The Frenchman's Woman

by Lee Taylor

  Elena saw him hesitate and pressed her advantage.

  “C’mon, Nianzu. Please, just this once, let’s you and I make the rules. I promise you, if there is a problem, I will leave the minute you tell me to. I promise I won’t argue. Look, Nianzu, if we have to leave quickly, no one can ride faster than we can.”

  They were approaching the turnoff to town and seeing Nianzu’s indecision, Elena turned Zhenqui to the right and shouted out with a yelp of joy, “C’mon, slowpoke, catch me if you can!”

  ~~~

  It was dark by the time they reached town, but the lights were bright in the saloon. Music and laughter reverberated all the way to the stables. Elena was shaking with excitement, but did her best to quiet Nianzu’s concerns. Hiding behind the Golden Horseshoe, Elena tried to squelch her giggles while they crushed her hair up under her hat. Nianzu helped her put on his jacket. He insisted that she button it up to the collar so there was no chance of pale skin or the swell of a beautiful breast peeking through.

  “Now all I need is a mustache, Nianzu, and I could pass for a Mexicano bandito,” she said with a giggle.

  “Elena, promise me you won’t talk, that you won’t say a word. Promise?”

  She nodded.

  His voice was fierce. “Follow me. We will get a table in the back and I will order our food. You keep your head down. And don’t talk!”

  Elena grinned, pressing her finger against her lips in seeming agreement. She was quiet, but sure that her eyes were dancing.

  The saloon was everything she had hoped. It was full of smoke, loud music, and all kinds of men shouting and laughing. The music blared and no one could have heard her if she did talk. To her delight, dancing ladies in short dresses flirted shamelessly with the drunken men. Elena smiled appreciatively when the men tried to put their hands up their skirts, but the bar girls deftly batted them away with a sly look that implied there was more if the price was right. Just breathing it all in made Elena feel outrageous. For the first time since she left the plains of Wyoming, she felt free. Nianzu ordered their dinner, both deciding on bourbon, not beer. They found a seat in the farthest corner and sat back to enjoy the view.

  It was ironic that it was Nianzu, Elena thought later, who caused all hell to break loose. For the first hour it looked like they were going to do what they planned: eat dinner, drink their bourbon, and go home crowing over their adventure. Nianzu saw them first and ducked his head. Elena saw the expression on his face and knew immediately something was wrong.

  “What? What is it, Nianzu?” she whispered.

  “It’s Rongue Ri. We can’t let them see us.” He whispered, his face was tight, his eyes flashing. “Keep your head down. Don’t make eye contact. If they recognize me, we’re in trouble.”

  Elena knew the Rongue Ri were second only to the Sing Leon in territory, membership, and fierceness. The Sing Leon had battled the Rongue Ri for years. She heard Bai tell her father that the Rongue Ri planned to use the cover of the spreading Tong violence to take down the Sing Leon and topple Wan Chang.

  Frightened, Elena kept her eyes down. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a group of eight fierce looking Chinese men walking through the saloon. There were muttered curses about “uppity Chinks” and mumbled outrage, but for the most part, the white men in front of them scattered. The saloon became ominously quiet.

  One of the Rongue Ri strode to a table where three men sat. He said in a harsh voice, “Get Up.”

  The men paled and looked down, but didn’t move. With a curse, the Chinese man grabbed the edge of the table and threw it against the men, who crashed to the floor. Three Rongue men stepped up, viciously kicking the men on the floor. The men screamed in pain and scuttled back against the wall, cowering in fear. The Chinese men righted the table and sat down. Their leader motioned to the bartender. Within minutes, bottles of bourbon and glasses appeared. The men settled down to rounds of heavy drinking as an uneasy calm settled over the saloon.

  Elena forced herself to take deep breaths and keep her head down. Nianzu turned his back to the group. His face was hard, his eyes were fierce. It was an expression she had seen on Bai’s face and it frightened her as much as the Rongue Ri at the next table.

  “Wichi, do you smell what I smell?” asked one of the now drunk Rongue. “I think I smell shit. No, I’m wrong, it is worse that shit, it is Sing Leon.”

  Elena saw Nianzu’s body tighten. He whispered to her, “Elena, you have to run as fast as you can. You promised me.”

  But it was too late. Keeping her head down, Elena saw to her horror four pair of boots crowding around their table. She saw the muscles on Nianzu’s neck tighten and knew he was assuming a fighting stance.

  A harsh voice said, “Well, I’ll be fucked. If it isn’t the Frenchman’s lapdog. Greetings, Nianzu, old friend. Where is the boss man tonight? Up in the whore house, I presume? That’s too bad, because it doesn’t look like you have much of a back up here.”

  Elena saw it coming before Nianzu did. When two men came from behind to jump him, Elena screamed a shrill scream.

  At the sound of her voice the man they called Wichi shouted, “Stop! Wait, Goddamnit!”

  He held up his hand and stared at her. The two men stepped back from Nianzu as all eyes turned to her. Elena jumped up, trying to back up, but the wall was behind her. An ugly grin spread across Wichi’s face. He jerked over and knocked her hat on the floor. His grin widened.

  “Well, I’ll be fucked, Nianzu. If it isn’t Wan Chang’s little granddaughter and the Frenchman’s cunt. What’cha doing, Nianzu, stepping out on the boss man?”

  There was a gasp around the room when it was clear that the slender young man in the corner was a beautiful red haired woman. As the Chinese men surrounded them, the crowd saw violence in the making. The rustling sound of chairs scraping back and voices shouting, “Chink fight,” was followed by a stampede of white men doing everything they could to get out of the way. The ones who didn’t make it, plastered against the wall, knowing what was coming.

  Elena saw the eight men surrounding them and she saw Nianzu’s face. She knew their only chance was to take them off guard. They wouldn’t know she was a kung fu master. Surprise was their only weapon.

  She stepped forward and slowly began to unbutton Nianzu’s jacket. In that instant, Nianzu’s eyes blackened, warning her to stop, but she knew she was right; it was their only chance.

  Elena was sick with fear, but she smiled as she undid the last button. She slipped off the jacket and tossed it over her shoulder onto the table. Eight pair of Chinese eyes and four times as many pairs of white men’s eyes widened in surprise. They all stared at the beautiful red haired woman in the white silk blouse that showed off more than a little soft womanly flesh.

  She stepped up to Wichi and said with a haughty smile, “There must be some mistake. I’m not anyone’s cunt.”

  Wichi stepped back in surprise, as did his men, then said in a sinister voice, “Well, if you are not the Frenchman’s cunt, perhaps you’d like to be mine.”

  “Not likely,” she said with a dismissive toss of her head.

  With a fierce spirit yell, echoed by Nianzu, she flipped to the floor. With a flash, she drove her boot up into Wichi’s shoulder, knocking him to the floor.

  Nianzu and Elena had been sparring daily. They knew each other’s moves. For the first five minutes they were unstoppable. Helped by Elena’s surprise attack, they stood back to back and took on each man that came at them. They were cheered on by the crowd that was astonished at the fierceness of the fight, especially when the star of the show, at least in the beginning, was a slender young woman half the size of her largest opponent. But as the fight intensified, the outcome was likely. It didn’t favor Elena and Nianzu.

  ~~~

  In the brothel across the street, Bai and his men were enjoying the favors of Madam Couchette’s finest. Bai was known for his exacting taste in women and Madam Couchette always reserved her most select girls for Bai and his men.
Wazma had come ahead to notify the madam that Bai and his men were coming in from Sacramento. She was to have food, drink, and the finest whores available for them when they arrived. The party underway was festive, the wine excellent. The food was surpassed only by the creativity and availability of the whores.

  Bai was leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette when Sabine, one of his favorites, sidled up to him.

  “Thank you for waiting for me, Bai,” she said with a coquettish smile. “I had to work at the saloon tonight. I didn’t think they would ever let me go.”

  “Ah, but you are here now, Sabine. That is all that matters.”

  “I hope Nianzu can join us tonight, Bai.”

  “No, Nianzu is on duty tonight at the compound, as he is every night, taking care of wayward children,” Bai said with a wicked grin.

  “I don’t think so, Bai. If one of the children has bright red hair,and bigger breasts than I do, she isn’t at the compound, she is at the saloon. And so is Nianzu. When I left it looked like a fight was about to break out with a whole group of Rongue Ri. Your Nianzu didn’t look happy.” She grinned, “Yes, I think you are correct. Nianzu won’t join us tonight.”

  ~~~

  Bai’s expression froze as hard as ice. He barked out a series of orders. Within minutes, all ten of his men had their pants on, and were a stone-cold sober phalanx marching across the street behind their leader.

  As they approached the saloon, screams and warrior cries filled the air. A crowd of men outside was marveling at the fight inside.

  “Christ, I ain’t never seen nuthin like it. I thought I had seen a Chink fight but, fuckin’ Christ, did you see that girl? Damn, what a fighter!”

  “Hell, yeah, but it was two against eight.”

  “I thought I’d shit my pants when she walks up to their leader and says, ‘I’m not anyone’s ‘cunt’ and he says, ‘Maybe you wanna be mine,’ and she says cool as can be ‘not likely’ and winds up and kicks him in the face.”

  “Shouldn’t we go help her?”

  “Christ, and get between the Chinks? Hell, no. She’s a goner.”

  The comments of the cowards outside prepared Bai for what he saw when he walked in, only it was worse.

  Elena was pinned against the wall, held by two Rongue fighters. One had her arms twisted behind her back, the other had her by her hair. Her lip was cut, blood was on her chin. She was still fighting them as hard as she could, screaming for them to stop hitting Nianzu.

  But they weren’t likely to stop.

  Four men held Nianzu spread eagled against the wall. Another man was methodically beating him, one hard blow after another.

  The final man, their leader, stood off to the side, his face lit with cruel excitement.

  ~~~

  “Wichi Fan.”

  Bai’s voice was soft, but it stopped the fight in mid-strike.

  Everyone in the saloon turned to see the tall, lean elegant man walk into the room. He stopped four feet in front of the Rongue Ri leader, looking him in the eye.

  “Wichi,” he repeated. “Stop them.” He motioned to the men beating Nianzu.

  Wichi stepped forward and met Bai’s eyes. His eyes were bright with cruel hate and as cunning as Bai’s. He licked his lips as he stood face to face with his nemesis. With a wave, he motioned his men away from Nianzu, who fell to the floor.

  “You and me, Wichi.”

  “Ah, the Frenchman comes to me.” Wichi Fan sneered, his face smoldered with sinister hate. “I have waited a long time for this, Mr. Frenchman. A very long time. And as always, the Frenchman is right. Me and you. Who wants the second when I have the first here in front of me? Yes, Mr. Frenchman, I will fight you. And I intend to kill you.”

  “Likewise.” Bai’s voice was cool, almost pleasant.

  “Only one condition, Mr. Frenchman, and it needs to be an order accepted by our men. Whoever lives gets the cunt.” He pointed mockingly at Elena, crouched between the two killers, holding her down. “Because according to her she belongs to no one.”

  Wichi threw back his head, roaring with laughter.

  Bai’s face was impassive. He nodded. “Agreed.”

  ~~~

  Elena had grown up in a kung fu dojo. She had sparred since she was three years old, fighting and watching remarkable fighters. She had been trained by her father, one of the few grandmasters in the country, and by Lei, the only other female master. But all the matches she had watched were regulated sparring matches. The fighters bowed respectfully to one another at the conclusion. She had never seen a death match where one of the fighters would die; and she had never seen Bai fight.

  The next five minutes were a blur of fierce horrific artistry. She had heard the stories about Wichi Fan. He was the strongest fighter in the Rongue Ri. And he was a dirty fighter. There was nothing he wouldn’t do or hadn’t done to opponents. He had been waiting for years to take on the Frenchman. He had fought many death matches and fought with cruel abandon, roaring ecstatically at the moment of the kill.

  Watching Bai, the challenge for Wichi was clear. Bai had earned his reputation. He wasn’t a dirty fighter, he was a savage one. Every strike, whether with his legs, feet, hands, or elbows, was delivered with the intent to destroy – to set up his opponent for the kill. And he was fast and cool. He looked like a lithe, sleek animal: aloof, fierce. He flew, floated, and twisted, his feet barely touched the ground. He leapt from one position to another, a graceful vicious apparition, landing every one of his blows seemingly without effort, but with devastating effect. The last minute of the fight, Wichi never knew what hit him. It was as though Bai was a leopard cat playing with a mouse -- giving his prey a little room to taunt him, to make it interesting, then with a snarl went in for the kill.

  A cry she had never heard before, that could only have come from an animal in the wild, escaped Bai’s lips. Elena saw the flash of a blade an instant before it struck Wichi’s neck. The force of the blow severed Wichi’s head. It hit the floor with a hideous smack, the eyes staring vacantly as the lifeless body crumpled to the floor.

  Elena felt rather than saw the man holding her draw a knife.

  She screamed, “Knife!”

  In one fluid motion, Bai rose from the floor, a knife left his hand landing in the fighter’s throat by the time Bai was on his feet. Elena jumped back in shock as the dead man fell across her knees, a bloody knife splitting his throat.

  Bai nodded to three of his men, who went to Nianzu, dragging him to his feet. Without a word, he kicked Wichi’s beheaded body across the room and walked to the other dead man. With one hand, he removed his knife and wiped it on the dead man’s shirt. He hoisted Elena to her feet. With her in tow, he and his men left the deathly quiet saloon.

  ~~

  Chapter 16

  Elena stayed in her room all morning and most of the afternoon. She had barely slept, unable to stop thinking about the horror last night at the saloon. Elena was most stunned by Bai’s casual viciousness. She had watched Chinese fighters all her life, but until Bai she had never seen a kung fu warrior kill. She knew he killed those men in the saloon to protect her and Nianzu, but even so, she was shocked at how quickly, efficiently he did it. He decapitated Wichi Fan and then kicked his body across the floor. Almost as an afterthought, he kicked the head after the body. Just as coolly, he retrieved his knife from the other man’s throat, wiped the blood on the dead man’s shirt, and walked away. And he never looked back at either one of them. If she hadn’t understood before why men were afraid of the Frenchman, she did now.

  But what Elena thought about most of the day was how angry he was with her and furious with Nianzu for letting her go to the saloon. After they walked out of the saloon, leaving the terrified Rongue Ri behind, he held her close while whispering orders to the rest of the men. He mounted his horse and without a word grabbed her roughly by her arm and jerked her up in front of him, as though she couldn’t be trusted to ride on her own horse. She was mortified, but he was so angry, she di
dn’t dare protest. It felt like he might crush her, his grip was so tight. All the way back to the compound, he rode hard and fast and never spoke to her. When they arrived, he threw her down to the ground, jumped off his horse, and tossed the reins to Wamso.

  He nodded to Nianzu, who was riding behind them. With a harsh voice, he growled, “Come to my office, now.”

  He grabbed hold of her arm. “You, too.”

  With that, he dragged her after him. When they got to the office he pushed her in ahead of him, then walked in and closed the door behind him. She stood by the door shaking, not knowing what to do. He went to the cabinet, poured himself a glass of bourbon, and took out one of the thin Bolivian cigars he smoked. At that moment, Nianzu knocked, came in, and closed the door.

  Bai sat down behind the desk, then clipped and lit his cigar. He motioned to them both to sit in the chairs in front of his desk. He took a sip of his bourbon, then leaned back in his chair. He puffed on his cigar, looking from one to the other, his face taut with rage.

  No one spoke for a long moment, then he said, ‘Why, Nianzu?”

  Nianzu’s face was mottled with bruises. Every time he moved, he winced in pain. But it was clear his physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish he felt facing Bai.

  “I have no excuse, Bai. She wanted to go to the saloon and I didn’t… I mean…I know I should have refused… stood up to her. I’m sorry, Bai. Goddamn, I am sorry.”

  “You let a silly little chit of a girl talk you into doing something you knew was dangerous, likely to cause precisely the kind of incident that happened? Do you understand that you both could have been killed if the men and I hadn’t arrived when we did?”