by Val Wood
‘Good night!’ He walked up the stairs to his room. He was perplexed by her. He’d never met anyone who was so open or candid. Even Clara and Elizabeth, although they would discuss or argue about things with him, were generally civil and polite. He gave a wry laugh. Caitlin Allen, he considered, would tell you what she thought straight to your face. Was this what life in America was like? No pretence? No division between the haves and have nots?
He slept soundly as soon as he climbed into bed and was woken the next morning by the sun shining into his room and the sound of gushing water. For a second he forgot where he was and thought he was still on the ship. Then came the realization that this was a much comfier bed than the bunk he had occupied in the ship’s cabin, and he sprang out of it to look through the window at the road below.
The creek was in full flow, the water sparkling in the sunshine as it rushed down the valley. On the opposite bank, cattle grazed on pastureland and beyond that thick scrub led into a tree line which grew denser as it led up the mountain range.
Dan stared and stared. He was town born and bred and had never had any desire to move away from cobbled roads into the muddy tracks of the country, but this was overwhelming and he caught his breath. The mountains reached into the blue sky and the shrubs below the tree line were ablaze with rich rusty brown colour. The trees – cottonwood, Georgiana Dreumel had called some of them – reached maybe forty feet high and were lit with yellow-gold shimmering leaves. Others, he thought, were maybe ash, and he was sure he recognized pine.
He narrowed his eyes. On a rocky plateau something moved. Something black which nosed around on the ground. He heaved a breath. Bear! He’d seen his first bear. He wanted to rush out and tell somebody the news. But who would he tell? The folk who lived here were probably used to seeing bears in the same way as back home they’d see a stray dog.
He washed and dressed and went down to breakfast and found Georgiana already at the dining table drinking coffee. She invited him to join her and asked if he had slept well.
‘I did,’ he said and then in a sudden rush said enthusiastically, ‘This is a wonderful place! I’ve just seen a bear!’
Georgiana smiled. ‘Have you? Where? On the mountain?’
‘Yes. There’s a sort of rocky shelf jutting out from the mountainside and it was on there. It was nosing about as if it was looking for something. Food, mebbe?’
Georgiana’s eyes flickered for a second and Dan thought she took a shallow breath. She was still pale but didn’t look quite so strained.
‘How are you this morning, Mrs Dreumel?’ he asked. ‘Are you rested?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘Much better today after a good night’s sleep.’ She took another breath. ‘It’s good to be back. The air is wonderful here, so fresh and clean. What are your plans? Are you going to take a look round the town?’
‘I’ve been promised a personal tour,’ he grinned. ‘By Caitlin Allen.’
‘Ah!’ She smiled. ‘The incorrigible Caitlin. She’s just been in to see me. Be careful how you tread or she’ll skin you alive!’ She laughed again. ‘She’s fearless. She reminds me of how her mother was when we first came to America. Kitty was courageous and optimistic, but not as audacious as her daughter. But then Caitlin has had more advantages than Kitty had ever had.’
As Georgiana finished speaking Caitlin popped her head into the dining room. ‘Ah, good morning, Mr Hanson. Would you like breakfast?’
‘Yes, please,’ Dan said. ‘I’m really hungry.’
‘Would you like steak and eggs, sausage, bacon, coffee?’
Dan licked his lips. ‘Yes, please, and then are you free to go out?’
Caitlin’s cheeks flushed. ‘If Mr Crawford doesn’t need me,’ she said. ‘This is a working day. I said I’d put in the time to pay for my keep.’
‘I’m sure there’s really no need,’ Georgiana began, but then added: ‘You could perhaps make it up on another day.’
Caitlin nodded. ‘I’ll ask him. Today would be a good day to go out. It’s going to rain tomorrow.’
‘Dan said he saw a bear on the mountain this morning,’ Georgiana told her.
Caitlin paused on her way out of the door. Her lips parted. ‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve seen him too. Several times. He sits up on the ridge.’ She gazed at Gianna. There was something she wanted to say to her, but she didn’t know what it was. It was about a memory, but the memory was hazy, as if a mist was hovering over her thoughts. But the thoughts had some connection to Gianna, and, oddly, with the Indian trapper Lake.
Georgiana could see that Wilhelm was in his element. In the short time he’d been back in Dreumel’s Creek, he and Ted had organized a committee to plan a new town in Yeller. Democratically they had asked the townsfolk to come to a meeting and they had both been elected to choose other members of the committee; this they had done from those who put their names forward, mainly tradespeople but also the parson, a lawyer and a doctor who had only recently come to live in Yeller. A good cross section of the community, Wilhelm had said.
‘And women?’ Georgiana had asked, and he’d grinned and said: Of course. Kitty Allen and Nellie O’Neill.
‘Perhaps you’d like to be involved too, Georgiana?’ he had asked tentatively. ‘You’re good on committees.’ He’d rubbed his fingers in his beard as he spoke and she knew there was another question to be asked, but perhaps not yet.
She said that it wouldn’t be right. She would have to be voted on to the committee. ‘People will ask if I am staying. If we are staying,’ she added, and then quickly said: ‘I hope that we hear from Jewel soon. Grace sent Clara a letter to tell her that we were coming to Dreumel and I wrote from New York to say the same to Jewel.’
Wilhelm nodded contemplatively. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘We mustn’t rush into anything. Just take our time over decisions.’
‘Wilhelm, this doctor who has come to Yeller. What is he like?’
‘A good fellow, so everyone says, and his wife is a nurse midwife, so will be most useful. Why?’ he asked anxiously. ‘You’re not in need of him, are you?’
‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘But I was very ill on the boat, and the train journey was very tiring.’
‘Surely not!’ he exclaimed. ‘Not when you consider how we used to travel! My darling—’
‘It’s nothing. I’ll feel better after walking in the mountain air and getting plenty of sleep. I’ve been troubled over Jewel and Clara, but now that I know they’re safe I shall soon pick up again.’ She patted his cheek and whispered, ‘It’s a woman’s thing, I expect. I’m approaching middle life, Wilhelm. It’s what happens. Some women take to their beds and enjoy ill health, or have fits of the vapours.’ She smiled. ‘You know that I won’t do that.’
‘But I shall worry!’ His face creased apprehensively. ‘I think you should go to see Dr Fox. I’ll make an appointment for you.’
‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘A few days of rest and a walk along the creek, and I’ll be right as rain.’
But she too was a little anxious, though she tried not to give in to her fears. She had never been sickly and had always had a robust constitution. Wilhelm will take care of me, she thought, if indeed I do have some malady. I’ll give myself a week and if I don’t feel any better, then I’ll visit the doctor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jewel woke in a dark room lit only by a lamp and a small fire. Her head ached and she touched her tender forehead, which was covered with a damp cloth. ‘Clara,’ she whispered. ‘Where are we?’
A woman came and knelt beside her and it was then that Jewel realized she was lying on a mattress on the floor.
‘Clara!’ she said again. ‘Clara! Where are you?’
She heard whispering voices but they were speaking in a language she couldn’t understand. She was frightened and began to shake. Her body felt limp, and when she tried to sit up her head swam at the effort and the room began to spin.
A cool hand gently pushed her down a
gain and a voice murmured something. Jewel, trying to focus, saw a small dark-haired woman gazing at her. It wasn’t Clara. Where was she? And where am I, she thought, trying to recall where she had been and what she had been doing. Something had happened. What was it?
She must have fallen asleep again, for the next time she opened her eyes the dizziness had eased a little. The woman still knelt beside her; she was bent double, her head touching the floor as if she were asleep. Jewel risked a glance round the room. The fire had died to a mere flickering flame, but she could make out other figures sitting cross-legged and leaning against the walls: three young women, and a young man by the door. She frowned and felt pain on her forehead. Who were they? They were all dark-haired but it was difficult to see their faces in the gloom.
One of the girls lifted her head to look at her; it seemed as if they were on watch. Seeing that Jewel was awake, she spoke to one of the others. This girl leaned forward and touched the woman by Jewel’s side, waking her instantly. The woman glanced at Jewel and gently patted her cheek; Jewel flinched. The woman was tiny and dressed in white cotton trousers and shift. She was Chinese.
‘Do you mean me harm?’ she whispered, as fear and apprehension wrapped round her. Rumours of kidnap and slavery came to mind. How did she get here? Was it a dream from which she would shortly awake?
But no, the woman was now patting her arm and repeating something. Jewel strove to make out what it was she was saying.
‘Keepsafe. Keepsafe. Nofraid. Nofraid.’
What does she mean? She glanced at the other people in the room. At an apparent signal from the woman by the bed, the young man came closer. He was probably about her own age, she thought. He gave a slight bow with his hands folded together and spoke.
‘My mother asks me to say that you are safe and need not be afraid,’ he said in almost perfect English. ‘You were hurt in the earthquake and we brought you here to our home.’
The earthquake! Of course. She had been with Clara when the ground shook. They had run, but she remembered no more. So where was Clara? Had she too been hurt?
‘I must go,’ she said, raising herself, but then fell back again as dizziness overcame her. ‘Please,’ she said to the man. ‘I was with a friend. Is she here?’
He shook his head. ‘No. You were alone when we found you. You were unconscious.’
‘Oh!’ she said tearfully. ‘Thank you. It was very kind of you to take care of me.’
He translated for his mother, and then he said to Jewel, ‘When we found you my mother said that we must bring you to our home because there are some bad people who would take a foreign young lady and . . .’ He hesitated, but Jewel knew what he was trying to say. That she might not have got home again.
‘I must tell my friends where I am,’ she told him haltingly. ‘They will be worrying.’ No matter how kind these people had been in rescuing her, she thought there was no harm in telling him that she had friends who would be looking for her. ‘They will have set up a search party.’
He gave an enigmatic smile. ‘In Chinatown,’ he said, ‘not everyone gives an answer to a question, or at least not the right answer.’
Jewel took in a breath. What did that mean?
He answered her even though she hadn’t spoken. ‘We will ask the right people. You will give us your name, please, and we will ask someone to find your friends.’
‘My name is Jewel Newmarch-Dreumel,’ she said, ‘and my friends are the Gallis. Lorenzo Galli and his mother Maria.’
She had no sooner spoken than his mother began to speak rapidly in a high-pitched voice, throwing questions at her son, who held his hands up towards her as if trying to calm her, at the same time glancing at Jewel and nodding. Then the young women joined in until there was such a cacophony that Jewel cowered beneath the blanket that covered her, pulling it above her ears.
Within the shrill discourse, however, she could make out a repeated word. ‘Pinyin. Pinyin.’ Was it a name they were saying, or were they words that sounded like Pinyin? And if the former, did they mean the Pinyin who worked for Lorenzo, or was it a common name?
She peered above the blanket and glanced from one to another. The older woman was wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Her black hair was plaited in a long pigtail; the other women wore cotton trousers and smocks like hers, but the young man wore a European-style shirt with his wide floppy trousers.
He came and stood over her. ‘I will go now, missy, and try to find your friends,’ he said softly. ‘Please rest now and take some nourishment. I will be as fast as possible.’
Jewel swallowed. She was still afraid. ‘What is your name?’ she asked.
‘Soong Chen,’ he said. ‘My mother is Soong Daiyu.’
‘H-how do I address her?’ She was sure there was a formal way but didn’t know what it was.
‘You may call her Mrs Soong. She will be happy with that. We are not in China, after all.’ He turned to the young women, who were clustered in a group. ‘These are my sisters.’ He smiled. ‘I will not tell you their names as you will not remember them.’ He gave a formal bow. ‘You are very welcome here, Miss Newmarch.’ Turning, he left the room.
Mrs Soong came and knelt by the bed again and began swaying back and forth, whispering to herself and occasionally glancing at Jewel. Presently she called to one of her daughters, who went out through a curtained door, returning shortly with a bowl of soup; she knelt at the other side of the mattress and offered it to Jewel. Jewel pulled herself up and couldn’t believe how weak she felt. Her body still ached but her headache had gone, though her forehead felt sore. As she sat up the cloth on her forehead slipped off and she saw that it was stained with blood.
Mrs Soong retrieved it and nodded at Jewel. ‘Better now,’ she said, and motioned that she should take the soup. The aroma was fragrant, and although the broth was thin and Jewel couldn’t have said what flavour it was, it was very satisfying. When she had finished, she handed the bowl back to Mrs Soong and slid down beneath the blanket again.
She sighed. Whatever was happening was out of her hands. She could only trust Soong Chen to find Clara and Lorenzo, and if he didn’t . . . well, if he didn’t – she felt sleep stealing over her – there was nothing she could do about it right now.
‘Try not to worry,’ Lorenzo said, although by now he was clutching Clara’s arm so hard that she knew he was worried even though he beseeched her not to be. ‘We must rely on Pinyin. He knows many people.’
They followed Pinyin up the street, though they couldn’t keep up with him. Each time he stopped to speak to someone they thought they would catch up, but then he was off again, his heels flying, dodging in and out of the milling crowd. They could hear him too as he called out to people up in the windows of the buildings, who either shook their heads or pointed back the way he had come.
Then Clara saw another flying fellow, a younger man and taller than Pinyin who shot past him; Pinyin shouted to him and about-turned and chased after him, and they both skidded to a halt in front of the stallholder and bowed to each other. The young man grasped Pinyin’s hands and although neither Clara nor Lorenzo could understand, even had they been able to hear what they were saying, Pinyin bowed and bowed and clasped his hands together as if in supplication.
As Clara watched, a slight hope rising, they spoke to the stallholder. They again bowed low but began to back away from him. Pinyin came hurrying back towards Clara and Lorenzo. ‘Good news.’ He bowed to Clara. ‘Miss Clara, you will come with me, please? Miss Jewel is safe.’
‘Oh.’ Clara breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness. Where is she?’
‘I must come too,’ Lorenzo declared. ‘Is she with friends?’
‘She is,’ Pinyin said. ‘She is with my sister and her family. You must wait nearby,’ he told Lorenzo. ‘I will take Miss Clara to her.’
‘Why can’t I come?’ Lorenzo demanded. ‘I need to find out if she is injured or hurt.’
Pinyin nodded. ‘Of course you are anxious, but
she is in a house of women and you must wait outside.’
‘A house of women!’ Lorenzo’s voice rose. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You are mistaking my meaning.’ Pinyin sounded aggrieved. ‘I mean my family of women; at present there are no men there. Miss Clara must enter alone.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lorenzo said. ‘You know best.’
They walked together until they reached a corner, where Pinyin asked Lorenzo to wait. Then he turned towards a building that looked like a tenement block, stopped outside a door, opened it and invited Clara inside. She looked over her shoulder and saw Lorenzo standing forlornly on the corner, watching her.
The room smelled of herbs and something aromatic and as Clara’s eyes adjusted to the dimness she saw several young Chinese women and an older one who was kneeling by a low bed. She rose when Clara was ushered in by Pinyin, who stayed outside the door. In the bed and apparently sleeping was Jewel.
‘Oh,’ Clara gave a low gasp. ‘Jewel! Is she all right?’
The older woman came towards her and bowed low. She was very tiny, hardly reaching Clara’s shoulder. She said something that Clara didn’t understand and one of the young women came forward and translated in hesitant and broken English.
‘Your friend is recovering. She was hurt in the earthquake. Please. You will speak to her.’
Clara moved towards the bed and knelt down beside it. ‘Jewel,’ she said softly, touching her cheek. ‘It’s Clara.’
Jewel stirred. ‘Clara!’ she whispered. ‘Is it really you? Am I dreaming again?’
‘No, dear cousin. I’m here. You’re quite safe. You were injured in the earthquake and these good people have looked after you. It’s Pinyin’s family.’
Jewel raised her head. ‘Pinyin! How – where is he?’
‘Just outside the door, and Lorenzo is waiting out in the street. He can’t come in because there are only women in here.’
‘Will you help me up, Clara?’ Jewel murmured. ‘I feel so dizzy.’