by S. L. Hawke
“Exactly.” Miles smiled at Mosley, who shyly returned the smile. “As Marshals you are accustomed to violence as part of your job, but I am only showing you the surface of a thriving old subculture of crime that has no boundaries. What we have seen here, gentlemen, hasn’t even begun to scratch the surface, but you will be investigating the bulk of your crimes around the prostitution of human lives, including children. It is VITAL that your head be clear, informed, and aware of the consequences of even a small part of this world so that you can proceed with your task and create the best outcome.”
What followed next were more pictures of death, things I had no knowledge of and did not want to know about, especially female abortion. Marshal Smithers vomited in the spittoon in the back; that earned him a gentle pat on the back from Miles. After that, we took a small tea break, most of us in silence. Mosley joined us at the table.
“What the fuck, man?” Marshal O’Donnell’s hands shook as he raised his teacup.
“Just because a man wears a collar doesn’t make him saintly,” Marshal Quinn said under his breath.
“It’s important to remember that we are the rescuers,” Marshal Mosley said quietly and carefully. I was stunned. He was right.
“Shit.” Marshal Havers nodded. He started to sniffle a bit. Mosley reached out an enormous hand and patted Havers’ back once.
“We have the hardest job. But we do it, without question. It’s our purpose.” Mosley said this like a prayer. The rest of the Marshals nodded. All I could think about was my son. Had Andrew had this class? I hoped not.
The next hour Miles asked us questions that had nothing to do with sex. It was as if she knew we would have learned nothing from the exercise except perhaps to ignore it. Instead, she focused on all of us doing strange physical movements, together. We held hands at first, sweaty and uncomfortable. She made us voice this, then told us to interlace our fingers with each other, eyes closed, then open, then to discuss the differences. Marshal Quinn suddenly withdrew. Miles told him to sit down. Quinn began to shake.
That’s when Mosley took Quinn and removed him from the room.
The rest of us wondered if Quinn would lose his star. Miles spoke.
“Every so often, a Marshal will not be able to complete this section of field work. This has nothing to do with his ability to be a Marshal, but in fact tells us that he is uniquely qualified for specific Marshal duties.“ Miles said this without much emotion. Somehow the rest of us started breathing again. The worst was over, and we’d made it. Again I thought about my family, wondered how I would seem to them, and how my son would appear to them.
The last part of the class was mostly reading. I was grateful. The periodicals had a lot to do with the culture of men who preferred the company of other men. At first we learned that historically the practice was not dishonorable, but had become so with the advent of organized Christianity. My personal experience in this was limited, though I did meet one man who was of this persuasion. He was the most intelligent, honorable, and trustworthy person I ever knew. It seemed most unfair that such men could not live lives openly. It seemed to me the secrecy killed them, not the lifestyle.
Needless to say I was exhausted when I returned to my rooms. Hiru showed me his homework, told me about the other children he met today and the strange Chinatown he saw.
“Why do they fear us?” Hiru asked me that night as I tucked him into bed. “Do you fear me, papa?” I looked at my tiny son, puzzled and pained at his question.
“I fear for you, soybean.” I answered in Japanese. Hiru opened his arms to me. I hugged him as tightly as I could. “I will never let you go,” I said, tickling him and bouncing him, loving his giggles, yet knowing that soon I might not know the comfort of his company for at least a year.
“Papa?”
“Hm.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
My tongue froze. I stalled.
“Why ask that question, little bean?”
“Mrs. Sweeney says that I am to stay here. I’m afraid you will go away and never come back, like Keanu.”
Keanu Pauhani, son of Kamehameha by a consort, was discreetly whisked away one night because he dared break royal protocol and slept with the daughter of a Yankee trader. We could sleep with women of color, make them pregnant, abandon them, but a man of color could not do the same without severe repercussions. Miles was indeed right. Sex was at the heart of all crimes. For a moment, Mr. Darwin’s theories seemed to prove themselves not in our favor.
“We will always be connected, little soybean. It’s just the miles that separate us.” Hiru kissed me, and I him, then he crawled into his bed as I extinguished his light. What had I gotten myself into?
Something woke me. I saw a shape in the corner of my room. I feigned sleep while trying to reach for my tonto when I saw who it was. I was about to speak when she put a finger to my lips.
“I’m impressed,” she said softly.
She was warm and scented like oranges. She lit the lamp then languished on the bed, like a nude in a French masterpiece.
“I suppose that means you’ll reward me now.” Bitterness was only one of the things I was feeling at this moment. I wanted to ask her about her time with the Royal – who was he? Worse yet, did I know him? How did she escape? These questions were set aside with worse ones. What have I done? To Hiru? To my family?
Miles moved off the bed and came over to me, wrapping herself behind my back, hands caressing my chest. This was such a turnabout from our first time together.
“I came to say goodbye. There will be no third set of lessons. Tonight, let’s just say goodbye.” Miles’ voice had her sister’s innocent tone to it, but I couldn’t trust it or her. It didn’t matter. I turned and faced her.
“What happened to you? Edward said you were a concubine to a Japanese Royal. Is that why you slept with me? Because you knew who my wife was?”
Miles smiled flatly. “A.J. Please let’s not speak of this.”
The anger I felt rose to its peak. I turned away from her afraid I might start yelling, wake Hiru, and simply make matters unresolvable. Suddenly, Miles turned me back around and held my face.
“If I tell you the truth, promise me,” Miles whispered, “that you will find someone to love. It will make all I do worthwhile.” To this, I nodded, but I hoped she could see that I could love her, care for her.
Miles’ face was relaxed and her eyes searched mine. She meant what she said.
“His name was Lord Hiru Ikebara.”
For a moment I could not speak. I finally swallowed but I continued to stare at her.
“He was cast from the family and became a rogue warlord. Now he controls everything from opium to human slaves. Even the Tong fear him.” Here she paused. For the first time I saw fear in her face.
“Yakuza,” I said for her. “He let you go.” I grabbed onto her but she pushed me away.
“Yes, because I gave him what he wanted.” Miles searched my face to see if I understood her meaning.
“You had his child?”
Here Miles nodded, but then a tear fell down her cream-colored cheek.
“You and I crave different lives.” She looked up at me, her eyes, her face truly honed, like a fine katana blade.
“Your son is safe here.” She was truly beautiful but I knew then that even though I could love her, it would only be for a while, as Miles was her own man and didn’t want conventionality. I needed it, for stability, for hope, for a regular life that I craved more than I could explain.
Her fingers found me first, and then we slowly crawled back to the bed. Miles allowed me atop of her, never letting go of my mouth, reminding me of the starfish she was fond of. I shuddered within her but only after she bound me with yet another wrap. I did not like the feel of it and wished we could dispense with this sheathing. Her only reply was that I should save myself for the woman who could handle my heart.
The second time we cradled one another as if we were sleeping but I mov
ed upward like a rutting animal, shivering and shaking as I surrendered myself to her completely. I sank into so deep a sleep, I did not hear her leave.
Hidden Truths
San Francisco Presidio
“You have got to be kidding me,” Andrew muttered as he looked down upon the mustering Cavalry joined by a unit of Infantry as they gathered on a sward in front of the Presidio. The old adobe we were assigned to leached moisture down its pink walls as the fog clung to the trees above us. All I could think of was Miles and Hiru.
“Baba…”Hiru screamed and cried as I pried his arms, slowly, painfully, and unsuccessfully from around my neck. “Stay, don’t leave…stay…” Dorcas gently tried to take him but he turned away and clung harder. Again I removed his surprisingly strong limbs from my waist and my neck. Finally I got him to stand up in front of me, but his tears were rivulets down his cheeks.
“We talked about how hard this would be.” I was speaking Japanese, conscious of it, for the first time. I switched to English, for my sake mostly. It was a way to close this door that Miles had opened for me.
“Hiru. Mrs. Sweeney will take care of you. You can write me every day if you want. I will come to see you. After I’m settled, you can come to me. Or I’ll come up and get you.” None of my words comforted him. Andrew was witness to this all, much to my discomfort.
“Let me have a go,” Andrew said quietly. I hesitated but Andrew knelt down and with a glance told me to go to his mother.
“I’m so sorry, A.J., but you and I both know that for Hiru’s safety and well-being, he must be in a loving home. I can promise you that. I need him more than he needs me right now.” Dorcas was watching her son speaking softly to mine, who turned and looked over at Dorcas and me. Hiru had stopped crying. It was impressive, whatever Andrew had done. Then with a brother punch to Hiru’s arm, the two walked over to us. Hiru went over to Dorcas and took her hand. Dorcas’ eyes glittered with impending tears.
“Well, will both of you please remove yourselves before none of us can part?”
“Thanks, Mom.” Andrew kissed Dorcas’ cheek and with a flourish of her skirts and one last glance by Hiru and his small wave, my heart broke. They were gone. For how long was in the hands of the universe. I could and would not quite believe in God.
“Let’s just get this done.”
“Amen to that!” Andrew answered.
“What’s wrong?” I watched Andrew’s drawn face. Then I looked down at my feet. My boots fit very well, the leather expensive in its smoothness.
“We are traveling with an entire regiment of soldiers. Have you ever traveled with a bunch of guys who carry sword tips on the end of their rifles, sabers in their belts, and buttons that twinkle like stars?” Andrew watched the assembly in the field near the bay. Tents were being folded up, some hung over hangers-on staggering back into the lineup. I could not tell if Andrew were impressed or sarcastic. “You were a soldier in the MA war. What was that like?”
Andrew’s propensity for acronyms kept me alert. “Just pray we have a good quartermaster or you may find yourself spending a lot of time with your pants down.”
“I don’t even have a witty retort or initial for that.” Andrew grabbed his saddle and bags, which were bulging, no doubt from Dorcas’ cakes, shirts, and other motherly trinkets. I joined him as we went out to face the Commandant.
The Commandant of the Cavalry was a stern, short man with a barrel chest and enormous side whiskers. He preferred the title ‘General’.
“Marshals?” he sneered. “You should be serving your country, son.” The General said none too gently to Andrew. But my namesake was undeterred.
“I am, sir.” Andrew presented a writ to the General. “Director Rand is still with the President. He’s asked us to execute this order in his absence. My understanding is that you guys are coming along to back up the President’s Executive Order and secure a potential military target from danger.”
The General’s face turned a darker shade of pink, then red. The vein in his temple throbbed. He turned his anger on me. “So what’s your story?”
“Company I, Illinois, Santa Rosa–” I started, ready to list my naval service as well.
“Humph. Bad luck that.” The General leaned back on his heels. “McRee!!!!” he suddenly shouted. Both Andrew and I stepped back a pace.
“Sir!” A dark-haired, blue-eyed boy popped out of the ground it seemed and saluted the General. “See to these…guests…” And with that the General waddled off, shouting for his Regiment Major.
“Captain Fergus McRee, Quartermaster for Troop E and first infantry. Follow me,” the boy said rather too enthusiastically. He was younger than Andrew yet carried a very high rank.
“So, how’d you get so high up?” Andrew walked up with him; I stayed behind, not liking small talk. “Parents monied?”
“Yup, and you need rank to get the goods needed. Just show ’em the stars or bars or BOTH–My pa was a Q in the MA war.”
The acronym way of speaking was definitely youth-bound. It was lighthearted and hopeful. I was comforted by it. I didn’t ask which company, because I knew. Major Sam McRee was well known and companies had fought over him. He died shortly afterwards with six living children to his name. Fergus must have been the last one and in drip drawers when his father passed.
“So what’s your story? Really.” Fergus sidled back to me like a puppy.
“Oh don’t mind him,” Andrew said as he gestured Fergus to keep pace with him. “My dad sent him as babysitter.”
“Really? My dad did that to me the first time I deployed…” Young Fergus chattered until the two were so far ahead of me, I couldn’t hear what they were going on about. And they said women clucked. I smiled at the idea of being a babysitter to Andrew until I heard my name spat out.
“Andrew Jackson Sloan!” The Commandant said my name as if it were gristle in the middle of a steak. I stopped walking and turned towards not the Commandant, but Jad.
“John Adams Hicks!” I answered with more shock and awe than anything else. Jad had gained quite a middle on himself since I last saw him, but his eyes still held that twinkle I’d come to associate with a will as strong as steel. I grabbed his hand and shook it tightly then both of us embraced. He definitely had the better life.
“What the hell happened to you?” Jad wrinkled his brow goodnaturedly but there was no escaping his question. “Last I heard you were lying on white sand in Sugarville.” I nodded sideways.
“Guilty as charged. “
“Now you’re a Marshal?”
“Not exactly.” My cover story had to be perfect, Art had hammered into me. Here I went. “My cousins thought I needed babysitting so I’ve got a young Marshal who thinks the best way to communicate is to abbreviate everything.”
“Oh yeah. My son does that all the time. ‘Dad get this done Ay ess ay pee’. What the hell? What’s wrong with saying ‘as soon as possible’? These young ‘uns want everything RIGHT NOW. As if they are going anywhere soon.”
“Well, our generation says Oh Kay for old Kinderhook, and we’ve already forgotten that you might as well say you are a Democratic believer.”
Jad nodded. It was as if time, experiences and families made in between had no effect on what made us friends. I touched his shoulder to stop our walking. “You heard anything from my sister?”
“Which one? Miss Smarty Cindy or Sassy Sophia?”
“Are you bad mouthing my sisters?” I mock-challenged, so glad I was to see Jad.
“Sisters? I thought they were you in bloomers!” Jad returned the jab.
“You better watch what comes outta your mouth, boy.”
“Hey, who you callin’ boy?” Jad argued looking way up at me. We mock-tussled, unaware and so glad to see each other again, that Fergus and Andrew had joined us. A loud throat clearing put a stop to our wrestling. Andrew was scowling at us and Fergus was valiantly trying not to laugh.
“Pathetically embarrassing, if I do say so myself. At your age
.” Andrew approached Jad who nodded in agreement, stopped smiling, and pulled himself and his belly up to his moderate height just below Andrew’s shoulders. “Sheriff, the General is looking for you. I served the Marshal’s writ directly to him so that should cover any contingencies. Anything we need to know about the locals?” Jad gave me a wink then got very businesslike with my namesake.
“Couple of boys from the old Ranchos still in existence are gambling with the miners and shopkeepers over at New Almaden.”
“Old Ranchos?” I interrupted. “Some of the families have retained their deeds?”
“It’s legal. The district judge ruled it as a fair landholding agreement, but some of the other settlers here think they should just hand over their lands and ‘go home’.” Jad sighed. He’d married into a Rancho family. Now he was rich with proceeds from his wife’s share in the quicksilver mine.
“But they were born here,” Fergus added. “This is their home.” Jad brightened at Fergus’ remark. “They shouldn’t have to give up anything.”
“You get these two lobsters anything they need; if it’s a problem, we’ll pay for it.”
“Yes, Mr. Sheriff, sir,” Fergus answered with a wide, joking smile.
“You watch yourself, young man.”
“I’d need a mirror for that,” McRee called after Jad who saluted me and shook his head at Fergus. Andrew was nickering at Fergus’ joke. I was not amused.
It hadn’t rained for a few weeks. The road, filled with carriages coming in from the south end farms into the city itself, made it difficult for us to exit easily. Why we didn’t head out on the steamer to Alviso, a small port on the very southern end of the vast Bay of San Francisco, made me upset. At least half the regiment on foot could have done so.
“Shouldn’t we be forming lines?”
“Since when do you know cavalry?” Fergus challenged with disbelief.
“He knows everything, except how to smile,” Andrew added. “Anything we should not do?”
“Just stay in the back, let the infantry and troops go forward, like a massive swath of destruction. Follow back with the supplies wagon and I’ll make sure you get first pick of everything.” The grin on Fergus’ face was getting to me.