Fifty-three
For a moment after the soft rap on the door, Miss Nesselrode sat very still. It was late, scarcely the hour for visitors, and since the appearance of Alexis Murchison she had been careful about opening the door to anyone. Rising, she crossed the room to the door, listened for a moment, and when the rap came again, she asked, “Who is there?”
“It’s me, ma’am. Kelso.”
She opened the door and he stepped in quickly, removing his hat as he closed the door behind him. “Sorry to come around so late, ma’am, but I saw your light and figured you’d want to know,” “Is it about Meghan Laurel? Or Johannes?”
“No, ma’am. A long time ago you asked me to sort of look into what happened to that Spanish boy who arrived on the ship with Tia Elena.” “Oh, yes. I had forgotten.”
“Found something kinda peculiar. That woman we heard about? The one who took the boy and rode off with him in the night? She was Felipe’s sister.” “Felipe?”
“That vaquero who sort of fell off a cliff out on Don Isidro’s ranch?” She remembered now: she had been interested, although just why, she did not recall. So much was happening, with Johannes disappearing into the desert, and Meghan going after him.
“She loved that boy like he was her own. Taken him away, cared for him.” Kelso took out his pipe. “Mind if I smoke, ma’am? This here’s quite a story.” It was late, and she was impatient for news of Johannes and Meghan. Jacob Finney had gone back to the wild country looking for them. Now, however, she was tired, and she needed the rest. Nonetheless, Kelso was a good man, a sincere, hardworking man, and she would hear him out.
“Will you have some coffee? It’s hot, but not very fresh, I’m afraid.” “Been drinkin’ that kind of coffee since I was a youngster.” He struck a match on the hearth and lighted his pipe. “That boy’s name was Alfredo. That woman was paid to take him away, and she done it. Only thing was, she was a childless woman and she came to love that lad. She took him into the mountains down near Pala … Injun country. She wanted to keep him away from folks, keep him to herself.
“Then she picked up with a man. Taken to livin’ with him from time to time. He was an Anglo, quiet sort of feller, prospectin’, trappin’, tradin’ a mite … that sort of thing. He took to the boy, too. Used to take him picture books he found-some of them had been left behind at one of the missions when the padres left.”
Miss Nesselrode refilled his cup. She half-started to rise. Kelso must think this was important or he would not have come around at this hour, so she sat back down, trying not to show her impatience.
“Old books, they were. Had to do with building over in Rome an’ Greece, things like that. Pictures from Spain, too, pictures of an old mosque in Cordoba and such.
“That boy, he growed up with those books. There weren’t many white folks around where he was, and not many of the Injuns could read. I reckon it was a lonely life, especially after she died.”
“Died?”
“Yes, ma’am, an’ when she died, that boy disappeared. Of course, he wasn’t just a kid. He was somewhere in his teens, I reckon, might have been older. “Folks thought him odd, those few who met him, and he went somewhere off by himself.”
“That’s too bad, Mr. Kelso, but I fail to see-“
“That man? The one who lived with the Spanish woman? He kept in touch with the boy. He was the only one knew where he lived, although he told nobody, nobody at all.”
She was very tired. She arose and began putting things away, hoping Kelso would leave. He held his cup, staring into the fire; then he looked up suddenly. “Ma’am? That feller? The one who lived for a time with that Spanish woman? He was kind of a loner. Made mighty few friends, although a lot of his kind knew him by name, drifters, prospectors, and the like. But there was one man he considered a friend.”
“Mr. Kelso, it is very late, and I-“
He got to his feet. “Sorry, ma’am, but I figured you should know. The one friend that man claimed was Zachary Verne.”
For a moment she just stood there, but curiosity overcame her weariness. “Sit down, Mr. Kelso. Please have some more coffee.” “Like I say, that man was a loner. Had some good qualities, though, and the best one was loyalty. He never forgot a friend or a favor, so when he heard Zack was coming back to California, he met him down in the desert. Met him at that place where the hot spring is and all them palm trees? You were there, I think maybe you might have seen this man. He came to meet Zachary Verne and to get him off the stage. His name was Peter Burkin.”
Of course she remembered! He had seemed a rough-hewn sort of man-friendly and honest had been her impression.
“If you will recall, he came to warn Verne that if he went on into Los Angeles he’d be killed. Nobody would think too much of it, as folks were gettin’ killed all the time, and Verne would only be remembered by a few. “Burkin warned Verne, then took him to a place he knew, and that was where Verne and the boy lived until Verne was killed, and the boy lived there for some time after, until you sent for him.”
Long after Mr. Kelso had gone, she lay awake thinking. Alfredo … that had been the boy’s name, and he had come over on the same ship with Elena. Don Federico, only a boy then himself, had supposedly tried to kill Alfredo. Why had Alfredo been suddenly spirited away and hidden for all those years? And where was he now? If he was still alive?
Peter Burkin would know, and somehow she must find Peter and talk to him. Yet, what business was it of hers? That Burkin had also known Zachary Verne was pure coincidence, no doubt, but the woman who cared for Alfredo had been a sister to the mysteriously murdered Felipe. She supposed it all tied together somehow, and she was still thinking about it when she fell asleep. When morning came, she awakened disturbed by Kelso’s information, yet uncertain as to why it should bother her. Of course, anything that even remotely concerned Johannes was of interest. He was the only “family” she possessed, and from the beginning he had been the son she had always wanted. Los Angeles had changed, and she had seen and was seeing it change. In the passing of years it had grown from scarcely two thousand to a busy city of almost sixteen thousand people. From the beginning she had gone out to the limits of the town and bought land; now much of that land had increased several times in value.
Down at the end of Spring Street there was an amusement park, the Washington Gardens, a place of about thirty-five acres of fruit trees and vineyards where a few wild animals were kept, and there was a place for dancing and a bandstand. Further along there was the Agricultural Park and its racetrack. Houses were beginning to appear on the hills back of the town. There were three principal streets. Main was the busiest, followed by Spring and San Pedro, the latter a dusty thoroughfare with many orange groves. One of these was Wolfskill’s orchard of well over one hundred acres. Every day now there was change, and every day she found herself looking to the hills. The air was clear and beautiful, the town a place of gardens and vineyards.
Elena! Try as she would, she could not keep her thoughts from returning to Johannes. She must see Elena. Who was Alfredo? What did she know of Peter Burkin?
She walked to the door, glanced at the street, then turned and walked back behind the railing that separated her desk from the reading room. Where was Johannes? And Meghan?
There had been no word. Jacob Finney had ridden away with Monte McCalla, Owen Hardin, and two other men. They were heavily armed and had packhorses, ready for a prolonged stay.
She must get word to Elena. She must do that now, at once.
Johannes, if he was alive, would try to reach his Indian friends, but his
enemies would know that and be prepared for it. Yet she could do nothing. Unless
…
Maybe, even at this late date, she could stop it. Don Isidro, who rarely came to town these days, had come in that day. She would go to see him. Hesitating only an instant as she reviewed the situation, she sent her girl for Kelso, who would be sleeping in the small cabin on the back of the place. Both Finney and Kelso had become minor partners in her ventures while still on salary. Finney had been prepared for it; Kelso was more reluctant. “The town is growing, Mr. Kelso,” she had said impatiently. “We must grow with it. The Californios are doing it. You must also.” “I’ve no head for business,” he grumbled.