Hour Glass Page 18

  “So Hour’s your daughter now?” I asked.

  “For all intents and purposes, she’s my fuckin’ daughter for the event. Folks‘ll be more inclined to donate to Calamity Jane’s daughter than the daughter of a Lakota. No offense intended, Jimmy Glass. I ain’t got nothin’ against Hour’s mama. Them’s just the facts of white folks.”

  “Jane, how did you do this?” I asked.

  “Remember that lady in the stagecoach? The purdy one with the high talk, loud as a fart in church?”

  “Yeh. Freis was her name?”

  “Miss Adeline Freis is one of the owners of the new theater. I told her my wants, and she offered to host the benefit. She was real appreciative on account of me makin’ sure she didn’t end up another scalped body on the road. Not only that, but she offered to provide some of the entertainment with her actin’ troupe.”

  Joseph and I gawked at the buckskinned woman with our mouths opened like some sort of fish that found its way on land and started serving drinks in the saloon. Of all the things I expected out of the day, a benefit for Hour weren’t one of them. Jane snickered at our faces and slapped the bar hard to accent her amusement.

  “If’n you could see your faces at this moment!”

  “Jane, it says drinkin’. Where are you gettin’ the booze?” asked Joseph.

  A sudden light flashed in his eyes as though a realization was heavy on his heels.

  “Well, your lovely wife is gonna be donatin’ them for the benefit. None of the girls though, Joseph. I already spoke with the refined Miss Bennett, the aristocrat of Deadwood, and she will be in attendance. Best not to have the whores around while a lady’s present.”

  “Jane, have you talked to Dora ’bout that? Did she agree?”

  His face showed a warning. Apparently, he knew Jane well enough to be wary of which of her words were true and which weren’t.

  “Madame Dora DuFran will only be too fuckin’ happy to donate to this worthy benefit of mine,” said Jane with a grandiose wave of her arms and a loud, booming voice.

  She was also backing away with a smug grin slapped across her face. I was reminded of a saying my pa used to say. Something about a fox in a henhouse. Her arms were spread wide, and she bowed over and over again as she backed her way to the door. In one hand rested the whiskey bottle we had been pouring from just seconds before. Neither of us had seen her swipe it out from under our noses.

  “Jane, I’m warning you . . .”

  “Relax and cool yer goddamned heels, Joseph DuFran. She’ll agree to it. You’ll see.”

  “Jane?”

  “Don’t worry! It’s gonna be a great time.”

  And just like that, Jane disappeared behind the door and out into the darkness from which she first appeared. Joseph and I were left alone to deal with an irate Madame Dora when she found the bit of paper on the bar an hour later.

  21

  The benefit for Hour’s education turned out to be quite the event. It seemed as though the only people who knew or cared to know who Hour actually was lived within the vicinity of Diddlin’ Dora’s, and not a one of us was going to spill the beans about Hour’s true mother. One of the biggest problems was Hour had to attend so Jane could parade her around for authenticity’s sake. I tagged along and helped to serve the drinks since Joseph stayed behind at Dora’s place to keep it running.

  Why wasn’t I a headliner next to my sister? Jane said people were more likely to pony up the cash for a sweet, lone girl than to fund a boy who was nearly a man and working a man’s job. I didn’t want to lie, but she explained about how simply staying quiet weren’t the same as lying. If I had to claim Hour as my kin during the party, the explanation would be that I was Jane’s stepson. That felt close enough to true to agree to, and thus, the benefit began.

  The New Theater, as we called it, since it hadn’t a name yet, was one of the prettiest places I’d ever seen. There was a big open room where the benefit was held, and in the middle of the room and off to the wall sat a large, half-moon stage. Curtains the color of wine and heavier than a head of cattle hung like weeping clouds from the rafters above. Everything smelled clean and new. The folks running the place moved about like they were straight from a story, painted up like heroes and reciting poetry. There were so many ruffles on their clothes I figured we could have made an extra shirt apiece with all the excess fabric. A strange bunch to be sure, but their smiles never faltered.

  My head moved on a swivel, trying to see all the decadence. Hour was different. She had a tendency to fixate on one miraculous thing at a time. In fact, she was capable of fixating forever on something as mundane as the fringe of the curtain. I was thankful Jane and I had talked her out of bringing Fred the Kitten with her. That little cat was becoming like a security blanket to Hour, even though I had never heard tell of a security kitten. One look at those curtains billowing down to the ground, and I could just picture trying to pry a terrified kitten down from the top.

  The theater crew was wonderful to us. One of the ladies wrapped some strands of colored pearls around Hour’s neck and told her she was the guest of honor. When Hour resisted the necklace, she told her they were magic beads that gave her super powers of courage. Something about the phrase stuck in her head and something about the pearls did give her confidence. She walked around and looked at people for just long enough to seem like she were any other little girl. There were no words coming from her, but the way she walked about unafraid in a herd of new faces was a sight to behold. As long as the beads were around her neck to finger with her tiny hands, Hour was all right.

  Miss Adeline Freis took what looked like an old spittoon and tied a theater mask onto the top. The mask was painted gold with a carved face that looked stupidly happy. A large yawning mouth curled up almost to its eyes, and the way it was fixed on the spittoon, patrons had to feed their donations in the creature’s grinning mouth. Most found it fun, but it looked downright weird to me. The drunker people got, the more entertaining feeding the mask was, and the more money found its way to our education fund.

  Every type and class of person was in attendance. I served whiskey to cowpokes, bourbon to landowners, and brandy to the upper class. Jane hadn’t been fibbing about Miss Bennett either. The grand lady was in attendance in a black-and-white-striped dress that would have paid for mine and Hour’s tuition several times over. Her dark hair was curled and spun up into a fine black hat atop her head. Folks whispered about her claim striking it rich, and her wealthy family back in San Francisco. She dropped her hefty donation into the smiling mouth of the mask with a gloved hand, only to be immediately approached by a very drunk Jane. The entire ordeal had taxed her more than the usual, I figured, so she was drinking even more than usual.

  “Miss Bennett, so good of you to come,” said Jane as she approached the refined woman.

  She removed her hat and placed it over her heart like a man would, and she shook the lady’s hand with her free one. Miss Bennett, to her credit, obliged Jane with a friendly smile and a handshake in return. From afar, Jane looked like a person who was stable and in good spirits, but once you got up close and personal, you could see how drunk she was. Miss Bennett observed this much as well and instantly affected a sourer exterior. Her smile stayed glued to her face, but it was a strained one at that.

  “Miss Jane. Thank you for the invitation. I am so glad you have taken such an . . . interest in your daughter’s education. Where might she be?”

  “She’s right over yonder. I’ll fetch her fer you. Be mindful, she is a bit quiet.”

  “Of course.”

  Jane escorted Hour, whispering gentle things in her ear. Hour thumbed the colored beads around her neck like a nun with a rosary. I wanted to rush over, to hover over my sister and protect her from any embarrassment or from just being the center of attention as I knew she wouldn’t cotton on to being. A voice inside me whispered to trust Jane, so I d
id nothing but watch my timid sister approach the fine, wealthy woman. Miss Bennett bent low to address her.

  “Hello there. What is your name, darling girl?”

  Hour stared at the floor unwilling to answer or look up. She was agitated. I knew because her fingering of the beads got faster and a little jerkier. It was a thing most wouldn’t notice, but I did. Soon, she would start shaking her head back and forth. I was supposed to be protecting her. My feet itched to run over and whisk her home.

  “Her name is Hour, Miss Bennett. I’m afraid she ain’t much fer talkin’. You see the reason I wish fer her to be get some proper schoolin’.”

  “Hour? Such an odd name but lovely. Truly a name that is hard to forget,” said Miss Bennett, still trying to sound loving around my sister.

  “Yes’m. She is a picture. A little learnin’ and she could do most anythin’.”

  “I do see why you’d like a proper education for her.”

  “She don’t look much like you, Jane,” shouted a man from the crowd.

  I had been wrapped up in the conversation in front of me so much so that I hadn’t noticed I wasn’t the only one. A small crowd had circled the women and Hour. Apparently, the exchange of a lady of high class and Calamity Jane was far more interesting than anything else at the present. Jane squinted into the crowd, looking for the man behind the question.

  “Is that Billy Castor?” asked Jane.

  “One in the same!”

  All at once, I saw the transformation. There were two distinct Janes I had discovered. The Jane I knew best was the rugged, kind-hearted drunk who slept in the open and saved people with a lick of notice. Then, there was the stage Jane. She appeared whenever Jane had herself an audience. Her voice got louder, her gestures grander, and in a flash, she was a show all to herself. With the brilliance of a smile, the show woman arrived in full color.

  “Well, Billy, she ain’t lookin’ much like me, huh? You are right there, and let’s thank God fer doin’ her the favor of not takin’ after her mama! Whew-ee! God done blessed me extra to not curse my child with a mug like this.”

  Jane gestured to her face, and everyone laughed. Lots of people slapped their knees and slipped extra dollars into the wide mouth of the grinning mask. Miss Bennett’s smile was becoming even more pained the longer she stood in the middle of Jane’s limelight. The rowdy attention was not a thing she fed from like her mannish counterpart. Hour never looked up from the floor. Every shout made her jump just a little.

  “Why she ain’t talkin’, Jane?” asked another man from the ever-growing congregation.

  “Why would she wanna to talk to you, Charlie Hopper? That mess you call yer face is even uglier than mine! It be one thing if you were a conversationalist, but we all know you work at the livery because only horses would keep your company.”

  More laughing. The man named Charlie Hopper laughed too, and several people around him patted his back. One bought him a drink. More drinks were passed around, the clinking of glasses and the sloshing of liquor filled the air with a din of drunkenness. Miss Bennett, having obviously tired of the scene, discreetly bowed and vanished into the crowd.

  “Tell us about General Custer, Jane!”

  A little muscly bit in my chest tensed without my say so. I forced it to settle and my hands to calm as I poured some more drinks.

  “Ah Teddy, ain’t you tired of that ole story yet? I swear you ain’t got the memory God gave a beetle.”

  “You ever gonna wear a dress again?”

  “Steve Utter, is that you? I ain’t answerin’ any of yer fool questions, and you best be glad there’s ladies present or I’d give you ’nother walloping to teach you some manners.”

  Everyone laughed at that, except Steve Utter, who looked genuinely nervous. He took a drink of the whiskey in his hand. Charlie Utter patted him on the back so hard he coughed up half of it, which started up the laughing once again. Some kind soul brought him another drink.

  “Who’s her daddy, Jane?” shouted someone.

  “Is it Wild Bill?” added another.

  If you didn’t know Jane, you wouldn’t have seen it. There was a tiny flinch in her eyes, undetectable by most everyone, but I saw it. Not only me, but Dora, who was tending bar next to me, saw it too. Without missing a step, the madame gracefully moved out from behind the bar and started for her friend.

  “Do I ask you what manner of mule you fuckin’ consort with, Tom Billings?” retorted Jane, the show woman smile still slapped on her face.

  The crowd laughed again, and Tom Billings looked only mildly insulted. It was all in good fun, but the fun was beginning to turn cold. Dora glided into view just as Hour tugged on Jane’s sleeve. My best guess was that she was hitting Jane up for a penny for swearing. Sure enough, Jane smiled and fished a copper from her pocket. With a grandiose wave of her arms, Dora DuFran took center stage among the motley assortment of folks present.

  “Ladies and gents, thank you for making this benefit a smashin’ success!”

  A thunderous applause arose from the well-intoxicated crowd.

  “Your charity to help Jane’s girl is truly an inspiration. I think we proved what fine people are livin’ here in this ole minin’ camp.”

  More applause thundered about us. I just stared at Hour in the middle of it, wanting desperately to take her away from all this. She fidgeted in place, not taking her eyes from the floor.

  “I have the terrible job of tellin’ y’all that the benefit is now over. We need ta get this youngin home and in bed.”

  There was a smattering of booing, and one person hissed.

  “Now, now. Cool your heels, fellas. I also have the fine job of tellin’ y’all that the after party will be with me at Diddlin’ Dora’s down the road. And I’m sure most of you fine gents can tell, a party at Dora’s doesn’t end just ‘cause the sun comes up!”

  Cheers and whoops and hollers sounded high in the air. I caught a glimpse of Miss Bennett, sour face in hand, ducking out of the front door before the crowd made their move to the after party. Miss Adeline Freis ducked behind the bar with me as the massive herd of people filed out of her theater and headed for Dora’s. Jane and Hour soon joined us, and I was relieved to be done with the whole affair. Just before she followed the crowd outside to lead them like children to her saloon, Dora leaned over the bar and addressed Jane.

  “I hope you got what you wanted Jane fer all the free whiskey I served up tonight.”

  “Oh hush up, Dora. You’ll more than make it back tonight. Just charge ’em extra. They’re all too drunk to know the difference.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again, looking thoughtful. Dora’s scowl said volumes, but she didn’t want to admit Jane’s idea was a good one.

  “Run along now, Madame. Them ducklings need their mama to show them the way to the whores. Go on, now,” said Jane, waving her hand.

  The look of pure distaste on Dora DuFran’s face was the funniest thing I had seen in days. Miss Adeline Freis bit her lips to try not to laugh, but I couldn’t help but snort trying to hide my laughter behind clasped hands. Jane’s smile was wide and smug.

  “You make it nigh on impossible to love you, Jane,” spat Dora DuFran.

  “That’s one way to look at it. Another would be I’m nigh on impossible to hate too.”

  Dora huffed, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the theater.

  22

  No one could point to a time on the clock when the party died at Dora’s that night. It went long into the night and then into the morning for sure. Laughter, drinking, music, and the like. Such rowdy fun was had, and Jane positioned herself squarely in the center of it.

  I knew this fact merely because I heard the evidence through the door of the storeroom. Hour slept well enough through the din, but I couldn’t. Admittedly, the thought occurred to me to go and join in on the
festivities. A break from the terrible weight of my grief would have been welcome. However, the fear of leaving my sister—the only family I had left—to sleep by herself after everything we had been through left my belly feeling yellow. I wouldn’t leave her.

  It was Fred who noticed the smoke first. There was no telling when I gave up my wakeful vigil in the wee hours of the morning, but in that time, something sinister entered the saloon. When I woke and searched the room, I found Hour crouched in the corner of the storeroom and Fred yowling at our tiny window, begging to be let out. A dark, slithery smoke snaked into our room under and around the door. Somewhere in the air, I could smell the raw scent of burning.

  I went to the door and threw it open. Smoke billowed inside the room, dancing along the ceiling. It raced into my chest and I coughed. Seeing a new way out of the danger, Fred leapt from the window and raced out of the room. His departure made Hour’s state worsen, and she pulled in on herself in the corner, whimpering.

  Gripping my sister’s shoulders, I tried at pulling her from her corner. Her rigid, little body wouldn’t budge, so I tried wrapping my arm through hers and yanking on her elbow. Hour was surprisingly strong when she set her mind to resisting.

  “No no no no no,” she wailed as she took her arm back.

  There was commotion beyond our room—the echoes of boots on floorboards racing here and there. Panicking yelps of girls as they made their way to the front door. Grunts of barely sober men stumbling behind them. In the din, I heard Dora yell at someone to fetch help.

  Hour wouldn’t budge, so I left her to see if I could cut the snake off at the head. Where there was smoke, there was fire. If I could help put out the blaze, this could all be over. All I needed to do was follow the heat.

  Joseph was in the kitchen with another man I didn’t recognize throwing buckets of water on a growing flame that was licking up the walls near the stove. Beneath the fire, the wood turned the same dingy black as the stove itself. I couldn’t help but wince and cover my eyes when the heat of it slapped my face.