by S. L. Stoner
For a moment, she sagged against the wall, weary with defeat until she thought of Mae Clemens and heard her voice saying, “Buck up girl, there are worse spots to be in.” Lucinda’s resolve stiffened and propelled her forward. Reaching the third corner, her foot hit something hard that rolled away across the dirt floor. Dropping down onto her knees, she felt for the object until she found it. Quickly her fingers roamed its contours. It was metal, about two feet long, round and had openings on both ends—a metal pipe. Excitement sent her to her feet and bumbling across the room to the underground door.
Reaching it, she found the padlock with her fingers and gave it a good whack with the pipe. The pipe clanged but padlock stayed secured. She attacked the hasp and it didn’t even bend, though a splinter of sharp metal sticking up meant the pipe had done some damage.
She hit the hasp another good whack in the hope she could eventually loosen the screws that held it to the door frame. As she fingered the hasp to gauge her progress she heard the door at the top of the stairs open. She moved to the crate holding the clothes, tossed in the pipe and hurriedly buried it. Then she went back to stand in front of the door to the stairs.
Nothing happened. She held her breath and in the ensuing silence, she heard heavy breathing outside the stairway door. She recognized its rasp. She’d spent hours listening to it come from the big man while they wheeled aimlessly around the city. After what seemed like forever, the breathing sound faded and boots thudded up the wooden steps.
Lucinda sighed. She’d have to be more careful. Blindly stumbling over to the crate, she fished around and finally found the pipe. She also found what seemed to be a heavy brocade jacket. She carefully wrapped it around the pipe and crossed back to the door to the underground. This time when she hit the hasp, it yielded only a dull clunk.
“Won’t do you no good breaking the padlock. That door’s been nailed shut. I seen him do it.”
She jumped and dropped the pipe. The small voice had come from the one corner in the cellar she hadn’t explored.
Nineteen
“Good Lord, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Lucinda exclaimed, a palm pressed against her chest. She swallowed and said, “Glad Tobias, is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. How do you know my name?” The voice was small and cautious coming out of the black.
“Oh sweetie, you have no idea how happy I am to find you. There are so many people looking for you.”
“They are?” Wonder and hope strengthened his voice.
“Glad, how are you?” she asked into the dark.
When he spoke again, he’d moved closer. “They left me with jars of peaches and other things. And they gave me a pail of water. “‘Fraid there isn’t any can opener like you hoped,” he added with a chuckle.
“How come you didn’t speak up sooner?” she asked.
“Since you’re a woman, I figured you must be one of them women that I saw upstairs when they was bringing me down here. Thought maybe they was locking you up as a punishment. They done that once and she kept hollering I was someone she didn’t like much. It was like she was drunk or something.”
“I most assuredly am not one of Vera Clark’s women,” she said hotly before calming down and asking, “How long have you been down here?”
“Don’t know. Seems like forever. They grabbed me off the street and I’ve been here ever since.”
“Do you remember being in the Slap Jack saloon and meeting a man named, ‘John Miner’? I think he bought some of your papers.”
“Why sure enough I remember him. He was a nice man. That’s where they took me, right outside Slap Jack’s.”
“Well, John Miner saw them throw you into that cab. He and a lot of his friends, including me, have been looking for you ever since.”
A sniffle sounded in the dark. Reaching out she touched a bony shoulder and gently drew the boy close, wrapping both arms around him as he let go a sob. Her heart felt like it was breaking. What kind of monsters would keep a boy in a pitch-dark cellar for over two weeks?
Still sniffling, Glad said, “I been terrible worried about my family. They need me. We was barely making a go of it, no matter how hard we all tried. They need what I make selling newspapers.” More sobs escaped him and she held him closer.
Once he’d calmed she said quietly, “I have some good news for you. John Miner and other people have been looking after your family. Your mother has seen a doctor and is in the hospital getting well. Carrie Lynne and little Emma Jane are being cared for in a children’s home until your mother is well enough to take care of them. And, your brother, Terry, has a safe place to stay with plenty of food.”
Glad dropped the arms he’d wrapped around her waist and stepped away but kept hold of her hand. “Really? You’re not just telling me that? The bad man can’t hurt them?”
“Oh, honey, what did he tell you?”
“He said that he would hurt them if I tried to get out of here or made any noise. He knows that they live down in Sullivan’s Gulch and everything.”
“Well, all four of them are safe. And, none of them live in Sullivan’s Gulch. Not anymore. Those days are over. When your Ma is better, all of you will live together in a much better place.” Of course, Lucinda only assumed that was true since they hadn’t discussed what would happen to the Tobias family after the Speedy Messenger mystery was solved. She was counting on the fact that Sage had money, and always did the right thing by the people he met. She smiled and let her thoughts linger on the handsome, kind and exasperating man she’d come to love.
Glad interrupted her romantic digression. “Even Terry is safe? Isn’t he still working for them?”
“You mean for Speedy Messenger?”
“They’re the ones alright. They took me because they didn’t like Terry and Dougie trying to start a union. He said it was messing with their plans. They took my copper wristband that Ma gave me for my last birthday. They said it was to prove to Terry that they had me.”
“Did you see Dougie?” she asked gently.
His tone was subdued as he said, “I think it was Dougie who died. I heard them coming down the stairs and then there was a loud noise and shouting and thumps like someone rolling down the stairs. A little while later they brought a body in. I couldn’t see him but I felt him.”
Lucinda couldn’t see the boy but the hand she was holding trembled. Glad continued, “I felt all over him. He was short and small, just like a kid. At first, I thought they’d killed Terry but the boy I felt had longer hair. And, there was a kerchief around his neck. Dougie always wore a kerchief and Terry never did. Anyways, his chest didn’t move and no breath came out his mouth.”
“Did they keep his body in here very long?” She forced herself to stay calm and matter of fact despite feeling burning rage. The monsters. How could they have inflicted such horror on this child?
Glad’s voice was soft, almost musing as he answered, “It seemed like forever, but maybe not too long. They come in to switch out the water and slop pails. Next time they did that, they took away his body.”
After a pause, Glad said, “I don’t think they meant to kill him.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“It sounded like he tripped going down the stairs. Besides, I think they wanted him alive. They talked about selling us to shanghaiers. Leastways, that’s what I heard through the door. They fought out there when Dougie fell down the stairs. The boss woman was swearing and a-screeching. She’s the one who talked about selling us onto the ships.”
Vera Clark, Lucinda thought. She’d sell her own mother for the dope and booze.
Glad’s voice was thin as he asked, “Miss, what are we going to do? I don’t want to go on no sailing ship.”
Lucinda pulled him close again and said to the top of his head. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.”
>
Sage lingered in Franklin’s kitchen until Franklin had handed Terry a cloth sack holding a sandwich and apple as he went out the door.
Once the boy was gone and the front door closed, Franklin limped into the kitchen scowling. “He’s eating okay but he certain sure isn’t sleeping. I don’t think I’ve seen a boy as tuckered out as he is,” he said.
Sage went up to the boys’ room where he found Matthew sitting at the table. Despite his books being open, he was gazing out the window and frowning.
“You doing okay?” Sage asked him.
Matthew heaved a sigh. “I’m fine. The big man didn’t show up outside school this afternoon. That makes three days in a row. I think he’s forgotten me. But, Terry is powerful worried. When I came in after school, he was sitting on his bed, turning a copper wristband round and round ‘til he liked to wear it out. I asked him about it. He said it was his brother’s. But he wouldn’t say anything else. I was afraid to push it. Sorry I couldn’t get him to say more.”
Sage’s mind had stuck on the word ‘wristband’. A memory broke the surface but sank before he could catch it. He said, “It will take time. Just try to take his mind off his worries as best you can and if you get the opportunity—”
Sage didn’t finish because that elusive memory surfaced again. “By Jove, Matthew. I just realized something. Glad was wearing a copper wristband just before they threw him in that cab. I bet they gave it to Terry to prove they have his brother. It explains why he’s been cooperating with them. I suspected it, but now, thanks to you, we know it for sure.”
Matthew looked gratified. Sage patted him on the shoulder. “I’m off to Speedy Messenger,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the door.
“Well, well, what do we have here? Miss High and Mighty herself.” Vera Clark’s voice was thick with drugs, drink, or both.
If she’d been by herself, Lucinda would have tried to overpower her but the same huge man blocked the exit, holding a kerosene lantern high. Lucinda took advantage of the light to survey her surroundings.
It was a dirt-floored storage room with brick walls on four sides and wood frames around the two rough-planked doors. A pail stood in the corner farthest from the stairs. Further along the wall, stood another. Water and slop pails, she realized. Other than that, the room was pretty much as she imagined it. Two hand-hewn spikes secured the padlocked door she’d surmised led into the underground.
She looked down into the elfin face that had captivated Sage. The boy was staring at her, his expression one of hope and fear beneath tear-streaked filth. She wanted to pick him up, assure him that everything would be alright. Instead, she tore her gaze away and said, “Vera, I’m sad to see that you’re mixed up in this.” Lucinda made her tone regretful. No sense antagonizing the woman.
“Oh, please. I am so sick of your butter-won’t-melt-in-your-mealy-mouth airs. You’re no better than I am.”
Lucinda shrugged but kept her lips clamped shut.
“Oh, oh. The silent treatment. As if that’s really going to work. Maybe if you begged a bit? But you won’t do that, will you? Well, we’ll soon see how long that lady act lasts.” Clark would have sounded more threatening had her words not been slurred. She turned to the man. “Go ahead and switch out the pails.”
He put the lantern down on the dirt floor and, for a moment, Lucinda felt a rush of hope. If he carried the two pails upstairs, Clark would be alone.
The big man crossed, picked up the two pails, and headed for the stairway.
Lucinda readied herself, confident she was stronger and certainly soberer than the other woman. Momentarily, she regretted that she’d never asked Fong for lessons in that fighting technique he’d taught Sage. When she got out of this, she would. Reality tamped down her optimism. Even if she overpowered Vera Clark, they’d still have to get out of the cellar, up the stairs and out the front door before the man came back. How likely was that?
Her plan hit the wall when the big man only put the pails on the steps and picked up two replacements he’d already carried down the stairs. Vera Clark wasn’t being left on her own. If Lucinda’s thoughts at that moment had been audible, even Vera Clark might have been shocked at just how unladylike they were.
Vera Clark’s smirk suggested she’d been following Lucinda’s thoughts. Rather than commenting, however, Clark said, “I like picturing you squatting over that pail. Bet you haven’t done that in a while. It’ll be lots of fun in the dark, just ask the boy.”
Clark moved toward the door only to pause and turn back. “But, don’t worry, you’ll only be needing it for a short while. Willard tells me you saw the boss man. Too bad. It means that, in a day or two, you and the runt will be on a sailing ship. Him they might keep. But you, Lucy Collins, you, I think, will be taking the long swim once all the sailors are done having their fun.”
“Vera, he’s just a little boy,” Lucinda said softly, pleadingly.
“We were just little girls, younger than him. We survived, didn’t we?”
Clark quickly stepped out and slammed the door shut. Her cackling continued even after she had padlocked the door and was climbing the stairs.
“What are we going to do?” Glad asked in a trembling voice.
She squeezed him around the shoulders and paused to think before she answered. She was remembering what the lantern light had revealed.
“How long do you think we have before they come back to swap out the pails?” she asked.
“It’s different all the time. Usually hours and hours but sometimes it seems like a whole day,” he answered.
“Okay, then,” she said. “I think I know exactly what we need to do.”
Twenty
“Mr. Fong! Why are you here?” Without waiting for an answer, Sage dodged into a nearby doorway, Fong at his heels. He’d worried all night long, his thoughts fixed on Lucinda, imagining her fearful and hurt. When not worrying, he pictured her in better times, the light in her honey-colored hair, her laughing eyes, and the secret sorrow that sometimes turned her silent and withdrawn. He’d even run through various guilty memories, the days he’d left her alone with no word and worse, the attraction he’d recently felt toward that school teacher, Valentine Pritchard. What had he been thinking? Maybe that was it. He hadn’t been thinking at all. There was no braver, stronger, or more loyal woman than Lucinda Collins, she’d proven that more than once.
“Cousin’s find him. They watching him now,” Fong said quietly as if sensing Sage’s despair and wanting to console him with hopeful news.
“The cabbie? They’ve found the cab driver?” Sage’s pulse quickened.
Fong nodded and asked, “You done with delivery?” That was a good guess. As they’d arranged, Sage took the same street back to Speedy Messenger after every errand. That’s how Fong had known where to intercept him.
“Do you have him locked up somewhere? Can we question him?”
“He still loose but no matter where he go, cousins follow. They not lose him.”
Fong’s confidence was justified. In truth, Fong’s ‘cousins’ were unrelated to him by blood but rather they were members of the same fraternal organization they called a Tong. Because the Chinese were slight in stature most whites grossly underestimated their determination, bravery, and skill. Yet, these were men who had survived perilous journeys to the land they called Gold Mountain after leaving behind family, language, and everything they held dear. Upon arrival, they were exploited, having no choice but to take the hardest, most dangerous jobs, building railroads, digging mines—doing what few white men were willing to do. Sage had come to respect them and he held, in awe, his friend who now stood beside him.
That awe was seemingly something he shared with the cousins who also venerated Fong Kam Tong. A former soldier in San Francisco’s tong wars—Fong’d been a dreaded bo hoy doy—a hatchet man. But he’d left tha
t all behind, gathered up his wife, Kum Ho, and moved to Portland where he served as a mediator between the Tongs. His skill with the hatchet, with the snake and crane martial art, and his wisdom had made him one of the Chinese community’s most important leaders. Yet, he moved humbly among the whites, concealing his amazing abilities and looking like every other small and vulnerable Chinese immigrant.
“Let’s go get him!” Sage said. He was done working for Speedy. There was no point in continuing the ruse. He was rarely in the office and, even when he was, Terry usually wasn’t there. Now that the boy was living at Franklin’s it would be easy to see him. Besides, the most important question had been answered. They now knew who had taken Glad. What they needed to know, and didn’t, was who wanted to take over the messenger services in the city. It sure wasn’t the two thug brains running Speedy Messenger.
He needed the freedom to find the boss man. Snatching the Speedy cap off his head, he tossed it into a nearby barrel. “Let’s go!” he said again.
Fong led them through the streets to a wood-frame house behind the rail yards. They stood in the weeds as Fong pointed toward a window on the second story. “That is his room,” he said. “In corner of house,” he added.
“I wonder if the landlady keeps the front door locked,” Sage said as he tried to remember his lock picking lesson.
“Nope, door not locked. Boarders come and go but we not see them unlock door."
Sage grinned at Fong. “I don’t relish the idea of us hauling him out of that house and to someplace where we can question him.”
“We not need to move him. I use pig sticker to persuade him to talk right where he is.” Fong patted the knife sheath sewn into his waistband.
