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A straggling gust of warm, dusty air smacked them in the face and dragged itself past them, tugging at their clothes and coiling off into tiny dust devils behind them. The captain pulled his goggles down off his head and fixed them over his eyes to keep out the next batch of blown debris, and he said, “You think this is hot? Wait until we get to the Gulf. ”
“It’s even worse?”
“It’s just as bad. It’s wet, and the river runs through it—so there aren’t just trees but swamps, and grasses that grow out of the water as tall as me. Moss hangs off every branch of every tree, and everything is green and overgrown. Everything lives there. Giant trees that look like they’re melting. Animals like you’ve only heard about in books. ” An almost wistful look crossed his face, but he put it down quickly by recalling, “You’ll sweat through everything you’re wearing. It’s like you never dry off, not really. ”
The boy’s enthusiasm flagged, but quickly buoyed back up again. “Can we swim in the river? That’d be a good way to cool off. ”
“I wouldn’t recommend it, not unless you want to get bitten by snakes, or eaten by alligators. ”
“Hm,” Houjin said, chewing this over as they strolled past a dog crawling out from under a saloon’s porch. The animal sneezed and shook itself, then wandered away. “And you used to live there?”
“I didn’t … I didn’t live there. Not exactly. I just spent a lot of time there. ”
“Why?”
“You sure are full of questions today. ”
“Kirby says I’m always full of questions. ”
“Kirby’s right. ”
“Where are we going?”
“Over there. Train station. ”
“Why? We don’t need a train. ”
“No,” the captain agreed. “But we need a telegraph operator, and that’s where towns usually keep them. ”
“Why?”
“Because the people who run the trains need to know who’s coming and going. And they need to know the weather and all,” he said vaguely. “And passengers do, too. They like to send notes to their friends and families, if they’re traveling a real long way. Remember how Nurse Lynch was sending dispatches from the road—when she was on her way from Virginia?”
“I remember. ”
“Well, there you go. ”
“Where are you sending a telegram?”
“To New Orleans—to the lady who wants us to take a job,” Cly said, preemptively answering the next thing poised to fly out of Houjin’s mouth. Speculating on the third thing the kid had on deck, he added, “I tried to drop a wire from Portland, but there was some kind of problem with the poles, they said. And I forgot in Boise, and the office had closed by the time we made it to Denver. Now we’re only a thousand miles out, and I’ve dillydallied about letting the lady know we’re coming. So I’m doing it now. ”
“Oh. ”
Andan Cly had bought himself a few yards of silence, enough to reach the wood plank walkway of the train station, and to hike the last few feet to the sign that announced WESTERN UNION. He ducked the sign but still managed to clip it with the edge of his head, sending it swinging on its chains. Upon entering the small office, he swiped his goggles off his face and let them hang around his neck.
“Hello,” greeted a tiny, chipper woman with enough highly coiffed black hair to weave a blanket. It was difficult to escape the impression that she’d chosen the style with the specific intent of appearing larger. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Houjin slipped into the office behind the captain, and the woman gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t address him.
“I need to send a telegram. To a … boarding house. In New Orleans. ”
“Very good, sir. Our rates are as posted. ” She pointed at a sign that noted the charge by the line.
He said, “That’s fine. ” He withdrew a square of scratch paper from his back pocket and unfolded it to reveal a message, addressed to Josephine Early at the Garden Court Boarding House on the Rue Dumaine. It had been distilled down to its essence, with all the important parts preserved, but not a drop of sentiment to be detected.
WILL TAKE THE JOB. INCOMING APPROX. APRIL 16. STOPPING AT BB FIRST, THEN INTO TOWN TO TEXIAN DOCK/MACHINE WORKS. SEE YOU THEN. AC.
The operator examined the message and flipped through her listings of New Orleans connections, then hesitated. “Can I ask you something—is ‘BB’ short for Barataria Bay?”
