The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) (18 page)

Ling-Ling’s body lay lifeless and cold upon her bed. They
had washed and dressed her and removed all evidence of her long labor. Bao
stared at her body, staggered at death’s finality and unable to accept it.

In the crook of her arm they had laid a small bundle, the
child that had perished with her. A son, they told him. The infant’s face was
covered with the corner of the blanket. Bao could not bring himself to lift the
cloth and look upon the tiny face. The child had been weeks overdue, until the
doctors, delivering the grave news, told him they could not find a heartbeat.

Ling-Ling had already known. The baby had stopped moving,
and she had been hysterical for days, mourning the loss but still carrying the
child. Finally the doctors had recommended Bao seek an herbalist.

The wizened old woman had given Ling-Ling a strong potion to
produce a labor. The labor had been agonizingly slow. The baby had been turned
the wrong way.

This is my punishment
, Bao told himself.
I brought
this on Ling-Ling and this innocent child. The guilt is surely
mine
but
they
have paid with their lives for my dishonor and villainy
.

His rambling thoughts turned yet again to his little friend,
Mei-Xing. Indeed, she was rarely far from his mind, the familiar and haunting
reminder of his evil deeds. He wondered if she still lived or if she daily
suffered from the defilement that had been Fang-Hua’s judgment on her—the
sentence
he
had carried out.

I am guilty. My punishment is just
, he reflected,
for
just as Mei-Xing’s suffering and shame is without end, I will carry the weight
of my wife and son’s deaths into eternity.

He had another thought, this one strangely comforting.
It
is better that my son did not live to bear the shame of my name
.

A sob he had not known was in his throat escaped his mouth.
My
son
, he groaned, rocking back and forth in agony.

Ling-Ling’s family mourned and wept around him. Her mother
threw herself upon the floor next to Ling-Ling’s body screaming in grief.

Messengers from the Chens arrived bearing flowers, fruit,
and messages of sympathy and support. Two large men took up station outside his
home, politely screening mourners as they came to call.

Bao knew why the men were there. Ling-Ling and the baby were
dead. Fang-Hua could no longer hold his family’s safety over his head, wagging
her bony finger and breathing thinly veiled threats if he failed to execute her
vile wishes.

Righteous fate has freed me from her
, he sneered to
himself.
With what can she now punish me for failing to bring Su-Chong back
to her?
My life? My life is but dirt. I am glad her son slipped through
her fingers.

As he pondered his freedom from Fang-Hua’s clutches, he
began to play with an as-yet unformed idea.

—

For three weeks O’Dell had used every resource at his
disposal—the police, the Pinkertons, Marshal Pounder’s men, the Denver papers, and bribes spread throughout Chinatown and the red light district. No trace
of Su-Chong or Mei-Xing surfaced.

He had heard rumors, mere whispers, of strangers arriving in
Denver a few weeks back. Dark-haired Asian men, he was told. Men whose hard
faces brooked no questions or interference. The Pinkerton agents posted at Palmer
House had reported a similar suspicious sighting.

And then nothing.

More frustrated than he could ever remember being over a
missing persons case, O’Dell insisted that the guard at Palmer House and
Michaels’
Fine Household Furnishings
be maintained. He ground his teeth and drove his
sources beyond their tolerances.

“You can’t get blood from a turnip, O’Dell,” Pounder growled
at him. “’Preciate it if you’d ease up a bit on my men. Otherwise I’m gonna
have to cut you off.”

—

The household of Palmer House gathered together in the great
room each evening to pray specifically for Mei-Xing’s safety and for O’Dell’s
efforts to find her. At the end of his own wits and resources, O’Dell began to
seriously question whether, perhaps, God was his last resort.
Not that he’s
helped so far
, he scowled.

After prayer last evening, however, they had celebrated
Will’s first birthday. Although the little guy was accustomed to being the
center of attention much of the time, the cake, candles, singing, and abundance
of gifts proved too much. He took refuge in Marit’s arms and refused to
participate any further.

Everyone laughed but did not pressure the little
one-year-old. Occasionally he would peek out to see what was going on before
diving into Marit’s blouse again. So they cut the cake and enjoyed it with a
fruity punch Gretl had made.

O’Dell looked about the room. Even with Mei-Xing’s
disappearance weighing on them, this group of people—this
family
—took
time to truly celebrate a joyous milestone. He found himself wondering if,
somewhere, sometime, he would belong to such a family himself.

Don’t be going soft, O’Dell,
his mind chastened him.
You
have a job to do, and you have never failed yet.
O’Dell nodded to himself.
He could not—
would not
—fail now.

—

Sarah turned with a smile when she heard the bell on the
shop door. An attractive couple entered and looked about with interest.

They were striking together—the man broad and strong,
wearing a perfectly cut three-piece suit and derby; the woman, slender and
exquisitely gowned. The jet beaded bodice and skirt of her dress tinkled
pleasantly. The gentleman was solicitous, cupping the woman’s elbow and
whispering in her ear.

As the woman turned, she lifted her veil and her midnight
blue eyes met Sarah’s. For a single second there was stunned recognition on
both sides and then—then Sarah saw the soul-wrenching hopelessness written on
Esther’s face.

With a near imperceptible movement of her head and a glance
toward the man, Esther conveyed it all. The man was not solicitous of Esther;
he was controlling her.

Sarah turned to the man and, polite mask in place, asked
sweetly, “How may I help you today, sir?”

She recognized the scrutiny he gave her for what it was and
deduced his thoughts as well. Men like him were always looking for “fresh
girls.” She kept herself smiling cordially and waited for his response.

“We would like to see your bedroom suites,” he replied
softly. “Wouldn’t we, my dear?”

“Why, yes, Cal,” Esther answered quickly. Too quickly, Sarah
thought.

“Right this way, sir, madam,” Sarah answered, her smile
plastered in place.

She led the way through the arched doorway into the bedroom
section of the store. On the way they walked by Corrine who started in
recognition. Sarah quickly headed her off.

“Corrine,” she ordered with a managerial tone she had never
used before. “Please see Mrs. Michaels regarding those invoices.”

Corrine opened her mouth in confusion, but Sarah cut her off
again. “Right away, Corrine.”

By this time they had passed the girl who now dimly
understood the situation and made her way hastily to the office to inform Joy.

Sarah busied herself displaying every bedroom set in the
shop, hoping to somehow separate Esther from the man at her elbow. She was not
successful, however, and realized how difficult the situation truly was.

Just then Esther sneezed and sneezed again. “Oh dear! Please
forgive me.” She reached for the beaded reticule hanging from her wrist. The
man released her elbow as Esther required both hands to draw out a hankie.

She turned her back politely and made a small show of
sniffling and blowing her nose. The man frowned and moved away in disgust.

Sarah took the opportunity to point out a matching bed frame
and chest of drawers in glowing oak. As the man followed Sarah’s gestures and
stepped away a few feet farther, Esther drew something else from her reticule.
Seconds later she stood close by the man admiring the set. He immediately pulled
her arm possessively into his.

“Yes, I believe this set will do nicely,” Esther breathed,
looking up into the man’s face with a look of contentment that Sarah knew was
forced.

“You heard what the lady said.” The man nodded to Sarah and
they made their way to the register.

“If you will write the address here, we will have it
delivered Thursday.” Sarah thought her face would crack from the insincerity of
her smile, but the man just took her hand and smiled back, looking deeply into
her eyes.

“You are a lovely young woman,” he replied, gently stroking
her hand with his thumb and gazing at her intimately. “Lovely, indeed.” Beside
him, Esther reddened and cast her eyes on the floor.

Nausea rose in Sarah’s throat. It was all she could do to
politely repeat, “Your address, sir?”

The man smiled again and slowly released her hand. “No need.
I will send someone to pick it up. Thank you for your excellent service.”

“My pleasure,” Sarah answered. She waited until the door
closed behind Esther and her captor before she sank onto the stool behind the
counter. Joy and Corrine were instantly beside her.

“Are you all right, Sarah?” Joy asked. The young woman
looked up into Joy’s concerned face and crumpled in her arms.

“Thank you,” she wept. “Thank you for saving us from that
house, from that horror! Thank you, Miss Joy, thank you.” She clung to Joy as
though she feared being ripped away from the safety and liberty of her new
life.

Later, Billy handed Sarah a card. “Found this back in the
bedroom furnishings,” he said. Sarah, Joy, and Corrine gathered around and
studied the words printed on the expensive stock:

Cultured
Conversation and Companionship
Monday–Saturday Evenings, Eight O’clock

An address was printed across the bottom of the card. On the
back were scrawled two words:

help
me

~~**~~

We have seen Esther! God himself arranged the meeting and
she is, as the Lord revealed in my dream, in serious trouble.

We called Mr. O’Dell as soon as Sarah related the
encounter to us and showed him the card she dropped. He took the card and wrote
down the address, promising to look into it as soon as possible.

The dear man is discouraged and worn. He has found no
sign of Mei-Xing and I know it weighs heavily on him.

O Lord, please strengthen him, I ask in the name of our
Savior! Give him a fresh insight into Mei-Xing’s disappearance that will
encourage him.

—

 “Pounder and I sent a man into the house to ascertain the
situation,” O’Dell related to the household that evening. They were gathered in
the great room to hear what he had discovered.

Grant had asked Pastor Carmichael to join them. The young
minister sat in the corner behind Rose and observed quietly. Blackie, who was
curled as usual beside Joy’s chair, thumped his tail as O’Dell spoke.

“Our man “dandied” himself up and lounged about in their
parlor drinking watered down bourbon for an evening. He discovered what we
needed him to discover.”

“Did he see Esther?” Rose asked eagerly.

O’Dell nodded. “Yes. She’s the house’s madam. She greeted
him and set him up with a drink. Offered him a woman, so he asked who was
available. She mentioned Jess and two other girls, but we’re assuming Ava and
Molly are there also.”

“What will you do?” Joy whispered her question.

O’Dell didn’t look directly at her but replied to the group
at large. “It is a large house. Apparently, they have only been in it for a
couple of months.”

He paused and plucked the ever-present cigar from his breast
pocket, rolling it around in his fingers. “The man who was with Esther when she
was in the store.” O’Dell’s voice was flat.

They all waited but he didn’t finish his thought. Finally
Grant asked, “Yes? What about him?”

O’Dell ran his hand through his hair, shoved the cigar in
his mouth, and pulled it out again. “It’s Cal Judd.”

Tabitha reacted first. She jumped to her feet in agitation
and then slumped back in her chair. Rose was certain she heard the girl use a
swear word under her breath.

“His reputation in the market district is fearful,” Pastor
Carmichael murmured from behind Rose’s chair. “I have . . .
heard things.”

Grant frowned. “Cal Judd? That name sounds familiar.”

Joy nodded, downcast. “It is. If I remember correctly, Cal
Judd is the owner of the . . . place where you rescued Monika
Vogel.” She shot a sympathetic look toward Tabitha. “And Tabitha.”

All eyes turned to Tabitha. She again looked ready to jump up
and run. Flinty took her hand and held it firmly in his.

“Ain’t no one gonna come in here ’an’ take you, Red,” he
muttered. “Ya hev m’ word.” The men in the room, Grant, Billy, Mr. Wheatley,
and O’Dell, as one, agreed, and said so.

O’Dell’s face darkened. “You all need to understand. If we
go forward from here, Judd will become a real problem. We’ve already stung him
once. I took two of his girls but because we all left town right afterwards, he
chose to let it slide. This time will be different.”

After another long pause, Joy swallowed and asked, “How will
it be different?”

O’Dell finally looked at her. “Esther is known to be Cal’s woman, his particular property. We take her, the other three, and anyone else who
wants to come, and he will certainly
not
let it go. And where would we
take the women? Here?”

The danger was instantly obvious. Tabitha shuddered, her
face white. “We can’t . . . they can’t!” she whispered.

O’Dell agreed. “Exactly. If we take them out of there, I
will have to take them away from Denver.”

Joy interjected, “But what if we
did
bring them here
and took adequate precau—”

“
No
.” O’Dell’s voice was harsh. “No, they will
not
come here.”

Grant stared at O’Dell and a look passed between them. “Mr.
O’Dell is right. We cannot bring them here. It would endanger the house and our
family.
All
of our family.”

Pastor Carmichael made a gesture of agreement that only
Grant and O’Dell observed. His face was grave.

Rose, who had been listening with her head bowed, finally
spoke again. “What if we sent them to . . . RiverBend?”

Only Joy grasped what Rose was proposing. “You mean send
them to Pastor and Mrs. Medford? To Søren and Meg? Brian and Fiona?”

Rose nodded. “No one would dream of looking for them there.”
There were no objections and O’Dell slowly nodded his approval.

“I will place a telephone call in the morning,” Rose said.
She looked to O’Dell. “What will happen next?”

“I realize the day after tomorrow is Christmas. A time for
celebration and for . . . family.” O’Dell swallowed. “And I know
how raw Mei-Xing’s . . . absence is.”

The sweet memories of last year’s Christmas at the lodge in Corinth were burned into his heart as surely as if a branding iron had been applied. “But
the timing is perfect. Christmas night the guards will be less vigilant,
perhaps even lax.”

Breona spoke, her words heavy with emotion. “Aye, we’ll be
makin’ sure th’ wee ’un is havin’ a foine Christmas morn, boot for me,” and
here her voice cracked, “didna th’ babe coom t’ set th’ captive free? Mus’ we
na’ be aboot his business?”

“Amen,” Grant loudly agreed.

“Yes!” a few others replied.

Pastor Carmichael flashed Breona a smile of admiration.

“All right, then.” O’Dell set his jaw. “Mrs. Thoresen, those
arrangements must be firmly in place tomorrow.”

Rose nodded. “They shall be.”

—

Explaining to Pastor Medford what they needed was not
difficult. Waiting for him to think through the implications of bringing four
high-class prostitutes into their tiny farming community and for him to pray
about how they would handle the stir took several hours.

When he finally called back he had spoken to Brian and Fiona
and two other mature couples in his church. They would take the young women.

“Thank you,” Rose breathed to the Lord when the call ended.
The arrangements for O’Dell to take them from Denver and hand them off in
RiverBend had not been complicated. No, the difficulties would begin when the
inexperienced couples of her former church received the four women.

Joy and I were as naïve as newborns, Lord, when you
called us to this ministry. I know you will help Pastor Medford, Vera, and the
others. I also know how hard it will be. Please be their strength and courage!

The family at Palmer House observed a sober Christmas Eve
and Christmas morning. All the women in the house knew the four girls O’Dell
would attempt to rescue that night.

They knew, too, what it was to attempt an escape from such a
place. They had experienced or observed in others the consequences of a failed
effort. They could not help but place themselves in Esther, Ava, Jess, and
Molly’s shoes.

—

O’Dell and Pounder sent two of Marshal Pounder’s “dandied
up” men, Randy and Mike, into Esther’s house that evening. Both men were
carrying tiny notes for Esther.

They hadn’t anticipated Cal Judd being at the house, but
there he was, ensconced in the parlor, watching with dangerous, possessive eyes
while Esther handled the clients. Neither Randy nor Mike could manage a private
moment with her.

The best Randy could do was get himself assigned to Molly.
Once they entered her room, he quickly explained who he was and outlined the
plan to her. He handed her one of the notes for Esther.

“I-I think I can get her away for a minute,” Molly whispered
in a shaky voice. “But, but Cal . . . you don’t know him! You
don’t know what he’d do if . . .”

“We know him,” Randy assured her grimly. “Six marshals and
two Pinkertons will come in the front and back. That’s in addition to Mike and
me.” He showed her the revolver tucked into the back of his pants. “This place
has but three guards, right?”

She nodded, fear still showing in her eyes.

“Does Judd carry a gun?”

She nodded again. “It’s real showy but small.”

Randy nodded. Likely a derringer. “Go. Get Esther away from Cal
for a moment. Give her this note. I’ll wait here.”

At ten minutes past 11 o’clock, the doorbell in Esther’s
house chimed. The guard, Donovan, peered through a peep hole and saw two
likely-looking customers on the porch. He opened the door and gestured them
inside, only to find himself face-to-face with a snub-nosed revolver.

“Make one sound and it will be your last,” O’Dell rasped. He
pushed Donovan out the door where Pounder’s marshals quietly hauled him away.

Two of Pounder’s men were to have taken the backdoor guard
into custody at the same time. That only left the third guard who would be
monitoring the parlor and the staircase.

O’Dell cocked his head toward Tyndell, the marshal with him.
“Esther should be along shortly to welcome you. Make it look like you are the
only new guest. Position yourself to take out the other—”

Esther was at his elbow then, whispering furiously, “Mr.
O’Dell! Cal is in the parlor. He has a gun!”

I should have figured Judd would be here
, O’Dell
chastised himself. He nodded and shoved her unceremoniously out the door.

He turned to Tyndell. “All right, change of plans. One guard
and Cal Judd in the parlor. Let’s make it clean and make it quick.”

O’Dell and Tyndell heard two men descending the stairs,
presumably Randy and Mike. As their footsteps hit the bottom landing, O’Dell
and Tyndell moved into action.

Cal Judd did not get to where he was without a suspicious,
hyper-vigilant mind. Something was wrong—Esther had not immediately returned
with new guests, and he did not hear her voice welcoming them. The entryway was
quiet. Too quiet.

When O’Dell and Tyndell jumped into the parlor, Judd was
ready. Smoke tore from his gun and Tyndell slumped behind an ornate Victorian
settee. O’Dell dove back behind a wall post. The several gentlemen lounging in
the parlor shouted and threw themselves on the floor. Confusion reigned.

Randy and Mike sprang from the stairwell and tackled Jack,
the third guard, just as he pulled his gun. Randy called out, “O’Dell! We’ve
got this guy!”

That left only Judd.

Randy hollered again. “Judd has a derringer! Sounds like a
Remington!”

Two shots, .41 caliber
, O’Dell automatically
calculated and stared across the room at the wounded marshal. Tyndell was not
moving.

O’Dell launched himself from behind the entry wall to the
back of the settee near Tyndell. A .41 caliber is slow and O’Dell was fast, but
not fast enough. Judd’s second shot slammed into O’Dell’s left shoulder.

He hit the floor hard and groaned, then turned to Tyndell.
The man’s eyes fluttered but his chest was wet with blood.

Gingerly O’Dell sat up. His arm ached and felt numb;
however, he knew could manage himself for now. And Judd’s fancy little popgun
should be empty.

O’Dell thought briefly of rushing Judd and shooting him
dead. Afterwards he could say that he hadn’t been sure,
couldn’t be sure
,
the man was out of bullets and couldn’t take the chance that he wasn’t. He
cursed himself for having a conscience.

“That’s it, Judd!” O’Dell shouted. “You’ve killed a U.S. marshal and you’re out of bullets. You’re done for. Throw out that palm pistol and
surrender.”

The silence dragged on for five minutes. Then a silver,
pearl-handled gun arced across the room and landed on a carpet near O’Dell.

“I’m coming out.” Judd stood up and O’Dell, keeping his
revolver on him, called for Randy and Mike to take him into custody. Judd
stared coldly at O’Dell as they fastened the cuffs and dragged him outside.
O’Dell followed.

Pounder had the guards, Donovan, Jack, and a third man,
lined up against a police wagon. As the marshals led Judd toward the wagon, he
spied Esther, standing off to the side, her arms wrapped tightly around her
bare shoulders.

Judd called out to her, his voice strident with barely
suppressed rage. “Are you part of this, Esther? Did you conspire with this
Pinkerton to do this to me?”

Esther, terrified and shaking, did not answer. O’Dell walked
over and stood beside Esther. He would have handed her his jacket but the left
sleeve was soaked in blood that trickled off his fingers onto the ground.

“I should have aimed better, Pinkerton,” Judd called, his
words cold with menace.

His eyes returned to Esther, and his tone changed then, his
words soft, as if reproaching a child. “Sweet Esther. Disloyal and
disobedient—after all I have done for you, given to you, and how I have loved
and cared for you. Your error will cost you dearly.”

“No, Judd. In fact, I promise you will never see her again,”
O’Dell replied, placing himself between Judd and Esther.

Judd lunged at O’Dell, but the marshals held him back. “This
is the second time you have interfered in my affairs,” he roared at O’Dell, his
neck and face red, veins distended in anger. “You had best watch your back,
Pinkerton! I will come for you, I promise you that.”

Not if I see you first
, O’Dell answered silently. In
his heart he knew that leaving Cal Judd alive was a mistake that would come
back to bite him. But on the other hand, so was shooting a man in cold blood.
Blast
and damnation
!

Judd hadn’t finished ranting yet. “Esther! Listen to me! No
matter how far you go or where you hide, I will find you!
And when I find
you and I finish with you . . .
little children will run
screaming from the sight of your face! No man will ever want you again,
except
in the dark
.”