Escape From Gold Mountain Page 4
Loi swallowed down her disappointment and held her voice steady. “If not a wife, then a concubine. If not a cai, then a cip. I would be honored to be a concubine, a second wife, to a man whose wife remains in China. Even if my sons have a lower status than the sons of a true wife, it is better than giving no man sons.”
Her handler roared as he back-handed her on the cheek hard enough that Loi lost her balance and tumbled to the floor. “You reach too high, lowly woman. The telegram has come with orders. I am to send the profits and you back to On Yick Zyu in Dai Fow before cold weather comes. With little work over the winter, men are pouring into Chinatown. He will use you in a brothel there where they will force you to learn your place. Do you think the boo how doy (hatchet men) will treat you with the kindness and special favors you enjoy from these lowly peasants here in Lundy? You will soon know how good you have it here.”
Ah Chin might have sought to intimidate Loi with the prospect of being bedded by On Yick hatchet men—men brutal by nature and who seldom showed consideration for anyone, let alone a prostitute. Loi refused to cringe and give the man satisfaction by acting frightened because of his threat. Who did he think broke her into the sex trade? A gentle teenage lover?
She had not overtly sought out special favors from the local men who came to her. However, with her being one of few Chinese women they had access to, many had developed tender feelings for her. They expressed it by buying her gifts and giving her extra money behind Ah Chin’s back.
“The On Yick Zyu is sending a new woman to pleasure the men, one who will not trick them with feminine wiles. I will teach her to know her duty!”
Loi remained on the floor as she prostrated herself in a sign of submission. She chose to not respond to his accusation. “I beg your forgiveness, Ah Chin. I do not mean to question your wisdom. I honor your words and will do my duty. I only wished to understand my fate.”
If such were possible, the man grew more imperious. “You have no right to know your fate, Ling Loi. You only do your duty to me.”
The man leaned down close enough to Loi she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. “Because of you, I must stay here with these vile white devil miners. If you had been prettier and less sickly when you were first in San Francisco, then maybe the On Yick tong zyu would not have sent me with you to this foul hole to manage this brothel and opium rooms. Some men might like you, but you give me no pleasure.”
Loi stared at the floor, but knew it was safest to say nothing. No matter how she sang for him or gracefully offered him tea before he pushed her to his bed, the man was as rough when he took her as the first tong hoodlum who had raped her.
Besides, Loi understood why Ah Chin was stuck in Lundy instead of being allowed to live in Dai Fow. He had angered many in On Yick. They had sent him to do their dirty work in Lundy where they did not need to tolerate his disagreeable nature.
The man straightened to his full height. “Pack your few worthless possessions and be ready to leave when the time comes. Know this, Ling Loi. As far as the On Yick tong is concerned, you will never be one man’s wife or concubine, not unless you manage to live beyond your usefulness. The white devils passed their latest law making it even harder to bring Chinese women to Gum Saan. The tong high man makes too much money using you as a prostitute. You will work until you are too old, or until the disease the white devils call the French pox has you begging for opium to end your life.”
Loi knew to continue her submissive attitude in spite of her hopes and dreams refusing to die. “This unworthy person of lowest status accepts her fate.”
Loi remained motionless on the floor until she heard the man leave and lock the door to her room behind him. Only when the sound of his retreating footsteps on the wood floor of the hallway could no longer be heard did she push herself to her feet and allow her tears to fall. Her heart sank with the heaviness of disappointment. She dreaded returning to the dank brothel rooms set in the dark, narrow alleys of Chinatown.
Loi had not thought it unreasonable that someday she would find a husband in this land where Chinese women were scarce. As much as she yearned for love like that between her mother and father, she would gratefully accept kindness, security, and enough for her and her children to eat well. She did hope for a husband’s approval each time she presented him with a son. She had endured all the insults, pain, and abuse she had received since she arrived in Gold Mountain based on the hope that once she repaid the On Yick tong for what they claimed she owed, and once she had earned enough for a small dowry, she would be bought by a prospective husband, even if he was only to a lowly laborer, and become a wife. That would at least allow her cong leong (a return to the way of decency). From what she recalled of her Christian teachings, that would be best. She would be satisfied if she could become a concubine, a second wife belonging to only one man who would claim the sons she bore him. However, to have nothing to look forward to the rest of her life other than pleasuring many men, Loi could hardly endure the disappointment.
Ignoring her stinging cheek where Ah Chin had back-handed her, Loi slowly moved to the quilted coat she wore in cooler weather. She gently fingered the heavy black cotton fabric. Only she knew that on the backside of the quilted lining she had sewn strips of fabric in which she had stitched small pockets just large enough to hold individual coins or folded paper money gifted to her from those men who used her, but had rewarded her—especially after a successful night at Mah Jong—beyond the fee her handler demanded. She skimmed her fingers over the portion of her coat lining that still held the red silk wedding outfit her mother, full of hope for Loi’s joyous and prosperous future, had presented to her over four years earlier.
Now Loi wondered, was it truly her fate that she never experience cong leong? Would she never have a husband for whom she could bear sons? Was it her fate to never wear the treasured wedding outfit her mother sent with her?
Then again, she reasoned, if it was not her fate to be a wife, how was it that in the long, hard voyage in the crowded ship that brought her to Gum Saan, she had been able to keep her wedding outfit from prying eyes and thieving fingers? How had she managed to keep the hidden clothes with her while imprisoned in the brothel in Dai Fow where she was “taught” her trade? How had she kept it hidden and in what she hoped was still good condition while a virtual prisoner these past years in Lundy?
Loi tried to remember—did the Christian missionaries teach of fate? She remembered they taught her family they should pray and ask God to help them. Loi shook her head with regret. The Christians might or might not believe in fate, but she did not remember how to pray.
Loi gave the coat lining covering her precious wedding clothes one last gentle stroke with her fingers before she folded the garment and put it in its place. She prepared herself for bed, wondering how long it would be until Ah Chin brought another man for her to pleasure before she was allowed to sleep for the night. She sighed. What will it be like to travel back to Dai Fow in San Francisco to do the bidding of the high man who owned her? What would her future hold?
“Gau ngo! Gau gau ngo! (Help me! Help help me!)” Loi rolled to her stomach and buried her face in her bedding to prevent her cry of frustration and despair from being heard outside of her room. She had been taught to not struggle against her fate, but she wished to. She did not remember the Jesus prayers taught to her when she was younger. All she knew to do was hope.
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Chapter 4
~o0o~
Lundy, California ~ Early September, 1884
I n Lundy, Charley stood up to George Lee’s bar in the Magnolia Saloon and nursed his glass of whiskey. After driving the most recently-rustled herd to the railhead, he ordered Tex and Shorty to return to the hide-out they had been using in the mountains north of Bodie and east of Bridgeport. Since Shorty wasn’t known as well as Tex and Charley in Bridgeport, he had given Shorty some money to buy grub to last them a few days.
/> Charley chuckled as he recalled Dan Mackey’s reaction when he had come up with the new nickname. Charley continued to call him Shorty because he knew it annoyed the devil out of him.
When Charley had handed him some of the folding money from their illicit jobs, Shorty glared at him suspiciously. He demanded to know if Charley intended him to buy the food from his own portion of the pay. If that was the case, Shorty insisted that he be paid in full and he would be on his way. Charley had assured him the money wasn’t from Shorty’s portion. Since he, Charley, was getting the biggest part of the pay-out, he was fronting the money to restock their supplies until they drove the last herd up to be sold.
Charley took a sip and shook his head. Did Shorty think he was a fool? Charley didn’t keep large amounts of money on him. Every chance he got, he returned here to the Magnolia where he kept a room upstairs. Behind the bed frame, he had worked loose one of the inside boards of the outside wall just above the floor and put his money in a metal box he kept hidden there. As long as the saloon didn’t burn down, it was safer than a bank. Besides, no bank existed in Lundy.
Charley twisted and grimaced as he glanced out the window. The rain continued to pour down. The weather did not bother him when he was inside a snug building with a burning hot wood stove in the middle of the room. However, enduring the rain while working cattle out in the open was miserable, almost not worth the money he made doing it.
The conversation farther down the bar about Lundy’s Chinese caught his attention. Charley knew there was no official Chinatown in Lundy. The Chinese were scattered along the outskirts of Lundy in spite of the early attempts by the town fathers to keep them out. The majority of the Chinese businesses, including the brothel and opium den, took up a sizeable portion of Clark Street.
Two miners he had seen about town, but did not know by name, discussed the latest rumor. Something about a painted Chinese woman being shipped out of Lundy and returned to her tong boss in San Francisco. The woman he couldn’t care less about. However, what they claimed was being sent with her did interest him.
“Say, lads, what’s that you were saying about the Chinawoman being sent away? That mean there’ll be one less Chinese whore in Lundy now?”
The man on the far side, a spark of recognition in his eyes as if he knew Charley by reputation only, laughed nervously. “That’s what they say. If you want to have a go at her before she’s gone, you still have a few days. Heard-tell she ain’t leaving until Friday. Taking the Lundy stage to Bodie, and from there up to the railroad in Reno. Not like she’s the only Chinese whore in this town, though.”
Charley snorted in derision. “No, it’s beneath me to settle for a Chinese whore. They’re lower than even a Mexican and not much better than one of them Paiute Indians, eh?”
The man closest to Charley grinned. “They say the French whores are the best. They know how to please a man.”
His companion shook his head, his eyes full of merriment. “If you think those French upstairs girls are really French, then, all I can say is, a fool is born every minute. Most of those gals fake that French accent and bat their eyes with their ooh-la-la business because they figure they can make more money that way. Truth be told, most ain’t nothing but poor girls from back east.”
Charley brought the conversation back to what interested him. “How come they’re sending this Chinawoman away? Not enough business in Lundy now the mine closed?”
“Naw. Heard-tell they’re sending a new one up to replace her—another Chinese who has to earn her way. How they got her through customs, though, I don’t know, seeing as how they passed that law two years back saying no Chinese women can get in the country.”
The other interrupted. “Unless they’re some Chinese mucky-muck’s wife. That’s how they’re doing it, passing them off as married. Once they get cleared, the Chinese turn them out into their brothels.”
The first one snatched back the explanation. “Used to be they did it to pay their boat fare. Way I hear it, nowadays they send men to China and either trick the women into thinking they have husbands waiting for them here, or they downright capture them and bring them over to work as whores making the highbinders in Chinatown big money. That’s what almost all these Chinamen up here are doing—working night and day so they can turn part of their earnings over to some Chinese hoodlum who rules Chinatown like a king. They have to pay for their boat ticket over here, and for the privilege to have a business, and so they can keep breathing, and who knows what else.”
Charley tamped down his annoyance while he listened to the extraneous information. “What do you figure it will amount to—the money being sent back with the Chinawoman?”
The near miner whistled through his teeth. “Thousands.”
“How do you know all this?”
His companion leaned forward and answered Charley. “Jim Toy at the Chinese restaurant told me. He’s pretty proud of himself because he’s one of the few Chinese in this town who ain’t beholden to the local tong boss. Jim says he’s a Six Companies man, whatever that is. You ever eat there? Good food, if you like Chinese.”
Charley shook his head. “No. Tried that rice and bean dish that widow-woman who cooks for that German over at The Arcade fixes, but wasn’t my favorite.”
“That ain’t Chinese food, just her way of cooking with rice. You should try Jim Toy’s to find out what real Chinese food tastes like. You talk nice, he’s a right pleasant fellow—for a Chinaman. He’ll tell you all the gossip about what’s going on with the Lundy Chinese, just like this here latest business. He can’t help bragging on how he don’t have to pay up like they do. Guess that big boss tong of theirs in Chinatown ordered the Lundy Chinese to send all they owe for the year before the snow flies. That and the one Chinawoman. Between what all those Chinamen made and what those whores of theirs brought in, must be a right tidy sum, all heading out of Lundy end of this week.”
Charley shrugged his shoulders. “Not that interested on what the Chinese are doing, not enough to chance eating their food.”
With that Charley slid his drink and his body a couple of feet away from the pair who continued to chatter on about the Chinese residents of Lundy. Charley stared straight ahead as if he had lost interest in the conversation. Truth was, he listened carefully in an effort to glean every bit of information the two might discuss. The two miners dissected the topic of the soon-to-depart Chinese prostitute and all the money being sent to Chinatown until their interest ran its course, and they changed the subject.
Charley glanced out the window. The rain had let up. He finished his drink and left the saloon, intent on getting his horse from the livery. It was time to find Tex and discuss the new plan with him. For the time being, Charley’s days of rustling cattle were over.
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Chapter 5
~o0o~
North of Bodie, California ~ September, 1884
L uke walked his horse into the clearing by the crudely-built log cabin Tex had constructed years earlier and which now served as their hideout. The first thing he noticed about the two men sitting on a downed log outside the cabin door was the strange expressions Charley and Tex wore on their faces. The two were up to something. Staying alert for possible trouble, Luke climbed out of his saddle without turning his back on the pair. He began to unleash the bundle that held the supplies he bought.
Charley walked over and grabbed the ax tied on top. “What’s this for? I sent you for food.”
Luke slowly turned to face him, his face not betraying his annoyance. He wiggled his foot to settle the gold half eagle he had put in his boot into a more comfortable spot. He did not like to think of himself as dishonest. However, after living with his stepfather for years, and being subjected to the man’s lies and manipulations, Luke had learned that, with some people, it was smart to hold back a portion so he would not be caught totally without means. “I brought food. With this rain, we also need plenty of firew
ood. My hatchet is a weapon, not designed for splitting logs. I bought a tool I can use to keep this place warm and dry.”
“Might not be here long enough to need that, eh? Been a change of plans.”
As he continued to loosen the bindings on the supplies he’d bought, Luke glanced at Charley but said nothing. He refused to give Charley the satisfaction of asking about the change of plans.
“Y’all sure this’ll work, Charley?”
Luke’s gaze shifted to Tex who had asked the question. If he was as good with a gun as he claimed, he could be deadly. However, he seemed to be more even-tempered than the big Canadian. So far, in spite of his occasional blustering, he followed Charley’s lead. Without a word, Luke turned back to his task.
Annoyed, Charley stepped forward. “Before you chop down half the woods, Shorty, do you have no curiosity about the change in plans?”
Luke turned and faced the man, his voice cold. “You’ve forced me to rustle cattle with you, Charley, but once we’re done, I expect to get my pay so I can move on. I have no interest in any of your other plans. In fact, I’d rather not know.”
“You’d best want to know, because we’re done rustling cattle. Something better has come up, eh?”
Luke digested his statement. It had been a matter of weeks that they had rustled cattle and driven them to the railroad. It would mean less pay, but it would give him enough to work his way up to Reno or back to San Francisco before the snowfall got heavy. If worse came to worse, he would sign on another ship as a deckhand and sail for Panama—anything that would get him away from these two scoundrels.