Tempest EPB

by Beverly Jenkins

  “What’s that smell?” The man’s name was Jordan and he’d accompanied County Sheriff Joe Wilson as a member of his four-man posse.

  “Death,” Colt told him. Jordan froze. Colt stepped up into the car and led his stallion down the plank while the noise of the mob continued.

  One of the soldiers peeled away from the main group and rode over to where Colt and the others waited on their horses. It was Odell’s grandson and Regan’s former lover, Levi Spalding. Upon seeing Colt, he startled then offered a terse nod. Colt nodded in return and swallowed his aversion to the man who’d lied to and taken advantage of his wife. Spalding introduced himself, and Whit and the two county sheriffs did the same.

  Spalding said, “Thank you for coming. Most of the violence is over now but there are still some Chinese hiding out in the countryside and we need your help finding them so they can be kept safe. There’s been enough death.”

  “Do you know how many are dead?” Whit asked.

  “Officially, around twenty-five, but we’re still finding bodies. The homes and businesses of the Chinese were looted and burned to the ground. Miners threw some of the injured into the burning buildings.”

  “Lord,” one of sheriffs said and Colt agreed.

  Spalding turned to Colt. “Dr. Lee, there’s an infirmary set up and they could use your help.”

  “Tell me where to go.”

  “I’ll have some of my men escort you. I don’t want you riding alone.”

  Colt appreciated that. More than likely he was one of the few men of color within miles, and with the violence still festering he’d be an easy target. Accompanied by four of Spalding’s men, Colt rode off.

  He was glad for the escort. On the slow ride through the center of town, dirty, feral-eyed men tracked their passage. Slurs rang out, more than he’d ever had flung his way. A few of the watchers were brave enough or drunk enough to approach their small party only to be deterred by the soldiers’ raised rifles. Colt didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until they left the area behind.

  The infirmary was two large tents set up in what the soldiers told him had once been the city’s Chinatown. There’d been five hundred residents; miners, cooks, laborers, and over seventy buildings, including a house of worship overseen by a priest. But due to the killing and burning, not one building was left standing. Piles of burned and charred wood were all that remained of the barracks built for the Chinese miners by the Union Pacific Railroad, and the shacks the Chinese businesspeople had erected themselves. The thick silence was eerie and the smells of burning and death strong. Nodding at the small contingent of soldiers on guard outside, Colt entered the tent he’d been escorted to. Inside were dozens of injured Chinese lying on cots packed so tightly together there was little room to maneuver between them. Men with their heads swathed in bandages lay nearly on top of others whose bare torsos showed bandaged ribs. By the blood staining some of the dressings, some had been stabbed or shot. Considering the events, such wounds were expected, but what wasn’t were the thin silver needles stuck in arms, shoulders, and other parts of the men’s anatomies. Having never seen such a thing, a surprised Colt wondered at their purpose.

  A Chinese man, dressed in the traditional black shirt and loose-fitting trousers, looked up when Colt and the soldiers entered. He eyed them suspiciously for a long moment before rising and making his way through the maze to where they stood. Glancing down at Colt’s black bag, he asked, “You’re a doctor?”

  “I am. Dr. Colton Lee from Paradise. The soldiers asked me to assist.”

  “I’m Dr. Crane from Green River. Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome.” Colt had heard there was a Chinese doctor in Green River, the only one of his race in the Territory, but knew nothing about him.

  One of the soldiers said, “Dr. Lee, we’ll rejoin Lieutenant Spalding. If you need anything let the guards outside know.” And they departed.

  “I was just getting ready to take a break. Care to join me?”

  Colt noted the exhaustion in Crane’s face. “Sure.”

  Behind the tent were two charred wooden benches next to a fire that was heating an enormous pot. A man was stirring the contents with a long piece of wood. “Soup,” Crane explained as he and Colt sat. “Vegetables courtesy of the governor and the army. The least they could do.”

  “Do you have anyone assisting you with the patients?”

  “Other than a few volunteers, no. The two doctors who live here helped during the height of the killings but when the mob threatened them, they left.”

  Off in the distance, Colt saw two Chinese and a small group of soldiers digging.

  “Graves,” Crane said. “Until the soldiers arrived this morning, we were told we had to bury our own.”

  “The lieutenant said you’re still finding bodies?”

  “Yes. When I arrived, they littered the ground here. Some intact, others were without heads, limbs, genitals. We had to run off dogs to retrieve others.” He was silent for a moment as if remembering the carnage. “These Americans are savages,” he whispered bitterly. He met Colt’s eyes. “But then your people already know this.”

  Colt nodded. The United States was only twenty years past the horrors of slavery, and although his father’s side had been free before Emancipation, his mother’s side had been free for only a generation.

  The man stirring the pot handed Crane a steaming bowl of the soup and said something to him in a gentle tone. Crane took the offering. “He’s encouraging me to eat.”

  The man spoke again and Crane translated, “He said if I fall our people will be lost.”

  Colt wondered if there were any other doctors willing to risk the wrath of the mob to help, but assumed not.

  Colt was handed a bowl of soup, too. He thanked the man, and he and Crane consumed their portions silently.

  For the next twelve hours, Colt and Crane treated burns, stitched gashes, set and plastered broken arms and legs, and did the best they could with the limited supplies on hand. Colt learned that Crane had been trained in traditional Chinese medicine, and in White medicine in France. He also explained the theories behind the needles. “Some are placed to relieve pain. Chinese healers have been using them for centuries, much to the skepticism and derision of the White doctors.”

  Colt watched as Crane gently worked one into a spot on a man’s arm. Colt admitted being skeptical, too, but upon checking the patient later, noted the man appeared more comfortable.

  It was well past dark by the time they decided to get some sleep. “I’ll take the first watch,” Colt said. “You’ve been at this almost two days straight. If something happens that I can’t handle I’ll wake you.”

  Crane nodded, took one last look at the tent filled with his countrymen, and stepped outside to bed down.

  Whit stopped by the following afternoon with details on the negotiations between the miners, the Chinese, the governor, and the railroad representatives. “They put all six hundred Chinese miners in Evanston on a train and are sending them to safety in San Francisco. None of them want to stay in the Territory and who can blame them?”

  Crane said, “That’s good news.”

  Colt agreed.

  “There’s even been a few arrests.”

  Colt thought that even better news.

  But the hope of that afternoon turned to ash later that day when the Chinese learned they’d been victims of a cruel hoax. The train supposedly taking them west from Evanston to San Francisco had in fact been traveling east, and when the boxcars opened they found themselves in Rock Springs. The Union Pacific needed their labor to mine the coal that kept their trains running, and had lied to get their way. The furious Chinese refused to return to the mines. The White miners re-formed their mobs and threatened to kill any Chinese who did return because there were more Chinese working below ground and for less pay. The governor who’d brokered the first peace took the coward’s way out and returned to the territorial capital of Cheyenne, saying the
standoff was a labor issue between Union Pacific and its workers.

  Over the next few days, Crane’s and Colt’s patients improved but the situation in town deteriorated. The Chinese refused to leave the boxcars and in retaliation the company stores stopped selling them food, hoping to starve them into surrendering. The White miners went on strike and stationed their armed mobs at the mouths of the mines. There’d been a similar strike in 1871 when the railroad bosses hired in Scandinavians at a lower wage, but the Scandinavians, English, and Welsh were now united against the Chinese. The U.S. government sent in more troops to keep the peace, but the jeering and threats continued. When the Chinese demanded back pay as a condition to return to work, Union Pacific refused and threatened to evict them from the boxcars. The mines at Rock Springs were the company’s largest producers and the stoppage was negatively impacting their profits.

  In the end, Union Pacific won by threatening to fire any worker, Chinese or White, who didn’t return to work, and promised that those who refused would be barred from working for the company for the rest of their life. A handful of Chinese remained adamant and left town. The rest, needing to accumulate enough money to return to their families in China, were forced back into laboring for a company that had lied to them, and in a place where their countrymen had been burned out and slaughtered.

  Colt packed up his belongings in preparation to return. He felt good about helping Crane and his people but he was physically and mentally exhausted. He missed his family and the comforts of home.

  Crane walked up as Colt hefted his bedroll onto the back of his horse. “Thank you for your help, Dr. Lee.”

  “You’re welcome. What are your plans?”

  “Maybe return to Green River. Maybe go home to China. The American government is talking of limiting how many of our people can enter in the future, so I’m not sure.”

  Colt understood his uncertainty. “May I ask you a question?”

  He nodded.

  “Is Crane your real name?”

  For the first time since they’d met ten days ago, the doctor smiled. “No. I refuse to allow my true name to be in the mouths of these savages so it could be mocked and denigrated. I chose Crane because the birds are revered and the ignorant here could pronounce it.”

  Colt chuckled.

  “I was born . . .” And he offered his name.

  Humbled by the honor, Colt said, “Thank you. I’ve enjoyed our partnership. If there’s ever anything I can do, let me know.”

  Crane nodded and walked back into the tent to continue his service to the few remaining patients.

  At the train station, Colt joined Whit and the others and led his horses into the boxcar.

  “Glad to be heading home,” Whit said, sounding as tired as Colt felt. He’d been with the soldiers during the stay.

  “Me too. Miss my daughter and Regan.”

  “Dr. Lee. May I speak with you for a moment?”

  Colt turned and looked up into the somber face of the mounted Lieutenant Levi Spalding.

  Whit went on ahead and Colt waited to see what the man had to say.

  “I just want to thank you for helping out.”

  Colt nodded and waited.

  Spalding appeared uncomfortable. “Look. Just tell Regan, I’m sorry I lied to her.”

  Colt held his look for a moment, offered no response, and walked away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “When is Papa coming home?” Anna asked petulantly during breakfast. “I miss him.”

  Regan was seated with her at the table. “Hopefully soon, sweetie. I do miss him, too.”

  “He never goes away this long.”

  He’d left for Rock Springs ten days ago. Regan had been keeping up with the volatile situation there as best she could via the Laramie and Cheyenne newspapers, and tried not to worry about his safety in the midst of all the violence. “How about we ride into town and see if the supplies for the school have arrived?”

  She twirled her spoon in her oatmeal. “Okay,” she said gloomily.

  Regan smiled inwardly at the little brown face. She missed her papa a lot and Regan knew exactly how she felt. Colt being away was like missing a part of herself.

  In the meeting with the ladies group, the day after his leaving, they took a vote and decided to focus on raising money to better outfit the school rather than fund a lending library. A trip to the building the next day revealed that Mr. Adams had stripped the school of everything from readers to pencils. He’d even taken the paper from the outhouse. If they were to open again with Regan as the teacher they’d have to start from scratch. And they did. For the past eight days, with the help of Mr. Nelson, the men of the Ranchers Association, and other members of the community, the interior of the schoolhouse was cleaned, the warped and aging floorboards replaced, and the walls painted. Ed Prescott donated a new stove to keep the students warm once winter settled in. Regan and Glenda paid for new books and all the rest of the supplies. Odell and his checkers buddies donated wood for the stove. Spring sent away for a new handle for the pump, and undertaker Lyman Beck had his carpenter install new benches with trestle tabletops so the children could sit and do their work. Although there were fewer than ten students on the rolls, the people of Paradise began embracing the school as their own and the names on the petition the council had requested began to add up.

  Regan thought about all this as she and Anna drove to town. She felt good about playing a role in the effort. After helping to paint and sand and dig a new walkway to the school’s newly painted front door, she was no longer looked upon as an outsider. Her attire of denims and men’s shirts no longer drew stares and she was no longer introduced as Doc’s new wife, but by her name or as Mrs. Doc, which she enjoyed.

  Rolling into town, the sight of her husband’s shuttered office dampened her mood a bit, but she knew he’d be home as soon as he was able and that his presence in Rock Springs was a help to the people there. She parked the wagon in front of the telegraph office and she and Anna went inside.

  As usual there was a game of checkers under way. Odell was seated across the board from saloon owner, Heath Leary. Regan didn’t know if the Irishman had made any more overtures to win Dovie’s heart, but if he had she’d not shared it with Regan or Glenda.

  Upon seeing her and Anna, Odell nodded and Leary said, “Ah, the lovely Mrs. Doc and the lovely lassie Anna.”

  While Leary was charming them, Odell kinged him and hopped across the board and took four of the gambler’s men. “Hey!” Leary yelled.

  Odell smiled. “You need to pay more attention to the board and less to the lovely lassies. Aren’t you supposed to be a gambler?”

  His buddies laughed. Heath hung his head.

  Odell asked Regan, “What can I do for you lovely lassies?”

  Smiling, she replied, “We came to see if you have anything for us? We’re still waiting on the new schoolbooks.”

  He stood. “It’s your lucky day. Moss Denby brought them in last night on his run from Cheyenne.”

  Elated, Regan waited while he unearthed the large crate from the rest of the delivered mail and crates.

  Heath said, “Since these old codgers would probably keel over trying to lift something of that size, I’ll help you load it.”

  He received catcalls and jeers for his remark and Regan told him, “Thanks.”

  Once the crate was in the back of the wagon, she thanked him again and he went back inside. “Let’s stop by and see Wallace Jr.’s mama before we head home.”

  They crossed the street and entered Dovie’s shop to the tinkle of the bell above the door. The small interior had dress forms wearing the latest fashions and shelves holding neatly folded fabric lined one wall. There was also a small sitting area where customers could view pattern books or discuss what kind of services they wanted.

  The tall blonde Dovie came out of the back and smiled at the sight of Regan and Anna. “If school doesn’t start back soon, I may have to sell my son to the zoo. I love hi
m dearly but he has enough energy for six boys. How are you two doing?”

  “We’re fine.” Regan laughed. Dovie and her son lived over the shop. She assumed the sounds of running feet coming from above was Wallace Jr. at play.

  Dovie asked Anna, “Anna, how about we make a trade? Wallace Jr. can live with your mama and you come live with me? I’d love to have a nice quiet little girl.”

  Anna shook her head. “I want to keep my mama.”

  “I don’t blame you. So, what brings you two by?”

  Regan told her about the school supplies, adding, “Which means, you won’t have to give your son to the zoo. As long as everything we ordered is in the crate, we should be able to start school in the next couple of days.”

  “Thank the Lord.”

  “I also stopped by to see if you have any patterns Anna and I can look at. She needs some new things, dresses mostly, a nightgown or two.”

  Dovie’s face lit up. “I would love to sew some things for her. I rarely get to sew for little girls. Take a seat and I’ll get my books and tape.”

  Measurements were taken, pattern books were pored over, and selections made. An hour later, a very happy Anna and her mama walked back to their wagon and drove towards home.

  On the way, they were discussing the dresses and other garments Dovie would be making when Regan noticed a rider in the middle of the road. As they neared the man, his familiar face stoked both wariness and disgust. It was Dun Bailey. When he didn’t move out of the road to let them pass, Regan stopped the team.

  “Afternoon,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “Heard the doc’s out of town.”

  Regan didn’t respond.

  He gave her a serpent’s smile. “Just wanted to let you know I’ll be watching your back while he’s away. Wouldn’t want you to get shot like my brother, Jeb, did.”

  It was a threat and he didn’t bother veiling it.

  “Thank you for your concern,” she responded coldly. “Now let us pass so we can be on our way.”

  “Pretty little girl you got there. I’ll be watching her, too.”