfaced little real estate agent, is taking care of it. I wish Norman and I could buy the ground under the Calico Palace, but we need our cash to bank the games. We’ll have to pay rent to somebody. Still, we shouldn’t complain. We’re doing fine.”

There was a pause. Marny walked back to the glass. Looking at herself again, she said thoughtfully,

“I’ll miss Warren when he leaves. However”—she touched the jeweled pin on her dress—“I’ll have a lot of pretty things to remember him by.”

As she looked into the mirror, behind her own reflection she could see the roofs, and beyond them the tops of the masts on the vessels in the bay.

“The fog has blown off,” she said, “and the sky is all clear. Kendra, I believe if we went upstairs we could see all the way across the bay to the other side.”

“Let’s go up and look,” said Kendra. “We can use Loren’s glass.”

They went upstairs to the bedroom. Kendra opened the window on the side looking toward the bay. From here they had an unbroken view down to the water, and as Marny had said, to the hills on the other side.

Kendra brought the glass, gave it first to Marny and then had a look herself. The water of the bay was dancing in the sun. In front of the town the deserted vessels swayed with the tide. In spite of the number that had been beached and put to use, the water here was still so crowded that in high winds the vessels sometimes struck one another, and it required expert seamanship for a captain entering the bay to move his own vessel safely among them. Looking down at the hulks, Kendra asked,

“How does Warren Archwood expect to get out of here?”

Marny reminded her that the
Oregon
had gone, and so had the
California.
“With the wages the line is offering now,” Marny continued, “Warren is sure that before long the steamers will be making regular runs between here and the Isthmus. As long as a man knows he’s coming back every few weeks he can sign up for one round trip at a time, and whenever he wants to quit and go to the gold fields, he can do it. It’s not like taking a ship all the way back to the States.”

Kendra still held the glass to her eyes. The vessels out there had such a sadness about them, standing gaunt and empty against the sky. She asked,

“He doesn’t mind crossing the Isthmus?”

“Oh, it won’t be agreeable, but he says it isn’t as bad as it was at first. Now that mail is being sent across, and gold, the parties crossing are protected by army guards.”

“Marny!” Kendra exclaimed.

Marny gave a start of astonishment. “Yes? What?”

Kendra was still looking out toward the bay. With her free hand she caught Marny’s wrist.

“Wait,” she said—“I’ll give you the glass in a minute, but first let me be sure—”

Nearly breathless, she stared out toward the water.

A ship was coming into the bay. She was a tall proud ship, her sails billowing in the wind, her figurehead a white goddess crowned with a crescent moon.

Kendra handed the glass to Marny.

Marny looked, and caught her breath. “Why Kendra! Is that the
Cynthia
?”

“Yes, it is. Back from China.”

They watched as the
Cynthia
threaded her way among the lost ships. She moved with stately confidence, guided by a master.

“So,” murmured Marny, “our friend Pollock is with us again.” She laughed shortly. “What do you suppose he wants this time?”

“Water and supplies,” said Kendra, “and maybe he’s brought goods for trade. He said he was coming back.”

She told Marny about the day Pollock had brought gifts from Honolulu to Eva and herself. Eva had asked him if he expected to visit San Francisco again before returning to New York, and Pollock had said yes. His plan had been to spend a year or so trading at Canton and other Oriental ports, and call at San Francisco on his way home.

Now he was on his way home. But Kendra exclaimed,

“I don’t understand him! By this time he must have heard of what happens to ships that call at San Francisco! Why do you suppose he came here?”

“Because he’s got rocks in his head,” Marny answered with curt amusement. “He wanted to come to San Francisco, so he came to San Francisco. Things happen to other men’s ships but not to his.”

Kendra did not answer. If Marny laughed at Pollock’s fancies, maybe Marny was right. Maybe Pollock would get his ship out and back to New York. Maybe, after a year in the Orient, he had let Marny slip out of his mind.

Still, Kendra could not help feeling her old sense of foreboding.

But the
Cynthia
had rare good fortune.

Three men of her crew ran away as fast as they could. But only three. Two of these were Yankees who had been engaged in Canton. They were members of a growing group, men who boasted as soon as they came ashore that they had signed as seamen only to get a free trip to San Francisco, planning to desert as soon as they got there. The third deserter was one of the regular crew who had signed articles in New York, contracting to stay with the ship until she came to New York again; but the rest, though they were paid and given shore leave, came back to the ship.

Captain Pollock had a ready explanation for their loyalty. The
Cynthia
was a vessel far superior to most of those in San Francisco Bay, or for that matter, anywhere on the seas. Even before he was captain of the
Cynthia,
Pollock had been well known for giving his men better food and quarters than most captains. He had larger crews than average, so that the men were not overtaxed. As a result he had his choice of many applicants, and his crews were the ablest men on the waterfronts. If they chose to stay with him now, Pollock was not surprised.

Loren told Kendra this. He told her too that Pollock seemed to have forgiven Loren himself for letting Marny board the
Cynthia
at Honolulu. A day or two after reaching port Pollock had come into Chase and Fenway’s. When he caught sight of Loren, Pollock had greeted him cordially. At dinner that evening Loren described their meeting.

“No sign of resentment,” Loren said. “Since he left San Francisco he’s had a good year. With all going well, I suppose he figures the
Cynthia
has forgotten that episode with Marny, and he might as well forget it too.”

Kendra hoped this was right. She asked, “Did you tell him you and I were married?”

“Oh yes,” said Loren. “He said he was glad to hear it. Altogether, he seemed happy and full of energy.”

“What was he doing at Chase and Fenway’s?” Kendra asked.

Loren reminded her that Pollock was not only a fine seaman but an astute man of business. He had come to Chase and Fenway’s to discuss his cargo. Most of this cargo was intended for delivery in New York. But before he left Canton, Pollock had heard of San Francisco’s housing need. As he was planning to stop there for water and supplies, he had quickly moved to take advantage of this need. He had brought some thousands of Chinese bricks. He had also brought several readymade wooden houses, walls packed flat, doors and windows ready to be put in their places, the whole needing only a few hours’ work to be assembled and set up. And perhaps most important of all, he had brought as passengers five expert Chinese carpenters.

“Carpenters!” Kendra exclaimed. “We must tell Dwight Carson. Right now, so he can hire them before somebody else does, and start the Calico Palace.”

Loren smiled at her across the table. “I’ve already told him. I went by his office before I came home.”

“Oh Loren, you dear! Marny wants it so.”

“I know,” said Loren.

Kendra thought of the flophouses such as the one where Foxy and his friends had stayed. “Maybe,” she said, “you should have told Dwight Carson to use those carpenters for a decent lodging house, instead of the Calico Palace. But I’m glad you didn’t. Marny was my friend when I needed one and I’ll never forget it.”

“I’ll never forget it either, my dear,” Loren said gently. “That’s why I made Carson promise to start the Calico Palace instead of anything else.”

Kendra reflected that even if Loren had urged Dwight Carson to build a lodging house instead of the Calico Palace, Dwight would not have done so. Nobody would pay him as much for that as Marny and Norman would pay him. Gambling and a well stocked bar brought in more profit than a lodging house. As Marny had reminded her last summer, people will pay better prices for things they don’t need than for things they do.