The Case of the Deadly Desperados

by Caroline Lawrence

  I did not know what he meant, so I said, “Yes?”

  Titus Jepson made his right hand into a fist & shmooshed my piece of chocolate cake.

  I looked at the shmooshed cake in dismay. I had been enjoying it.

  I said, “You shmooshed my cake.”

  Titus Jepson said, “Imagine that cake is the mountain. Mount Davidson.”

  I said, “I was enjoying that piece of cake.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Now, imagine that the vanilla frosting is a big deposit of silver ore.” He took my butter knife & scraped the frosting off the top & put it on one side of the plate. “Not that top frosting. The frosting inside. The frosting between the layers. That is the ledge, the Mother Lode.”

  I nodded.

  “Of course that silver is mixed with quartz and other trash, and you have to pound it and treat it and amalgamate it before it becomes silver, but it’s there.”

  I looked at my piece of cake & nodded again.

  “See how the frosting between the layers is thin in some places but thick in others? Because I shmooshed it?”

  I nodded.

  “And see how even though it’s all shmooshed around it is still connected, despite the various dips, angles, spurs and variations?” He held up the plate & showed me. “Still connected, do you see?”

  I did not understand all his words, but I clearly saw what he meant.

  “Yes,” I said.

  Titus Jepson put down the plate & picked up the knife. He used it to make three small dents in the top of the shmooshed cake. “These are various ravines in Mount Davidson,” he said. “That one is the Ophir Ravine.” Then he took my coffee cup & poured a little dribble of coffee on it. “And that there is a little stream that trickles down through the Ophir Ravine. It is called the Mexican Stream because in the early days of this city two poor Mexican brothers lived there and the stream was on their property. They traded their water for a few feet of a mine called the Ophir and they called their section of the ledge the Mexican Mine. It turned out to be the thickest part of the frosting ledge. Those two poor brothers sold it a few years later and now they both have mansions, you bet.”

  Titus Jepson picked up a knife & carefully cut a small section out of my cake, then held it up on the knife. “I own three feet of the Mexican Mine and it provides some mighty tasty income.” He popped the segment of cake in his mouth & ate it.

  I also took a bite.

  “Sorry I shmooshed your cake,” said Titus Jepson. “Would you like a fresh piece?”

  “No, sir,” I said, taking a forkful of the Mother Lode. “It is just as good shmooshed as it is puffy. And now I understand what a ledge is.”

  Titus Jepson nodded and smiled. “Now that I have told you something, you can tell me something in return. What has Belle done now?”

  I guess I should have figured.

  In return for a piece of Comstock Layer Cake—and a lesson on the geography of the region—Titus Jepson wanted information about Belle Donne.

  “Is Belle your daughter?” I asked.

  Titus Jepson looked at me with Expression No. 4: Surprise. “Dog my cats, no! She is going to be my wife.”

  “Your wife?”

  “I hope so. I want to make an honest woman of her and marry her,” he said. Then he looked down at the table and scraped at a bit of dried egg with his thumbnail. “But she has a bad habit,” he said.

  I said, “I crack my knuckles sometimes. Ma Evangeline says that is a bad habit.”

  Titus Jepson shook his head & looked up at me. I saw that his eyes were moist. “Not that kind of habit,” he said. “I’m afraid she is in danger of becoming a Dope Fiend.”

  “What is a Dope Fiend?” I asked.

  “Opium Smoker,” said Titus Jepson. “Every time Belle gets a few dollars she goes down there to Chinatown and has a pipe. I have tried to get her to quit but it is no good. I don’t think she’ll ever change.”

  I nodded wisely. Ma Evangeline always told Pa Emmet that his pipe was a bad habit.

  At that moment we heard a commotion from the room next door.

  “Where is she?” yelled a voice, muffled by the door between us. “When I find her, I am going to gut her like a pig.”

  I choked on my mouthful of cake.

  Whittlin Walt had found me once again.

  Ledger Sheet 24

  BEFORE I COULD BOLT for the exit, the door of the Private Room for Ladies & Children burst open & in came Whittlin Walt & his pards.

  Luckily, I had stopped by Isaiah Coffin’s Ambrotype & Photographic Gallery before coming to the restaurant and I had adopted a new disguise, that of a Celestial. I was wearing loose blue pantaloons and a shirt with toggle buttons and also a flat straw hat with a false pigtail attached. I had looked myself over in the mirror and I judged that my “muddy complexion” made this my most convincing disguise so far.

  Walt would not give me a second glance. He was looking for a little girl in pink calico and a bonnet.

  Or was he?

  “Where is she?” yelled Walt again. He was waving a Bowie Knife as long as my forearm. “Where is Belle Donne? They said she would be here!”

  “Oh!” cried Titus Jepson, jumping up from my table. “Oh my!”

  “You!” said Walt, grasping a fistful of Jepson’s apron and pulling him close. “Where is Belle Donne? They told me she eats here regular.”

  “I don’t know!” cried Titus Jepson.

  “Do you know who I am?” said Walt.

  “No,” stammered Titus Jepson.

  “My name is Whittlin Walt. You tell me where to find that girl or I will start cutting off your fingers and toes!”

  “No,” said Titus Jepson. “Please, no. I’m very attached to my digits. I don’t know where Belle is. I swear!”

  The Mexican waiter was standing to one side watching. He was clenching & unclenching his fists. The blond family and the woman in black were staring wide-eyed.

  “Talk!” said Walt. He grabbed Titus Jepson by the wrist & pulled him over to my table, which was the nearest. I shrank back against the wall. Walt pushed Jepson’s plump hand flat on the tabletop & brought down his Bowie Knife.

  Titus Jepson screamed as the tip of his left pinkie finger flew up into the air. It dropped down onto my plate, right among the crumbs and frosting.

  The woman in black began to scream & the blond children were crying.

  A pool of blood was spreading on the table.

  “Now talk!” said Walt, holding up his bloody Bowie Knife. “Or I will keep whittling away at you and finally I will show you that nothin’ can happen more beautiful than death.” He laughed, as if he had said something funny.

  “I’ll talk!” screamed Titus Jepson. “I’ll talk!”

  “Where is Belle?”

  “She is probably down in one of them Opium Dens in Chinatown.”

  “Which one?” said Walt, letting his knife hover over the ring finger of Jepson’s left hand.

  “Ah Sing!” said Titus Jepson. “She usually goes to Ah Sing.”

  “I know Ah Sing,” said Extra Dub. “It is down there on F Street. Little coyote hole in the mountain.”

  Walt nodded and spat some tobacco juice onto the floor. “See?” he said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He wiped his knife on the seat of his pants and said to his pards, “Come on, boys. Let’s pay a visit to Chinatown.”

  “No!” sobbed Titus Jepson. “Don’t hurt Belle. Please don’t hurt my Belle.”

  But they were already heading out the side door.

  As they left, Extra Dub pointed his Colt’s Navy Revolver at the ceiling and fired a shot. Its loud report made my ears ring & caused flakes of plaster to rain down on us. It set off a new wave of screaming.

 
Titus Jepson was gasping & weeping & shaking his head. “Oh no!” he cried. “They’ll carve her up. My poor Belle.”

  I stood up.

  So far Walt and his pards had called the shots.

  It was time for me to do something apart from running away.

  “Don’t worry,” I said to Titus Jepson. “I will find Belle first and I will warn her.”

  Titus Jepson looked down at me with a blotched and tearful face.

  “If you help Belle,” he said, “I will give you discounted meals here till the end of time.”

  Ledger Sheet 25

  I DID NOT NEED my Indian tracking skills to follow the trail of Walt and his pards. A light dusting of snow showed their tracks as plain as day. I soon caught up with them at the junction of Taylor and D Street. I kept them in sight but hung back in the shadows cast by the torches.

  They had picked up a bottle of whiskey somewhere and were taking swigs from it in turn. Once Boz slipped and fell. Walt reached out a hand as if to help but only took the bottle. Extra Dub helped Boz up and they all laughed.

  I had to be careful, too. The snow made the steep road real slippery and I was not used to wooden-soled sandals.

  By and by Walt and his pards turned left at F Street, the same street where I had found myself a few hours before. Chinatown looked different at night. A fog of incense hung over the huts and paper lanterns glowed like stars. I took my seven-shooter out of my medicine bag and held it in my right hand. Then I slipped my right hand into the sleeve of my left arm and vice versa, as I had seen some Celestials do. That meant my gun was ready but hidden, and my hands were not too cold. Once Boz turned to look back, but I just kept my head down and he did not seem concerned. I guessed I looked just like another Chinese boy to him.

  Extra Dub seemed to know the way and he led Walt and Boz through a warren of shacks and tents. At last they reached a part of the snow-dusted hillside with a rock-lined cut leading to a low wooden door.

  “You keep watch, Dub,” I heard Walt say. “Boz and I will have a look inside.”

  Walt and Boz had to bow their heads to enter. Dub took a cigar from his coat pocket & struck a match against the rough stone of the cut. As he bent his head to light his smoke, I pulled my hat down & put my sleeves together & I shuffled past him.

  Dub did not give me a second glance.

  The wooden door opened as silently as if its hinges sat in cups of oil. As I went in I saw the wooden lintel above me was blackened by smoke. Inside, it was so dim and smoky that at first I could only see a few globes of yellow, red or blue light. It was quiet in there, too, and apart from the soft chink of the desperados’ spurs and a strange bubbling I could hear nothing. There were people smoking in there and the bittersweet tobacco smelled like burning flowers and made me dizzy. I knew that was the Opium Smoke. I tried to breathe through my mouth, so I would not become a Dope Fiend.

  As my eyes adjusted, I could see that the walls of this cave were lined with narrow bunk beds stacked four high. Almost every bunk was occupied by a person sleeping or smoking. The pipes were very long and I guessed they were Chinese, like the tobacco. Some of the pipes were so long that they had to be held by attendants dressed just like me.

  I heard Walt talking and turned to see him looming over a little old Chinaman who sat at a table inside the door. On this table were brass scales & boxes & coins.

  Walt was speaking to the old man in pidgin English. “Me comee find white hurdee-girlee,” said Walt. “You see hurdee-girlee?”

  The old man said something that sounded like “Humf!” and then began to speak rapidly in Chinese.

  I turned and quickly scanned the Dope Fiends in their bunks. Belle was in the dimmest corner on the lowest bunk. I slipped off my wooden-soled sandals & left them beside some others inside the door & padded silently across the beaten earth floor.

  Belle’s eyes were half closed. When I whispered her name in her ear she did not respond. She was wearing her red and pink dress but without the hoops. She must have taken them off and left them at her crib. Her hat and parasol, too. But the little beaded purse still hung around her wrist.

  I could hear the old Chinaman still demanding something of Walt—money probably—so with my back still to them, I slipped my seven-shooter into the pocket of my loose pants. Then I reached forward & quietly undid the snap of her purse & felt inside.

  Success!

  My piece of paper was there! There was also some paper money by the feel of it, as well as her small powder flask and lead balls, but my gold coin was gone. With pounding heart and dry mouth, I slipped the Letter and a few dollar bills into my pocket along with the Smith & Wesson’s seven-shooter. I left some money in her purse, along with the powder flask and balls, so as not to arouse suspicion.

  As I started to move away, Belle slowly turned her head and I saw her half-closed eyes try to focus as she looked at me. She opened her mouth to say something but I pressed my finger against her lips. Then I moved over to the bunk next to hers and pretended to busy myself with the objects laid out on a low table.

  There was a little alcohol lamp there that burned with a blue flame & a wooden box full of something that looked like brown putty & a long bamboo pipe with a clay bowl at one end.

  I heard the jingle of spurs as Walt and Boz came over to Belle’s bunk. From beneath the rim of my straw hat I watched Walt search her. She was so sleepy that she hardly protested.

  “There,” said Walt at last, tossing Boz the Double Deringer. “You can keep that as a souvenir.”

  Boz took it with his left hand and put it inside his vest. I saw that his right hand was bandaged.

  Walt stood up and cursed. “That danged kid was lying. She don’t have that Letter. Let’s go.”

  “But she was the Hore what shot me,” whined Boz. “I’m gonna pay her back.”

  With his left hand he pulled his Colt’s Navy Revolver from his pocket and pressed the end of the barrel against her forehead.

  Belle had betrayed me & tied me up & robbed me, but I did not want to see her murdered.

  With my right hand still in my pocket I cocked the hammer of my Smith & Wesson’s seven-shooter. It might not be accurate, but from only two feet away I could not miss.

  Despite the promise to my dying ma, I was prepared to use it to save Belle’s life.

  Ledger Sheet 26

  I SAID TO MYSELF, “If Boz cocks his piece I will shoot him.”

  Thankfully I did not have to.

  Before he could pull back the hammer, Walt put a hand on his arm. “Not now, Boz,” he said in a low growl. “And not here. But I promise you will get your revenge later.”

  “Yeah,” said Boz. “A bullet in the brain is too good for her. I’m gonna make her suffer. Let’s get out of here. Let’s find that kid.”

  They exited the Opium Den and I nearly fainted from relief & also from the smell of the pipe smoke, which was making me light-headed.

  I tried to think what to do.

  I had got my Letter back and I needed somewhere safe to stay until I could take it to the Recorder’s Office the next morning.

  I also thought I should warn Belle that her life was in danger from a vengeful Boz. Yes, she had betrayed me, but I did not want to see her suffer.

  It seemed to me the best place to spend the night would be right where I was. Walt and his pards would not come back here anytime soon. There were a few empty bunks up high and I could sleep on one of those.

  I went over to the Chinaman and when I lifted my head to look at him he opened his eyes wide in Expression No. 4: Surprise. I guess he could now see I was not a Chinese boy.

  I took out a $1 bill and said, “How much to spend the night?”

  His eyes narrowed again. “Five dollar for pipe and bunk,” he said.

  I said, “I do not want a pipe.
Just a place to spend the night.”

  He said, “Does this look like boardinghouse? You pay five dollar. You get pipe and bunk for two-three hours. Then go.”

  “Please?” I said. I pulled out the other two bills. “I can pay you three dollars. Just a little bunk up high? Just until that lady goes? No pipe.”

  The old Celestial pursed his lips.

  “Please?” I said again. “It is all I have.” Then I added, “I’m a friend of Ping’s.”

  “Ping?” he said. “Which Ping?”

  “Ping the nephew of Hong Wo,” I said.

  Once again the old man’s eyes opened wide.

  He glanced around and then scowled up at me.

  “All right. One dollar for bunk no pipe. You go up there.”

  “If I fall asleep will you wake me up when that lady goes?”

  He gave a short nod. “I will wake you.”

  I gave him the $1 and went over to the bunks across the smoky cave from Belle and climbed up to the topmost bunk, which was vacant. I took off my straw plate hat and rested my head on it. There was only a greasy rush mat on the hard wood but I soon felt a delicious warmth in my bare toes. The sensation crept up my feet and legs and body. By and by I felt warm all over, like I was floating in a tub of hot water. My twisted ankle stopped throbbing and all my bruises stopped hurting. Best of all, I felt my grief seep away and a strange calm replace it.

  I must have fallen asleep, because I had a beautiful dream. I saw Ma Evangeline and Pa Emmet. They were walking hand in hand along the Streets of Glory. Heaven looked kind of like Virginia City, only flat, not steep, & with buildings made of jewels instead of raw planks & streets made of gold as pure as glass. There were trees there, too. They had heavy green leaves and big waxy flowers that glowed red and yellow and blue. The flowers gave off the sweetest perfume I have ever smelled.