DELIBERATE JUSTICE: The American Way

by Thomas Holladay

  Hocker nodded and blinked. Maybe he understood.

  Mikhail doubted his ability to develop or execute a plan. "When I am in Sacramento, I will meet with others to make a list of honest lawmen who could be willing to serve as town sheriff. I will send this to Dr. Davison at his pharmacy."

  "I like that." Hocker smiled and pointed to the center stack of papers.

  Mikhail read the headings, fanned through them, and picked up the slave documents. "I will take these to Judge Heydenfeldt."

  "Waste of time. I sent all the girls home last night. My hotel, sir, is not a whorehouse." Hocker remembered something, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a case of playing cards. Maybe a dozen unopened packs remained. "You know anything about cards?"

  Mikhail opened a new pack of cards and fanned through it, looking at the backs. Two horses reared up, facing each other, colorful scrollwork all around. The horses had red or black hooves, some to the right and others to the left. Those to the left were face cards. Those to the right were numbered cards. Aces were either all black or all red, depending on the suit. "Da. Yes, you are correct. These cards are for cheating. I will take one deck with me." He smiled and looked at Hocker. "I like to cheat."

  It took a moment for Hocker to understand this one. "Oh, haha. I get it." He handed Mikhail another stack of papers. "These are the deeds to seized property."

  Mikhail handed them back without looking. "Make sure these are returned to their proper owners. I will enter this in my report to the governor."

  Hocker agreed with a nod and pointed into a large, open, lower drawer. "What about this?" Many stuffed leather bags filled the bottom of the drawer.

  "Is gold?"

  Hocker smiled and nodded.

  An honest man.

  Other men might have kept this for themselves and said nothing.

  "Perhaps you should announce this discovery and set a public hearing for next month." Mikhail would be long gone. It was a community responsibility anyway. "Tell the people to present their claims of redress and disburse these funds accordingly."

  "What about my hotel, and all the money he made here?"

  "Put in your claim, like everybody else."

  "Who's going to decide this business?"

  "Henry, appoint three men who have no claims for redress."

  Take charge of something.

  MIKHAIL FOLLOWED HENRY Hocker into Davison's pharmacy. A small restaurant with two tables and chairs had been jammed into the front against the windows. Two women cooked breakfast behind the pharmacy counter.

  Dr. Davison and Winston Bray stood from one of the tables to shake hands. All four men sat. One of the ladies brought Mikhail a platter with four fried eggs, a slab of ham, and two buttered biscuits. The others smiled, nodded, and bobbed, telling him to eat.

  The ladies quickly delivered three more identical platters with a pot of coffee.

  They ate, reviewing Mikhail's discussion with Henry Hocker, agreeing to hire a new sheriff and have him arrest Preston Dawes. Let Preston think he'd gotten away with it for now and he'd be less likely to flee.

  Mikhail would never forget Preston's comment about the victims only being Chinese. Deep guilt flooded over him, remembering his previous attitude during the war in Vladivostok.

  Never again.

  Davison pulled up his pocket watch and checked the time. "We need to get up to the lodge."

  Outside, blinding bright sunlight reflecting from melting snow and water conveyed the welcome warmth of spring.

  Several other men climbed the circular stair.

  At the proper moment, Davison pressed Mikhail's back, pushing him up the stair.

  Mikhail reached the shallow landing and crossed into an open doorway. A man stood in a vestibule wearing a lambskin apron and carrying a sword; the lodge Tyler.

  Davison said, "This is Mike Zabel, a brother from St. Petersburg, in Russia."

  The Tyler smiled and handed Mikhail a lambskin apron.

  Mikhail put it on.

  The Tyler extended his right hand.

  Mikhail took his hand in the strong grip of the lion’s paw. They went on the five points of fellowship. He whispered the first part of the secret word, the Tyler whispered the second, and Mikhail whispered the third.

  "Welcome, my brother." The Tyler smiled and stood aside.

  Davison and the others hurried around Mikhail to take their respective chairs in the lodge, donning their officers' aprons and collars as they passed.

  Mikhail entered between the sacred columns and the Tyler closed the door behind him.

  The Junior Deacon, a familiar face, carried his rod in his left hand, stood to Mikhail's left side, took Mikhail's left arm, and led him to the centrally located altar where a large Bible lay open.

  The familiar arrangement looked the same as in St. Petersburg. Rows of chairs lined both sides where men sat in lambskin aprons. A podium stood in the east with Davison behind the lectern. The symbolic square hung from the dress collar around his neck, a tall plug hat on his head.

  Davison gaveled and the brothers stood on both sides, facing the east. They all gave the secret sign, a symbolic gesture of certain death should they ever violate their obligation to never reveal the secrets of a master mason.

  Davison said, "Brethren, this special meeting of Weaverville Lodge Number Seven, California F. and A. M., is called to order." He gaveled and everybody escept Mikhail and the Junior Deacon sat.

  Henry Hocker sat in the west, Senior Warden.

  Winston Bray sat in the south, Junior Warden.

  The Junior Deacon said, "Worshipful Master, may I present Brother Michael Zabel, the Count Mikhail Diebitsch-Zabalkansky, from a lodge of Master Masons in St. Petersburg, Russia." He dropped Mikhail's arm and whispered, "Give the sign, my brother." The Deacon returned to his chair.

  Mikhail gave the sign of a Master Mason.

  Davison said, "Welcome, Brother Zabel. Please be seated among the brethren." He gaveled and motioned to the north, where Mikhail found a place between two nodding heads, both happy for his company.

  Everybody but Davison sat. "Brethren, I called this special meeting in response to events over the past twenty-four hours. As many of you already know, our brother mason, Michael Zabel, was deputized as a California Ranger by Supreme Court Justice Solomon Heydenfeldt and sent here to investigate certain goings on with our newly deceased town sheriff."

  The assembled brethren smiled and nodded at Mikhail. A few chuckled.

  "Last night, his first night in town, Brother Zabel was attacked in his hotel room, and found a nearby tree to affect his escape. This was witnessed by Chiang Po, a pharmacist from China, and his young daughter, Chiang SuLin. Together, they ushered our brother to the willing protection of Junior Warden Winston Bray."

  Brothers mumbled and nodded approval toward Bray.

  "Chiang SuLin was sent home by her father to bring back some medical instruments to attend our brother with something that could remediate the pain he had suffered from his tree-snared fall from the second floor window of Hocker House.

  "When she arrived home, the sheriff's deputies were waiting. Thereupon, they seized the girl and set fire to their home.

  "Driven by wind, the fire spread quickly and destroyed much of the Chinese community. If not for the diligent labors of Brother Zabel and others, this lodge and our drugstore would certainly have been destroyed, as was some of the brewery next door.” He looked up and waved his gavel at the whitewashed ceiling.

  Davison gaveled, and the lodge members stood. "My brothers, if you please, let us raise a salute for our visiting brother."

  Right hand over left, the lodge members clapped three times in unison, turned their hands left over right, clapped three times, and turned them again, right over left, for three final claps.

  Davison gaveled and the brothers sat.

  Henry Hocker stood and gave the sign. "Worshipful Master, brethren, we have set aside funds for the purpose of paving the main street through our tow
n. I motion that these funds be used to rebuild the Chinese community. We can pave the road next year."

  The Junior Deacon rose, gave the sign, and said, "Worshipful Master, I second the motion. After all, we are talking about mostly canvas, rope, and tent poles." He sat. Davison looked around the lodge. "Is there any further discussion?"

  A well-groomed man near Mikhail stood and gave the sign. "Worshipful Master, brethren, what are we doing here? These Chinese immigrants can look after themselves. They're already swarming all over the place, taking gold from claims we all had thought were long played out." He looked for support.

  Nobody stood.

  He sat.

  Davison looked around the lodge. "Any other discussion?"

  Nobody stood.

  "There being none; brothers, it has been moved and seconded that we issue funds from our treasury for the purpose of rebuilding the Chinese community. As I understand it, these funds will not exceed those previously set aside for the purpose of paving the main road through town."

  Nods from Hocker and others confirmed this.

  "How say you, yea or nay? All those in favor?"

  Most of the assembled brothers said, Yea."

  "All those apposed?"

  The single objector said, "Nay."

  Davison said, "The yeas have it. Mister Secretary, it is so ordered." He gaveled and the lodge secretary made a note in the ledger.

  Davison said, "Is there any other business?"

  Winston Bray stood, gave the sign, and said, "Worshipful Master, as you already know, since their arrival here, seeking only to serve our community, Chiang Po and his daughter have been constantly harassed by Sheriff Randy Bartow and his deputies. They have been illegally forbidden to practice their profession, and their legal property, that being the productive claim of Mai WanSu, was seized by the sheriff and WanSu was shot dead, supposedly over a game of cards. WanSu was known by all not to have been a gambler, but we stood by and did nothing. Now, even their home has been destroyed."

  The one objector stood and shouted, "We're not going to rebuild that, are we?"

  Davison gaveled twice and the objector sat, red faced with anger.

  Speaking to the lone objector, Bray said, "It was my intention to donate my time and labor to rebuild their house. I am asking nothing from this lodge. However, if any of the brothers wish to contribute for materials, their assistance will be appreciated. Also, if any brothers wish to donate some time, I could use someone to mix mortar and stack materials.

  "This is not such a noble gesture on my part as some might think. Mrs. Bray has insisted on putting them up in our home until such a time as they can find suitable quarters." He shook his head. He wanted his home back.

  "For the first time in many years, Chiang Po brought relief to my wife, Wanda. As many of you know, she suffered terrible headaches. Under his care, she no longer suffers from this affliction." Bray smiled and sat.

  Davison said, "Has any other brother any business to bring before this lodge?"

  Hocker stood, gave the sign, and said, "Worshipful Master, our special guest and I surveyed the possessions of our deceased town sheriff early this morning. We found certain items we felt were the legal property of others.

  "This town has been directed by this California Ranger to announce and hold a public hearing in which citizens will bring forth their claims of grievance for redress. We will need to find three good men with no grievance to settle all such claims."

  Davison said, "Is this lodge business, my brother?"

  Hocker said, "Maybe not. Neither was yours or Bray's." He sat.

  Davison said, "Has any other brother any business to bring before this lodge?"

  Nobody stood. All eyes turned toward Mikhail.

  Davison said, "Brother Michael Zabel, please approach the east."

  What?

  Mikhail stood, walked to the east end of the lodge, and stationed himself in front of the master's podium.

  Davison pulled a polished wooden case from under his desk and stepped down in front of Mikhail. "My brother, in honor of your many unselfish services to our community, it is the honor of Weaverville Lodge Number Seven, California Free and Accepted Masons, to present you with our Hiram Award. This will include your lifetime membership in our lodge."

  Davison positioned the box in front of Mikhail and lifted the hinged lid to reveal a nicely framed document with the gold seal from the Grand Lodge of California. A gold medallion on a blue ribbon had been loosely wrapped around a special dress lambskin apron at the side. Davison handed the box to Mikhail, took out the medallion, and dropped it over Mikhail's head. He handed the framed document to Mikhail.

  The Senior Deacon, a man Mikhail had not seen before, helped change his apron. Both men shook Mikhail's hand and returned to their respective chairs.

  Humbled by the experience, not knowing exactly what to do, Mikhail displayed the framed award to the assembled brothers.

  They all looked well pleased, even the one objector.

  Speaking privately to Davison, Mikhail said, "I am very surprised by this. What should I do?"

  Davison spoke to the lodge. "Brother Zabel, have you anything to say to the brethren?"

  Mikhail closed the box, tucked it under his arm, and turned to look at Winston Bray. "I owe my life to Winston Bray. Had he not admitted me into his house, I surely would have died in the cold of night. I, being Russian by birth, a nobleman in my own country, have seldom witnessed the kind of nobility I find here in this remote town in the mountains. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I shall never forget.

  "If any of you are ever in need, I can be reached at the White Chapel Saloon on the Barbary Coast or at the Palace on Meigg's Wharf, both well known in San Francisco. I receive mailings at the Mail Wharf.

  "It is I who am in your debt. I wish I could stay and get to know you all, but I must return to San Francisco as soon as possible." He clicked his heels, bowed, and returned to his chair.

  Davison stood and gaveled three times.

  The assembled brothers stood.

  Davison said, "This lodge is adjourned." He gaveled once more and everybody moved toward the door.

  Mikhail set the wood box on the Senior Deacon's chair, opened it, took off the apron and collar, and put them into the box with the framed document.

  Seeing an opportunity, just now thinking of it, Mikhail hurried across the lodge and stopped Henry Hocker.

  After receiving handshakes and pats on the back from those departing, waiting until they were alone, Mikhail said, "I am putting together a group of investors. With what is happening in world currencies, there will be a great need for silver. I know of a very promising location in western Utah Territory. Some call this area Nevada. You know this place?"

  "Utah Territory's wilder than here. It's east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains."

  "Yes."

  Hocker slapped Mikhail's back and pressed him toward the exit. "I'll ask around and let you know. How much you need?"

  "The larger our fund, the more control we will have over our investments. Fifty thousand dollars is our minimum investor invite." He'd never before considered a minimum investment.

  Hocker laughed. "Is that all?"

  "For now."

  When they walked onto the outside landing, the others had gone.

  More than a hundred Chinese had gathered in the street below, all looking up at Mikhail and Henry Hocker. Chiang Po and Chiang SuLin stood at the front with an older, traditionally dressed Chinaman.

  The Junior Deacon from the lodge led Jasmine and Biscuit down the road toward the hotel, both horses saddled and packed. Mikhail's mink coat had been tied across the back of Jasmine's saddle.

  Yes, the livery man.

  They'd met the day before, what now seemed a year ago.

  Hocker pushed him from behind and Mikhail followed the circular stair to the street.

  SuLin said, "Everything clean and pack for you. You must go now? Huh?" She stepped closer. "You not forget SuLin,
huh?"

  "No. I will not forget."

  She stepped back and turned. "This man, Wang LoFat. He boss of Chinese peoples here."

  The Chinese boss turned to a young man behind him and took an elaborately carved wooden case with two golden, inlaid dragons—one white gold, the other yellow gold—a beautiful case. He offered it to Mikhail.

  SuLin said, "Is chess, ancient game of Persian Khan. You play?"

  "I do." Mikhail handed his Masonic case to Hocker and took the heavy dragon case.

  Hocker smiled and held out the Masonic case like a table top.

  Okay.

  Mikhail set the heavy dragon box on top and Hocker wheezed, surprised, staggering slightly from the weight. Mikhail took it back and both laughed, looking around.

  Nobody understood what they wanted.

  The ground was muddy from rapidly melting snow, so Mikhail turned, set the heavy box on the raised pharmacy porch, and opened the lid.

  Beautifully crafted white and yellow gold chessmen lined recesses at both ends of a white and black polished stone board, squares separated by inlaid gold strips.

  "This is very beautiful" Mikhail closed the lid and stood. "I cannot accept this. Is worth too much." These people were poor. Their enormous generosity both embarrassed and humbled him.

  "You take! You want we lose face? Huh? You take!" SuLin jammed the case into Mikhail's chest.

  Chapter Thirty

  Late Sunday afternoon, three well-dressed gents entered Tommy Chandler's Boardinghouse.

  Tommy tossed the Sunday Times onto the bar.

  A strutting little peacock stepped in front of two heavyweights, all wearing gray fur caps. "We are looking for Tommy Chandler."

  Foreigners.

  "What, you need rooms or something?"

  The peacock looked around and sneered. "No."

  "This here's as clean a house as you'll find on the Barbary Coast."

  "We are looking for Mr. Chandler. You know him?" The peacock spoke softly, not looking for trouble. The two behind took care of trouble, with dead eyes that see everything.