Escape From Gold Mountain

by Zina Abbott

  “In California and some other western states, that’s true, but not everywhere. First, Loi, I’m not a white American. I look white because I have white grandparents. But my mother’s mother is Ojibwa. According to our custom, that makes me Ojibwa.”

  “O-Ojib….” Shocked at the revelation and not sure what it meant, Loi struggled to pronounce the strange-sounding word. And, did he speak the truth saying there were places in this land of white Americans where they could marry?

  “I’m Indian, Loi. In most of the states close to where I come from, people may marry whomever they choose, no matter if they come from different nations or different races. If I cannot find a place where we can legally marry before we return to my home, and someone who will agree to marry us, we will marry there. We have a tradition of adopting people from other races and other tribes into ours. Whether or not you choose to become Ojibwa, you will be safe among my people.”

  Loi hesitated as she considered his words. “Shorty, you sure you want me for wife?”

  “Yes, Loi. Ever since I returned you to Ah Chin, all I have been able to think about is how much I miss you and want you with me. I promise to honor you. We will have a legal marriage before I touch you.”

  Loi’s voice dropped to a reverential whisper. “I honored you want me for wife, Shorty. I honored to give you sons.”

  “Daughters too, Loi. Among my people, daughters are also important.”

  “I not understand, Shorty. Family belong to man.”

  “It’s different where I come, Loi. I’ll explain later. For now, I just need to know you will come with me. I can’t promise we will always have a lot of money or a fancy home to live in, but I will provide for you and our children. Do you remember how I used the tomahawk on the bear? I also have my knife and guns. I am a hatchet man among my people. If Chinese hatchet men come looking for you, I can protect you.”

  Loi swallowed and mustered every ounce of courage within her. She knew by agreeing to be his wife, she took a monumental step toward trusting Shorty to help her escape from the On Yick tong. She hoped this fate she desired more than anything else would be hers.

  “I come with you, Shorty.”

  Loi’s burst of exhilaration over the prospect of the change in her circumstances deflated with Shorty’s next words.

  “Loi, I can’t take you with me tonight. Before we leave, I have some things to do. First, I need to get the rest of my money Charley owes me. I’ll also try to reclaim some of your money. If I can, I’ll get it tonight.”

  Loi began to tremble in fear. So much could happen in only a few days. She had overheard Ah Chin speak of putting her back on the stagecoach to go to Dai Fow. Only the stagecoach owner’s reluctance to chance another abduction attempt by letting her ride again had prevented him from already sending her away. “No, Shorty. I give you money. It my dowry. We go tonight.” Loi felt her heart sink at Shorty’s response.

  “No, you keep your money, Loi. I’ll use what I get from Charley. I hate leaving you here, Loi, but we can’t leave tonight. I have too much to do to prepare so we are not caught. Be ready to leave in two nights. When everything is ready, I will wait for you to come out to empty the chamber pots. Every night you dress as warm as you can. Bring your money, but leave behind anything you don’t need. If I don’t make it back then, be ready the next night. Once I come to get you, we must travel fast. We’ll change your name to Joy, your mission name. No one will find you.”

  Upon hearing his frustrated sigh, Loi yearned to comfort Shorty. “Joy, yes. I like. I be ready.”

  “I promise, Loi, I will do everything in my power to come for you. If I’m not here in three days, it means the sheriff arrested me, or I’m dead.”

  “Ling Loi!” Ah Chin’s angry voice rang out in the night air as he threatened to punish her for taking so long.

  Loi’s rushed her words in a whisper. “I go, Shorty. I be ready.”

  Ling Loi opened the door to the necessary and stumbled out. She clutched her stomach with one arm and bent over with a groan. With her face as gaunt as it was, she hoped her attempt to trick Ah Chin into believing she felt ill succeeded.

  ~o0o~

  Luke waited until the two returned inside before he left. As he walked back towards the main section of Lundy, he reflected on the change that had come over him in the past month. To avoid his alcoholic step-father who mocked him for being too white, and whose taunts prompted others to question his loyalty the tribe, he had left Minnesota years before. At the time, he intended to never return. He cut his hair and dressed like a white man. He wore nothing that would mark him as Ojibwa. The only exception to that was the tomahawk he bought from his step-father and carried with him out of spite after his stepfather tried to reclaim it. It had proved its value as a weapon. Already feeling spurned by his own, and having discovered he easily passed for white, he had turned his back on his Ojibwa heritage.

  However, after feelings for Ling Loi entered his heart, his attitude once again shifted. He now sought out the clothing of native people. He now desired to once again let his hair grow. His homesickness for his mother and sister had intensified. He knew that with the disdain most Euro-Americans held for the Chinese—even more so, in many cases, than they displayed toward Indians of any tribe—passing himself off as white no longer benefitted him now that he wished to marry Loi. There was no guarantee that the people of his band would accept his Chinese wife, but he had a better chance with them than with the whites.

  Besides, the reservation where his mother’s people lived was home.

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  Chapter 42

  ~o0o~

  L uke kept to the shadows and pressed his body against the bark to appear as one with the tree. Intending to blend in with the darkness as much as possible, he wore his faded black wool jacket and the black derby he had found. He wrapped his dark blue wool scarf around his neck to cover his face. His black wool trousers he pulled over the tops of his soft-soled Paiute moccasins so make his footwear less noticeable. Along with his gun belt and holster, he left his tomahawk with his horse, since the distinctive weapon would stand out and be remembered if anyone saw it. However, he kept his knife at his side. His pistol he tucked beneath his coat inside his belt at his back.

  Extremely little of the ambient light from the surrounding buildings reflected off the patches of snow clinging to the surrounding yard. The deep darkness resulting from the new moon meant Luke waited several seconds before he could see the faint outline of the rear of the Magnolia Saloon against the night sky.

  Luke knew Charley was away from his room. No light shined through the window, and it was too early for the rabble-rouser to have gone to bed for the night. Luke intended to enter through the window. The sound of footsteps on the stairs would serve as a warning if anyone approached while Luke was in the room. Luke guessed it to be the perfect time to get what he came for from Charley.

  Luke had no idea if the window had a latching mechanism to keep it from being opened when Charley was away. He recalled watching Charley close, but not lock, the window. Luke debated the wisdom of breaking the glass to get in if Charley had somehow secured the window so it would not slide open. If he made noises, that would draw the attention of those wandering the streets, and he could be caught. Then again, what were his chances of sneaking up the stairs without someone noticing and figuring out he had no business being there?

  Luke glanced around to be sure he was alone behind the cluster of buildings. He acknowledged his gratefulness for his moccasins which allowed him to step quietly without leaving a sharply-defined boot print. He found the ladder and brought it by the outside wall. He ran his fingers along the wall until he reached the doorjamb to the back door. He wrapped his hand around the doorknob and slowly turned. The knob refused to budge. It might be an entry or exit of last resort, but Luke preferred to use it at a time someone forgot to lock it. This night was not that night. He cautiously rested the ladd
er against the wall next to where he guessed the window to be.

  Just as Luke started to climb, the noise level inside the Magnolia escalated, reverberating through the back walls of the building. Concerned about the ruckus taking place inside, Luke descended the ladder and hurried around the buildings. He crossed the street to the empty lot next to the harness shop and stood in the shadows where he could still see inside the front window of the saloon.

  Luke first noticed Kirkus Steves standing at the bar, a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass in front of him. His presence told Luke the posse that took Tex to Bridgeport had returned. In order to hear what was being said, Luke crossed the street again and stood with his back to the wall outside the beam of light filtering through the front window. In a loud voice, the deputy sheriff regaled the crowd—some appreciative, some critical—with the story. Luke heard the slam of a shot glass on the bar. Luke guessed this was far from his first drink that night.

  Luke wondered why Steves had come to this particular bar. Although he had avoided getting involved with the people of Lundy, he had made a point to learn everything he could about the goings-on regarding Tex Wilson and Charley Jardine. He knew Kirk Steves hated Charley Jardine. So why was the man standing up to the bar in the saloon Charley frequented, and where Charley kept a room? Why was he bragging about Tex’s transfer to the county jail to a bartender who was a friend and supporter of Charley and Tex?

  Luke pressed deeper into the shadows when, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of someone walking up the boardwalk on the same side of the street as the saloon. The obvious stagger revealed to Luke the man had been drinking. He recognized Charley Jardine when he walked past the lit windows of the Arcade Saloon.

  After Charley entered the Magnolia, Luke dropped to his haunches beneath the window. Would Charley remain downstairs to drink or go up to his room?

  The escalating volume of voices told Luke at least two men inside argued. One of the voices belonged to Charley Jardine.

  Luke rose to his feet and moved his head as close to the edge of the window as possible. With the finger at the end of his outstretched arm pointing at Charley, a very drunk Kirk Steves accused Charley of being part of the kidnapping plot. He also shouted out the same claims he had made before.

  Luke silently huffed to himself as he heard Charley vehemently deny everything. Luke didn’t know how Steves knew so much about Charley’s involvement—if he had made a lucky guess, or if he had inside information—but Luke did know Charley was the master of denial.

  Soon other voiced joined in and demanded the two men take their argument outside. Charley’s and Kirk’s voices grew in volume as they moved towards the door. Luke turned his back and began to casually walk away. He hoped neither man would notice him. His blood raced as he heard footsteps approach behind him. His heart jumped into his throat as he heard something heavy clatter to the boardwalk not twenty feet behind him.

  A couple of quick footsteps brought Luke to the shadowy indent of the entry to the Wells Fargo office two doors west of the saloon. He stepped into the darkness just as he heard the report of a pistol and Kirk’s loud cry of pain. Luke leaned around the edge of the wooden frame holding the front glass of the office in time to see Charley wave his pistol and weave on his feet as he struggled to maintain his balance. Kirk Steves slumped against the wall. A shotgun lay on the boardwalk next to him. He clutched his stomach with one hand as his blood ran down into his shoes. Steves forced himself upright. He pulled his pistol from its holster with his free hand and took aim.

  Charley, upon seeing his opponent ready to shoot him, spun around and started running back towards the door to the saloon. He didn’t make it. Kirk Steves managed to fire off one round before he collapsed to the boardwalk.

  Luke watched as Charley threw his arms in the air and lurched forward, leading with his middle. Before he fell against the doorway to the saloon, Luke saw a dark spot begin to spread in Charley’s low back to the side of his spine, but below his ribs. Charley’s hands futilely clutched the doorjamb in his attempt to stay on his feet. As he slid down, and his body twisted so he came to rest on his side against the saloon’s outside wall, Luke saw the smear of blood from the exit wound on the frame. The bullet went completely through Charley. The question was, did it hit anything vital inside the man?

  As men poured out of the saloon to investigate the aftermath of the shooting affray, Luke ran up to Kirk Steves to check on how he was doing. Steves wouldn’t recognize him, and Luke preferred to avoid any suspicion that might arise if he hid or ran away.

  “Hey. You see what happened?”

  Without making eye contact, Luke glanced in the direction of the man who addressed him and shrugged. “Don’t know. Heard shots and came running.”

  It was Kirk Steves who answered through gasps of pain. “I dropped my shotgun and when I turned to pick it up, Charley Jardine shot me. I fired back in self-defense.”

  A voice unfamiliar to Luke issued an order to no one in particular. “Someone go get Bill Callahan. Let him sort this out.”

  Another voice responded. “I’ll do that. Someone get to the telephone and call Doc Walker in Bodie. Tell him he’s needed up here.”

  “He’s not going to come up this time of night. It’s pitch black out there.”

  “Maybe not, but at least he’ll know to get an early start at first light. Looks like both Steves and Jardine are going to need his services. It’s too bad ol’ Doc Guirado up and left Lundy high and dry with no doctor, or we wouldn’t need to send for one thirty miles away.”

  Luke listened while his hands joined those of other men in tearing open Steves’s shirt to better see the wound. Someone removed the injured man’s neckerchief and pressed it against the bullet hole to stop the bleeding. Once enough men surrounded Kirk Steves, Luke stood, prepared to leave. He glanced at Charley, also surrounded by men. Several of them pulled Charley to his feet.

  The bartender, George Lee, stood at the doorway issuing orders. “Get him upstairs to his room. Someone go get James and tell him his brother’s been shot.”

  “And just where do you expect us to find Jamie at this time of night? It’s not like he’s been spending his time here lately.”

  Lee snapped back, his voice laced with sarcasm. “Well, I suggest you first go check at the place where his lady-love lives.”

  Luke stepped back and faded into the darkness of the late-night street as he mulled the situation over. So, Charley got himself shot up and was being taken back to his room, the room where Charley kept hidden in the wall the money he got off his last two illegal jobs. Chances were, he would be there for quite some time. In addition, one of the men left to get Charley’s brother to stay with him.

  Luke needed the money Charley owed him. More importantly, to be assured he could buy everything he wanted to help Loi travel safely in the coming winter’s cold, he needed the money stolen from her. How could he get into Charley’s room without being seen?

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  Chapter 43

  ~o0o~

  L uke worried the men of Lundy would never settle down that night after the excitement of the shooting scrape. As much as Luke would have preferred to find his bedroll and settle in for a good night’s rest before he journeyed north, he forced himself to stay awake while he waited for his chance to get into Charley Jardine’s room.

  Luke once again moved to the empty lot across the street where he could wait undetected in the shadows. He watched as Charley’s brother raced into the Magnolia. An entourage of the morbidly curious followed in his wake. One man ran out, and within ten minutes returned clutching a small bottle. Luke heard the muffled cheer until the saloon door closed tight.

  Several minutes later, the deputy sheriff that had talked to Loi when she returned to town entered the bar, no doubt to check on Charley and get his side of the story.

  Luke raised an eyebrow in surprised when, less than an hour later, Char
ley’s brother exited the saloon and walked back in the direction from which he had come. Not long after, a few others straggled out of the saloon. Two men crossed the street dangerously close to where Luke hid. However, as they walked past him without noticing him, they said enough to give Luke an important piece of information.

  “Isn’t that something? Callahan talked to them both, and neither one is going to press charges against the other.”

  “Of course, they’re not. They’re both guilty as sin, and they both know it. Either one presses charges, they’d both end up in the hoosegow.”

  Unfortunately, enough men remained inside to make it worthwhile for George Lee to stay open.

  Without meaning to, Luke dozed off until the sound of guns going off jerked him awake. The door to the Magnolia Saloon opened and an outcry of excitement and indignation erupted from the men inside. Soon, other men living close enough to have heard the exchange of gunfire, some of them pulling on clothing and buttoning shirts as they ran, came pouring out of surrounding buildings. Luke stepped to the rear of a group of men coming down the same side of the street where he had been waiting.

  What now? If the gunshots involved Charley Jardine, he needed to know.

  Just as Luke and the others prepared to enter, a miner rushed outside. “Bill Callahan’s been shot.”

  Excited voices demanded answers as a crowd once again converged on the Magnolia Saloon.

  “That sidewinder George Lee’s been drinking too much of his own stores. Started bad-mouthing the way the posse handled things with Tex Wilson. He threatened to form a committee to lynch everyone who served on the posse that took Tex in. Didn’t have much good to say about our sheriff, neither. When Callahan told him he was under arrest, ol’ George had enough sense to know he best go, but then he wrecks it all by saying he won’t wear no bracelets. When Callahan tried to put the handcuffs on him, that’s when he got the pistol out from under the bar and shot him.”