III (Wednesday)

Carla separated the money she possessed into little piles on the bed.  Now that she'd paid her hotel bill, the tips from her performance with Nick seemed less plentiful than they had the other night.  Carla was at her wit's end and could barely think straight.  Finding a job was hard enough, but to add to that Nick would probably leave town soon, the rails taking him somewhere far off to find better work, and she would no longer have his moral or financial support.  In fact, the guitar player might just be gone any day now, if Carla had heard him correctly.  She stood up and went to the doorway where a yellowing timecard for the Greater Northwest Railroad Company was posted to double-check what the young man had said.

"Hm..."  Carla read the placard.  Nick was right, she thought, these railroads do cost a fortune!  She turned to look back at her money on the bed and sighed.  "I could never ride one out of here."

Unless...

Carla stood there, thinking very intently. "What if?" came the thought, forcing itself ever more firmly upon her until she finally succumbed.  With a flurry of corollary ideas crowding to get into her head, the girl began pulling out bureau dressers and gathering up all the clothing she had with her onto the bed.  The idea was just reckless enough to work.  Maybe.  "Yes, this will do.  And this, and this..." Carla said to herself as she sorted through her belongings.  At least, in kicking her out of the house, Carla's mother had had the "kindness" to pack some decently fetching clothing.  Carla folded all of the dresses that she could use for her plan and put them into her bags then got ready to leave.  Standing in the doorway when she finished, she reminded herself for courage, "Father said that the most brilliant plans are also always the most foolish...  Well, wish me luck, Pop."

...

Nick just hated to admit it, but this town was dead.  Even Monday night's tips, though a lot better than what he'd been seeing lately and a major boon for Carla, were disappointing compared to what they should have been.  "Oh, well.  I guess it's time to move on then," which was probably a good idea.  He hated De Anza hotel with its terrible commissions and that annoying female clerk who was always giving him "the eye."  Nick shuddered.  She was too gross and rumpled to think about, not to mention too old to be looking at him that way, anyhow.

But Nick would miss the kid, of course.  Carla seemed as nice a gal as he had ever met on his travels, and she had a load of talent, too.  He wished her the best of luck for the future and would tell her so as soon as he saw her again.  In fact, the musician was even considering leaving her the extra money he'd scrounged up in town.  So what if Nick barely broke even?  The kid deserved it.  He thought that it would have been nice to stick around and get to know her better but the road was calling.  Besides, the picking seasons were on their way, and he wanted to be around when the farmers started to need help.  Farm work was always a way for Nick to keep himself fed and employed between shows.

But still...  In spite of all the logical reasons he had given himself, Nick wasn't as eager to leave as he should have been, given the circumstances.  Well then, he thought, there's only one way to get myself jazzed up for leaving.  I'll go say goodbye to Carla right now.  Nick would feel ten times better once he'd gotten it over and done with, or at least that was what the young man told himself as he made his way to the room where Carla said she was staying.  He knocked on the door and waited for a minute but there was no answer.  Figuring that she'd gone out, Nick decided to sit in the lobby where he would be sure to catch her as soon as she returned to De Anza.  He sat down in a stuffed chair, trying to look inconspicuous because he didn't want that tacky lady clerk to spot him.

He ended up waiting an hour before he finally got impatient.  "Geeze, I wonder where she could be," Nick pulled out his pocket watch and frowned to see that he'd been sitting there for so long.  He really should have been getting his things ready for traveling, but there was something nagging at his brain that told him to talk to Carla first.

“All this trouble for a girl you're not even keen on,” he muttered to himself.  What was it about Carla that made him even bother?  Sure she was an extremely nice person, but she wasn't exactly the dolled-up type that he usually went for – not a bad looker either, mind you, but it wasn't her looks that made him more interested in her than he usually was with people.  In fact, Nick was so interested that he was concerned with her well-being.  Would Carla be okay after he left?  What kind of job would she find?  Would she be able to eat and find a place to stay?  Nick realized that these kinds of questions were the things keeping him from wanting to go.  And then there was friendship.  He was always making pals on the rails and knew that he would run into them again eventually – most likely on top of some other boxcar.  But would he ever see Carla again once he left?  Probably not.  He wouldn't even be able to drop her a line once in a while, seeing as she didn't have an address.

Maybe she would go back home, in spite of what she had told him about not being able to.  Nick remembered that Carla said her family lived just on the outskirts of the city, so it was not like she really couldn't just go back if worst came to worst.  Then he recalled the way she'd looked every time she talked about her home: it seemed like they didn't want her there.  Or maybe her reason for leaving is like mine, Nick thought briefly before ditching the idea.  It couldn’t be.  No one had a reason for leaving home quite like he did, and that was that.

"So if her family made her leave..." he said to himself quietly, "they're going to want her back.  She's a good kid, and they'll be missing her soon enough if they don't already."  This revelation made Nick feel a lot better.  If Carla went back home, he wouldn't have to worry about whether she would make it on her own. Plus he'd be able to wire her a telegram once in a while, since he would have an address to send it to.  The idea was so well settled into Nick's head that he half expected one of Carla's family members to walk into De Anza Hotel this instant.  In fact...

"By George," he snapped his fingers, watching a young man with a small pack who had just entered the lobby, "I'll be damned if he's not a brother of hers come to get her."  Nick marveled at the sheer timing of the matter as he got up and walked towards the guy.  He has to be related to Carla, Nick told himself, the family resemblance is just terrific.

He approached the young man, who'd almost reached the stairway to the upper floors, and tapped him on the shoulder.  "Excuse me, fellow.  Hope you don't mind me asking, but would you happen to be related to a girl named…”

...

"Carla!!!"

The girl jumped nearly a foot off the ground as she turned around and Nick shrieked in surprise.  She somehow managed to fall against the stairway and grabbed at the handrail to regain her balance.  "...Nick," Carla replied weakly.  That was all she could bring herself to say because the expression on his face was one to which she was not quite sure how to respond.  His eyes were bulging, roaming up and down her figure with bewilderment, and there was something in his eyes that looked like disappointment.

"Nick, I..." She had planned out something to say earlier so as to explain her decision to him, but now she was caught off guard.  Drat, we’ve begun all wrong!  She'd not expected to be standing in a stairwell like this with Nick gaping at her like a trout.  Carla grew slightly piqued at the way he kept staring at her and exclaimed, "Hey, stop it!"  She had to bring her hands together, clapping loudly in front of Nick's face to snap him out of it.

Nick blinked at the harsh sound and, shaking his head into awareness, looked past Carla up the stairway.  "There's someone coming," he said.  Fully regaining his senses, Nick nodded towards the ballroom where they’d previously played, and Carla followed.

...

"Now," he hissed as they took their seats at a small table, "what did you do to yourself, and how bad is it?  Come on, let me see your cap."

Carla removed her new hat and set it on the tabletop to reveal her hair, which was cropped close like a boy's.

"My God..." Nick's mouth opened again, and he resumed his fishlike expression.

"Please don't look at me like that," Carla entreated him.  "I had to do it.  Will you let me explain?"

"All right," Nick sat back in his chair, "but let me guess first.  You went and sold your hair."  He figured that she would have gotten a large sum for her nice brown locks.  Her hair was a dark, rich color and had almost looked heavy before, pinned up in a mass of curls at the nape of her neck.  "And your clothes," Nick studied her new attire, which was a lot cheaper than the well-tailored dresses that she'd worn before.  Now she just ported a loosely fitting outfit with a rough shirt and dark trousers.  She's got her suspenders on all wrong, he noticed.  But, gosh… I could mistake her for a regular chap with her hair so short that way. "Why'd you do it?" Nick asked.  "Do you need money that badly?  I could've helped you, you know.  And...  With the way you look, how do you expect to find a decent job in this town now?"

"Well, I don't," Carla replied, raising her chin slightly.  She was looking him in the eyes now.  "I'm not planning to stay any longer.  I'm leaving to find work somewhere else."

"But the nearest town that's gonna offer any jobs is miles off.  What're you gonna do?  Walk?  Take a cab?  And 'sides, there's still the fact of the way you look.  No straight-up place is going to hire a girl who looks just like a fellow.

"Of course they're not.  But they should have no problem hiring a regular ol' boy who's willing to work hard," she countered.  "That was half my problem in finding a job, Nick.  They said I seemed nice enough, but even if they did have work to give out, they would prefer to hire a boy.  So, you see, this is the only way.  As for how I'm getting there, I won't walk; I'll just ride the rails like you!"

"Ugh," Nick covered his face with his hands so he wouldn't need to stare dumbfounded at her again.  WHY did I ever tell her about hitching?  ...Great job, Carter, you've gone and ruined a perfectly nice young girl.  With a large sigh, he dropped his hands and regarded her.  "Look, Carla.  I admit, you look convincingly like a fella, but that won't be enough.  In spite of everything I've told you about my lifestyle, you'd still have no idea how to handle yourself out there.  The world's a dangerous place to be alone, you know."

"I know, Nick.  That's why I plan to tag along with you."  There was a long pause.  “If you'll let me, I mean."

Well, he had to admit, the girl's got spunk.

"And," Carla continued before he could disagree, "I'll try to stay out of your way.  Plus, I'll pay you if that's what you want.  I got a little bit of money from pawning off my dresses and stuff, and a lot from selling my hair."  She pulled a large wad of cash from her pocket.  "I still need to pay off my bill and send some to my family, but I'll give you whatever you want."

Nick gave a low whistle.  "You seem to have thought a lot about this..." He dropped his eyes, considering exactly what he was agreeing to, as she looked at him expectantly.  "No," Nick decided finally. "Save your money.  It's not like I'll be feeding or housing you or anything.  I just don't understand why you would want to follow me."

"'Cause from the way you talked the other day – about traveling, working for farmers, performing – you know where the money's at.  You've survived this long, so it can't be a bad life, and it's got to better than anything this old town's got going for it.  ...Is it a yes then?  Can I go with you?  Please?"

"Yeah, sure."

"You don't mind?!" Carla's eyes got big.

Nick figured that because her whole plan was riding on him, he couldn't exactly say no; that's why it surprised him that she was genuinely shocked that he'd agreed.  "No, I don't mind really."  For some reason he grinned crazily as he pushed back his chair.  "Come on, we've got some stuff to take care of before we can go."