Escape From Gold Mountain Read online

  After several seconds of silence, Loi gathered enough courage to lift her gaze to see if her mother’s disappointment continued. Shui’s face held no expression as she focused on the black quilted tunic-style jacket still in her lap. Loi watched has her mother’s hand gently stroked the sturdy, mostly unadorned garment made by her own hand. Her hands fingered each individual button that would hold the coat closed, starting in center front at the raised collar, down across the front of the right shoulder, and down the side under the right arm. When she lifted her gaze to meet Loi’s, Loi perceived the depth of her mother’s sorrow.

  “Beloved Daughter, I know not why Heng called the man who takes you to your new husband a snakehead. I advise you to be wary of this man and all who are on the ship with you. Trust no one with whom you travel. That is why I hid the wedding blouse and trousers I made for you in the lining of your jacket. The red silk will bring you and your husband luck, joy and prosperity. Tell no one it is there until you marry.”

  “You sewed a wedding outfit for me?” Tears of gratitude filled Loi’s eyes. She bowed before her mother. “I am honored, Mother. How can I thank you?”

  “You must protect yourself by protecting this jacket and what is inside. No matter if the weather is hot, do not take off this jacket and put it where someone may steal it. Tell no one what is hidden inside. I also hid two needles and several lengths of thread in the lining hem. If your husband gives you money for a gift, cut a small hole on the inside of the quilting and hide it. Use the thread to sew it shut so it does not fall out.” Shui hesitated, and then smiled. Honored First Wife is angry with me for losing two needles and misplacing the thread. Knowing it will benefit you, I will bear her tongue-lashing.”

  Loi braved bringing up one of her greatest concerns regarding her marriage. “You think, then, my feet are small enough to attract a good husband?”

  The topic of Loi’s feet remained a touchy subject among the family, particularly with Heng and his mother.

  Since Loi had been born under a lucky sign, her parents had hoped, if she developed a pretty face like her mother, and she had the desirable lotus feet of a modest, high-quality woman, she would attract a husband from a more prosperous family. Such a marriage would elevate and enrich her birth family. If she married a well-to-do husband, she would never need to worry about having enough to eat, or her birth family’s land being taken away to pay for taxes.

  In the process of her feet being bound, her arches had broken. She had been forced to endure wearing the painful cloth wrappings that forced four of her toes on each foot to bend under the sole and kept her feet the same size as those of a small child while the rest of her body grew. At first Loi rebelled. Gradually, as she came to understand her bound feet would better her life and the condition of her family, she accepted her duty and endured the discomfort.

  At the Christian mission, the family was taught foot-binding was wrong. The minister and his daughter convinced Shui to take the cloth wrappings off Loi’s feet. Over the years, her feet grew some, but nothing fully repaired her bent-under toes or her broken arches. Although her feet remained smaller than normal, they were not the beautiful lotus feet so desirable in her society. They stayed weak and misshaped compared to that of a big-footed peasant woman whose feet were strong enough she could work in the fields. Loi’s feet did not allow her to stand for long periods of time or walk great distances.

  Along with everything else Heng resented, he held this circumstance against her and her mother. First, it had angered him that their father favored her to the point he agreed to have her feet bound to prepare her for a good marriage to the son of a wealthier family than one he might marry into, one that would bring benefit to their family in the form of associations and financial assistance when needed. After her parents decided to no longer bind her feet, and especially after his father died, he begrudged Loi for her failure to possess tiny lotus feet which prevented him from arranging a marriage for her with an influential family that would provide him connections to enhance his status.

  Loi set her thoughts aside and focused on her mother’s next words.

  “With luck, it will be your fate to marry well, maybe to a merchant. Merchants do not have high status here, but I hear, in Gum Saan, they have higher status. They make better money than here and can support a wife and children so none go hungry. Not many women go to Gum Saan. Many men there want a wife—or a second wife, if he has a first wife who stays in China. Although not beautiful lotus feet, your feet may be small enough to attract a well-off husband.”

  Loi looked down, avoiding her mother’s knowing gaze. “I would prefer to be a first wife.” She listened to her mother’s response filled with wisdom and a touch of humor.

  “Being second wife to a prosperous husband in Gold Mountain will not be so bad. Most men marry a first wife before they leave for Gum Saan. The first wives stay in the husbands’ homes in Canton to serve their mothers-in-law. A second wife in Gold Mountain lives far from the first wife. Most important, she need not live with a difficult and demanding mother-in-law who will berate her if she does not quickly produce sons for her husband.”

  Loi pressed her lips together to hold back her laugh. Yes, living so far from Canton and not being required to live with and fulfill the demands of a fractious mother-in-law would be a benefit. She gazed with love on the smile her mother offered, one she guessed was intended to offer hope.

  “Loi, living in Gold Mountain will not be easy for you, but perhaps it is better than here. You must accept your fate. Be a good wife to your husband and give him many sons.”

  ~o0o~

  Traveling in the cart from early morning until after the sun had reached its zenith left Loi hungry and parched. Her mother had packed food inside the basket of her belongings. However, since she did not know what to expect of conditions on the ship, she chose to not eat before she embarked. There were also bowls of rice in the wagon. Heng had not stopped for their meal, so she waited. Rather than incite criticism from her brother, she ignored the food and did not ask for water.

  Finally, Heng pulled to the side of a stream that Loi could see emptied into a river. The scent of dampness and decaying plant matter filled the air. In the distance on the crest of a hill, she picked out the rooftops of several buildings. Heng told her to prepare their food so they could eat before he took her to the ship.

  Her thirst slaked and her stomach filled, Loi joined her brother for the rest of the journey he assured her would end on the other side of the hill. Once they reached the crest, a wide river delta revealed itself. Heng drove down a narrow side street and stopped next to the door of a run-down building. Leaving her in the cart, he disappeared inside for several minutes before reappearing with a poorly-dressed stranger.

  As was polite, Loi kept her head down and her eyes averted. Using her peripheral vision, she noticed the strange man did not show proper manners. With narrowed eyelids, he openly studied her.

  When he spoke, a hint of anticipation colored the man’s voice. “Why is she in the cart? Did you bring me a lotus-footed woman?”

  “No, she does not have lotus feet. Her mother took the bindings off and they grew. She cannot walk far. I will take her to the dock in the cart.”

  Loi watched the man shrug in resignation. “A lotus-footed woman would bring more money, but for what she will do, she does not need to spend much time on her feet.”

  Loi’s mind raced as she tried to foresee her fate. The two men walked side-by-side while her brother guided the ox that pulled the cart. They continued speaking too softly for Loi to hear over the sounds of the turning wheels. Soon they reached the edge of the river where Heng came to the back of the cart and helped her out. A firm grip on her arm, Heng led her, still clutching the basket of her belonging, toward the man who would take her to her future.

  A knot of apprehension tightened in Loi’s stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced his way several times—enough to know he inspected her openly. Loi’s flesh crawled
as his eyes raked her body from head to toe. Loi felt convinced this man had no proper family teaching and was of the worst sort. She began to understand where the term “snakehead” had come from. No matter how much Heng resented her, how could he turn her over to a man like him?

  The man’s face broke into a lascivious grin, revealing rotting teeth. “She’ll do.” He reached inside his left sleeve and pulled out a cloth bundle. He unwrapped a stack of coins and handed several to Heng. “We made a good bargain.” He hesitated and cocked his head. “What did you tell her?”

  “You take her to Gum Saan to find her a husband.”

  Loi’s entire body clenched and her apprehension exploded within her as the man reared his body back and burst out laughing.

  “You have prepared her well. She will give me no trouble.” The snakehead grabbed Loi’s arm. “Come. You are mine now. We go to the ship.”

  Heng did not offer Loi words of farewell or wishes of good luck for her future marriage. Instead, he focused on turning the cart around for the trip back to the family home. Loi struggled to keep up with the man who all but dragged her towards the boat that would take her to the ship. Even as she understood she must accept and submit, she desperately fought down the urge to scream in protest. Hearing the wheels of the cart travel up the hill away from her, she realized the futility of calling to her brother to beg him to take her back home. She feared what lay before her, but knew it was her fate.

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  Chapter 1

  ~o0o~

  San Francisco, California ~ April, 1884

  W hile finishing up his assigned duties on the S.S. San Juan, Luke McDaniels studied with awe the San Francisco skyline as the ship rocked at its mooring in the harbor. Afterwards, he lined up to get his pay for the voyage. Once again, he assured the first mate who handled the transaction that he was leaving the ship for the time being. They discussed Luke coming back after he got his fill of seeing the sights. The purser urged him to sign on again the next time the boat was in the port. Luke assured the man he would keep it in mind. However, as far as he was concerned, his sailing days were over.

  Luke had accomplished what he set out to do. He had left his mother’s home in Minnesota and, with no other experience on the water other than paddling birch bark canoes on the lakes of his homeland, he had talked his way into a job on a tramp steamer hauling freight across Lake Superior. From there, he signed on various boats and ships until he made his way across the Great Lakes and up the St. Lawrence River to the Atlantic Ocean. His next ship brought him to New York harbor. That place had almost overwhelmed him with its size and the number of ships coming and going. However, by staying close to another seaman who shared the goal of working his way to the Pacific Coast, Luke and his companion managed to sign on a steamship that took them as far as Panama. The two crossed the isthmus, a land he considered to be so hot and miserable, he longed for the cool green of Minnesota.

  On the Pacific side of the isthmus, the two hired on the S.S. San Juan, a Pacific Mail Steamship operated by the company that held the contract for transporting U.S Mail from Panama to San Francisco.

  Although his fellow seaman chose to continue to work on the ship, Luke had decided before he ever left Panama, he would debark in San Francisco. He desired to see if the city lived up to its reputation of being a wild and magical place. The S.S. San Juan had dropped anchor the previous night, leaving Luke anxious to continue his exploring on land. As he studied the building-studded hills of the city while being rowed ashore, Luke began to believe that the rumors about San Francisco were true.

  Luke swung his knapsack over his shoulder as he prepared to step off the dock. He knew why he needed to get far away from the quay quickly. Any hoodlum watching his arrival could correctly surmise he had stuffed his pay for the voyage in his pockets. Having already dealt with the dangers lurking around docks in large seafaring cities, he knew such scoundrels devoted themselves to relieving newly-arrived seamen out of their hard-earned wages. Some sailors had not lived through such an experience. In Montreal, Luke had barely escaped being beaten, robbed, and left for dead. He knew he must stay vigilant.

  Another reason for leaving quickly was to avoid being shanghaied. He had quickly learned on the east coast that there were unscrupulous gangs that “recruited” sailors for long voyages by kidnapping and imprisoning them on the ships until they were too far out in the ocean to escape, then forcing them to work. The ship owners called it being impressed into service, but Luke recognized it as slavery. In New York, he had almost been abducted by a gang he later learned had captured sailors for a ship bound for the Gold Coast of Africa. Fortunately, the large group of seamen with him had helped him to fight them off.

  His visit to New York was the last time Luke had touched liquor while in port. From that point on, he reminded himself he needed to keep his wits about him if he did not want to end up being shanghaied.

  Besides, if he did not wish to end up like his stepfather, he must avoid liquor.

  Now on shore in San Francisco, Luke wondered what his stepfather would think if he could see him now. In some state of inebriation more often than sober, the man had spent the last ten years Luke had remained at home belittling Luke, making every attempt to hold him back. He continuously declared Luke would never amount to anything.

  Luke quickly headed in the direction of a road he hoped would take him away from the wharf. At every turn he found himself brushing off attempts by others to catch his attention for their own purposes. He never forgot he no longer enjoyed the company of fellow crew members who could help fight off undesirables. He walked alone. He dared not stop to buy a meal. He dared not seek a bed close to the harbor. He disappeared into the bowels of the city and searched for a relatively safe place to stay until he decided where to go next. If the rumors were true that there was still gold and silver to be mined in eastern California and western Nevada, he intended to find out the details. If the precious metals were gone, he would find other work.

  Luke explored San Francisco for a week before he discovered the wonders of Chinatown. It was bigger than any Chinatown he had seen in his travels. At the local pub near where he rented a room by the week, a couple of regulars he befriended warned him to stay out of the center of the neighborhood where the secret Chinese societies they called tongs or triads ruled with an iron fist. White men risked their lives entering some buildings in the interior of Chinatown without invitation. However, a few streets along the edge offered a glimpse of this culture with its restaurants, laundries, opium dens, and brothels.

  The more he listened to tales about this strange people, the more Luke developed an intense desire to go see what he could learn about the Chinese, something he had never wished to do before. Associates assured him their restaurants served excellent food. They also warned him the Chinese were heathens and very different from Americans.

  Then again, if most of those with whom he spoke knew the truth of his heritage, many of them would consider him a heathen.

  Luke sought out a restaurant reputed to serve good, cheap food. From his table, he spied a meal that appealed to him being consumed by a fellow diner. Through hand gestures and the Pidgin English of the Chinese waiter, Luke ordered the same dish.

  The rice, which made up the bulk of the meal, piqued Luke’s interest. He studied the familiar-looking grain. He tasted it and broke out in a wide smile. Although this rice was white and had come from China clear across the Pacific Ocean, it was very similar to what his mother’s people in Minnesota called the-food-that-grows-on-water.

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  Chapter 2

  ~o0o~

  Bodie, California ~ Late August, 1884

  I n spite of the late summer heat, Luke stood at the Sawdust Corner Saloon bar nursing a cup of hot tea. He had turned his horse into the livery for a good brushing down and graining earlier that day. He had not yet decided i
f he would find a place in Bodie to stay or throw his blanket roll out on the ground outside of town. After spending time exploring San Francisco, but deciding there was nothing to hold him there, he bought the horse and saddle for traveling to the gold and silver mining regions of the eastern Sierra Nevada Mountains. The money he had squirreled away all those months he had worked the tramp steamers and mail packets had dwindled to almost nothing. He needed to find work, and soon. A stop in Bridgeport on his way south from the eastern end of Sonora Pass offered him hope of good-paying jobs for miners either at the Standard Mine here in Bodie, or at the May Lundy or surrounding mines up in the mountain town of Lundy, west of Mono Lake.

  Luke tensed as two men—rough-looking characters like those which had given Bodie its reputation for attracting bad men—shoved up to the bar not three feet from where he stood. One stood tall with long, lanky limbs, reddish-brown hair, light blue eyes, and skin that obviously freckled in the sun. The shorter of the two by only an inch had brown hair and dark eyes. He boasted a barrel chest and shoulders bulkier than those of his companion. Luke eyed them with caution. They looked like trouble. They both stood several inches taller than him and outweighed him considerably. Luke was quick on his feet and fought well with hand weapons. His aim with a long gun was true. However, he was only average with a handgun. Whether a fist fight or gun fight, he preferred to avoid tangling with the pair.

  After glancing over and noticing Luke’s beverage of choice, the tall redhead snorted with derision. “A teetotaler, are you? Rather hot out for that.”

  Luke straightened to his full height. He kept his words soft and non-challenging. “Don’t need liquid courage right now, just something to cut the dust. Not sure if I can trust the water here.”

  One thing Luke had learned in his travels was that the Irish and others who had worked on railroad crews across the Great Plains had suffered bouts of cholera, dysentery, and other diseases caused by bad water. On the other hand, the Chinese railroad crews drank tea made with boiled water. They stayed healthy.