Margaret Brownley (27 page)

McGuire appeared relieved that the matter had been taken out of his hands. When the roar had died down, he cleared his voice. “If there is no more discussion Ah’ll read the names nominated.” He reached into the pot and pulled out a piece of paper. “The first name is Choo-Choo.”

As his choice for a town name was announced, Choo-Choo grinned. Next to him, Sharkey made a contemptuous noise. “Of all the conceited, self-servin’…”

“The next name,” McGuire called out, “is Barbertown.”

Choo-Choo shot a mocking look at Sharkey. “You don’t think that’s self-serving?”

“Little Boston.”

Libby sought out Logan, knowing that Little Boston had been his idea even before he gave her an acknowledging wink. Libby was deeply touched and it was all she could do to keep her tears at bay.

“Libbyville.”

Thornton squeezed her arm and whispered, “That was my choice. Do you like it?”

She nodded, although in reality she wasn’t at all certain she liked the idea of having a town named after her.

One by one, McGuire read the nominations. Before announcing the last name on his list, he hesitated.

“Come on, McGuire!” yelled an impatient miner from the back of the crowd. “What are you waiting for?”

McGuire looked embarrassed. “Ah’m not sure how ta pronounce the last name on the list. It’s the one nominated by, eh…”

Macao stepped forward. “Allow me.” He said something in Chinese and bowed.

“What is this?” Big Sam growled. “We can’t even pronounce the name, let alone spell it.”

“If ya don’t like it, then don’t vote for it.” McGuire said. “Ballot boxes will be placed at strategic places ‘round town. Ya have a whole week to make a decision. Ya must cast your vote by noon Saturday. If there ain’t no more questions, this meeting is adjourned.”

The crowd dispersed quickly. Since it was almost time for Noel’s lunch, Libby headed straight for home. By the time she reached her front porch, Logan was already in front of his cabin, dragging his saddle off his horse.

She hesitated.

He looked up.

She started across the road. “I like the name
Little Boston
,” she called.

He dropped the saddle on the porch and walked toward her, meeting her halfway between their two houses. “Really? I was afraid you’d think…”

“Think what?” she coaxed.

“That the name was too good for this town.”

“Oh, I’d never think that!” she exclaimed.

He looked pleased. “Well, then….”

Noel started fussing. She eased him to her shoulder and began rocking him. “He’s hungry.”

“I’d better not keep you, then.”

She hesitated. “I…I hope Little Boston wins.”

Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. “Me, too.”

During the next few days, the town was in an uproar. Signs were posted on every tree trunk, every building and every fence post urging every citizen to vote for this name or for that.

Give the town class
, read one sign.
Vote for Libbyville
. Another sign read
Barbertown
,
the name that’s a shave above the rest
. Sharkey was so proud of his slogan he was pretty near unbearable to live with.

“Do you get it?” he kept asking everyone he met.

“I get it already!” Big Sam growled, after being approached by Sharkey for the third time in as many hours. “And I still ain’t voting for it!”

Noisy debates as to which name was in Libby’s and Noel’s best interest waged up and down Main Street.

One night, Logan lay on his pallet with blankets over his head in an effort to drown out the noisy argument taking place outside.

“Anyone in his right mind would vote for Libbyville.”

“You think so? Let me tell you somethin’. If yer mind was that gosh dern razor-sharp, you’d note for Barbertown.”

Having just about all he could take, Logan stormed out of bed and plodded out to his porch. “Would you two quit your yelling!” he bellowed. “There’s a baby asleep over there.”

*****

At long last voting day dawned. It was after eleven-thirty by the time Libby finished her chores and walked to town to cast her vote. Noel was dressed in his little buckskin outfit.

Logan insisted upon holding him while she stepped into one of the little wooden voting booths that had been built for the occasion.

Moments later she stepped out of the booth and gave Logan her a dazzling smile. “You just made it in time,” he said.

Noel started fussing and Logan jiggled him up and down.

“He’s ready for his nap,” Libby explained.

Logan smiled down at the boy. “Well, you go right ahead and take your nap, little fellow.” He rocked Noel in his arms and soon the infant’s eyes flickered shut.

Thornton swept by on his horse to pick up the ballots. Ignoring Logan, he tipped his hat at Libby as he rode by.

“You do have a way with babies,” Libby said, wondering about the scowl on Logan’s face. She pulled the top of Noel’s buckskin suit down over his middle, her hand brushing against Logan’s. Their gazes collided for an instant before she lowered her lashes and pulled her hand away.

“He seems to like his buckskins,” she said.

“Nothing more comfortable.”

“I know.” She lifted her eyes and bit her lip. “I miss mine. The dress you made for me is rather big for me.” She gave an embarrassed laugh. “I can’t believe how enormous I was before I had him.”

“I can alter it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Why not? It’ll take me no time at all.”

“If you’re sure.”
“Couldn’t be surer. I’ll stop by later to pick it up. Meanwhile, I think we ought to walk over to the general store. It’s almost time for them to announce the election results.”

Already a crowd was gathered in front of Hap’s place and bets were placed as to which of the ten names would emerge the winner. It took almost an hour for the men to finish counting and the crowd grew restless.

At long last, Thornton came galloping into town, and a rousing cheer greeted him as he dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post in front of the store.

McGuire took his place on Hap’s porch and faced the waiting mob. Thornton handed him a folded piece of paper and a hushed silence took over the crowd as all eyes followed McGuire’s every move.

McGuire carefully unfolded the paper and cleared his throat. Logan reached over and squeezed Libby’s hand. She felt a surge of excitement and anticipation that had nothing to do with the vote and everything to do with his touch.

“Eh…the winner is…”

“Quit your stalling, McGuire!” someone called out.

“Ah’m not stallin’,” McGuire protested. “Ah don’t know how ta read the name.”

“Let me,” Thornton said. He said the Chinese name so flawlessly one would have thought it was his native tongue.

The crowd was so stunned by this unexpected turn of events, that for the longest while no one spoke.

Big Sam found his voice first. “How could this happen?” He pointed an accusing finger at Thornton. “You said one ballot per man.”

Thornton met the accusation with a scowl. “Are you suggesting that my men failed to do their job?”

Logan stepped onto the porch, Noel still asleep in his arms. “Before we start making false accusations, I suggest we calm down. We have a baby here trying to take a nap.”

The men immediately complied with his wishes; The argument continued in hushed whispers, but with no less intensity.

Sharkey pushed his way through the crowd and stood next to Logan. “I say if there’s a pr’blem with ballot stuffing we need to know it.” Others repeated his soft-spoken words for the benefit of those standing too far away to hear.

“Now see here!” Thornton protested, and was immediately hushed by the others. He glanced at Noel and when it was apparent that the baby’s sleep had not been disturbed, he began again, this time in a quieter voice. “As I was saying, my men and I made certain that everyone got one vote and one vote only!”

“Then would you mind explaining how this gobbledygook of a name won?” whispered Beaker, waving his hand so everyone knew he spoke. His question was repeated until it reached Hap’s porch.

Logan took it upon himself to point out what should have been obvious to everyone from the start. “The Chinese community is large. If every Chinese in the area cast a vote, I daresay they could very well outnumber us. Thornton and his men had nothing to do with it!”

While his response was being volleyed back and forth among the crowd, and was met with startled gasps, he shifted Noel to his other shoulder.

McGuire took command again. “If ya recall, we decided that everyone living in and around Deadman’s Gulch had a vote. Therefore Ah’m afraid…” He glanced down at the Chinese name written on the paper in his hand and shrugged. “Whatever this name is, it’s the name of our town.”

While this statement swept through the crowd in a series of shocked whispers, Noel opened his eyes and yawned, and the meeting resumed in somewhat louder voices,

“Wonderful!” Big Sam wheezed. “No one including Noel will be able to pronounce it. Isn’t that right, Noel?”

Macao quietly pushed his way through the crowd, bowed his head and requested permission to speak.

McGuire motioned him onto the porch. The Chinese man stood between McGuire and Logan and faced the crowd. In a slow, singsong voice, he began, “I agree. The name might impose difficulties on this young man. For that reason, I suggest we use the English derivative.”

“What’s a div-a…what ever that word is?” Sharkey called out.

“Translation.” Thornton explained.

McGuire glanced over the crowd, and when no objection was raised, he turned to Macao. “What is the English version?”

“It means, ‘She Who Wears Calico.’”

Choo-Choo spit in disgust. “That’s just dandy.” He spoke in a high strained voice. “I live in a town named She Who Wears Calico.”

A noisy dissent followed and it was only Noel’s cry that got the crowd under control.

“Now see what ya’ve done,” McGuire chastised. “Ya’ve gone and scared the bairn.” He reached over and chucked Noel under his chin. “There, there, little fellow. It’s all right.”

McGuire directed his attention back to the matter at hand. “Does anyone have a suggestion? Libby?”

All eyes turned to Libby as she stepped forward and stood next to Logan. I suggest we shorten the name to Calico.”

“How about Calico Corners?” Sharkey yelled out, not willing to concede fully that his own idea had been rejected.

“Calico Corners.” Big Sam tilted his head from one side to another and repeated it again.

“Calico Corners,” murmured the miners to themselves.

“By thunder,” shouted Keefer from the back. “I think Noel likes that name!”

All eyes turned to Noel lying in Logan’s arms, his face dimpled in the biggest smile possible.

Libby was so overwhelmed by her son’s very first smile it was all she could do to keep maternal pride from turning into sentimental tears. Her little boy was growing up right before her very eyes!

Noel’s smile decided the issue. The miners agreed that from that day forward the little town of Deadman’s Gulch would be known as Calico Corners.

As the days grew warmer more and more miners exchanged hammers and saws for pickaxes and gold pans and returned to their claims. The men left early in the morning, and as a rule didn’t return until after nightfall, at which time they were either disgruntled or elated, depending on the day’s haul.

Although the miners never resorted to their earlier bouts of wild behavior and followed the laws agreed upon to the full extent, Libby sensed a tension settle upon the town. It was nothing she could put her finger on. But it was as apparent to her as the covering of fine dust she was forced to wipe off her furniture each day.

Although she questioned several men, no one wanted to admit to a problem. Even Logan shrugged off her concerns. “The men are homesick, is all.”

She accepted this explanation until that Wednesday afternoon when she walked into town. Earlier in the week, she had sent some of her baking soda biscuits to the area in the hills known as Chinatown.

Macao stopped her in the middle of Main Street to tell her how much he and his friends enjoyed them.

Afterward, McGuire followed her into the general store and cornered her in front of the candlewax display. “Ah don’t think it’s a good idea for ya ta be seen in public talking to Macao.” He spoke softly so as not to be heard by the other customers. “Some still resent the Chinese naming the town.”

“Macao’s my friend,” Libby replied.

“Ah don’t want ya ta get hurt.”