"THE SOUL OF LIN LI MEI"
WHERE WAS SCOTT ---
during "THE HEART OF PONY ALICE"?
"THE SOUL OF LIN LI MEI" PART THREE
The winning bid was $120.
Uncomfortably aware that all eyes were upon him-----at least all except for those of Lin Li Mei---- Scott removed the cash from his billfold and coldly thrust it at her white-haired uncle.
Scott hurriedly tucked his wallet inside his jacket pocket, but as he extended a hand towards the girl, Wu Chang positioned himself between them.
"Please to wait."
The genial host was no longer smiling; Scott was fairly certain that no one was smiling, but he didn't want to look around to see. It felt as if the room had grown smaller; a quick sideways glance revealed that the number of occupants had in fact increased and there was no longer a clear path to the door. Scott returned his attention to the uncle, who was making a show of counting the money. Once the elderly man completed the task, he offered a gap-toothed smile, bowed slightly, and stepped towards Scott. With a flourish, he withdrew from some interior pocket of his own a piece of paper covered with Chinese characters.
Scott presumed it was an indenture agreement--essentially a bill of sale he realized with distaste. Deciding that it might be unwise to attempt a too hasty departure, he accepted the document and took his time carefully folding it into a square before tucking it into the waistband of his trousers. He left his right hand there, closer to his gun, and waited.
The silence was oppressive.
Finally, Wu Chang retreated. Scott started to reach for the girl again, then thought better of it.
"Please ask her to come with me."
Wu Chang uttered a command. In response, Lin Li Mei bent down and picked up a covered wicker basket that had been sitting unnoticed on the floor at her feet. Only then did she look up at Scott, her face once more "inscrutable." Scott motioned for her to precede him towards the door; the girl compliantly moved forward and past him. To his relief, the sullen group of silent men parted to make way for her and Scott made sure to stay close behind.
As they passed through the door, the voice in his head increased its exhortations to hurry, but since Scott could still feel all those Oriental eyes boring into his back, he forced himself to continue moving deliberately. John McKay was ready with the reins in hand, his sister seated beside him in the buggy. Scott helped the girl into the back, handed in her basket and climbed aboard, speaking tersely to McKay.
"Let's go."
The railroad engineer promptly set the horse in motion.
No one spoke, except for John, urging the horse into a brisk pace. Scott listened intently, but there were no sounds of pursuit, nor any other sign that they were being followed. The girl sat demurely beside him, her small hands folded in her lap, her head bowed; Scott wondered irritably if her neck was permanently fixed in that position. His tension gave way to the inevitable question: What was he going to do with her?
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"I'll let you out here," John announced as he pulled to a halt in front of the hotel. "Go on inside; I'll return the carriage."
Scott jumped down, then assisted Mrs. Farnham. The girl remained motionless, only looking up with a startled expression when Juditha addressed her in her own tongue. Lin Li Mei hurriedly disembarked and the two women proceeded towards the hotel entrance. The missionary had her arm around the Chinese girl's shoulders and they continued conversing quietly.
Scott nodded to McKay, picked up the girl's basket by its two handles and followed them inside.
"Hey, now, Ma'am, you can't be bringin' that slant-eyes girl in here!"
The night clerk, a much more disheveled looking man than the one who had been on duty earlier in the afternoon, rubbed his eyes; clearly he had been asleep in the rocking chair positioned behind the desk. Juditha and her charge had almost made it past him; they were standing just at the foot of the stairs.
"She has a name, Sir, it's Lin Li Mei." Juditha spoke gently, as if she was explaining something to a slow-witted child.
"Don't care what you call her," the man responded belligerently. "You still can't be bringin' her in here."
"The girl is Mrs. Farnham's maid."
The desk clerk eyed Scott suspiciously. "And what would you know about it?"
"I know that any decent establishment would make provision for a lady's attendant."
Juditha took up the thread. "Is there a problem Mr . . . ? I am sorry, but I didn't catch your name."
"It's Lambert, ma'am, and---"
"Well, Mr. Lambert, the hotel manager didn't have an objection when I checked in."
The desk clerk blinked. "Mr. Clark said it was okay?" Lambert asked dubiously. Although he was pleased that Mrs. Farnham had followed his lead, Scott realized that their ploy was doomed if Mr. Clark shared Lambert's antipathy towards the Chinese.
"He didn't voice any concerns to me," Juditha assured him serenely. "But you can be sure that I will speak with him in the morning."
"Oh, well, there's no need for that, ma'am . . ."
Juditha smiled benignly. "Good night to you then, Mr. Lambert."
Li Mei, who had been standing in her already familiar bowed-head pose turned and started up the staircase, with her protectress following close behind. Juditha place her hand on the girl's back. At the landing, they veered right and stopped outside of what Scott assumed must be Mrs. Farnham's room.
Scott listened in fascination as the two women spoke rapidly in Cantonese, keeping their voices low in deference to the hotel's other patrons. Scott knew enough about languages to realize that their exchange only seemed faster than normal because of his complete ignorance of the meaning of the words. To him, the conversation was little more than a string of exotic sounds. Juditha appeared concerned; Scott could infer little from Li Mei's facial expression.
He did know that Lin was her surname, he'd learned that much in San Francisco, that among the Chinese, the family name came first.
Mrs. Farnham spoke to Li Mei in a comforting tone, then looked up at Scott.
"So what is her story?"
"She says that her family was deceived by her uncle---that he promised to bring her here and find her a wealthy husband. The poor girl never expected to be put up for sale."
"So she hasn't yet . . .?"
Mrs. Farnham instantly shook her head. "No. She's only just arrived. Her uncle said she would bring a higher price if she was 'untouched'."
It surprised Scott that a religious woman would speak so matter-of-factly about such things. Then again, Mrs. Farnham had said what was necessary to mislead the bellicose desk clerk, though she'd stopped short of telling the man an outright lie.
"Does she speak English?"
"She says she doesn't understand any English at all."
Scott considered his new charge thoughtfully. He was certainly fortunate to have Mrs. Farnham on hand as an intermediary.
"Well, I suppose we can send her home, back to China?"
"Back to her family you mean? The ones who sold her?"
Juditha's whispered vehemence gave Scott pause. "Now, I thought you said her uncle lied to them."
"Yes, that's what she told me, and it's what she believes. But I'm afraid, Scott, it may not be quite the truth."
A heavy tread caused them to turn; John McKay mounted the stairs, taking two risers at a time, his tan jacket lifting behind him. Before he could phrase a question, his sister told him what she had just learned from Li Mei. By then John had caught his breath. "What else do you know about her family?" he asked.
"She speaks respectfully of her parents, as most young women would; I haven't yet asked much about them. But I believe she must come from a peasant family."
Scott was taken aback by that assertion. In contrast to Mrs. Farnham's serviceable dark dress, the girl's rose-colored gown appeared to be silk, finely embroidered in bright colors. She also wore earrings and jeweled combs in her hair.
"Why do you say that?"
"Her feet."
Four pairs of eyes were drawn downwards. Scott was no less puzzled. "You mean her shoes?" he asked. Li Mei wore embroidered slippers with turned up toes.
"No, her feet ---they are of a normal size. In China, daughters of wealthy families have extremely tiny feet only three or four inches long."
"Yes, it's true," Juditha insisted, in response to Scott's open skepticism. "Little girls' feet are tightly bound to keep them small. Tiny 'lotus-flower' feet are considered beautiful-also a sign of a family's prosperity, since of course the girls find it difficult to do any work. Why, some of them can barely walk."
"And peasant girls . . . need to work," Scott concluded.
"Exactly. Though sometimes even a less well-off family may bind a girl's feet if they have hopes of offering her as a courtesan or concubine."
"Well, what this girl is is an indentured servant," John observed. "Though I'm not sure how you'll prove that Scott, if challenged."
Scott pulled the paper from his waistband and offered it to McKay. John unfolded the document and shook his head. "I don't read Chinese."
"Nor do I," Juditha added. "It's a very difficult language to learn. The Holy Bible has been translated, but of course the peasants are illiterate."
"You'd better hang onto to this," John recommended as he returned the indenture paper to Scott. "So, what are you going to do?" he asked after a short silence.
Scott pushed his hat back on the crown of his head, then thoughtfully tapped the refolded document against the palm of his hand. "Well, I understand there is a mission soon to be opened in San Francisco . . ."
Juditha smiled warmly. "Yes, there is, and I'd be happy to bring Li Mei home with me. I'll find out more about her family and if she wishes to return to China, then Charles and I will do what we can to arrange it."
Scott resolved that he would offer the missionaries monetary assistance on the girl's behalf, but at the moment he doubted that he had enough cash remaining to pay for breakfast, let alone the transporting of the Lancer stock. One thing was certain, he'd need to visit the bank and make some sort of arrangements in order to replace what he'd spent this evening. Still, it was money well spent-he had no regrets whatsoever on that score.
Opposition to slavery had been a major factor in his youthful determination to enlist in the cavalry. Not the sole reason, perhaps, but Scott's visions of adventure and glory had swiftly faded, trampled in the mud and gore of his first battlefield. His faith in the Union and its cause had endured however, even throughout long months of imprisonment. He fully understood the value of what he could offer this girl: Freedom.
It was agreed that Li Mei would spend the night with Mrs. Farnham. Since Juditha's room was intended for a single occupant, Scott suggested that the women take over the chamber he had shared with Murdoch, which was furnished with two beds. He quickly gathered his shaving things, books and saddlebags and transferred them to Mrs. Farnham's hotel room. She meanwhile packed up her own possessions and her brother carried her traveling case down the hall.
John McKay was putting up in one of the railroad buildings. He reluctantly said his good nights, told them he'd see them in the morning and headed out, leaving the hotel guests to settle in. Scott waited until the ladies were safely inside and Mrs. Farnham had locked the door before retiring to his new quarters.
Scott placed his hat on the dresser and slapped his billfold down beside it. He safely pocketed the indenture documents before removing his cropped jacket and tossing it on the wooden chair that already held his saddlebags. No cushioned seats in the Modesto Hotel; it seemed as if days had passed rather than mere hours since he'd done his reading stretched out on one of the marginally comfortable beds in the other room.
As he unfastened his gun belt, Scott remembered that McKay was walking around at night and unarmed. He'd have to ask his friend about that. Scott had found it difficult, at first, to get used to wearing a gun, and there were still times when he left the hacienda without it. But more and more it was the weight on his hip that he was able to forget.
He wrapped the belt around the holstered weapon and added it to the collection atop the dresser. With a sigh, he took up the billfold and quickly counted what little was left inside.
Not nearly enough to pay for the transport of the stock. There had to be a bank in Modesto, though he couldn't specifically recall seeing one. Fortunately, the train didn't depart until late morning; hopefully that would give him enough time.
Scott wasn't yet ready for sleep; he selected the volume of local history as being more likely than the Twain to help him reach that point. He stood the meager pillow up against the headboard, then stretched out at enough of an angle to keep his boots mostly off of the counterpane.
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"Mr. Lancer! Scott!"
The voice uttering his name and the knocking on the door were not especially loud, but their insistence dissipated his fragile sleep. Ever since the War, he'd slept lightly, wakened easily.
By the time he was on his feet, Scott recognized the voice as that of Juditha Farnham. Pausing only to snatch the rolled up leather of his gun belt and holster from the dresser, he stepped to the door and pulled it open.
Juditha was wearing a robe, the edges pulled tight together with one hand. Her hair was tucked up beneath a ruffled sleeping cap and her face wore a stricken expression.
"They've taken Li Mei!"
Scott promptly unrolled his gun belt. "What happened?"
"Why, I don't know really. I . . . I went to use the necessary, I wasn't away very long, and when I came back the door to our room was open. She's gone!"
Gun belt strapped securely in place, Scott stepped back into his own room to retrieve his jacket. "What about her things?" he asked as he shrugged into it.
"Her basket . . . all of her things are gone."
"Then perhaps she's run away."
Those words pulled Juditha across the threshold. Scott reached for his hat even as he listened intently to what the woman had to say.
"Scott, we talked quite a while before she fell asleep. She agreed to come with me to San Francisco, but she's afraid of that man, her uncle."
"Then I'll find her."
"He hurt her, Scott. She has . . . terrible bruises."
"I'll find her."
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As Scott hurried down the staircase, Juditha Farnham stopped him to ask if he knew the name of Li Mei's uncle. "Pan Lee" she said, then issued urgent but contradictory pleas to "Hurry" and "Be careful" as he continued on.
The phrases stayed with him as Scott jogged down the darkened main street and turned in the direction of Chinatown. He slowed up a bit, the exhortation to "be careful" taking precedence as he crossed the tracks.
As far as he could see, there was no sign of movement; then, when he turned a corner, there they were.
They were walking away from him, the girl in front, with her uncle moving very slowly behind, carrying Li Mei's basket on one hip while leaning heavily upon a cane. Scott didn't want to call after them for fear of attracting unwanted attention; he refrained from giving chase for the same reason. Being unfamiliar with the area, there was little chance of somehow circling ahead and blocking their path. His only option was to quicken his pace and try to catch up with them quietly. Scott briefly considered drawing his weapon, then decided against such a display of aggression. Since the uncle had accepted---and presumably still had---his $120, the Law was on his side.
His quarry halted in front of a doorway. The girl turned slightly, seeming to motion for the elderly man to precede her. Scott gathered it to be another sign of respect, but that line of thought ended abruptly when Li Mei looked up and noticed him approaching. Scott raised one finger to his lips.
Whether she understood or not didn't matter, as her uncle suddenly looked over his shoulder and uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"She's coming with me," Scott stated firmly, and beckoned Li Mei to his side. After a moment's hesitation, she started to move past her uncle, murmuring something on her way by.
After giving her what he hoped was a reassuring nod, Scott turned to address Pan Lee. Reflexively, he flung his right arm up into the air to defend himself. The elderly man's cane smashed painfully into the side of Scott's upraised hand, but Scott still managed somehow to fling the weapon away. Pan Lee lost his grasp, and the cane fell to the ground.
Cradling his injured right hand in his left, Scott studied Li Mei's white haired uncle in disbelief.
"We had a deal."
Pan Lee smiled and bowed. When he straightened, there was the unmistakable glint of a blade in his right hand.
Scott kicked him hard in the left side. Pan Lee crumpled to the ground, the knife spinning across the hard packed earth in the opposite direction from the cane.
"Ooo-oo. Oooooo . . ."
The frail-looking elderly man lay curled on his side, holding his ribs and moaning softly. Scott resisted the impulse to help him to his feet, instead gingerly using his injured hand to remove his gun from the holster.
"She's coming with me. Don't try to follow."
Scott assumed that Li Mei's uncle must understand more English than his niece; if not, then he hoped that his tone and drawn weapon would convey his meaning. At least the man hadn't shouted for help. Scott took that as an indication that Pan Lee was acting alone and that he would be dishonored if anyone knew that he had tried to reclaim his niece after publicly auctioning her.
Li Mei stepped forward now, and knelt beside her uncle and began to speak to him. However, instead of offering him comfort, her tone was clearly one of condemnation.
"Li Mei."
He repeated her name more insistently, and having gained her attention, pointed emphatically in the direction in which they'd come. The girl gracefully came to her feet, bowed submissively and then started walking dutifully in the direction indicated.
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Author's notes:
There are many sources of information on the ancient Chinese practice of foot binding. Wikipedia has an article which includes photographs.
The following link is to a research paper on the topic:
http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/core9/phalsall/studpages/vento.html
There are many sites with information about Chinese names; here are two:
Given names: http://www.20000-names.com/female_chinese_names.htm
Surnames: http://library.thinkquest.org/05aug/01780/essential/chinese-names.htm
during "THE HEART OF PONY ALICE"?
"THE SOUL OF LIN LI MEI"
PART FOUR
As Li Mei mounted the stairs, Juditha asked her a question. The girl waited until she was standing beside Mrs. Farnham before responding in a distressed tone.
Scott reached the landing a few steps behind her and set down Li Mei's basket. He removed his hat and listened patiently to the incomprehensible litany. When Li Mei concluded her account, she turned and offered him a dignified bow accompanied by a fervent speech. Scott recognized only one phrase, "thank you."
Juditha regarded Scott with concern. "She says that her uncle tried to hurt you, Scott---are you all right?"
"I'll be fine."
"She also says that her uncle won't give up, that he's determined to get her back. Li Mei is worried that we may be in danger because of her."
"I doubt he'll try anything more tonight." With a movement of his head, Scott indicated the door behind her. "Still, I think you should return to your own room, just in case. I'll go inside and get my things."
"We'll get ours . . ."
"Juditha . . . I think it's best if the girl stays down the hall."
"With you?"
The disapproval in her tone gave Scott momentary pause. "She's my responsibility. And, there's no need for either of you to sleep on the floor."
Juditha shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I simply cannot---"
"I understand--- but her uncle may get help."
"But if anyone does come looking for Li Mei, surely they'll return to that room?" Juditha asked with furrowed brow. "Wouldn't she be safer with me?"
"Now, I can't have you in the middle of this."
She smiled at that. "Oh, I already am."
Scott tried again. "Look, it's too dangerous."
"Nothing is too dangerous if we put our trust in the Lord."
Scott wasn't sure how to respond to that serene statement. He lowered his gaze to his hat and realized he was holding it so that it hid his injured hand. Mrs. Farnham's objection to his spending the night alone in the same room with Li Mei was not unexpected; it was understandable, even. But the recollection of his encounter with
Pan Lee strengthened Scott's resolve. He looked up and met Juditha's eyes.
"I'm asking you to trust me, right now."
The missionary studied Scott appraisingly for a brief moment. "I believe I can." Despite the affirmation, to Scott's ears, she still sounded reluctant.
Knowing there wasn't much else he could say to convince her, Scott simply nodded, then headed into Mrs. Farnham's room to retrieve his saddlebags and reading material. When he eventually appeared in the doorway of his own double room, Juditha was in between the two beds, closing up the traveling case that rested atop the one nearest the door. Li Mei stood beside her, softly pleading with the older woman. Spying him, the girl reacted by shrinking behind Mrs. Farnham. It was the most emotion she'd displayed.
Scott placed his books on top of the dresser. In deference to his bruised hand, he'd draped his saddlebags over his shoulder; now he dropped them beside Mrs. Farnham's valise, and faced her across the width of the narrow bed. He looked a question at Juditha.
"Li Mei is grateful for all you've done, but she is afraid that you now have . . . expectations, Mr. Lancer."
"I'd appreciate it if you'd reassure her on that score . . . Mrs. Farnham."
Juditha winced at the reciprocated formality. "I already have. And I do beg your pardon for my hesitation---it's not my intention to offend, it's simply that . . . we have just met. I don't really know you."
It occurred to Scott, fleetingly, that given some elements of his personal history, that might be a good thing.
"You don't think that . . . she's a child, Juditha."
"Oh, she's hardly that."
Scott reached for Juditha's case. "In any event, I'm responsible for her---at least until she's safely on that train to San Francisco."
Mrs. Farnham smiled a little at that, as she came around the foot of the bed. They had just stepped out into the hall when she turned to look up at Scott, with a new concern in her eyes. "You're afraid she won't go with me."
He nodded. "From what you've just told me, there's a chance she might decide to try to go back to her uncle herself- to protect us."
"And if she wants to go back to him, for whatever reason, will you try to stop her?"
"Yes."
Juditha raised a brow. "Because you own her?"
"Because he sold her."
With a nod, Juditha conceded the point. She turned and led the way down the hall to her room; Scott followed behind with her traveling case.
When he said good night, he reminded the missionary to lock her door.
"I will. Good night, Dear Cousin; I'll see you in the morning."
Scott was grateful that Juditha Farnham had refrained from adding any parting admonitions; he hoped that her reference to their imaginary kinship indicated that she did, after all, trust him.
It was up to him to keep an eye on the girl. He would have preferred to relocate her, but it was very late and it would have been difficult to ask the desk clerk for another room without explaining why. As it was, Scott had been happy to find Lambert snoring in his rocking chair when he and Li Mei had returned.
Once back in his own room, Scott made sure that door was locked as well.
Lin Li Mei sat on the edge of the farther bed, her feet in their embroidered slippers pressed together on the bare wooden floor, hands clasped in her lap. The girl was no longer attired in her bright silks, he realized; at some point earlier in the evening she must have changed into the more ordinary cotton jacket and pantaloons she now wore. Her wicker basket sat on the floor beside the bed and she regarded him without expression.
Unable to prevent a long sigh from escaping, Scott hung his hat on one of the pegs near the door. When he removed his jacket, he could hear the crumpling of the indenture paper in the inner pocket; he decided to leave the document there, along with his now nearly empty billfold. He hung his cropped jacket beside his hat and turned to face the girl.
"Li Mei, you should try to get some sleep."
No reaction; she didn't understand. Scott repeated the suggestion, along with a pantomime of sleep. Nothing.
"You're safe here," he murmured under his breath, "even if you don't dare believe it."
He was more than ready to lie down in his own bed. But he made the mistake of reaching for his saddlebags with his right hand.
It hurt. A dark bruise had already started to form where he'd been struck warding off the blow from Pan Lee's cane. The injury had hampered even the simple task of removing his jacket. Scott had formed the habit of always carrying some basic medical supplies in one of his saddlebags, a roll or two of bandaging, needle and thread, a small knife, a flask of whiskey. Sitting on the bed, he rummaged around with his left hand and discovered a bottle of liniment as well; something Teresa had recommended for sore muscles when he'd first arrived at the ranch-he'd made liberal use of it back then, too. He had nothing for a bruised hand and swollen wrist, though the whiskey would have been tempting if the girl hadn't been sitting there watching him.
Deciding that wrapping the wrist might keep some of the swelling down, Scott fished out a roll of white fabric, then sat down on the bed with his back to Li Mei. It was awkward trying to hold the narrow band of cloth in place; such was his concentration that he didn't notice that Li Mei had moved until her dainty hands gently took the roll from him, unwinding the wrapping. He looked up at her, but the girl's eyes were on the work.
Li Mei's face was no longer coated with white powder and the golden tone of her skin was now revealed. There was something of a floral scent about her, appealing, though unfamiliar. Her hair shown in the lamplight, a glossy black reminiscent of a raven's wing.
Scott hastily pushed aside the poetic image.
Setting aside the bandage, Li Mei produced a small jar of sweet smelling red ointment, which she liberally smoothed over Scott's hand and wrist. She had a delicate touch. Once the application was complete, she sealed up the container and placed it in Scott's left hand. He examined it curiously while Li Mei began to wrap the bandage around the injured area.
"It needs to be tighter."
Scott regretted the words immediately, pressing his lips together as the pressure on his right hand increased. Li Mei paused, her regard one of unexpected sympathy. He recalled then what Mrs. Farnham had said, that Li Mei bore bruises of her own. Then it struck him.
"You understood what I said."
Those exotic eyes dropped instantly as she released her hold on the bandage. Scott reached out with his good hand to gently lift her chin. Searching her face, he wondered whether there had been other times when she'd responded to instruction or betrayed a subtle reaction to what was being said. He thought that perhaps there had been, but gazing at her now, he couldn't recall a single specific instance.
She closed her eyes and tried to nod. Scott quickly lowered his hand and Li Mei bowed her head. Scott studied the familiar pose and waited.
"Un-der-stand lit-tle bit English," she whispered.
She didn't say anything more, simply took up the roll of bandaging again, and continued winding it around his wrist. The silence was broken by the sound of tearing cloth, as Li Mei ripped the end of the strip in half, then tied it off.
The girl stood before him apprehensively, still holding what remained of the roll of fabric. "Lit-tle bit," she murmured softly.
"Well, I only know one word in Chinese."
Li Mei's delicate features were clouded with confusion.
"One word," Scott repeated, gesturing with his bandaged hand. "Doe-jer."
She bobbed her head, with a ghost of a smile. "Doh je. Thank you, yes."
He decided she'd be pretty if she smiled.
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She was gone.
With a groan, Scott stared in disbelief at the empty bed, then quickly sat up.
The "lit-tle bit" of English which Li Mei understood was evidently far more than she could speak, though she had nodded and said "yes, yes" to his question about San Francisco-she'd called it "Dai Fou." Before Scott extinguished the lamps for the night, they'd also agreed that Mrs. Farnham was a "very nice lay-dee." Li Mei had curled up beneath the thin top blanket of her bed while Scott stretched out on top of his, both of them remaining fully dressed.
Now on his feet, Scott swiftly strapped his gun belt in place. It was the only thing he'd removed, though he'd kept the weapon beside him. It had taken too long to fall asleep, his thoughts spinning through the day's events while he tried to listen for a stealthy step in the hallway over the sound of the girl's soft breathing.
He was about to reach for his hat when he spied the piece of paper on the floor in front of the door.
The short note was from Mrs. Farnham, wishing him good morning, telling him that Li Mei was awake and in her room. Scott dropped back down on the bed and sat for a moment rubbing his face with his hands.
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There was a bank in Modesto---- and the bank manager had heard of the Lancer ranch.
Even with those two pieces of good news, Scott hadn't dared hope that his money troubles would be easily solved; however Mr. Osburn had not only suggested the new Western Union service of wiring funds, but, when Scott pointed out that the transaction was unlikely to be completed before the northbound train's departure, had offered to draw up papers to advance a small loan.
Of course it probably hadn't hurt when Scott had intimated that his father hoped to do a considerable amount of business in Modesto and would be likely to consider opening an account at the local bank. The fact that Scott had funds of his own was irrelevant since it was Murdoch Lancer that the bank manager had heard of; he certainly didn't recognize the name "Scott Lancer" nor did "Mr. Harlan Garrett of Boston" seem to impress him. Osburn did, at least, recognize the quality of the engraved watch that Harlan Garrett had given his grandson, and although he protested that it was "wholly unnecessary" and "most irregular" the bank manager was nonetheless willing to hold the watch and advance Scott the money even before things were set in motion at the telegraph office.
Once the wire had been sent, Scott's next destination was the stable, where he saddled Brunswick, collected the palominos and led them to the railroad stockyard. Leaving the animals in one of the smaller pens, Scott advanced, bank note in hand, to the railroad office.
The man behind the desk assured him that the boxcar they'd requested was ready and that it wasn't too early to load the horses. But when Scott offered him the bank note, the man regarded it doubtfully.
"Well, we mostly deal in cash around here, Mr. Lancer. Gold coin too, not paper."
"I'll let my father know that. We have a ranch down near Morro Coyo and we're planning to do quite a bit of business here in Modesto."
"A spread down near Morro Coyo, you say?"
"Yes."
"Murdoch Lancer's boy are ya? . . . well, if it ain't a small world. I met your old man years ago, it was at a Fourth of July picnic. He won the sack race and made a point of shakin' hands with all us losers. I always considered that real style . . ."
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The mental picture of Murdoch Lancer jumping in a sack was difficult to shake; even if he elected not to reveal the details of his adventure in Modesto to his family, Scott knew that was one image he would undoubtedly share with his brother.
His tasks had taken so long that by the time Scott finally returned to the hotel, John McKay was taking leave of his sister. Scott checked on Li Mei. Over breakfast that morning the girl had confessed to Mrs. Farnham that she been less than truthful about the extent of her English comprehension. Juditha had willingly forgiven her and the two women still planned to leave on the afternoon train bound for San Francisco.
Informing Mrs. Farnham that he had additional business to conduct at both the telegraph office and the bank, Scott walked back to the railroad depot with John.
Once they were alone, McKay didn't waste time. "I heard you had some excitement last night."
"Yes. And I'm sorry for involving your sister----"
"Oh, I'm afraid there wouldn't have been much either of us could have done to prevent it. She asked me to bid, you know."
Scott nodded; he'd guessed as much.
"Of course, Juditha's happy to find her first soul for the new mission," John continued. "I'm glad you brought the girl back. Though it's . . . well, frankly, I'm surprised that feeble old man came after her on his own."
Scott lifted his bandaged hand. "Not that feeble."
McKay smiled, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes. "He had a knife, too, I understand."
"He did."
"Well, it's a good sign, I suppose, that he came alone. Strange though, since he did sell her after all, and got a good price too."
"It that really all she's worth, $120?"
McKay nodded. "The women don't usually charge very much for their services; it would take them quite some time to accumulate that amount."
Scott accompanied John to the building being used as a "bunkhouse" for some of the railroad employees. While gathering up his things, McKay mentioned that he had retrieved Scott's laundry along with his own, and left the package of clean clothes at the hotel. John offered to produce paper and ink so that Scott could write up a statement releasing Lin Li Mei from his service, suggesting that the note be given to the girl along with the Chinese indenture document. Scott was tempted to simply tear up the Chinese "bill of sale," until John pointed out that the paper represented Li Mei's 'emancipation' from her uncle.
"In that case, I'll write my release right here, on the same piece of paper."
There was a desk in the corner of the room, at the end of the row of beds. At the bottom of the page filled with indecipherable Chinese characters, Scott added a few lines and signed his name with a flourish, then asked McKay to sign and date it as well, as a witness.
As he waited for the ink to dry, Scott shook his head in dismay. "Slavery may have been abolished, but it seems some forms of servitude are alive and well."
"The girl, Scott . . . she's one of the fortunate ones---or she will be, once she gets to the mission. Much as I wish my sister wasn't mixed up in this, I think you're doing the right thing."
It didn't hurt to have John McKay's vote of confidence; although he didn't know the construction engineer very well, Scott thought he'd like to get to know the man better.
Scott accompanied his friend to the train. When they reached the passenger car, the two men shook hands.
"Have a safe trip, John, and good luck with that tunnel. And if you ever find yourself down near Morro Coyo, I have a father and a brother who'd enjoy meeting you."
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The Western Union wire came through, but completing his business at the bank-and retrieving his watch---took longer than Scott had anticipated and it was time to escort the women to the train depot for the westbound train.
Juditha was alone in her room when Scott finally returned to the hotel.
"She's not here," the missionary informed him, before he could ask.
Unable to disguise his disbelief, Scott dropped onto the nearest chair and waited for Mrs. Farnham to continue.
"We went out for some air, and when we returned, Li Mei found a slip of paper on the floor. The message was written in Chinese. She said that her uncle had commanded her to return to him and that it was her duty to obey.
"He forfeited his authority over her when he sold her."
"Li Mei doesn't see it that way. He is the head of her family, she cannot show him disrespect."
"She didn't speak to him in a respectful tone last night," Scott objected.
"Then perhaps it is concern for my safety. Li Mei told me that Pan Lee is associated with the Hip Sings, one of the tongs. They are quite powerful in San Francisco."
"So they might make trouble, at the mission?"
"Yes."
"Well, your brother was worried---"
"Scott, I'm not afraid. I pleaded with her to stay, to take the train with me to San Francisco. But short of physical restraint . . . there was nothing more I could do," Juditha said sadly.
"I understand."
"But you are going after her?"
"Yes."
"I expected that you would." Juditha sounded pleased. "That man has already hurt her, and who knows how many more times he may sell her or to whom-- she may not be so fortunate again."
"I still have the indenture paper. Perhaps the Law . . ."
"You could ask the sheriff for help," Juditha agreed doubtfully. "But he may hesitate to enforce an agreement that he cannot read."
Scott had to admit that it wasn't likely that the local lawman would be willing to get involved. And to tell the truth, he wasn't exactly eager to press a case for ownership of another human being.
"And Scott," Juditha added reluctantly, "there is a chance that Li Mei hasn't returned to her uncle, but has gone off on her own."
"What makes you think so?"
"I had some money tucked away, a donation for the mission. It's missing."
"How much?"
"A gold eagle. And she may also have taken----well, it doesn't matter. Do try to find
her, convince her that we can help. Here, I'll write down my address in San Francisco."
Scott dismally considered that with ten dollars, the girl could get pretty far away from Modesto. Meanwhile Juditha quickly made two copies of the mission address, one for Scott to keep and one to be passed along to Lin Li Mei. "I'm sorry that I can't stay; I wish I could, but Charles is arriving soon, and if I'm not there---"
"He'll worry. Let's get you on that train."
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By the time that Scott had seen Juditha to the train station and bid farewell to his "cousin" it was mid-afternoon. Clearly, attempting to locate Li Mei on his own, without assistance from someone familiar with Chinese culture and language was going to be difficult, but he couldn't simply leave Modesto without making some effort to track down the girl.
Scott decided to return to the restaurant to see what he might learn from Wu Chang. The streets of Chinatown were empty, which was a good sign; Scott considered it might be prudent to talk with the man alone. When he reached the eating house, he cautiously peered through the narrow window before approaching the door.
There, at the same table he had occupied with Juditha Farnham and John McKay, sat Wu Chang, and across from him, Pan Lee. There was quite a bit of money on the table. Seated between the two men, was Lin Li Mei.
Dividing the spoils, no doubt, perhaps arranging another "auction," planning to use the poor girl again.
Not if he could help it. Scott drew his gun.
Gently testing the door, he found it to be latched. It only took one hard kick to slam it open.
Three stunned Oriental faces stared at him.
Wu Chang recovered first---smoothly sliding something into the front of his jacket, then standing and smiling. "Mister Lancer, welcome. I bring tea."
"No, thank you, Wu Chang. I think you'd better sit back down."
As he stepped closer, Scott surveyed the tabletop. One gold eagle winked up at him. The neat array of bank notes came to more than his $120 dollar bid, if he assessed things correctly. But it was the presence of fractional currency, and coins of various denominations-most of them small---that suggested that "auctions" were not their only source of income.
"You two are through making money off this girl."
Lin Li Mei's eyes met Scott's.
"You are Fool. They work for me."
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