Escape From Gold Mountain

by Zina Abbott

  ~o0o~

  Loi felt an impending doom hover over her. The time had arrived for her to tell the men in an American court about her being stolen off of the stagecoach. She had known for weeks this day would arrive. The big Westerner who saw to it the Americans in Lundy obeyed the law had come by the brothel almost daily to see her. He threatened Ah Chin to not allow her to come to harm. For that, she had been grateful, even though she recognized it for the temporary respite that it was. Once this day ended, and the Americans no longer needed her to tell her story, she dreaded the abuse Ah Chin might heap upon her.

  Dressed in her black trousers and a plain cotton blouse, she also wore her black quilted coat her mother had made for her—as much for a sense of protection as for warmth. Her cap, no longer in good condition since her capture, she left at the brothel. Instead, she wore her hair in a chignon with a headband next to her face.

  As usual, Ah Chin sought to hurry her steps faster than her feet could comfortably carry her. She kept her eyes on the ground so she could see where to place them. Even before they reached the building where she knew the Americans expected her to tell her story, several glances out of the corner of her eyes told her men milled around outside, waiting.

  “Gau ngo!” Loi quickly pressed her eyes shut as her mind silently cried out her plea for help. No matter what happened this day—no matter what she told the white Westerners—the situation would end badly for her.

  ~o0o~

  Bill Callahan’s voice boomed out his demand. “Your honor, I do not want the Chinaman, Ah Chin, present at these proceedings. He had no involvement with the events being examined. He’s the pimp for my witness, though, and he has already threatened her in an effort to keep her from testify about certain circumstances he does not want known. I want him out of the building and kept far away so he has no knowledge of what she says.”

  Even as Callahan explained why Ah Chin must leave, the Chinaman protested loudly and vigorously in a mix of English and Chinese. Finally, the judge slammed down his gavel and granted Callahan’s request.

  Deputy Sheriff Callahan wanted Ah Chin gone, but he did not want to miss hearing the testimony by leaving the building to enforce the judge’s order. He cast his eyes around the room for a solution. Halfway back in the audience, he recognized a scowling Kirk Steves who sat with his arms folded. Once again, the man spent more time sticking his nose into law enforcement business than he did in the mine he leased with his partner. Callahan leaned over and whispered to Sheriff McKinney, who nodded in agreement.

  Callahan stood and turned to the Kirk. “Mr. Steves, I need a deputy I can trust to see Ah Chin obeys this court’s instructions. You already let me know you are available to serve as a deputy sheriff when needed. Are you still willing?”

  Callahan held back a smirk as he watched Kirk Steves glance around. He knew how vocal about the case Steves had been in the preceding weeks. Callahan smiled when Kirk Steves accepted the offer. He suspected the man accepted the job to save face even though he also preferred to stay and hear every detail of the Chinese woman’s testimony.

  At the conclusion of the brief swearing-in ceremony, Callahan deferred to McKinney who issued the order instead of him. “Deputy Sheriff Steves, please escort the Chinaman, Ah Chin, out of the court building. See to it he stays far enough away he cannot be seen by the witness to intimidate her, nor hear her testimony. Stay with him and make sure he obeys this court’s orders, even if you have to put him in handcuffs.”

  Satisfaction surged through Bill Callahan as, with a murderous glare in his eyes, Ah Chin, rather than give Kirk Steves the opportunity to take his arm and lead him out, spun on his foot and quickly walked out of the building ahead of the new deputy sheriff. The two crossed the street, turned east and walked towards the lake. Bill returned his attention to the business of the court.

  ~o0o~

  Luke had sauntered over and resumed standing by the side window after Ling Loi, led by Ah Chin, entered the court building. He arrived in time to hear a loud argument take place inside. After Ah Chin had been ordered away from the court proceedings, Luke rolled his body to keep his back to the Chinese procurer and Kirk Steves. He waited several seconds before he again turned to see what took place inside. Startled, he jerked at the sound of someone on the inside shoving open the window next to him to allow air into the room gone stuffy with so many bodies. He smiled. Even though two additional curious gawkers joined him at the window, he could now more easily hear Loi’s responses to the questions. Luke stayed behind the two men so he would not be noticed by those inside.

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  Chapter 38

  ~o0o~

  W ithout a word, Loi allowed Bill Callahan, the man who had questioned her the night she returned to Lundy, to lead her to a chair at the front of the room. She sat with her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes remained downcast as Callahan next turned to the judge and insisted Ah Chin must not only leave the room, but stay a block away down the street. Having never been in an American courtroom before, she was not accustomed to how the American legal system worked. However, relief flooded her as Ah Chin, his protests spoken so all could hear, walked out of the room on his own before one of the Americans forced him to leave. Loi wished to lift her gaze to enjoy Ah Chin’s humiliation, but she dared not. He would not be present to watch her as she told her story about being abducted off the stagecoach. He would not hear her words. Hopefully, nothing she said this day would be repeated to him later. As it was, he would see to it she suffered for the incident, no matter what she said or did.

  A thin-boned American with brown hair and blue eyes—eyes the color of the evil ghosts of the superstitions that had been so much a part of Loi’s beliefs back in Canton—rose from his chair behind a table on the other side of the big counter where the judge sat. He walked around and stood in front of her. After asking her to stand, he used his free hand to motion upward in case she did not understand English well. In his other hand, he held a Western-style book with a black cover. She recognized it as a Holy Bible like the ones she saw at the Christian mission back in Canton. It was a copy of the book that told about the Jesus god and His life on earth.

  “Miss Loi, please place your left hand on the Bible and raise your right hand. I’m going to ask you to repeat the following words after me. ‘I, Ling Loi, do solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.’ Now, I know you aren’t Christian, Miss Loi, and you don’t know what this book is. But, if you say those words like I tell you to, it means that no matter what question you are asked, you will tell the truth. Do you understand?”

  “It Miss Ling, not Miss Loi. Family name come first.” With her peripheral vision, Loi watched the man for several seconds as, wearing a bewildered expression, he turned to the man behind the big table—the judge—who shrugged.

  The blue-eyed man returned his gaze to Loi. “My apologies, Miss Ling. Do you understand?”

  Loi glanced at the Jesus book. As a child, she had learned many of the stories printed in the book he held. She understood the blue-eyed American enough to know he wanted her to repeat the words he spoke and to tell the truth when someone asked her questions. Her mind raced as she wondered how much trouble she was going to be in with Jesus if she did not tell all of the truth. She recalled some of the stories from when He had lived on earth where He had been kind to women—even those who sometimes did bad things. Would He be kind to her if she decided to not tell all the truth?

  Loi watched as he held the book out to her and raised his right hand as if to demonstrate what she should do. Loi placed her trembling left palm on top of the Bible and raised her right hand. As the clerk spoke the oath a few words at a time, she repeated them after him. The final words she spoke prompted a smile on his face. He took the Bible away, and she gratefully sat back down. Not only did she feel nervous, her feet hurt.

  A different American man stood up and approached
Loi. His eyes were brown—human eyes—which did not make her feel as uncomfortable. She glanced over to the blue-eyed man and saw he watched her with interest. His hand held a fountain pen which he kept poised over a book filled with blank pages of paper. Her attention snapped back to the brown-eyed Westerner when he spoke.

  “Miss Ling—did I get your name correct?” He smiled when Loi nodded. “I’m Mr. Goodall who will be representing the county in this inquiry. We are here to conduct a hearing to determine if there is enough evidence to bind Mr. Tex Wilson over for trial on charges related to your abduction off of the stagecoach and being held over a week due to a ransom demand. I’ll start by asking you to tell this court your story in your own words. What happened the day you boarded the stagecoach to travel to Bodie?”

  Loi glanced away from the man who asked the question long enough to see the sea of faces in the audience staring at her. Haltingly she began her story about how she was going to Chinatown in San Francisco. The stagecoach had not traveled far before she heard a gunshot. The driver stopped the stagecoach, and she was ordered to get out.

  “And, can you identify the man who took you off of the stagecoach? Is he in the room?”

  “Hai. Yes.” Loi pointed to Tex who sat in one of the chairs behind a table next to a man she did not recognize. “He Tex, only he say it not real name.”

  A tittering laughter swept through the room. Mr. Goodall raised the volume of his voice in order to be heard above the murmurs. “You are right, Miss Ling. Tex is a nickname for a man known as John Wilson, but he has gone by the names of Tom Kellet, John Baldwin, and several other aliases. Have you ever heard him called by any of those names?”

  Loi jerked her upper body back as the man sitting next to Tex, his arm waving wildly, jumped to his feet and shouted.

  “Objection, your honor! We are not here to discuss the issue of my client’s name. As the witness just said, she only knows the man who allegedly removed her from the stagecoach by a name that she readily admitted he told her did not belong to him.”

  Loi frowned and stared at the man. She did not know the meaning of the word, “allegedly,” but she suspected he said it to try to trick her. She glanced at the judge when he spoke.

  “Overruled, Mr. Schuman. Save it for the trial. This is an inquiry. We only intend to discover the details of what happened.” The judge turned to Loi. “Please answer the question, Miss Ling. Have you heard the man you know as Tex called by any of those other names?”

  Loi lowered her gaze and shook her head. “No. Tex only name.”

  “Was there anyone else who helped take you off the stagecoach?”

  Loi turned her attention back to Mr. Goodall. “No. Only Tex. He take me. He take my bag. He ride horse, put Ling Loi on horse. We go. Soon he meet Boss, or maybe his name Char-Boss.”

  “So, you met up with another man later? Do you know any other names for this man you call Char-Boss?

  Again, Loi shook her head. “No. He tell Tex, no use real name, call him Boss. Sometimes Tex call him Char, then Boss. Char-Boss take Ling Loi money. He keep money. He tell Tex, put Ling Loi on horse, travel far, it night when get to house. First time I ride horse, I hurt very bad.”

  “So, you’re saying this other man you call Boss or Char-Boss was the brains of the outfit?”

  Loi wrinkled her head in confusion. “He boss. He tell Tex, keep me at house, Char-Boss go to Lundy Chinese, tell them pay two thousand dollar for Ling Loi.”

  “Can you describe Char-Boss for us?”

  Loi took a deep breath. “I no see Boss very much. Tex take me off stagecoach, put cloth over Ling Loi eyes before he find Boss.” She hesitated. “We follow Boss on horse. I lift cloth, see back of Boss head. He have hair like Horse-Face, evil guardian of hell. He laugh like horse.” Loi stopped once she realized many in the courtroom audience had started snickering. Mocking tones rippled through their whispers as they commented one to another.

  Loi glanced at Tex. Even he wore an amused expression on his face. Annoyed, she wondered if he would find it humorous that she thought he resembled Ox-Head, the other evil guardian of hell. She pursed her lips. She never should have said anything about one of the Chinese beliefs to this room full of white barbarians.

  The judge banged his gavel on the table. “Order! Order in this court, or I’ll clear the room.” Gradually, the room quieted once more and Mr. Goodall continued his questions. “Miss Ling, no disrespect to your beliefs, but we Christians are not familiar with this—being—you referred to. Can you describe the man you call Char-Boss in other terms, please?”

  Loi tightened her lips and shook her head. “He very tall.”

  Mr. Goodall spoke again. “Miss Ling, do you see the man you know as Char-Boss or Boss anywhere in this room?”

  The man next to Tex jumped to his feet again. “I object, your honor! The woman said she was blindfolded.”

  “Dismissed. Your client is Tex Wilson, Mr. Schuman. You have no obligation to protect the other man who committed these crimes with your client.”

  “Allegedly committed these alleged crimes with my client, your honor.”

  “Sit down, Mr. Schuman. I’ll have the witness answer the question.”

  Loi once again steeled herself and forced her gaze to impolitely study the sea of faces in the courtroom. She mostly saw Western men with their round eyes, many of them with whites showing around their pupils. Several of them wore bushy moustaches, and a few of them sported full beards. The few women in the crowd wore their hair styled high on their heads. Dark-colored hats, some festooned with a variety of feathers and ribbons, perched on top of their hairdos.

  Loi knew the women in the room looked down on her for wearing her loose trousers and her Chinese-style jacket instead of Western-style gowns like they wore. She recognized the expressions of distaste on most of their faces—like they had suddenly discovered large rats in their pantries. She was Chinese; she worked as a prostitute. They thought bad things about her and did not care that she had been forced against her will into such a shameful situation.

  Loi glanced at the faces peering in the windows to her left. Her breath caught and her heart soared at the sight of a familiar pair of eyes above a knitted scarf. Shorty? She glanced away, and then she looked back. The face had disappeared, replaced by the back of a head wearing an unfamiliar hat. Her heart sank, and she blinked back tears. No, Shorty planned to leave the area as soon as she returned to Lundy. It could not be him.

  “Miss Ling? Can you tell us, please? Do you see the man you know as Boss or Char-Boss anywhere?”

  Loi glanced at the judge. Next, she focused her gaze on her lap and shook her head. “No. No see Char-Boss, no hear Char-Boss. Char-Boss not here.”

  “Do you know where these two men took you?”

  “Very high mountain, many trees, we go very far. Ride horse all day. Very hard.”

  “What did the house look like?”

  “Walls of round trees, not flat wood. It one room, have place for fire, one door, no window.”

  “Was it Tex Wilson’s idea to demand a two thousand dollar ransom for your return?”

  Loi shook her head. “No. Char-Boss decide Lundy Chinese pay two thousand dollar ransom. He tell Tex, wait at house. Watch Ling Loi. Char-Boss go talk to Lundy Chinese.”

  “Miss Ling, clarify for us again. The man you called Tex is the same man who took you off the stagecoach, He brought you to a man called Char-Boss who took your money. After that, the other man told Tex to take you some distance away to a house. There you stayed while the other man sought a ransom for you. Can you tell us any more about your time with Tex Wilson?”

  Loi chose her words carefully. She still felt she owed him something in exchange for him keeping his word and putting himself at risk by bringing her back close enough to Lundy she could walk back to town. “I not know Wilson, only Tex. Boss hire Tex, he take Ling Loi off stagecoach. Tex not happy Boss tell Tex, you stay watch Ling Loi and Boss go, but he stay. Tex feed me. Few times Tex ta
lk mean. Many times he kind. When Boss say Lundy Chinese no want Ling Loi, no pay two thousand dollar, Tex bring Ling Loi to Lundy.”

  Mr. Goodall thanked her and walked over to a chair. After he sat down, Loi thought it was time for her to leave and prepared to rise. Then she noticed the man who was sitting next to Tex stand up. He walked toward her. She had already decided he was tricky.

  “Miss Ling, you said you were wearing a cloth over your eyes, correct?”

  Loi nodded. “Hai. Yes.”

  “And, this blindfold, did you wear it the entire eight days?”

  Loi could feel a trap closing in on her. “Yes.”

  “Tell me, Miss Ling…” Assuming a theatrical manner, Mr. Schuman threw his arms wide in as he turned to face the audience. “If you wore a blindfold the whole time, how can you possibly say for certain that my client, Mr. Wilson, is the man who took you off the stagecoach and kept you at a cabin for eight days?”

  The man’s manner flustered Loi, and she stumbled over her words. “Tex take me off stagecoach, I not have cloth over eyes. I see Tex. He wear cloth over face like this…” Loi lifted both hands and curved her fingers to cover her nose while she tucked her thumbs beneath her chin. “Ling Loi see eyes, see hair.” She pointed to Tex. “He have same eyes, same hair…”

  “That’s enough, Miss Ling. Just answer the question.”

  “He wear same hat, wear same clothes.”

  Tex’s lawyer spun back and jabbed his finger at Loi. “I said, only answer the question. Stop talking.”

  By this point, the tricky man shouted at her to stop talking, but Loi did not care. She knew the man across the room was Tex, and she intended to make sure these white Americans knew it, too. She raised her voice. “He same man. He Tex. He take Ling Loi off stagecoach.”