The Lost Girl

by Liz Harris

  ‘Whatever you say about him, your dai lou scares me,’ Charity said. ‘He’s always angry. I don’t like him.’

  ‘He good big brother,’ Su Lin repeated.

  ‘How long will your ma and pa be away?’

  Su Lin shrugged. ‘They not know. Maybe some months. Is long journey to China.’ She paused. ‘When Mama and Baba away, dai lou not able to watch me all day. If I not in house, he think I get water from well. We meet again soon?’ She smiled happily at Charity.

  ‘Of course; we’re friends, aren’t we? But it won’t be easy. I’m only allowed to go into the store when I’ve got a letter to send.’

  ‘I watch for you leave bakery and come out like today. I bring pail with me.’

  ‘That’ll be good,’ Charity said. ‘Come on; let’s go!’

  They scrambled to their feet, climbed up the slope and stood at the top, facing each other.

  ‘I’m glad we’re friends now, Su Lin,’ Charity said with a shy smile.

  ‘I very pleased, too, Charity.’

  ‘Don’t forget to go to the well,’ Charity said, indicating the pail which Su Lin was gripping with both hands, ‘or your folks will wonder what you’ve been doin’.’

  ‘I get water on way back to store. Chinese well is behind herb store.’

  Motionless, they stood smiling at each other.

  ‘Well, I guess I’d better go now,’ Charity said at last, reluctance in her voice. ‘That’s my house over there.’ She pointed to the line of miners’ houses in the distance, then looked back at Su Lin. ‘Bye, then,’ she said.

  As she turned and ran across the plain to her house, inside she was singing.

  Chapter Fourteen

  One month later

  Late June, 1878

  Joe jumped out of the saddle, stretched himself, and then headed for the chuck wagon. He collected two coffees and a couple of doughnuts, took them over to Ethan Grey, gave him one of the mugs and a doughnut, and sat down next to him.

  Ethan glanced at him. ‘You’ve done well for a new boy, Joe. I’ve bin watchin’ you the last few days. You’ve picked up real quick the way of trailin’ the cattle so they don’t know you’re herdin’ them and makin’ them go in the direction they’re meant to be headin’. It takes some new trail hands a lot longer to get the touch.’

  ‘I appreciate you sayin’ that, Ethan.’

  ‘I’m only speakin’ as I find it. Monty will’ve seen it, too. And like me, he’ll have seen you swimmin’ that horse of yours.’ He paused a moment. ‘No offence meant, but you don’t wanna get into the water too quickly. Some of the streams have hidden bogs and quicksands. If we’re not careful, we could lose horses, cattle, and even men. You don’t wanna be one of those who gets sucked under.’

  Joe nodded. ‘I’ll remember, and go more cautiously.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’ He gave Joe a slow grin. ‘I’m kinda gettin’ used to havin’ you as a trail partner, and I wouldn’t wanna lose you on our first drive together.’

  Joe laughed. ‘I’ll make sure you don’t.’

  Ethan bit into the doughnut. ‘He makes a good mug of coffee, our cook, and these bear signs of his are the best I’ve ever had on a drive.’

  ‘Bear signs?’

  ‘That’s doughnuts to you greenhorns,’ Ethan said with a smile. ‘But to get back to work. We’ll soon reach the North Platte, and we’re gonna be the lead horses over the river. Like I said, Monty must’ve seen your horse swimmin’. When we’ve finished our coffee, we’ll go ahead to the river and check that the cattle and wagon will be able to get across. If they won’t, the boss will have to find a better place to ford it.’

  Joe nodded. ‘Makes sense for us to lead. Our day mounts are the best swimmers.’ He took a drink of his coffee, leaned back against the tree trunk, pulled his hat over his face and closed his eyes. ‘I could’ve done with more than a couple hours’ sleep last night.’

  ‘Yup; third watch ain’t the best. Just when you’ve fallen asleep, it’s one o’clock and time to go on your watch, and by the time it’s three-thirty, it’s too close to mornin’ to get back to sleep. You’re lucky to have gotten as much as two hours.’ He glanced at Joe and gave him a sideways smile. ‘When you bin doin’ this a mite bit longer, you’ll find you can sleep on your watch. Your night horse will know the distance to keep from the cattle, and it’ll just keep goin’ round and round while you sleep pretty in the saddle.’

  Joe opened his eyes, raised the brim of his hat and grinned at him. ‘Not if you’re my watch partner, I won’t. Your singin’s enough to set the cattle stampedin’. We’re meant to be makin’ a noise that tells the cows a friend is watchin’ over them. But if I was cattle hearin’ you in full voice, I’d think the sound was comin’ from the devil himself. If you wanna be kind to the cows, whistle rather than sing. That way they and their stomachs will stay content.’ He then threw back his head and laughed.

  Ethan chuckled. ‘You just keep laughin’,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Make the most of it – you might not feel much like laughin’ by the time we get to the other side of the river. There’s bin an east wind in the night so the water could be high, and it’s gonna be bitter cold as the snows haven’t long melted.’ He finished his coffee, stood up and looked around. ‘I reckon the herd’s about to get movin’. We’ll set off now.’

  Joe got up, took Ethan’s mug from him, returned the mugs to the chuck wagon and hurried across to the horses, where Ethan was waiting.

  ‘Hold the reins hard when we get close to the water,’ Ethan said, putting his foot into the stirrup and pulling himself up into the saddle. ‘The horses will smell water and you don’t want them runnin’ away with you. And try and keep your saddle blanket dry. Like the boss said – if you look after your horse and equipment, they’ll serve you well.’

  ‘I’ll remember,’ Joe said.

  Sitting low in the saddle, Ethan set off at a fast trot, and then broke into a canter.

  Joe swung himself into the saddle and headed after Ethan at speed, and side by side they galloped towards the river.

  The flanks of their horses were steaming and their coats glossy and slick with sweat by the time they reached the damp earth bordering the river. Pulling up their mounts, they sat and stared at the water, a wide band of gold in the late morning sun.

  Joe smiled to himself.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Ethan asked, glancing at him.

  ‘Nothing. I was just thinkin’. Well, rememberin’, more like.’

  ‘Rememberin’ what?’

  ‘When I was pannin’ for gold ‘bout ten years ago, I heard someone call out and then fall off the bridge soon after. It turned out to be a China woman, who’d had a baby not long before. She was dead when I got to her so I took the baby home, and Ma and Pa kept her. I don’t know why I just thought of the girl, with this river being much bigger and faster, but I did. Maybe it was the golden colour of the water; I don’t know.’

  ‘Not many whites would keep a China woman in their house. Leastways not these days, they wouldn’t.’

  Joe shrugged. ‘I don’t know you well yet, but from what I’ve seen of you, I’m guessin’ you might’ve done the same if the choice had been that or seein’ her put out to die.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Anyway, Charity’s real useful now – that’s her name. She more than earns her keep. Yup, you’d’ve done the same, Ethan.’

  ‘I guess we’ll never know. Right, let’s get across. I reckon we’ll be able to ford it here.’

  Joe nodded. Slipping their feet from the stirrups, they jumped down into the soft mud at the water’s edge, discarded their saddles and boots, mounted their horses again and rode into the river, Joe leading the way.

  ‘Holy snakes, you’re right – it is cold!’ he shouted as the horse went deeper into the water. ‘It’s fair freezin’.’

  ‘Release the reins,’ Ethan yelled to him. ‘A swimmin’ horse likes to be at liberty. There’s no need to touch the reins.’
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br />   Glancing across at Ethan, Joe saw that he’d buried one hand in the horse’s mane and was gently slapping its neck with the other, and he did the same.

  Their horses swimming strongly, they reached the opposite shore without mishap, jumped to the ground and let the animals roll on their backs in the sand and the grass.

  Joe stripped off his shirt, stretched out his arms and stared up at the sun as droplets of water trickled in rivulets down his bare chest. ‘That’s better,’ he said in satisfaction. ‘The sun’s warmin’ me up real nice.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bother,’ Ethan said dryly. ‘The herd’s in sight; we’re gonna have to get back across the river sharpish. And then we’ll be goin’ from one side to the other till all the cows are across. Let’s go.’

  They mounted their horses again and reached the opposite bank just as the front of the herd was arriving.

  Following Ethan’s lead, Joe positioned himself facing the water. His horse snorting and pawing impatiently at the soft earth, he sat on its back and waited as the first three hundred cattle were cut from the herd and driven to the water’s edge.

  ‘Off we go now, Joe,’ Ethan called. ‘They’ll take the lead from us. The dumb brutes aren’t exactly social, but they’ll follow a leader.’

  Joe nodded, signalled the horse with his heels and moved into the water. Then he leaned forward, put his hands on the horse’s mane and neck, and let the horse swim at its pace.

  Lowing loudly, the cattle followed both him and Ethan, urged into the water by the drovers, who rode behind the cattle as far as midstream. By then the cows were swimming, and the drovers could return to the shore for the next three hundred.

  Two hours later, with all of the cows having crossed in batches of three or four hundred, Joe again stood bare-chested in the sun, drying out as four of the cowboys counted the cattle.

  By the time the counting had been done and a number agreed by all, it was too late in the day to drive any further, and the trail boss ordered the herd to be left to graze in a large circle, with half of the outfit watching them at a time. Then he rode off to scout for a patch of ground sufficiently elevated to pick up any breeze, and with the dry grass on which cows liked to bed for the night.

  Since it wasn’t their turn to go on first watch, Joe threw one of his pair of blankets to the ground and sat down on it. ‘I’m gonna write to that Chinese girl I was telling you about,’ he told Ethan. ‘Ma will be wantin’ to hear what I’m doin’.’

  Dear Charity,

  I’m writing now even though my first letter may not have reached you yet, and I don’t know for sure if you’ll write back. But seeing the North Platte River this morning made me think back to the day I found you, and I had a powerful urge to write again.

  I’m still more sore than I thought a man could be. Maybe not as sore as in the first few days, but it’s bad enough. And my hands hurt from holding the reins all day, and the insides of my legs are raw where the saddle flaps keep rubbing against them. Come sundown, I’m numb after sitting on a hard leather saddle for hour after hour without a break. You’d laugh if you saw the way I walk when I get off my horse – it’s like I’m made of wood. But, like I say, it’s not as bad as it was so I guess my skin’s gotten tougher.

  In the short time I’ve been on the trail, I’ve seen places so different from Carter you wouldn’t believe. I’m not one for words, so I can’t describe real well what it’s like to open your eyes in the morning and see the sun come up. And there’s grass all around you, sweet green grass – at least there is in the part we’re in now.

  And it’s not just the grass that’s beautiful to see. When I look back as I ride along, and see the cattle all strung out, with the sun flashing on their horns, that’s a sight to be seen, too.

  Being out here on the range is reminding me of being on the ranch all those years ago, and how much I loved the life. Tell Ma I’ve been thinking about those days, will you?

  I’m satisfied with the spare horses I picked from the remuda, and especially with the horse Mr Culpepper gave me. He’s good in the water. The horse of my trail partner, Ethan Grey, is also a strong swimmer and we were chosen to lead the cattle across the river today. The water was so cold it pained me when it hit my skin and I yelled like a baby. Tell that to Ma, will you? She’ll laugh.

  Ethan is a few years older than I am and he’s been droving for several years. In some ways he reminds me of Mr Culpepper even though he’s younger. Just like Mr Culpepper taught me about horses and livery, Ethan’s teaching me about driving cattle. I struck lucky getting him as a partner on my first drive.

  When we get to Casper, which’ll be soon, we’ll be camping outside the town for the night. We had a month’s supplies when we left Cheyenne, but we’ve used some and we’ll re-stock at Casper. I’ll send this letter to you from there. After Casper, our next stop will be Buffalo. Maybe I’ll find a letter from you there. I’d like that. I’m missing home more than I thought I would – or rather, I’m missing the people. But I don’t regret coming on this drive; not for one minute.

  If you don’t want to write, Charity, that’s fine – I know you’re busy. But if you’re able to write, the place to write to after Buffalo is Columbus. That’s in Montana Territory, not Wyoming. It’ll be the first time ever I’ve left Wyoming, and that’s exciting.

  Your friend,

  Joe

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dear Joe,

  We were all wondering what you were doing, so we were real happy when we got your letters from Cheyenne and Casper. Your ma said to thank you for writing. She was crying when I read them to her. She said she wasn’t, but she was. I also read your letters to your pa and Sam. Sam acts like he doesn’t want to know what you’re doing, but I can tell he does.

  I laughed when I read how funnily you walked when you got off the horse, and so did your ma and pa. Mr Culpepper laughed, too. He said he’s missing you something bad. He told me the man he hired in your place is no good at all, and he’s now doing the work of two men. The man doesn’t know it, but Mr Culpepper is looking for someone else.

  You’ll be in Buffalo now so you’ll have read my first letter. This is my second, and I think you’ll be very happy when you read my news. I can’t wait a minute longer to tell you what it is.

  I think you might already have guessed.

  You know I told you I met Su Lin when I went to collect the first letter you sent me? Well, I saw her again when I went to send the letter to Buffalo. And I saw her brother, too. Su Lin was friendly, but her brother was mean. He made Su Lin go into the back of the store and then told me to keep away unless I had a letter to send. That’s mean, isn’t it? He knows she wants to be friends with me. She said he’s a good brother, but I don’t think he is.

  But that’s not what will make you happy to hear (I’m starting to laugh with happiness as I write this). I’ve got more to tell you.

  Joe let the hand holding the letter fall to his side. Leaning back against the wheel of the wagon, he gazed up at the clear blue sky. Charity’s words could mean only one thing. ‘Good on you, gal,’ he murmured into the air, and he smiled to himself in satisfaction.

  Turning back to her letter, he read the details of their meeting, paused a moment, and then read on.

  Su Lin speaks in a strange way, and so does Chen Fai. They can’t say any word with an r in properly. Instead of an r, they say an ell. I can say words like friend and very, so I’m not a Chinese girl, but they can’t. But even though Su Lin sounds funny when she speaks, I like her.

  Now that her folks are in China, it’s easier to meet, and I’ve seen her several times. But we have to be careful as your ma’s starting to look at me in a funny way. I reckon she’s beginning to wonder why I’m later coming back from the bakery these days. I’m going to have to think of a reason why that would be. Su Lin has her empty bucket, but there’s no point in me having a bucket, too, as our well is too close to the house.

  I don’t think your ma would go loco if s
he knew about Su Lin, but your pa and Sam might. They’re always saying real nasty things about Chinamen.

  It’s almost a week later now. The big news is that your ma now knows Su Lin and I are friends. Mrs Oakland saw us going down to the gully one day when she was coming back from town, and she told your ma. She’s a real nosy neighbour, and so’s Mr Oakland. I used to think they were nice, but I don’t now. Your ma doesn’t either as, unless they want to stir up trouble and tell tales, they ignore her whenever they see her.

  When I got home, your ma told me she knew about me and Su Lin. I was shaking all over about what your pa and Sam would say, but she said she wasn’t going to tell them as they’d got enough worries at work without having more. She told me it was okay for us to be friends as long as I did my chores and we carried on hiding like we’ve been doing. She thinks it’s better people don’t know about us as it might make them think even worse of me than they do now. But that doesn’t make sense. The whites think I’m Chinese so it’s just like me being friendly with another Chinese girl, isn’t it?

  I asked her why everyone’s so angry with the Chinese. She said it’s still about the low price the company pays for coal. When I saw Mr Culpepper, I asked him why Chinamen didn’t want more money like the whites did, and he said it was because whatever the company paid, it was much more than they’d get in China.

  And he told me that another thing was also making the white miners angry. The whites think the Chinese miners are being given better rooms in the mines. I think he means the rooms where the miners dig out the coal. If the Chinese are given the easiest rooms, they can dig out more coal and so make more money. That can’t be right, can it? The superintendent is white, and whites don’t like the Chinese, so why would he help them?