Journey to the West

He laid back with a huff.

Calvin Steimacher had just finished writing up a new entry in his diary; A young man freshly turned eighteen-years-old, Cal (as his friends, what few of them he had, called him) had been beset by a melancholy throughout the day- A state that had came and gone over the last few months, moreso coming than going. He was the middle child in a family of 5; The son of first-generation german immigrants who had immigrated to Texas in 1835, only shortly before both he and the republic (now state) were born. His father had been a career soldier with a knack for doing away with Ponchos and Pocahontas, though after sustaining an injury in the service of Colonel Frémont he'd retired to a ranch that he took up after it's original occupants fled following American annexation of California.

Cal missed the days on the ranch. He reminisced about playing Cowboy with his siblings, Robert and Isolde; Those days had passed him by, and so had the ranch. A year ago, Cal's paw came down with the consumption and couldn't maintain the ranch like he could normally, so the Steimachers ended up having to sell it to some schmuck carpetbagging prospectors and move out west to the growing town of Los Angeles to find work, though it wasn't too easy to come by thanks to starry-eyed easterners showing up in their thousands hoping to find gold and instead finding all the damn jobs. The stresses of worrying about money so often had sure started to get to him, especially because he didn't really have anyone to talk to it about; Rob and Isy were always busy working or trying to find work, and Ma spent most of her time keeping the house in order and taking care of Paw, whose malady hadn't been helped by the humidity of the seaside town.

Just as he finished that thought, though, Cal heard a light few knocks at his door.

"Eh?" He called out, sitting up from his slightly-too-small bed.

He heard Ma's voice. "Cal, Alturo's at the door, He's 'askin for ya."

Cal smiled ever so slightly. Alturo Cordova was one of his closest friends- When his family settled down on the ranch, the Cordovas, an itinerant little clan of Mexicans, ended up hiring on to work it and followed the Steimachers off to Los Angeles after they sold the place. He hadn't seen Al in few days, as he'd been busy working in a little butcher-shop one of his cousins owned.

"Alright, I'll be over in a jiff! Got to get decent first." Cal responded, climbing off of his bed and heading over to his nearby clothesdrawer, pulling it open and taking out a few articles of clothing. It was a damnably hot day, so he decided to put on some of his shorter breeches and a loose linen shirt that he had; It was pretty raggedy, but Cal didn't much care- He wasn't one for fashion anyway. Fastening the breeches around his waist with his trusty old leather belt, he slipped on a pair of sandals and walked out. Just as he started down the hall, Ma, who was standing at the end of it by Isy's room, slid ever so slightly into his way, glancing down at his shirt.

"Son, 'yer shirt's got a hole in it. Don't tell me that you are 'goin out like that?" She said, with a judging look in her eyes.

Cal exhaled and responded. "Ma, I'm not exactly going to a ball, and half my other shirts ain't much better looking!"

Ma pursed her lips. "Whatever. Once you're home, leave it out 'yer door and I'll mend it up for you." She waved him off, before turning and knocking on Isy's door.

Crossing through the living room, Cal walked up to the door and opened it up, looking out to see Alturo; Who, to his shock, was dressed conspicuously well, wearing his old ranch get-up. "Cal, you're gonna want to put on something nicer than that." Al said, cracking a wry smile.

"What for?" Cal asked.

"My Cousin told me that old Mr. Harrington is throwing a big going-away party before he heads off on that voyage. Says everybody interesting in town should be there."

Cal raised his eyebrows. "Shit." He looked back over his shoulder, seeing his mother staring straight at him, with a bit of a smirk on her face- She'd obviously been listening.

"Uhhh.. Naw, this'll do." Cal looked back and pulled on loose fabric of his shirt, almost as if to pop his collar- not that there was one. Al looked him up and down and flashed a toothy smile. "Alright. Don't get cross with me when everyone thinks you're a bum, though."

Cal rolled his eyes and stepped out through the door, closing it behind him. "Yeah, yeah. Lead the way, Santana." He heard Alturo chuckle as he started off down the block, following after him.