Calico Palace (75 page)

Yes, if he asked her to marry him she would do it.

He had not asked her. Maybe he never would. Maybe she was mistaken and he was not in love with her. But she did not think so.

She could, of course, go after him. Women did this often. She had done it once herself.

Kendra felt her face pucker. She walked across the room and stood before the mirror she had hung on the kitchen wall.

“
No,
” she said to her reflection. “You’ve tried that. And remember what it brought you. Ted had a reason for keeping away from you but you wouldn’t let him. Maybe Hiram has a reason too. Don’t do it again. Don’t be the same kind of fool twice. If you’re going to make mistakes—and you are, everybody does—at least for heaven’s sake make some new ones!”

With her fist she struck the back of a chair, so hard that the chair fell over and clattered on the floor. Kendra straightened it, and clenched her jaw as she set about slicing the sweet potatoes.

Norman promptly placed a notice in the San Francisco and Sacramento papers. Hiram helped him write it. The notice said:

“A certain person is interested in the welfare of an actress known on the New York stage as Laura Lester. Her real name is Elsie Glutch, later Mrs. Rupert Williams. If any reader of this newspaper is acquainted with this lady, he will find it worth while to answer.”

(Norman meant what he said. If he could find an old friend of Hortensia’s whose testimony would hasten her divorce, he was quite willing to pay for it.)

Again Norman wanted to give Hiram some sort of reward. Hiram, however, shook his head. He reminded Norman that their advertisement might have no results. Nobody could find a witness unless the witness was there to be found. And as three weeks went by without bringing an answer, Norman’s hopes began to droop and Hiram feared that he had not solved the problem after all.

Meanwhile, though he often dropped into the Calico Palace, Hiram said no more to Kendra about a problem. Kendra resolutely said nothing about it either. She was glad she had Geraldine and the unborn kittens to occupy her mind. Geraldine was giving her and Marny a lot to do.

Dr. Wardlaw had advised them not to let the kittens be born in Geraldine’s room because of the balcony. He reminded them that a cat liked to carry her kittens around and hide them. If the balcony door should by chance be left ajar Geraldine would probably take the kittens out there. Newborn kittens could not see. They might easily squirm their way under the rail, and fall. No, they had better start their lives in a safer place.

Marny said the kittens could be born in the boudoir next to her bedroom. The boudoir was not yet furnished, and she and Kendra could fit it up as a lying-in chamber.

They had observed that in recent weeks Geraldine had preferred to sleep, and sit, above floor level. When they brought her little hut into the boudoir they set it on a table. They hired a carpenter to build a little staircase leading from the floor to the entrance of the hut, so Geraldine could carry her kittens up and down as she pleased. This done, they arranged baskets and boxes here and there about the room. Now Geraldine could inspect the premises and choose the place where she wanted her children to be born. Dr. Wardlaw told them she would almost certainly choose the hut, but a cat liked to make up her own mind. Later, when the kittens were born, she would have the baskets and boxes as hiding places.

Through the second half of April the weather was mild, with a rare lot of sunshine. They set another table by the window, and on it placed the feather cushion Hiram and Pocket had given Geraldine as a valentine present. During these last few days Geraldine spent most of her time here, basking in the sun.

On the twenty-fifth of April, Marny woke up shortly before noon. She said later that before she opened her eyes she had known what was happening on the other side of the boudoir door. Had she heard something in her sleep, or merely guessed it? She could not say. But when she went into the boudoir she was not surprised to find that Geraldine was no longer alone.

In the hut Geraldine lay on her side, purring a lullaby, and snuggled up close to her was a cluster of kittens, taking their first meal on earth. She regarded Marny with friendly eyes, for Geraldine knew Marny and trusted her, but Marny was careful not to touch the kittens yet. She knelt before the hut and counted. Geraldine had four kittens. Two were black and white like Geraldine herself; the other two were calico, black and white and gold.

—She must have had a golden boy for a lover, thought Marny. And they’re going to be beautiful!

She hurried to comb her hair and put on a robe so she could go down to the kitchen and tell Kendra.

The kittens thrived and waxed fat. On the second day of May, when they were a week old, Marny caught sight of Dr. Wardlaw having a drink at the bar. As soon as the Harvard man came to relieve her at the card table she went to the bar and asked the doctor to come up and see the kittens.

A few minutes later she came into the kitchen, where Kendra was putting cheese rolls into the oven. “Dr. Wardlaw says,” announced Marny, “the calico cats are girls. All black-white-and-gold cats are girls. At least, he says he never saw one that wasn’t. And the plain black-and-white pair are toms. And they are darlings and I love them every one.”

“So do I,” said Kendra. “Shall we call one of the toms Jupiter?”

“Yes, I like that. Every tomcat thinks he’s king of the world, or ought to be. And let’s call one of the girls Pandora, because cats are always poking into things that are none of their business.”

After some further discussion they decided to name Jupiter’s brother Emperor, and call him Empy. “And the other girl,” said Kendra—“well, she’s a calico cat and she was born in the Calico Palace. Let’s name her Calico.”

“Good,” said Marny. “So there they are. Jupiter, Empy, Pandora, Calico.” Accepting the cup of coffee Kendra was offering her, Marny continued, “Thanks, and now I have some news. One of Norman’s efforts has finally brought an answer.”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” Kendra exclaimed. “When did he get it? Today?”

Marny nodded. She said that as she had been about to go into the parlor to deal her first game, Norman had stopped her at the door to show her a letter he had just received.

The letter had come from Sacramento. It was a genuine letter from a genuine friend of Hortensia’s. The writer had signed himself Jefferson Quellen, and Hortensia had recognized the name at once. Jeff Quellen, she said, was a singer of comic songs, and he was married to a dancer named Daisy.

Jeff Quellen wrote that he and Daisy had reached San Francisco by an Isthmus steamer several months ago. They had stopped here only a few days, because they had answered an advertisement of a theatrical producer from Sacramento, and had been engaged. For some weeks they had appeared at the theater in Sacramento. Then in the spring when the mountain snows melted, the company had gone on a tour of mining towns. It was not until they came back to Sacramento, the day before this letter was written, that they had seen the notice in the Sacramento
Placer Times.

Mr. Quellen said he and Daisy knew Laura Lester well, had been in the same show with her. She was a fine girl and he sure hoped she was not having any trouble. Not that he meant to blab, but she had had enough of same before she left New York.

The letter was not scholarly in phrasing nor the words perfectly spelled, but it was the letter Norman had been waiting for. He blissfully told Marny he would bring Mr. and Mrs. Quellen to town at once. And the next time Hiram Boyd came in, would she see to it that he got drinks on the house?

M
ARNY WENT UP TO
her bedroom to re-do her hair before going back to the cards. Leaving the rolls to bake, Kendra poured a cup of coffee for herself and sat down at the kitchen table to look at the
Alta.

The
Alta
was as contradictory as San Francisco itself, a hodgepodge of the best and the worst, of proud achievement and brazen crime. She saw two paragraphs side by side. One of them boasted of the city’s culture: the concerts and theaters, churches and bookstores, fine tailors and fashionable shops. The column next to it reported more brawls, more thefts, more men attacked in dark streets and murdered for their pocketbooks. She read that three steamers had left yesterday for the Isthmus, carrying passengers and a hundred and fifty thousand ounces of gold. But in a camp near Stockton the angry miners had set up an outdoor court of their own. In one day they had hanged five horse-thieves to a tree. Looking for more pleasant news, Kendra saw an advertisement for five hundred dozen silk-and-ivory fans.

Now what hopeful shipper back East, she wondered, had sent out five hundred dozen fans to be sold in San Francisco? There were not five hundred dozen women in town. Wouldn’t they ever
learn?

“Howdy!” said men’s voices at the kitchen door.

Pocket and Hiram came in. They brought a gift of liver for Geraldine, and for herself and Marny oranges from Honolulu. Before she could speak her thanks Pocket was exclaiming, “Do I smell cheese rolls?” Pocket was exceedingly fond of cheese rolls.

She said he was right, but he would have to wait until the rolls were done.

“Then let’s go out to the front balcony,” said Pocket, “and get some air. It’s a beautiful shiny day.”

She consented, and called Lolo to watch the baking. Pocket gave Lolo instructions that she was to come to the front balcony and tell him, the minute, the very minute, she took the cheese rolls to the parlor. Lolo promised. Kendra went out with Pocket and Hiram.

Dwight Carson had built this floor of the Calico Palace with a hall that led between Marny’s parlor on one side and several private card rooms on the other. At the end of the hall was the door to the front balcony.

The hall was dim, and full of sounds from invisible sources—Hortensia’s piano, the click of roulette balls, the clink of coins. They smelled cigar smoke and whiskey, and from behind the closed doors of the private rooms they heard voices. Most of the private rooms were occupied, though it was not yet evening. Business at the Calico Palace was good.

As they reached the balcony door they heard footsteps behind them, and looking around they saw Marny on her way back to the parlor to take over her table from the Harvard man. She came to join them instead.

“Darlings!” she exclaimed to Pocket and Hiram. “I’m so glad to see you. Oh yes, I can take a few minutes more.”

Hiram opened the door to the balcony. As they went out he said “Damn!” With his big foot he angrily crushed a cigar stub, still glowing, that somebody had thrown away.

“Why can’t they be careful?” he demanded.

Neither Hiram nor Pocket ever smoked, and Hiram at least had slight patience with people who did. Pocket, who had patience with nearly everybody, gave a soft answer to Hiram’s wrath. “This building is supposed to be fireproof.”

“Do they want to make us prove it?” Hiram retorted.

Pocket looked gravely across the plaza. The streets were resounding with the usual racket, and puffs of wind were raising the dust in whirligigs, but the day was, as he had said, shiny and beautiful. In front of them the sun was setting in a pile of ruddy clouds.

“If we have another fire—” Pocket began, and stopped.

As he did so Marny said dryly, “You needn’t be so careful of my nerves. I’ve heard the rumors.”

“What rumors?” asked Kendra.

At the same time Hiram was saying, “Bar talk.” He looked across the plaza at the sunset.

Kendra asked again, “Bar talk about what?”

“Oh, some of the fellows,” returned Marny, “are saying the Sydney ducks had such fun at the looting party in May of last year that they want to celebrate the anniversary. Which means, they’re planning another fire so they can loot some more. Is that what you boys have heard?”

“Yes ma’am,” answered Pocket, “I’ve heard it in the library. They tell me that’s the talk in the saloons around Clark’s Point.”

Kendra felt a shiver. She thought back. Last year’s greatest fire had taken place on the fourth of May. That was the fire that had driven herself and Marny and Rosabel to take shelter in Dwight Carson’s rooms at the Gresham Hotel. Since then there had been more fires, but these had been small compared to the holocaust of May fourth.

That fire had been deliberately set. She remembered Marny’s telling her about the faro dealers who had discovered the oil-soaked rags burning in the United States Exchange.

Now the year was moving close to another fourth of May. The people of San Francisco had rebuilt their city. They had made it larger, stronger, more splendid than it had been last year. Today the principal streets were lined with buildings of brick and granite. Looking at the lordly structures around the plaza, Kendra wondered—could any man want to turn these into rubble? To repeat last year’s destruction, with its horrible accompaniment of heartbreak and agony and death? Could any man be so evil?

Yes, she knew now that some men
were
so evil. It had been done before. It could be done again.

Kendra thought of the five men hanged to a tree in the mining camp near Stockton. She knew this had happened in other mining camps as well. People had to protect themselves from theft and murder. Was this the only way they could do it?

She brought her mind back to the talk around her. Marny was telling the men about the letter Norman had received from Jeff Quellen. “So it seems, Hiram,” said Marny, “your idea has worked. Hortensia can get her divorce right now. Yes, Lolo?” she asked, as the door opened again and Lolo came out on the balcony.

Lolo said she had come to tell Mr. Pocket that the cheese rolls, steaming hot, were now on sale in the parlor. And fresh coffee. Pocket said he would go in at once.

“I’ll go in too,” said Marny. “It’s time I got back to work. Are you coming to the parlor, Hiram?”

“After a while.”

“Good. Norman has left orders that your drinks are on the house.”

She blew him a kiss as she and Pocket went in with Lolo. Hiram and Kendra were left alone on the balcony.

Hiram stood with both his big hands on the rail, as he and Kendra looked down at the plaza and the blustery streets around it. Wagons and carriages and horseback riders clattered through the dust. The sidewalks swarmed with men buying supplies for the summer ahead in the gold country. There were hundreds of men in sight. They had come from nearly every country on earth; their skins were white and black and yellow and brown; their languages made pandemonium in the air.