The Search for Soaring Hawk Page 12

  She walked to the counter and stood behind it. Sam approached and stood, holding his hat, still not sure what he was to do.

  “I’m Mary,” she said as she lifted a registration book from behind the counter.

  She opened the book, laid it on the surface of the desk and turned it toward Sam. He looked down at it, then back up at Mary.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I haven’t been in the city before and…”

  Mary’s soft laugh came again. It was a pleasant, welcoming sound, putting Sam at ease.

  “Land’s sakes, Laclede’s Village isn’t much of a city…at least, not yet. Here”—she handed Sam a quill pen and a pot of ink— “just make your mark.” She pointed to a line on the page above which were a number of names and Xs. “One day this will be an important city, being right on the river and all.”

  Sam took the pen and wrote Samuel Hawkins neatly.

  Mary turned the book back to her. “Well, Mr. Hawkins, it’s a pleasure to meet a man who can write his own name. So many that come to Laclede’s can’t, you know.”

  “Please call me Sam,” he said. It was the first time anyone had addressed him as “mister,” and it felt strange. “My mother taught me to read and write.”

  “Bless her heart,” Mary said kindly. “But a man who can read and write should be shown some respect. Let me at least call you Samuel.”

  Sam nodded. He liked Miss Mary very much already.

  “How long will you be staying with us, Samuel?” she inquired as she closed the ledger and replaced it under the desk.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied. “I’m looking for work. If I work at the mill or the trading post, I understand they provide you with a place to stay.”

  “They do,” Mary said, in a tone that conveyed she didn’t think much of the lodging provided by these employers. “Well, you’re welcome here for as long as you care to stay. The room is fifty cents a day. With all three meals, it’s a dollar-and-a-half. With just breakfast and supper, the charge is one dollar. I provide you with warm water and towels morning and night, and the facility is out back, just down that hall,” she said, indicating the hallway beyond the stairs.

  “That’s fine,” Sam said. “Does Miss Martha do the cooking?” he asked to be polite.

  “She did, God rest her soul. She passed about this time last year.” Mary was quiet for a moment. “Gus Henderson is the cook for the wagon train, just got back last week. He’s with me during the winter. I’ll need someone when he leaves again in the spring.”

  “Wagon train?” Sam said.

  “Yes, Garrett Taylor takes a train from Independence to California about once a year. He’ll be here in the spring to pick up Gus and head for Independence where they’ll organize another one, I expect. I don’t know where Garrett goes during the winter. Well, enough about that. You’ll want to see your room.”

  She turned and took a key from a row of pegs behind the desk. “Follow me.”

  Mary led Sam up the flight of stairs to a hallway with doors on either side. Windows at both ends provided light. Sconces with candles hung on the walls between every other door, ready for duty once night fell.

  Sam’s room was the third from the end on the right. Mary opened the door and walked to the window. She pulled the curtains back to let in the afternoon sun.

  Sam looked around. He had never been in a room like this before. There was a carpet on the floor. The double bed had a brass headboard and sported a fancy bedspread. In the corner was an overstuffed chair. On the opposite wall from the bed was a dresser with a white bowl and pitcher standing on its surface. Behind the dresser was a mirror. On the floor next to the bureau was another vessel with a lid. Sam looked at it curiously.

  Mary caught his questioning glance and smiled. “My, you are a country boy, aren’t you? That’s a chamber pot.”

  “Excuse me?” Sam said feeling a bit foolish.

  “A chamber pot,” Mary said again. “You can use it at night, if you don’t want to go out to use the facility.”

  “Oh,” said Sam, blushing slightly.

  “If you have clothes that need hanging, here’s the closet.” She opened a door to the left of the bed.

  “I’ll leave you to get settled. Supper is at six.” As she started to leave, she stopped and turned back to Sam. “I don’t suppose a man like you needs to be told, but just so you know, there’s to be no liquor on the premises.” She smiled again and left.

  Sam gazed around the room once more. He looked into the mirror at his reflection. Shrugging, he addressed himself in his native tongue. “This be a lot different than a lodge, Soaring Hawk.” He turned and walked to the bed, where he lay down and placed his hands behind his head. He laughed softly to himself. “Hmm, I think I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  * * *

  The next morning Sam made his way to the river. He had not slept well. The strange surroundings, noises that filtered through the walls of his room, being away from Wolf, whose warm presence had comforted him at night ever since he had left Nils, all conspired to make for a restless night.

  He had visited the livery after the excellent dinner at the boardinghouse and again in the morning after breakfast, before setting out in search of employment. Both Wolf and his horse were doing well. Wolf had greeted him with unbounded enthusiasm. It was hard for Sam to have to leave him behind each time he left. Edouard assured him that Wolf was content, but Still Sam missed him.

  His task now was to find employment. He did not even consider the trading post with its dealing in animal skins. His experience at Dexter’s post had shown him he could not be comfortable with that line of work. This left the lumber mill and the docks. He had no strong inclination either way, so when he came upon the mill first, his decision was made.

  He walked among the sheds where the sawed planks were stacked and through the rows of logs waiting to be milled. From one of the buildings he could hear the sounds of machinery and rushing water. He entered the structure and stood to the side as several men passed him, carrying a log. The log was placed on a long platform. At the end of the platform was the saw, moving up and down, powered by the water diverted from the river. The men guided the log into the teeth of the saw. The log was repositioned for the next run-through once a plank was cut from it. “Ya want somethin’?” a rough voice behind him asked.

  Sam turned around. A burly man, at least four inches taller than Sam, stood before him.

  “I’m looking for work,” said Sam, looking the man in the eye.

  “Ya need to talk to LeBlanc. He’s in the office. Next shed over.” The man walked by him into the mill shed.

  Sam watched him as he began to help with the stacking of the hewn boards, then turned to find this man, LeBlanc.

  Sam walked out of the mill shed and stepped aside as the men carried another log into the building. None of the men carrying the log looked in his direction. Sam located the shed where the big man had told him he’d find LeBlanc. There were three men in the building. Two were younger and seemed to be writing in books of some kind. The third was older with a full beard of dark hair mixed with white. He sat behind a large desk in the far corner, going over some papers. One of the young men got up from his work and approached Sam.

  “Yes?” he said.

  This man was short, with a boyish appearance and a ready smile: the first Sam had seen since arriving on the mill’s premises.

  “I’m looking for Mr. LeBlanc,” said Sam, returning the smile.

  The small man turned to the man sitting at the large desk, who rose and came forward. “I am Antoine LeBlanc. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for a job.”

  LeBlanc gave Sam an appraising look. “Have you worked in a mill before?”

  “No,” Sam admitted, “but I have cut down trees.”

  LeBlanc seemed to be considering this. “I do not need another lumberjack at the moment. But I do need men to stack in the sheds and load the wood on wagons for transport.”


  Sam nodded. “I can do that.”

  Sam noticed that the young man who had originally greeted him was still standing behind LeBlanc and was still smiling at him.

  “All right. The pay is one dollar-fifty a day for ten hours of work. You are welcome to stay in the men’s sleeping quarters. Meals are served in the dining hall.” He turned to the man standing behind him. “Todd?”

  “Yes, Mr. LeBlanc?”

  “Show Mister…” He turned back to Sam.

  “Sam Hawkins.”

  “Mr. Hawkins around and then take him to Edgar.” LeBlanc walked back to his desk and sat down.

  Todd came up to Sam. He barely stood as tall as Sam’s chest. His smile still present, he said, “Follow me. I’m Todd, Todd Perkins by the way.”

  “Good to meet you,” Sam said.

  As they left the building, Sam watched the young man who walked in front. His eyes seemed to be drawn involuntarily toward the small, tight, muscular buttocks that moved rhythmically before him. For the first time in many months Sam felt tightness in his groin. He fought it, focusing instead on what Todd was saying about the mill.

  The tour took the men past the storage sheds and the milling room Sam had already seen. They inspected the sleeping quarters, which Sam found to be not to his liking—two large rooms filled with rough mats on low frames, very close together. He decided he would stay at the boardinghouse. The dining hall consisted of several long tables in rows. In both the dining hall and the men’s sleeping room, the windows were high on the walls and very dirty. The more Sam saw, the more uncomfortable he became.

  Their walk around the mill ended at the storage sheds once more. Here, men were bringing planks to wagons hitched to mules or horses, preparing them for delivery to the docks or to other customers. Todd led the way through the labyrinth of activity, nodding to and greeting several of the men as he went. He walked up behind a heavyset man, who seemed to be supervising the loading activities.

  “Edgar,” Todd said. Sam caught a note of timidity in his voice.

  The big man turned around. When he saw Todd, his expression turned to one of distain. “What do you want, moffie?”

  Sam had no idea what the man meant by this, but he saw that it had a definite affect on Todd, who cringed slightly and swallowed. “Ah, Edgar,” he stammered, “this is Sam Hawkins. Um, Mr. LeBlanc said to bring him here to work on the loading crew.”

  Sam noted that Todd did not look directly at the man as he spoke.

  Edgar turned his attention to Sam. His expression changed to one of casual interest. He extended his hand. “Edgar,” he said by way of introduction. “Glad to have a new man. Can’t hardly keep up with the orders we’re getting. Lots a buildin’ goin’ on.”

  Sam took the man’s hand and acknowledged the greeting.

  Edgar then turned back to Todd, who seemed to have dissolved into the background. “Go on back to the boss, pansy. You did your job.”

  Sam still did not know why Todd was being addressed in this way, but he immediately felt protective of the small man.

  “Thank you for showing me around, Todd. Maybe I’ll see you later.”

  Todd mumbled something that was barely audible and left.

  Sam turned back to Edgar.

  “You better be careful,” the man said. “Don’t want people to get the wrong idea about you if they see you with that bit of fluff. One puff around here is one too many. Come with me and I’ll show you your job.”

  As Sam followed Edgar, he looked back over his shoulder at Todd’s retreating form. He wondered what had prompted Edgar’s derision. Still puzzling over Edgar’s obvious dislike for Todd, he walked after his overseer.

  * * * Sam adjusted quickly to his work. He relished the physical exertion. He got to know many of his fellow workers, at least casually, and learned some things about the society in which he now found himself. It seemed that where the men outnumbered the women by a large margin, casual relationships between men for the purpose of release were tolerated, even expected. But, if it were found out a man preferred men to women, that man was judged harshly, reviled, and even feared by some. It appeared most men believed Todd fell into that category.

  He knew Todd lived in the men’s quarters. Sam had decided to remain at Mary’s, so he rarely encountered Todd. He occasionally saw him at the noon meal in the dining hall, where he often was eating alone or with the other clerk from the office.

  One day Sam passed by the main office on his way back to work and noticed Todd had a bruise on his cheek. He was about to stop and enquire about it when one of his co-workers called to him. He left without finding out the cause of Todd’s injury.

  Away from the mill, Sam spent as much time as he could with Wolf. He would visit him every evening. On Sundays, his one day off the job, he would take long rides in the surrounding countryside, with Wolf joyously bounding beside him. Often Edouard would join them.

  When winter came with its cold and snow, Sundays were spent in the warmth of the livery, grooming his horse, or sitting with Wolf near the forge, listening to Edouard’s stories of life on that side of the big river. Sam looked forward to these times all week.

  * * * Spring arrived and with it a deepening sense of restlessness. Sam returned from work at the mill one warm evening, went to his room, washed his face and hands, changed into clean clothing, and came down for supper. When he entered the dining room of the boardinghouse, he noticed a stranger sitting at a table with Mary. The man’s rugged, handsome face, caught Sam’s attention. Although weatherworn and etched with age lines, his face was a combination of masculinity and gentleness. He sported a long handlebar moustache. Sam felt a surge of attraction to him. Realizing he had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring at the man, he roused himself and made his way to his usual table. When he turned to sit, he saw the man was looking in his direction and smiling broadly.

  Mary looked in Sam’s direction as well. She, too, smiled and motioned Sam to join her at the stranger’s table, so Sam rose and crossed the room. The man got up and extended his hand. Up close, Sam could see a powerful body hidden beneath the man’s plaid flannel shirt. He felt himself stir with desire.

  “This is Garrett Taylor, said Mary. “You remember I told you about him?” “Yes, the wagon master,” Sam said, smiling at Garrett and taking his hand, feeling a jolt of longing, combined with a sense of betrayal for his lost love.

  “Join us for supper,” Garrett said, taking his seat again. “Mary here tells me you’re familiar with the ways of Indians.”

  Sam smiled at Mary. “I was raised in an Indian village, but I don’t know about tribes to the west. Many Indians who lived east of the river are crossing and seeking new homes. I know their ways well.”

  “Reason I’m askin’ is I need a man who knows how to get along with Indians. Fixin’ to take a train to California when the weather breaks. Leavin’ from Independence in a month or so. You think you’d have an interest in that?”

  Sam knew right then it was something he would want to consider. He had felt hemmed in here in Laclede’s. His work at the mill, while not difficult and not without physical rewards, left him feeling unchallenged. He had learned enough in his time there to know this expression of the white man’s world was not something he would want to commit to for very long. He missed the open spaces, the forest, Wolf. Yes, he would be interested.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Taylor, I think the idea appeals to me.”

  “Call me Garrett. I’m glad you’re interested. From what Mary has told me about you, you’re just the kind of man I’m looking for.”

  Sam smiled at a beaming Mary and then at Garrett.

  For the rest of the evening, Garrett and Sam talked of the wagon train, what the trip entailed and Sam’s duties, should he decide to sign on. By the time Sam went to bed, he had a sense of freedom he had not felt since coming to Laclede’s Village. He would give Garrett his decision at breakfast. There was little question in his mind as to what that decision would be.

/>   * * * Sam went to the office at the mill the next day. Todd saw him come in the door and rose to greet him, the smile that was always there for Sam on his handsome face. Mr. LeBlanc was at his desk as usual. All this reminded Sam of the first time he had been in this room. How fast now the time seemed to have gone.

  “Sam,” Todd said walking to his side, “what brings you here?” “I’ve come to see Mr. LeBlanc.”

  Upon hearing his name, LeBlanc looked up from his work.

  Sam walked by the clerk and stood in front of his employer’s desk. “Good morning, Mr. Hawkins. What is it you wish to see me

  about?”

  “Good morning, sir. I came in to let you know I would be

  leaving Laclede’s in a week. I’ve signed on with Mr. Garrett’s

  wagon train.”

  LeBlanc rose and came around his desk. “I am sorry to hear

  that,” he said, his expression somber. “I have heard good things

  about you from Edgar. He says you are a fine worker.” “Well, thank you for that,” Sam responded. “I appreciate the

  opportunity you gave me here, but I’m really not much of a city

  boy. I think the job with the train will suit me pretty well. I’ll stay

  on here till it’s time to leave.”

  “Well, good luck to you. Please stop by before you go to say

  goodbye.”

  “I will, sir.”

  The two men shook hands. LeBlanc returned to his desk and

  Sam turned to leave. Todd stood where Sam had left him; the smile

  had faded from his face.

  “Are you really leavin’? I was hopin’ we’d get a chance to

  know each other better.”

  The remark caught Sam by surprise. Over the months he had

  been at the mill, he had had only brief encounters with the young

  man. He had not known Todd would have liked to become friends.

  Sam wasn’t sure what to say to him.

  “I’m sorry, Todd,” he said finally. “I think I’d have liked that,

  too.”

  He shook hands with him and left the office, feeling

  disappointed with himself for not reaching out to Todd these past