Page 42 of Blowing Off Steam

Not only was she protected by two dashingly handsome and famous men—three, if you counted Tobias, who was well-known for other reasons—but she was earning her own living without spreading her legs for smelly reprobates. Calliope walked right up to the bar and ordered a champagne, paying for it herself from her own quill of gold dust.

Field and Rushy were instantly surrounded by a crowd of well-wishing miners, either ones who had heard about their racing skills or the shows they put on for passenger’s gratification. Calliope searched for only one person—Sam Brannan. She needed to know he would stop harassing them.

“I heard you’re working on that El Dorado steamer now,” said Clara, her old friend. “I fucked them two fellers three weeks ago, right before you disappeared.”

“You only fucked that one,” Calliope said with irritation, craning her head this way and that. Ah. There was Brannan, just behind the knot of congratulatory men. He narrowed his eyes at her as though wondering where he’d seen her before. She lifted one gloved hand and waved cheerfully.

That’s when realization struck Brannan. The color drained from his hearty face and his lower jaw sagged. He raised a tentative hand in response but quickly turned tail and barreled at full chisel from the room.

Calliope smiled smugly to herself. There. Whatever Soquel Haight had done had worked. They didn’t need to mind Brannan anymore. Now they just had to find that peewee riceman who was sneaking about rigging their boat.

“Yes, I work with these two wonderful captains,” Calliope admitted with glee. “Ain’t they handsome dogs, though?”

Clara shrugged apathetically. She was one of those emigrants who had become permanently disillusioned with life and would never have a hopeful or happy thought again. If she had more grit, Calliope might’ve offered to give her a job on the boat. But Clara was so draggy and impassive she would probably ruin all Calliope’s dishes with her moods and slam platters onto tables with abandon. “I probably would’ve thought so five years ago, but who cares anymore? That sandy-haired captain has a whooping big cock, though. Scared the bejesus out of me.”

Calliope said confidentially, “Oh, it just looks like a third leg. He’s really very delicious and fun. But if I catch any of you gals having coitus with my men, I’ll stamp all your lip rouge into oblivion and rip all your corsets to shreds. Would you care for another champagne?”

The two handsome dogs were chatting now to Clive Bixby of the Jack Hayes. Loathed rivals when on the river, captains drank freely together and shared stories when “up the hill” on land.

“Bixby, you old card!” Rushy guffawed, his hand on Bixby’s shoulder.

Calliope said to Clara, “Right now he’s a card. Yesterday, that captain was a good-for-nothing shit sack.”

Clara actually smiled. “Men. They have more romancing and devilment than us gals do.”

“I’d like to continue our conversation about the People’s Line,” Bixby was saying. “Did you inform Captain Trueworthy here about our idea?”

Rushy nodded. “I did. He doesn’t like the idea of The Combination any more than we do.”

Field inquired, “Is that the California Steam Navigation Company? All of those river tycoons are joining in. They’ll put us out of business unless we join.”

Rushy said, “Not unless we form our own line.”

“I would not advise that,” opined Tobias. “Seeing as how one of your major investors is the President of The Combination. Don’t you boneheads see what I’m saying? Conflict of interest.”

“But Mr. Fosburgh,” Bixby interjected. “The Camanche, Belle, Cleopatra, and the Shasta are all joining The Combination.”

“Exactly my point,” said Tobias. “Your People’s Line will just be two boats. Yours.”

Field said, “We’ve got the skippers of the Antelope, Bragdon, Gem, and Plumas on our side. And the whole town of Marysville refuses to solicit The Combination. They might join our People’s Line.”

Rushy added, “I heard tell a new five-hundred-ton Pearl is heading for San Francisco, and she don’t like The Combination idea much either.”

“But the prices The Combination will be charging!” Tobias insisted. “Twelve dollars for a cabin from Stockton to San Francisco? You can’t beat that.” He huffed. “Especially if you stop your ‘entertainment.’”

“Ooh.” Bixby elbowed Rushy. “Never stop your entertainment, gentlemen. You’d be fools to.”

Rushy elbowed his rival back. “Oh yes? I’ll wager when next we’re in San Francisco, your runners will be blaspheming to the skies how immoral and degraded the El Dorado is.”

A tall fellow with a neat cravat interrupted them then. He had such a meek air, one naturally assumed he was merely a businessman, and he said to Bixby, “You Captain Trueworthy?”

Bixby was still laughing. “Nope. This fellow here.”

The businessman tipped his hat at Field. “Captain Trueworthy? I wonder if I might have a minute. You’re the one who rebuilt the El Dorado’s engine, am I right? I’m very interested in your engineering skills. Maybe you could give me a few instructions.”

Field, being full of himself, replied, “Are you referring to the new design for the walking beam engine?”

“That would be the one,” the businessman said docilely. “Could we perhaps step outside? It’s awful noisy in here. I’d be ever so blessed if you could even take me down the wharf and show me the engine. That would be most instructional.”