The Case of the Deadly Desperados (11 page)

Ledger Sheet 25

I DID NOT NEED
my Indian tracking skills to follow the trail of Walt and his pards. A light dusting of snow showed their tracks as plain as day. I soon caught up with them at the junction of Taylor and D Street. I kept them in sight but hung back in the shadows cast by the torches.

They had picked up a bottle of whiskey somewhere and were taking swigs from it in turn. Once Boz slipped and fell. Walt reached out a hand as if to help but only took the bottle. Extra Dub helped Boz up and they all laughed.

I had to be careful, too. The snow made the steep road real slippery and I was not used to wooden-soled sandals.

By and by Walt and his pards turned left at F Street, the same street where I had found myself a few hours before. Chinatown looked different at night. A fog of incense hung over the huts and paper lanterns glowed like stars. I took my seven-shooter out of my medicine bag and held it in my right hand. Then I slipped my right hand into the sleeve of my left arm and vice versa, as I had seen some Celestials do. That meant my gun was ready but hidden, and my hands were not too cold. Once Boz turned to look back, but I just kept my head down and he did not seem concerned. I guessed I looked just like another Chinese boy to him.

Extra Dub seemed to know the way and he led Walt and Boz through a warren of shacks and tents. At last they reached a part of the snow-dusted hillside with a rock-lined cut leading to a low wooden door.

“You keep watch, Dub,” I heard Walt say. “Boz and I will have a look inside.”

Walt and Boz had to bow their heads to enter. Dub took a cigar from his coat pocket & struck a match against the rough stone of the cut. As he bent his head to light his smoke, I pulled my hat down & put my sleeves together & I shuffled past him.

Dub did not give me a second glance.

The wooden door opened as silently as if its hinges sat in cups of oil. As I went in I saw the wooden lintel above me was blackened by smoke. Inside, it was so dim and smoky that at first I could only see a few globes of yellow, red or blue light. It was quiet in there, too, and apart from the soft chink of the desperados' spurs and a strange bubbling I could hear nothing. There were people smoking in there and the bittersweet tobacco smelled like burning flowers and made me dizzy. I knew that was the Opium Smoke. I tried to breathe through my mouth, so I would not become a Dope Fiend.

As my eyes adjusted, I could see that the walls of this cave were lined with narrow bunk beds stacked four high. Almost every bunk was occupied by a person sleeping or smoking. The pipes were very long and I guessed they were Chinese, like the tobacco. Some of the pipes were so long that they had to be held by attendants dressed just like me.

I heard Walt talking and turned to see him looming over a little old Chinaman who sat at a table inside the door. On this table were brass scales & boxes & coins.

Walt was speaking to the old man in pidgin English. “Me comee find white hurdee-girlee,” said Walt. “You see hurdee-girlee?”

The old man said something that sounded like “Humf!” and then began to speak rapidly in Chinese.

I turned and quickly scanned the Dope Fiends in their bunks. Belle was in the dimmest corner on the lowest bunk. I slipped off my wooden-soled sandals & left them beside some others inside the door & padded silently across the beaten earth floor.

Belle's eyes were half closed. When I whispered her name in her ear she did not respond. She was wearing her red and pink dress but without the hoops. She must have taken them off and left them at her crib. Her hat and parasol, too. But the little beaded purse still hung around her wrist.

I could hear the old Chinaman still demanding something of Walt—money probably—so with my back still to them, I slipped my seven-shooter into the pocket of my loose pants. Then I reached forward & quietly undid the snap of her purse & felt inside.

Success!

My piece of paper was there! There was also some paper money by the feel of it, as well as her small powder flask and lead balls, but my gold coin was gone. With pounding heart and dry mouth, I slipped the Letter and a few dollar bills into my pocket along with the Smith & Wesson's seven-shooter. I left some money in her purse, along with the powder flask and balls, so as not to arouse suspicion.

As I started to move away, Belle slowly turned her head and I saw her half-closed eyes try to focus as she looked at me. She opened her mouth to say something but I pressed my finger against her lips. Then I moved over to the bunk next to hers and pretended to busy myself with the objects laid out on a low table.

There was a little alcohol lamp there that burned with a blue flame & a wooden box full of something that looked like brown putty & a long bamboo pipe with a clay bowl at one end.

I heard the jingle of spurs as Walt and Boz came over to Belle's bunk. From beneath the rim of my straw hat I watched Walt search her. She was so sleepy that she hardly protested.

“There,” said Walt at last, tossing Boz the Double Deringer. “You can keep that as a souvenir.”

Boz took it with his left hand and put it inside his vest. I saw that his right hand was bandaged.

Walt stood up and cursed. “That danged kid was lying. She don't have that Letter. Let's go.”

“But she was the Hore what shot me,” whined Boz. “I'm gonna pay her back.”

With his left hand he pulled his Colt's Navy Revolver from his pocket and pressed the end of the barrel against her forehead.

Belle had betrayed me & tied me up & robbed me, but I did not want to see her murdered.

With my right hand still in my pocket I cocked the hammer of my Smith & Wesson's seven-shooter. It might not be accurate, but from only two feet away I could not miss.

Despite the promise to my dying ma, I was prepared to use it to save Belle's life.

Ledger Sheet 26

I SAID TO MYSELF,
“If Boz cocks his piece I will shoot him.”

Thankfully I did not have to.

Before he could pull back the hammer, Walt put a hand on his arm. “Not now, Boz,” he said in a low growl. “And not here. But I promise you will get your revenge later.”

“Yeah,” said Boz. “A bullet in the brain is too good for her. I'm gonna make her suffer. Let's get out of here. Let's find that kid.”

They exited the Opium Den and I nearly fainted from relief & also from the smell of the pipe smoke, which was making me light-headed.

I tried to think what to do.

I had got my Letter back and I needed somewhere safe to stay until I could take it to the Recorder's Office the next morning.

I also thought I should warn Belle that her life was in danger from a vengeful Boz. Yes, she had betrayed me, but I did not want to see her suffer.

It seemed to me the best place to spend the night would be right where I was. Walt and his pards would not come back here anytime soon. There were a few empty bunks up high and I could sleep on one of those.

I went over to the Chinaman and when I lifted my head to look at him he opened his eyes wide in Expression No. 4: Surprise. I guess he could now see I was not a Chinese boy.

I took out a $1 bill and said, “How much to spend the night?”

His eyes narrowed again. “Five dollar for pipe and bunk,” he said.

I said, “I do not want a pipe. Just a place to spend the night.”

He said, “Does this look like boardinghouse? You pay five dollar. You get pipe and bunk for two-three hours. Then go.”

“Please?” I said. I pulled out the other two bills. “I can pay you three dollars. Just a little bunk up high? Just until that lady goes? No pipe.”

The old Celestial pursed his lips.

“Please?” I said again. “It is all I have.” Then I added, “I'm a friend of Ping's.”

“Ping?” he said. “Which Ping?”

“Ping the nephew of Hong Wo,” I said.

Once again the old man's eyes opened wide.

He glanced around and then scowled up at me.

“All right. One dollar for bunk no pipe. You go up there.”

“If I fall asleep will you wake me up when that lady goes?”

He gave a short nod. “I will wake you.”

I gave him the $1 and went over to the bunks across the smoky cave from Belle and climbed up to the topmost bunk, which was vacant. I took off my straw plate hat and rested my head on it. There was only a greasy rush mat on the hard wood but I soon felt a delicious warmth in my bare toes. The sensation crept up my feet and legs and body. By and by I felt warm all over, like I was floating in a tub of hot water. My twisted ankle stopped throbbing and all my bruises stopped hurting. Best of all, I felt my grief seep away and a strange calm replace it.

I must have fallen asleep, because I had a beautiful dream. I saw Ma Evangeline and Pa Emmet. They were walking hand in hand along the Streets of Glory. Heaven looked kind of like Virginia City, only flat, not steep, & with buildings made of jewels instead of raw planks & streets made of gold as pure as glass. There were trees there, too. They had heavy green leaves and big waxy flowers that glowed red and yellow and blue. The flowers gave off the sweetest perfume I have ever smelled.

Once in Salt Lake City I saw a hot air balloon rise up into the blue sky. My heart felt like that balloon. I felt I could float up into the air and be carried along by a joyful breeze.

Then someone was shaking me and I felt a series of stinging slaps on my cheeks.

I opened my eyes and saw a face swim into view: the wrinkled and sallow face of an old man.

He seemed to be the wisest man who ever lived and I gazed at him happily.

“Chop, chop!” he said with a scowl. “Your lady friend going, so you must go, too!”

Sitting up, I banged my head on the low rock roof of the cave. This reminded me to put my straw plate hat on again. The cold earth floor reminded me to put on my wooden-soled sandals, waiting for me at the door. I emerged into the frosty night. The snow had stopped & the sky had cleared & a million stars blazed overhead.

My head was throbbing & I felt groggy & stupid. However, a few deep breaths of the icy air brought me to my senses just in time to see Belle disappear into one of the dark alleys of Chinatown. I hurried after her. By the time I caught up I still had a headache but at least I felt more alert.

“Belle!” I said, tugging her sleeve. “Belle, stop!”

She turned and looked at me, a frown creasing her smooth forehead. Her hair was half undone and wisps fell down around her bare shoulders. The fog around us had lifted and the dim lights of a few hanging paper lanterns showed me that her pretty pink and red dress was ripped at the bodice.

“Who are you?” she said. “What do you want?”

“It is me: P.K.”

She stared at me. “P.K.?”

I nodded. “I am in disguise like a Detective. You can't go back to your crib, Belle. Walt and his men are after me now, and they might look for me there. They are real mad at you and if they find you they will carve you up alive.”

She looked at me & then her lower lip quivered & she began to cry. “Oh, P.K.!” she said. “I am scared. I had a dream they came when I was down at Ah Sing's.”

“They did come,” I said. “And Boz was about to blow your brains out.”

“They tore my best dress,” said Belle. “And they robbed me. And you say I can't go home? What will I do!”

“I know a safe place,” I said. “You can come with me. Then tomorrow you can get the first stagecoach out of town.”

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, P.K. I am sorry I tied you up and robbed you. It's just that I love to smoke a pipe. It is the only thing that brings me joy in this godforsaken place.”

We climbed up steep and snowy Taylor Street, keeping alert for shadows that might be Walt and his pards. My head still throbbed & I was also dizzy & a little sick from the Opium Smoke or the thin air or both. Once I slipped but Belle helped me up. We were both trembling with cold by the time we reached B Street. It was still lively and busy up there, even though it was probably 2 or 3 o'clock in the morning. The busy boardwalk made me feel safe but I did not breathe a sigh of relief until we stood outside the front door of Isaiah Coffin's Ambrotype & Photographic Gallery. I fished in my medicine pouch & pulled out the key with frozen fingers & the door opened with a welcome tinkle of the bell.

It was dark in there but not too cold and there was enough light from the street torches for us to see. I showed Belle the buffalo skin draped over the couch that I had been dreaming of. She lay down on the couch & wrapped the buffalo skin around her & closed her eyes.

I was tired, too, but I knew I had to take my Letter to the Recorder's Office first thing the next morning. I did not think they would let me in if I was dressed as a Celestial. And what if Walt remembered seeing a young Chinese boy in the restaurant & in the Opium Den, and put two and two together? Also, my pants were damp & cold from where I had slipped in the snow and fallen down.

Tired as I was, I found some matches and lit a lamp and went back into the costume closet next door.

I took off my damp Celestial outfit & wooden clogs & I chose the smartest suit of clothes I could find. Striped serge pantaloons, a starched white linen shirt, a red velvet waistcoat & a blue jacket with brass buttons. I had to roll up the cuffs of the pants and the sleeves of the shirt, but the jacket fit all right. I found an old plug hat & shiny black brogans. They were all too big, but I used folded newspaper to line the hat and three pairs of woolen socks to make the shoes fit more snugly.

As I sat on the chair to lace them up, I thought of my school shoes & that made me think of Ma & Pa lying in a pool of blood among the scattered flour on the bare floorboards of our little log cabin down in Temperance. I felt a wave of dizziness & my heart was racing, so I sat & took a few deep breaths until it passed.

Then I stood & looked at myself in the mirror.

I tried to view myself as a stranger might.

The lamplit reflection showed a boy with short black hair, a muddy complexion & slightly slanting black eyes. My face betrayed no expression. I tried smiling but it looked strange & felt even stranger.

I found a comb & some hair oil & slicked my short hair back from my forehead. Now I looked like the son of a prosperous banker or stockbroker. Spanish maybe. Or Italian. Even Cornish. Some of the Cornish miners in Dayton have real dark hair & eyes.

“Rather,” I said, in an English accent. I am good at doing an English accent because my foster ma came from England & I had lived with her for two years.

I checked that my Letter was in my medicine pouch and I discovered I still had the folded wanted poster of Walt and two dollar bills in there as well. I tried putting my Smith & Wesson's seven-shooter in the right-hand pocket of my trousers. It fit nicely. I had promised Ma Evangeline I would not kill anyone but it felt good to have it there all the same.

There were no blankets back there but I found the heavy woolen overcoat of a Union officer and I wrapped that around myself.

I blew out the lamp and went back into the gallery to make sure Belle was still there.

She was fast asleep and snoring softly. Lying there wrapped in a buffalo skin before the dimly lit scene of the Great Plains, she reminded me a little of my Indian ma.

I lay down behind the couch on a Brussels carpet & took out my Smith & Wesson's seven-shooter & checked the cylinder & put it on the floor beside me.

The floor beneath the carpet was hard & cold and I doubted I would get much sleep, but when I closed my eyes I went out like a candle in a gale.