by Zina Abbott
Jim Toy recalled the Caucasian stranger with the dark eyes and long black hair that had visited his restaurant shortly after the men who had taken Ling Loi released her. The questions he asked about Chinese women flashed through Jim Toy’s mind. He had never seen the man before then. Jim Toy found nothing threatening about the man’s behavior, but he remembered the man wore a curious weapon hanging from his belt. Could it be the strange hatchet Sing Yang saw in the dim light? If so, he suspected the man had come for Ling Loi, not to hurt her or make her life worse, but to take her away to a different life.
Jim Toy had no use for Ah Chin or the On Yick tong. Over the years, he had watched in disgust as the criminal fighting tongs had risen in power in Chinatown. They had sapped away the power and influence of the benevolent Six Companies, the men who, for a price, helped their fellow Cantonese citizens navigate the mysteries and dangers of life in Gum Saan. The white Americans perception of the Chinese would never change for the better as long as these criminal tongs and their stranglehold on Chinatown prevailed.
Jim Toy made his decision. He told the sheriff the witness said it was a hatchet man who had taken Ling Loi. Although he wore western clothes which would have helped him blend in, he could have been sent by the tong in Chinatown. He might already have Ling Loi back in the city.
~o0o~
Sheriff McKinney left the Chinese restaurant filled with jumbled emotions. His one witness that could point Charley Jardine out as Tex Wilson’s accomplice had escaped. On the other hand, her written court testimony, perhaps leaked to the Bridgeport newspaper, could be used to influence the jury when it came time to try and convict Tex Wilson. If she had been spirited to Chinatown by someone from one of the hoodlum fighting tongs, under no circumstances would he waste any time or county resources going after her. Hopefully, her situation would be better there than in Lundy with the likes of Ah Chin.
Sheriff McKinney walked down Main Street to the jail to check on the healing progress of George Lee’s hand. Jack Murray approached him with a suggestion. Once the fervor in town cooled down, McKinney would be better off not arresting the loud-mouth bartender. With Tex locked up, Charley Jardine up in Bodie recovering from his gunshot wound, and Bill Callahan’s life hanging in the balance, Lee was better off being allowed to work his business. Sheriff McKinney could save the taxpayers a lot of money if he waited for a hearing date before he saw about putting George Lee behind bars. McKinney agreed the plan had merit. The last thing he needed was George Lee and Charlie Jardine locked in the jail at the same time where they could scheme with each other on how to get themselves out from under the charges against them.
As for Charley Jardine, the sheriff would keep him in custody and pin the man down for the crimes he had committed.
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Chapter 47
~o0o~
Bridgeport, California ~ December 1, 1884
T ex Wilson stood in the doorway of his open cell and watched the light in the section of sky visible through the transom above the door to the Mono County jail begin to fade. Unlike Charley Jardine, who consistently ranted at the sheriff or his deputy when they entered the jail, Tex had acted polite and cooperative towards his captors and Mrs. McKinney who prepared his meals. Sheriff McKinney had shown his appreciation to Tex for his good behavior by allowing his cell door to remain open between breakfast and supper time. Tex had made good use of having full access to the inside of the jail’s hallway and dining hall.
Tex estimated it would soon be time. He knew the sheriff’s fourteen-year-old daughter struggled to become a virtuoso. In some of the congenial conversations Tex had entered into with Sheriff McKinney for the express purpose of gaining the man’s trust, the proud father had bragged about his daughter’s dedication to perfecting her skill at the piano. Her ambitious, no-nonsense mother no doubt saw to it the girl put in at least two one-hour practice sessions each day except Sundays, when she only practiced church hymns for an hour. If her halting attempts had been to play saloon tunes, Tex might have found the music practice tolerable. However, he never had cared for that high-brow classical stuff she constantly played. Tex found only one positive benefit of her piano exercises. The racket provided the perfect cover for his latest project.
As soon as he heard the piano practice begin, Tex sped to the transom over the front door of the jail and the metal bars that covered it.
One advantage he found with having friends in Lundy was, while he waited for Sheriff McKinney to hurriedly line up a posse to drag him away, someone had slipped him a short, narrow blade with a sharp, serrated edge. Handy little tool. He had shoved it deep down the side of his boot. He had counted on Mono being a county too small to have the funds to provide special prison clothes for its inmates.
Tex remained dressed the same as he had been when arrested over a month before. The sawblade stayed inside his boot undetected. Each day his door remained opened, and once the piano practicing began, he fished the blade from its hiding place and worked on the metal cross-bars that kept him imprisoned. The bars on the top half he had already cut through. In the days prior, he had cut through the bottom and side bands, all but for narrow connecting pieces on each one. As long no one looked closely, the bars appeared to be untampered with.
Tex excitement increased. Even with the mild weather that day, he wore his jacket. If he calculated correctly, today he would break free. He clenched his jaw as he worked the saw with its teeth that had grown dull, grateful he had nearly finished his task. As he furiously sawed through the last few bars, Tex gripped the cover with one hand to keep it from falling to the ground with a clatter that might be heard inside the sheriff’s house
“Tex, what are you up to, eh? I can hear you working on something.”
Tex ignored Charley’s question just like he had been ignoring the man’s attempt to identify the sound all these days. One thing he had learned from his dealings with Charley Jardine was that, if the man thought it would benefit him, he would rat out a partner and stab him in the back. Tex knew his greatest chance for not being caught once he escaped was to keep Charley in the dark as much as possible. He offered his former partner in crime no information to use against him in the future.
“Is that metal you’re grinding? If you’re working on breaking out, take me with you. It’ll be worth money to you. My brother is holding my cash for me. I’m good for it.”
Tex grimaced. Although he had been paid some money for stealing the Chinese woman off the stagecoach, he had not received nearly the amount due him considering the risk he took. And here the man bragged about having more money when he had not paid up before? As far as Tex was concerned, Charley could sit in jail and rot.
The metal covering broke free. Tex angled it to pull it inside where he leaned it against the wall next to the door. It wouldn’t take much for the good sheriff to repair it. Tex didn’t care as long as he was outside and free.
Tex entered the dining hall long enough to grab the closest bench that went with the trestle dining table. It was easier for him to move than his bed’s metal frame. It would position his body high enough for him to pull himself through the opening above the door. Passing the door of Charley’s cell proved to be the only disagreeable aspect.
Charley jumped to his feet and clutched the crossed metal strips of his cell door. “You’re breaking free. Take me with you.”
Tex approached Charley’s cell and kept his voice low. “Keep it down, Charley. I don’t got no keys, so there’s no way for me to get y’all out of there. Don’t worry none. I never said a word about your part in anything. They’ve got nothing on you. Long as y’all keep your mouth shut, y’all will beat the charges and no one will be coming after you once y’all get out of here.”
Tex pushed away a wave of funk that came with the realization that Charley probably would beat the charges against him. Sheriff McKinney had arrested him, supposedly because of the shoot-out with Kirk Steves. The charges cl
aimed he shot first and Steves shot back in self-defense. However, both Tex and Charley knew McKinney really hoped Charley would confess to his part in stealing the Chinawoman off the stagecoach and being the one to go to the Lundy Chinese to demand a ransom. Steves had gleaned enough bits and pieces to have guessed correctly what had taken place. Unfortunately for McKinney, he had no solid witnesses to Charley’s involvement. Except for the little Chinawoman. Fortunately for them both, she had disappeared.
Grateful the sheriff had allowed him to keep on his leather gloves for warmth, Tex stepped on the bench and grabbed the bottom edge of the transom. He sucked in his breath as he shoved his broad shoulders and barrel chest through the opening. It was a tight squeeze, but he soon found himself sliding towards the ground head first. He braced his feet against the top of the opening in an effort to break his fall. With a grunt, he dropped to the ground, using his hands to propel his body into a roll—as much as a big man like him could roll.
Tex scrambled to his feet and ran for cover behind the young trees outside the door. The thick stone walls of the jail hid him from the sheriff’s house attached to the back of the jail. The house was actually partially constructed from some of the wood from the former jail some crazy Chinaman had tried to burn down as he made his escape. Fortunately, the large new courthouse blocked his hiding place so most of the traffic on the street could not see him.
Tex knew he needed to steal a horse—preferably one with a rifle in the scabbard, provisions in the saddlebags, and a decent blanket roll behind the cantle. If the horse turned out to be large enough to easily carry his weight, all the better. He knew it would be a far more challenging task to stay free than it had been to break free. A good horse would make all the difference.
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Chapter 48
~o0o~
Robinson Creek, California ~ Early December, 1884
B eth Caldwell shook her head while she listened to Buddy bark up a storm. She still entertained second thoughts about the wisdom of allowing Josh to bring the mutt when they made this last trip from Lundy. “That dog best not be going after no chickens.”
“Here, Buddy. Here, boy. Good dog.”
Suddenly, the barking stopped. The door to the small barn next to her home slammed shut, and the yard grew exceptionally quiet. Knowing her sister, Hazel, had remained up at the main house at the Caldwell Ranch—ostensibly to clean the big house now the wedding guests had departed, but really to spend more time with her fiancé, Luther Caldwell—she hurried to the window in Hazel’s bedroom which had a view of the side yard, the chicken coop, and the barn. The few chickens she had left—after a traveler had passed through twice and relieved her of two of them—roamed the fenced-in yard where they pecked feed and insects. She saw no sign of Josh or Buddy.
Beth knew something was wrong. It involved more than Buddy causing a racket. Josh had promised to bring up two more buckets of water to fill the hot water reservoir on her stove, plus bring in more kindling. His injuries he suffered over a year before while working in one of the mines near Lundy limited him on the tasks he could easily perform without help. However, if Josh was anything, he was prompt and efficient on those chores he agreed to do.
In spite of the cold, Beth threw her thick gray shawl she had knitted the previous winter over her shoulders rather than don her wool coat for the quick trip to the barn to check on Josh. She opened the large door and stepped inside. Just outside the entryway to his bunk room she had built into the barn just for him, Josh sat on a wooden stool with his arm around Buddy’s neck.
Josh reached over and stroked the top of the dog’s head. “It’s all right, Buddy.” Josh looked up at Beth. “We’re all right, Mrs. Caldwell. You can go back in the house now. I’ll get to those chores in the blink of an eye.”
Beth studied Josh closely. Unlike his usual affable self, the young man appeared to be nervous. Whining, the dog kept turning its head towards the back of the barn. “Something ain’t right, Josh. Reckon you best fess up.”
Beth’s back stiffened as a horse in the barn neighed. She knew it was not her horse, for Josh had let it loose in the pasture earlier that day. She squinted in the darkness of the closed-in barn and saw the unfamiliar horse’s head in one of two stalls. Someone had put hay in the rack for it. “Who’s there? I ain’t in no mood for no games, and I got me a gun. You best show yourselves directly.”
A large man with a barrel chest arose to his feet. He stepped out of the stall and stood in the space between the stall and the wall to Josh’s room. His hand hovered over a pistol at his hip. He studied her with a look that told Beth he meant business. “Y’all that widow-woman what cooked for that German up in Lundy?”
“Reckon you could say so, only I ain’t no widow no more. Up and got married a week or so back. How come you’re wanting to know?”
The man offered a hint of a smile. “Congratulations, ma’am. Your husband here?”
“No. Ain’t nary a soul here but Josh and me.”
His face grew serious. “Good. Hear-tell y’all got some chickens and eggs on hand. I’m fixing on getting some off y’all.”
“I ain’t got none to spare.”
“Ma’am, I seen those chickens out there. Don’t go telling me y’all don’t got no chickens.”
“You done already took two of them along with a passel of eggs. Done cleaned out my pantry, too. Don’t impress me none you leaving the money for what you took, though I’ll allow the half eagle covered all you done took the last time you was here. That ain’t the point. You got no call coming onto my place and helping yourself and leaving what you figure it’s worth. Been a downright inconvenience you leaving it to me to make the trip to town to buy more so’s me and mine can eat. You take any more, I flat-out ain’t going to have no eggs for my holiday baking.”
As Beth talked, she noticed the man’s expression changed from a scowl to one of bewilderment. As soon as she finished, his face morphed into a smile. He looked down, shook his head, and laughed deep in his chest. “Sounds like Shorty.”
“I can’t hear nothing, you muttering like that.”
The man looked up, his expression once more menacing. “Wasn’t nothing worth repeating. Hate to disappoint y’all, but that wasn’t me.”
“If taking the food ain’t enough, you done stole my brother-in-law’s horse. It was worth more than the fifty dollars you left.”
“I told y’all, it wasn’t me. That horse back there’s not the one that was took, now is it?”
Beth narrowed her eyes as she studied the horse in the semi-darkness. She shook her head.
“No reason for me to get that horse if the one that was took was as good as y’all are saying. Now, if y’all don’t want nothing bad happening to this boy and his dog, you listen real close and do what I say. I want y’all to fry up one of them chickens. While y’all are doing that, scramble up some eggs with fried potatoes for me to eat now and boil up some more eggs with about six potatoes for me to take with me. Figure they ought to be done by the time the chicken’s cooked. And I’m not paying y’all no half eagle for it. I’ll give y’all a dollar, paper money, and that’s a buck more than I was planning on.”
Beth tightened her lips in a grimace. He probably traded Luther’s horse for this one to shed himself of an animal with the Caldwell brand that was well-known in these parts. However, with Josh’s safety to consider, she chose to not rile the man any further about the horse. “I got me four eggs. Reckon I can scramble them or boil them with the taters. Ain’t enough for both.”
The man narrowed his eyes, but grinned, as if enjoying the haggle. “Y’all got you some bacon or side pork?” At Beth’s nod, he continued. “Then reckon I’ll take them potatoes fried up in some pork. Toss in the organ meat from that chicken. Reckon y’all can boil the eggs with the potatoes. And I’ll need about two pounds of beans and a bit of that side pork to go. I don’t mean to rush y’all, but I figure on being out of
here in an hour, so don’t go dragging y’all’s feet none. I figure I’ll stay here and let my horse grain up real good. Keep the boy and his dog company.”
Furious, Beth whirled and left the barn. She marched to her chicken coop. Drag her feet? How dare the man insinuate she was lazy? Beth made straight for the rooster, twisted its neck and drew out her pa’s old hunting knife she kept strapped to her leg to clean it. “Don’t need no stringy rooster. Get me a new one right quick. That no-count varmint ain’t getting no more of my good laying hens.”
After plucking feathers and cutting the chicken in pieces, Beth dredged the chicken in flour and put it on to fry. She started what water she had left to boiling and scrubbed up a half-dozen large potatoes. Next, she cut up some side pork, the organ meat and onions, and put them on to fry while she sliced her potatoes for the man’s breakfast. He hadn’t asked for the onions. However, she had her reputation as a cook to maintain. She refused to serve him food prepared by her that tasted bland.
Besides, thief though he might be, he did say he would give her a dollar. There certainly was no profit in it for her, but it sounded like the man planned to leave the area for the winter. If this was the end of him raiding her larder, she would take the loss this one last time.
More important than the dollar was keeping Josh and that rascally dog, Buddy, safe.
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Chapter 49
~o0o~
W ith his belly satisfyingly full for the first time since he broke out of the jail, Tex rode away from the woman’s homestead in a good mood. He headed southwest, but as soon as he got well inside the timberline, he turned his horse north. He planned to stay in the forested area and follow it around the north side of Bridgeport. He’d spend another night up in his cabin before he traveled south for good.