“Thank you, Mister Brubaker, that will be all,” once Sigmund ensured the area outside the door was empty, he pulled out the morning Call newspaper. Headlines stating clear what had happened in huge bold print one single word all in capital letters ‘PLAGUE!’ Helena took the paper from Sigmund’s hands sinking into the chair next to her.
She scanned the article below the headline as quickly as possible. It read that a passenger liner recently left Honolulu loaded with Cantonese immigrants it landed two days ago. Another ship departed two days later trying to catch the first. The day after the first vessel left plague broke out within the Chinese community in Honolulu. The first ship arrived, and everyone unloaded, the second ship docked last night. They attempted to find everyone off the first craft, they didn’t. The first body turned up last night, three more had been discovered before the paper printed.
“Who is this Committee of Vigilance? It says there is a meeting tonight at the Pioneer Statue for anyone concerned about the direction the city is headed,” Helena looked up at Lane and Sigmund trying to get an answer.
Lane said, “They are a self-appointed group of vigilantes, expect the meeting to be held with pitchforks and torches. If something happens in the city that they don’t like they will take it upon themselves to punish as they deem fit.”
“They have been responsible for creating as much chaos as they claim to stop. If you are part of the upper-class and you say something or do something they don’t like, you’re likely to find yourself tared, feathered, and run out of town on a rail. Pardon my language Mistress, but they are lower-class scum using mob rule to extort anyone who goes against them.”
“I have to agree with Sigmund, they’re a bunch of the worst jackasses you’re ever going to run into. Pardon my language as well,” Lane added.
“Shouldn’t we be using medicine and science to fight a disease, not fear and quarantine? What of the Chinese Girls’ School? We need to see if we can rescue them if they didn’t escape before.”
“Mistress I suggest you change into something more suited for this adventure, Lane and I will get ready. I fear this is going to become ugly before the end.”
The trio didn’t take long, Lane returned in what resembled something from the old wild west complete with a six-shooter slung to his hip. Helena wore her riding gear that was the best thing she could think of and Sigmund essentially the same riding gear with his gas powered automatic pistol concealed under his coat.
“Park as close as you can to Montgomery Street and Montgomery Avenue. We may need to walk from there,” Helena said as they left the estate.
Traffic heading into town was light, most roads clogged with carriages and people streaming away from the city center. Lane drove with the steering wheel as much as the steam whistle at times using his fist to emphasize where he wanted to go.
Helena grew anxious, she continually tapped her walking stick on Bessie’s floorboard.
Sigmund said, “Looking at how chaotic the streets have become four miles from downtown. I can only imagine what it is like closer to the bay,” he turned and looked Helena in the eyes. “Are you absolutely sure about this? It might get dreadful.”
“I am not going to leave those girls alone in the city. We’re getting them out.”
“Very well,” Sigmund then handed Helena a small revolver. “I won’t insult your intelligence, I know, you know how to use it. Only use it with care. Once you kill someone, you can’t take it back.”
Helena took the pistol, she had fired hundreds of different weapons over the years, one of the advantages of being the general’s stepdaughter. However, when she took the small revolver, it weighed heftier than the largest rifle she’d ever fired. She didn’t say a word, only nodded, indicating that she knew the gravity of the situation they drove into.
Lane and Sigmund’s concern over traffic became unfounded. The closer they got to Chinatown the less traffic they encountered. With still a block to travel, they reached the first blockade.
Helena didn’t like the looks of it at all, six armed men stood guard over the wagons that had been turned on their sides blocking the road. They watched for people trying to escape Chinatown, not people trying to break in. Lane stopped when the closest man, cradling a double barrel shotgun in the crook of his arm held up his hand.
Helena began speaking before the automobile came to a stop. She tried to sound as mature as she possibly could, “Look here sir, I’m sorry, but we must be allowed to pass your blockade. There are some children in the area that we’ve come to take to safety.”
“Well don’t you just sound all fancy. Little girl playing dress-up. Look here little lady you need to go on home before I pull you out of that fancy horseless carriage tan your hide real good.”
Helena didn’t know what to say. No one ever spoke to her like that before, she prepared to slap his face with her cane when Sigmund stayed her hand.
“Mistress now is not the time for this battle,” he motioned with his head to the four men aiming Winchester rifles in their direction.
As much as Helena hated to admit it, she knew their three pistols held no match for four rifles at a distance and a shotgun at close range. If the three of them died here, there would be no way to rescue the children.
“Lane take us away from this disgusting person,” the wittiest line she could come up with.
“That’s right you rich bitch, we finish flushing out the trash down here, you can bet we’ll come take care of you people livin on the hill!” the man spat tobacco as an exclamation to his sentence.
Helena was furious if Sigmund hadn’t been there she’s sure she would’ve shot that man dead for being so insolent.
“There are times for picking battles, we are not running away, think of this as a strategic withdrawal. Fighting a hopeless battle is suicide. We need to try a different way,” Sigmund said as he visibly flexed his hands wanting to pound someone.
“I understand, it doesn’t make it any easier, but I understand,” Helena leaned back her jaw set and arms crossed.
“Lane, we will try some of the other blockades maybe we can find one that isn’t guarded by jackasses.”
Lane tried three other barriers each guarded by men more emboldened than the first. Helena came to the realization that they were not going to be able to talk their way to the children.
“Do you think the Pinkerton men stayed?” Helena asked hopefully.
“I doubt it. They recognize if they cross these men they could lose their lives, or their families could lose their lives. Bravery is in short supply in times like these.”
Lane had been quiet for such a long time, “Sigmund, do you think the south side of Telegraph Hill has been quarantined?”
“I doubt it, that is a good distance away. Besides, if they get rid of the Chinese and the Negroes that would only leave the Irish to do the dirty work and you know they’re just too stubborn.”
“I think this calls for drastic measures, I’m going to drive to the corner of Dupont and Greenwich streets, I’ve a friend that might still live down there,” Lane said.
“How good of a friend is he? Is it a he?” Sigmund asked.
“Well, quite a few friends down there, but one, in particular, might be able to help. They might have a way into Chinatown where no one else does,” Lane spun the automobile around the empty street heading towards a different neighborhood.
Madam:
Helena knew they skirted the roadblocks around Chinatown and the Barbary Coast. Not wholly sure where they headed for the moment she was trusting Lane with the lives of those children trapped in Chinatown. She wasn’t even sure if the children were there. Secretly she admired Missy how she had saved those two women she met in Napa. Helena wasn’t sure if she had the strength that Missy had. She wasn’t even sure she had the grit to continue looking for Missy. There were times all she wanted to do was go back in time to Thursday before this all started, and she thought her stepfather would be
home from Cuba soon. As far as Helena knew, she had traveled more in the past six days than she ever had. Has it only been six days? It seemed like a month, perhaps even a lifetime.
Helena had never been in this part of town before, it was difficult to tell anything about this part of the city every door to the street closed, blinds drawn. The neighborhood looked deserted no one on the street, no one peeked out of windows, it resembled a ghost town.
Lane slowed Bessie to a crawl, the buildings here seemed older. Very few had brick fronts, principally only two-story at the most, all wood construction. The neighborhood appeared nothing like Chinatown or Barbary Coast with their street upon street of brick buildings.
“Is anyone here?”
“The buildings are full,” Lane said.
Sigmund said, “We’re being watched, check for movement at the windows.”
Lane pulled to the edge of the wooden sidewalk and brought Bessie to a stop.
“I’m not sure how this is going to work, but you two stay here and I’ll check if anyone’s home.”
Lane eased himself out of the driver’s seat and walked towards the double doors of what looked like an apothecary. Holding his hands high as if surrendering he began calling to the building.
“I’m here to see Lieutenant Fadgen. Can someone please find Lieutenant David Fadgen, and tell him Sergeant Lane is here. I must speak to him.”
Helena realized she never knew Lane was his last name. She watched as Lane readied to tap on the glass when the door cracked open.
“We don’t need any of your help here, we’re good, go away,” the voice had a strange southern accent Helena had never encountered before.
“Please, I just need to speak with David, or Hettie if she’s available,” before Lane could go any farther, a double barrel shotgun peeked out of the crack in the door mere inches from Lane’s crotch.
“Alright you’re the boss we’re leaving,” Lane started backing up one step carefully behind the other trying to put some distance between the vast maw of the twelve-gauge and his lower-half.
Helena could hear some scuffling going on behind the door, and abruptly the barrel of the shotgun disappeared into the dark room.
She heard a woman’s voice shouting, “What’s a matter with you foolish child! Pullin an unloaded gun on somebody is a good way to end up bullets in your body. Lane is that you?”
“Yes, Miss Hettie, I’m not alone though.”
“We’ll get your hides in here before the wrong people see you, now is not the time to be chatting outside.”
Sigmund and Helena left the automobile briskly rushing to reach the door as a tall black woman held it open. Helena was shocked to find the only two people in the room was a child of maybe eight years old and whom she presumed to be Miss Hettie.
“Where have you been hiding child? I told your grandmother I’d keep an eye on you, but you need to be somewhere I can see for me to keep my promise,” Lane found himself smothered by the bear hug that followed his admonishment.
Lane struggled to speak while being smothered, “Miss Hettie, I’d like you to meet my employer, Miss Helena Brandywine, and Sigmund,” Lane wasn’t exactly sure how to introduce the manservant.
“Miss Hettie Youngblood, of the New Orleans Youngbloods. Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Helena had never seen anyone quite like Miss Hettie nor ever met a person with her accent. It was southern like Lane, but it had a tweak of French in it, not like her French tutor but similar. Her skin and looks golden and magnificent. Sharp features straight black hair and her skin color like coffee with the perfect amount of milk. Helena had never seen a more strikingly beautiful woman in her life. She found herself dumbstruck, she stuck out her hand, and remained mute.
“Lane, I think you broke her she’s not talking,” said Hettie taking her hand and shaking it with a firm grip.
“Madam, I hate to be rude, but how exactly are you and Mister Lane acquainted?” Sigmund asked.
“Let’s go back in the back get out of the shop here, and I can explain it to you.”
Helena found it difficult taking her eyes off the woman but eventually she recognized they had stopped in some sort of shop, herbs, and other articles she had no clue what items lined the walls. The closest thing she could equate it to was a drugstore. She wanted to touch everything it all looked so exotic.
Hettie walked towards the back of the room Sigmund and Lane following.
“Lane’s grandmother and my grandmother, they used to trade secret recipes and incantations. Anything that would keep our communities, our neighborhoods healthy.”
Sigmund said, “You’re a witch.”
Lane corrected, “No, my grandmother was a witch, Miss Hettie is a Vodou Mambos.”
“A what?” Helena asked.
“Kinda like the brother you met Martinez, but Miss Hettie’s gods listen.”
“Now be nice Lane you know they’re not gods. You know Bondye won’t answer any prayers, and Loa are often too busy to pay any attention. Vodou is not like the Christian religion, but in many ways, it is. But I’m sure you’re not here for a lesson on Vodou.”
“We are in a bit of a hurry,” Sigmund said.
“Yes, Miss Hettie I was hoping to find David here.”
Helena added, “We’re trying to save some children from the quarantine.”
“I sent one of the children to fetch David. He should be here shortly he’s just across the street.”
Helena wasn’t sure where the little boy went, but he had sure enough disappeared. Before she could think of a polite way to ask where he went a man larger than Sigmund walked out of the wall. More precisely, he walked out of a secret passage hidden in the wall.
“Well you slacker lay-about what kind of mangy hound drug you off the streets and into this respectable establishment?” the broad black man wrapped Lane in a bear hug.
Lane would’ve said something, but he couldn’t breathe. Sigmund worked his way to stand next to Helena. This was taking too long for Helena’s liking, but she let the two men do their ritual bonding. The colossal man continued squeezing Lane until Helena was sure she heard to three or four bones cracking, as quickly as he picked him up, he dropped him. Lane worked feverishly trying to regain his breath.
“You’re still as strong as a bull Lieutenant, and I’m guessing just a slow,” Lane said sucking breath back into his lungs.
“And you're too weak, seems being out of the Army you’ve lost some of your edge.”
“You’re right I have, but I prefer this life to the Army life.”
“I can’t argue with you there, after my experiences in Cuba I was tired of it, no more for me. You’d think after fighting for so many years a man could earn some respect.”
“Now David we’ve guests, please behave yourself.”
“You’re right Miss Hettie, I will keep my manners about me. Lane why did you risk the plague or worse to drive into this part of town?”
“I remember you telling me about all the tunnels and sewers under the city.”
“Sure, but that was decades ago. I have no idea what’s down there now.”
“Please sir, there are some children who are trapped in the quarantine zone I’m afraid they might be in terrible danger. If you know of any way to help them out, I would appreciate it. I will pay!” Helena pleaded.
David looked at Helena then to Lane. He took Lane by the elbow and led him a few paces away from the others. “Is this your new Mistress?”
Lane nodded before answering, “Yes, Mistress Helena Brandywine.”
David took a deep breath before speaking, “If it were anyone else I’d explain how there is no way in hell I would risk the children in our neighborhood by rescuing a bunch of strangers’ children out of Chinatown. I’d tell them, I’m tired doing the white man’s dirty work, the white man can do their own killing and his own rescuing from now on. But since it’s you, and I like you, to tell the truth, I don’t know those t
unnels under Chinatown. There is no way I’m going down into tunnels I don’t know, we may never find a way out.”
Lane nodded in understanding not pushing the issue, a look of disappointment on his face.
Helena couldn’t let that stand. “I thought soldiers were supposed to protect the innocent!” her voice raised more than she expected.
David’s head whipped around the chords in his neck stood out. Out of reflex, Helena grabbed the handle of her came, she anticipated needing it.
Miss Hettie warned softly, “David.”
David seemed to relax a little, but a fire of anger still burnt in his eyes. “Brandywine, I understand who you are. The general’s stepdaughter. Let me tell you about brave soldiers. I served under your stepfather for fifteen years. First killing the Indians, that only wanted to be free, then killing ranchers because they tried to protect their land, then killing Cubans who tried to protect their country. All that time I served under your stepfather. While fighting in Cuba I worked with an officer, a white officer Lieutenant Pershing, he’s an outstanding officer and a fine man. The strangest thing about Lieutenant Pershing he treated the Buffalo Soldiers with respect, he treated us the same way he treated white soldiers. You know the Battle of San Juan Hill that made Teddy Roosevelt famous? Buffalo Soldiers were the first ones up that hill. Over half of that company, my friends, died taking that mound that made Teddy Roosevelt celebrated. And you know what the white officers including your stepfather called Lieutenant John J. Pershing?”
Helena shook her head no.
“Nigger Jack, that’s what you stepfather called a man, a white man, simply because he treated the Negro with respect. So, ma’am, I don’t know you, but I do know your stepfather. I’ll tell you right now I wouldn’t piss on him if he was laying at my feet burning to death.”
“David that’s enough.”
Helena struggled to keep her tears from falling.
Hettie walked up behind her helping to guide Helena towards the back of the store before they made it out of the room, Helena turned struggling to keep from crying.
Pretty Waiter Girls Page 14