Escape From Gold Mountain Read online

  The Chinaman glared back with resentment. “Worthless woman fell down the stairs.”

  Callahan clenched his fists and his nostrils flared in anger. “Ah Chin, I mean it. You see to it she doesn’t fall down the stairs, run into doors, or trip and fall on anything again. You see to it neither you nor any of her customers lays a hand on her. I promise, I will come back many times to check on her. If I see any more bruises or signs that someone has beat on her, I will take her away and put her in protective custody. If I need her to testify in a preliminary examination or a trial, I need her here in Lundy and well enough to do it. If I have to, I’ll take her away from you. And it won’t do you any good to bring up some shyster white lawyer you Chinese have got in your pockets, because she won’t be going anywhere until we have what we need for a trial.”

  “Big boss of On Yick owns this worthless woman. He wants her back in Chinatown. She owes him money.”

  “Your boss in Chinatown’s going to have to wait. Now, if you don’t want any trouble, we do it my way. She stays here, and no one hurts her. I see any more signs she’s been harmed, I’ll not only take her away from you, I’ll put together a posse to tear down this den of iniquity. After that, I’ll kick all you heathen Chinese back to San Francisco myself. You got that, Ah Chin? Nobody hurts this woman, and nobody takes her away from Lundy, until I’m finished with her as my witness.”

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  Chapter 33

  ~o0o~

  Lundy & Mono County, California ~ October, 1884

  C onfident he had put the fear of whatever god the Chinese worshipped into Ah Chin, Bill Callahan rode to the mercantile to buy several days’ worth of supplies in case he was in the saddle that long. After he packed his horse, including an extra blanket roll he tied over one shoulder and across his back and chest to help combat the cold weather, he started down the road leading from Lundy to Mono Diggings, and on to Mono Lake after that.

  Bill shook his head as he studied the ground on the west end of the road just outside Lundy. Enough traffic passed since the night before so that any tracks made by the Chinawoman had become obliterated. However, he hadn’t gone even a quarter of a mile along the edge of Lundy Lake before he picked up her trail. As he slowly walked his horse, he studied her small footsteps, often shaking his head where he could see she had tripped and fallen to her knees. Other indents in the snow probably came from that beat-up valise she still had with her when he first saw her at the Arcade. He smiled as he realized she tended to hug the side of the road next to the steep mountainside, intent on making sure she did not accidentally slide into the lake.

  Just below the cemetery in Geneva, he found what he was sought. Her footsteps crossed the road to the other side by a break in the bushes. Next to them were the boot prints belonging to a large man. Nudging his reluctant horse, he pushed through the prickly shrubbery and followed the tracks made by two people until he reached a small clearing where the snow had been melted away and churned into a mix of mud and dead leaves. Still, Bill did not have to study the area long before he realized he was seeing both sets of foot prints joined with hoof prints. From there, it was a matter of finding the tracks of the single horse in the snow. Once he did, he followed them.

  Bill soon realized his quarry knew how to dodge a tracker. More than once the trail led into Mill Creek. Bill had to keep a sharp eye out to catch where the man left the water and continued on land. Overall, the trail led down the canyon, up until the man double-backed on the creek and cut across foothills. He reached a large flat shelf of stone. Bill grinned. Normally, traveling that rocky surface would have hidden the path the man took once the water dried. However, with the thin layer of snow still clinging in large patches, he was able to follow until he picked up the prints on the other side.

  Bill looked off towards Mono Lake. It appeared the man he pursued was heading toward the south end of that large body of water and avoiding what was left of Mono Diggings on its northern shore. He speculated his quarry traveled south to the Mammoth Mining District. The tracks lead to the main road bordering the lake, sometimes meandering off into the brush on the side. Bill saw evidence of horse and wagon traffic that had been on the road since the snow had started. Not much, and with nothing distinct about his quarry’s horseshoe prints, Bill sometimes found it difficult to distinguish his quarry’s tracks from those of other travelers. Still, the patches of snow and the lower volume of travel due to the colder weather worked in his favor.

  Bill almost missed the double-back at Rush Creek. The prints, spaced as though the horse cantered, angled southwest until they entered the creek. Bill followed the creek bank for a mile or more until it started up into the foothills. He wondered how the rider managed his horse in the turbulent water. He failed to spot where his quarry returned to land. On a hunch, he double-backed to the location where the prints entered the creek. From there, he rode northeast. Sure enough, almost a half mile down-stream, on the other side of the road leading to Mammoth, Bill saw the spot where the horse left the water and galloped due east.

  Bill studied the Mono Lake shoreline to the north of him. A surge of satisfaction coursed through him. He felt unsure exactly where his quarry intended to end up. However, for the time being, it appeared evident the man planned to skirt the south, and maybe the east, side of the lake. The ground cover grew sparse by Mono Lake, and the soil remained damp where the snow had melted.

  Darkness started to set in. Bill knew the trail would still be easy to follow the next day. He turned back towards Rush Creek to find a sheltered campsite amidst the scrubby trees and boulders bordering the fast-flowing stream. There he cooked a hot meal and spent the night.

  The next morning, Bill finished his breakfast and kicked dirt into his fire. With the sun high enough to take the worst of the chill off the morning air, he followed the hoofmarks. His quarry traveled faster here, and in the open. Bill guessed the man felt confident he had shaken any tail with his little trick at Rush Creek.

  The sun slipped behind the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Bill spent his second night out in the open on the east side of the lake. This night he kept a cold camp. He sensed he was close, and he dared not let the smoke of a campfire give him away.

  The next morning, the cold woke Bill Callahan. After graining his horse, he started early. He gnawed on jerky for breakfast. The pink of the sunrise had almost disappeared when Bill caught sight of Tex Wilson still asleep in a wash next to Mono Lake.

  The hunted man woke to the sight of Deputy Sheriff Callahan standing over him. One hand held a pistol pointed at him. The other held a pair of cufflinks.

  By nightfall, Bill Callahan secured Tex in the Lundy jail which was nothing more than a house close to Lundy Lake that once had been owned by a man who had been killed years earlier.

  The former jail had consisted of being chained up in a storeroom behind the bar of Wilson’s Wine Rooms, at the time known as the Snowflake Saloon. The Snowflake in earlier years had been used for intellectual discussion and conducting Lundy town business. Before the justice court had been built farther west, next door to Jim Toy’s Chinese restaurant, a portion of the Snowflake Saloon building had been used as a courtroom. It had been rather handy to pull a prisoner from the storeroom and walk him a few steps out into the section of the saloon set aside for the courtroom. Now Lundyites held court in a building two blocks away from the jail. Bill did not look forward to the prospect of transferring his prisoner from the jail to the courtroom and back once the judge scheduled his inquest.

  By that night, almost all of the residents in Lundy knew Bill Callahan brought Tex Wilson in and charged him with abducting the Chinawoman off of the stagecoach. As the days passed, many men in town determined it took far too long to choose a defense attorney and schedule a preliminary hearing to decide if Tex should be bound over for trial.

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  Chapter 34

 
~o0o~

  Mono County, California ~ October, 1884

  A fter Luke left Lundy, he traveled to Bodie. Since Luke first met Charley in Bodie, he figured it was a good place to start his search. He ate sparingly, slept in the open, and spent his money carefully—all the while aware it had to last until he could get far from California. Only after he traveled enough of a distance away that no one would recognize him would he dare try to pick up work in order earn enough to make his way back to Minnesota.

  Angry, and anxious to escape his stepfather, Luke had fled with the intention of never returning to live near his family. After reflecting on his entire situation, and his desire to help Loi escape, he had concluded he needed to take her home. His mother and sister would accept her, even if some of the Ojibwa felt uncertain about hiding a Chinese woman in their midst.

  While in the Sawdust Corner Saloon, Luke overheard gossip about Tex having been arrested for abducting Loi off the stagecoach. The conversation focused on Tex’s denial of all charges. Luke heard nothing said about Tex’s hideout north of Bodie, so he doubted its location was known.

  Several nights later, the talk turned to the news in the latest weekly edition of the Bodie Standard. Charley had been arrested on suspicion of being involved with the stagecoach affair. The date for his preliminary hearing was scheduled the following week in Bridgeport.

  Luke saw no benefit in remaining in Bodie. If the Bridgeport judge held Charley for trial, Luke would never get his money. However, if by some miscarriage of justice Charley managed to wriggle out of the charges, Luke needed to be close by when he was turned loose. At that point, Luke could track him.

  Until he needed to be in Bridgeport, Luke felt confident he could safely return to the cabin to retrieve the grizzly pelt and the rest of his bear jerky. The pelt would help him stay warm in the coming winter weather. The meat he needed to stretch his provisions.

  Luke found his untouched bundle still high in the tree close to Tex’s cabin. While standing on the seat of his saddle with his boot soles sliding against the leather, he decided to purchase a pair of moccasins. The boots had their uses, but many times, like the present situation, Luke would have preferred wearing more flexible footwear.

  Luke possessed no knowledge of how the local Paiutes made their moccasins, but he intended to find out. If he could buy some, they only needed to last him until he arrived in Minnesota where his mother could make him a new pair.

  The pelt and meat retrieved, Luke tied everything to the back of his horse which he hobbled in the meadow below the cabin to graze—the same meadow where he and Loi had first spotted the grizzly. He climbed to the cabin on foot. He had no intention of staying there in case a posse or some other gang out for Tex’s blood showed up. However, he could not resist the temptation to see if he could find Tex’s hiding place.

  He found it within minutes. Luke smiled as his knife pried off the bark-crusted cover of the hidey-hole. He pulled out a fist-full of money and stared at it. He dared not take it to the law, for doing so would implicate him. He had been a reluctant party to the crimes, but he had not walked away when he could have. Besides, he doubted anyone he gave the money to would be honest enough to return it to Loi. By rights, it belonged to her, even if the payment Tex received also covered the cattle rustling.

  Luke returned the money and used his fist to pound the cover tightly in place. It might be ill-gotten gains, but he would let Tex worry about it. He had his own ill-gotten gains to worry about. The man who owed Luke was Charley Jardine.

  Finished at Tex’s cabin, Luke road his horse towards Bridgeport. Realizing the grizzly pelt would draw too much attention, he chose to stash it and a few other items in the hills to the east while he traveled into town. As soon as he arrived in Bridgeport, he bought a canvas tarp to cover his pelt and protect it from prying eyes.

  The county jail and courthouse were located in Bridgeport, the county seat. Luke spent a night or two listening in on conversations in an effort to discover where things stood with Tex. He learned more of the details about Charley’s arrest. He dared not attend the hearing itself for fear Charley would spot him and point him out.

  The investigation must not have been thorough. By the time Luke found out the judge determined there was insufficient evidence to bind Charley over for trial, Charley Jardine had fled the city.

  Luke fought down his frustration. The sheriff had arrested the right man. Charley engineered the whole plot, hired Tex to do the dirty work, and demanded a ransom for Loi rather than let her go after they realized how little money she had on her. Yet, Charley had evaded justice.

  Luke rode south, aware that the positive part of Charley getting away with his crimes was that Luke could now follow him and, hopefully, learn where the outlaw had stashed his money. On his way out of Bridgeport, he came across a Mono Paiute woman who traded him ankle-high moccasins and a fur coat for his ax. He detoured and stopped in Bodie again to learn if Charley had returned there. Nothing.

  Since two weeks had passed from the night he watched Loi enter the Chinese brothel, Luke decided to return to Lundy. Concern for Loi never left his mind. In spite of Bill Callahan’s threats to Ah Chin, he feared the Chinese would spirit her away to Chinatown.

  Luke knew he could be riding into a bad situation. Either Tex or Charley, if Charley was there, could spot him and finger him for the crimes they had orchestrated. Luke knew he needed to get out of the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountain region. However, he refused to leave without his money—and Loi, if she would have him.

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  Chapter 35

  ~o0o~

  Lundy, California ~ October, 1884

  O nce in Lundy, Luke quickly realized most of the town chatter centered around the capture of Tex. Opinions regarding the outcome of his hearing, and speculation about the identity of the second man, seemed to be on everyone’s lips, especially once word had reached them that Charley Jardine had been acquitted in Bridgeport.

  Evidently, Tex refused to talk. As soon as Tex hired a lawyer and the local justice of the peace finished his dancing around with filing paperwork and settled on the day they could get the circuit judge up there, the Lundy court would hold the hearing to decide whether or not to bind him over for trial.

  Luke made a point to steer clear of the Wilson’s Wine Rooms, the Arcade Saloon, the Lundy Chop Shop, and the May Lundy Hotel—all eateries where the deputy sheriff, the same man Luke remembered questioning Loi, took the prisoner to eat many nights. Instead, he learned even more from the barber at the end of town, a man named Jones.

  Luke hated to spend money for a shave and a haircut. His hair had grown well past his shoulders in length, and his beard and mustache hung long and straggly to the point that he stood out in this small town where most of the men wore their hair short and shaved at least once a week. Instead of keeping his mustache, as was the current style, he chose to be clean-shaven. However, when it came to cutting his hair, Luke told the barber to even it up, but leave it past shoulder length.

  The barber chatted about the mine in which he held shares. He expressed his happiness that it was still producing, although it was getting ready to close for the winter. As Luke hoped, his talk eventually turned to Tex Wilson. Unfortunately, the man made no mention of Charley.

  That night, Luke walked one door west to the restaurant owned by Jim Toy, a Chinese doctor as well as a restaurant owner. Feigning a lack of knowledge about Chinese food, he managed to engage Jim Toy in friendly conversation. He eventually brought the talk around to the topic of interest to him.

  “All I see around here are Chinese men. Don’t you have any Chinese women up this way?”

  Jim Toy smiled knowingly. “Very few. Most Chinese women don’t come to America. Men come to work, send money home, but don’t plan to stay here.”

  “So, the men usually just work a few years in America and then go back to China?”

  The Chinaman shook his head. “They w
ish to go back to China, but most Chinese now die in America. Only bones of dead Chinese go back to China where buried with ancestors.”

  “Their bones? How do their bones get back to China?”

  “Six Companies in San Francisco send bones. One reason all Chinese belong. They benevolent tongs, not like hoodlum tongs that try to take over Chinatown.” At this point, Jim Toy’s expression morphed into one of disgruntlement. He quickly recovered his composure and resumed his pleasant, American-pleasing expression. “We pay Six Companies fee. They help all Chinese find work, go back to China, and send our bones back when we die. I belong to Six Companies Hop Wo tong.”

  As he pondered the man’s words, Luke chewed a bite of rice with pork and bean sprouts in a type of sweet sauce that also had a bite to it. He carefully asked his next question. “How does that work, then? Are most of the Chinese up here part of this same Hop Wo tong, or do they belong to some of the other tongs? You said there were—what—six tongs?”

  Once again Jim Toy’s face lost its smile for a second. He glanced around the room to be sure no one listened before he answered. “Most belong to company of province where come from in Canton. Here, most also belong to On Yick, pay so have no trouble when work.”

  Protection money. Probably the only person those who pay need protection from is the one demanding the money.

  Loi had told him she was owned by the On Yick tong big boss in San Francisco.

  “Do you also belong to this On Yick tong?”

  The answer came quick and final, inviting no further comment. “No. Chinese need me for doctor. So far, On Yick don’t bother Jim Toy.”

  Luke shrugged. He decided to steer the conversation back to his original purpose—to find out what he could about Ling Loi. “Mr. Toy, you said there were a few Chinese women around, but I haven’t seen any. Do you mean a few in America or a few here in Lundy?”