by Rue Allyn
Marcus met them at the bottom, a shotgun tucked under his arm. “I’m coming with you.”
“No,” objected Dutch. “This fight could be deadly. I won’t allow you to risk leaving Eileen a widow.”
“My wife suggested I go. She’s already on her way to Father Conroy with the note so we’ll have reinforcements.”
“But … ”
“The longer you stand here arguing, the more likely Duval and the Chinaman will send Edith beyond your reach.”
Dutch looked at Marcus and swallowed fear. His friend was right.
“Second cousin saddle horses for you at back of house.”
“Tsung, you’re a pearl beyond price.”
“Good-good. You give Tsung raise.”
“Let’s go,” urged Dutch.
But a knock on the front door halted their progress.
“What bad timing.” Marcus strode to the door and opened it.
On the doorstep, hat in hand, stood Judge Jeremiah Trahern.
“What the hell do you want?” growled Dutch.
“That damned Chinaman double-crossed me. I gave him the money you paid me as a good faith down payment, but he wouldn’t release Trey from that hulk up near Alameda. Dutch, you’re the only one who’s faced down the Chinaman and Duval and gotten away with your skin in one piece. You gotta save your brother.”
Dutch stared at his father. A hulk near Alameda was about as far as could be from the South Bay docks where Edith was and still remain in the San Francisco area. The timing of his father’s revelation was suspicious in the extreme. Dutch smelled a rat, but could he be certain that Trey wasn’t in Alameda? There was no time to verify the judge’s story. Dutch would have to choose between his brother and Edith.
• • •
The unmistakable scents of brine and fish roused Edith to groggy consciousness. The gentle roll of the floor where she lay confirmed that she was on shipboard. She shivered despite the lack of a breeze. From nearby came the stink of fetid air and unwashed bodies. She lay on her side, one arm squeezed between her and the floor. Her cheek pressed into hard wood planks. Tiny clinks echoed the slap of waves against the side of the ship. Was that the sound of someone weeping softly? To relieve pressure on her arm, she shifted. Pain shot through her head and produced a groan. The clink became a rattle, and her arm thudded to the floor.
“Don’t try to move.”
“Here. It ain’t cold, but it’s damp and may help some.”
A wet cloth was pressed to her forehead. “Ahh.”
“Better?”
Edith opened her eyes. Thankfully the light was dim, but the lack of light made distinguishing the features of the woman leaning over her difficult.
“Who are you, and where are we?” Edith asked.
“Don’t spend much time feeling sorry for y’self do ya? I’m Janella Jims, but ever’one calls me Ella.”
“Self pity is a waste of time and effort. Help me up, please.”
“C’mon, Gert. Let’s help our friend here to sit up.”
With the aid of the two women, Edith levered herself into a sitting position, her back supported by the bulkhead. Still the deck tilted and spun, and the figures peopling the space blurred strangely. Nausea rose, and she had no will to swallow it back.
“Get the bucket, Gert. Our friend’s gonna lose her lunch.”
Ella held her head. Someone, no doubt the as yet unseen Gert, rubbed her back.
With her stomach emptied and the heaving stopped, Edith reclined, shivering, against the bulkhead.
“Here, put this back on your head and close your eyes.”
Edith held the soggy compress to her forehead but kept her eyes open. She couldn’t help staring.
It wasn’t Gert’s tiny angelic beauty or Ella’s raw-boned face and curvaceous body that fascinated her but the fact that both women were naked.
Ella’s wide lips frowned. “Di’n’t your mama teach you not to stare?”
Gert huddled silent and shy behind her larger friend.
Edith nodded and swallowed against her scratchy throat. “But you’re, ah, well … ”
“Bare-assed naked? So’re you, friend. We’re all starkers.” Ella cast her arm out in a gesture that encompassed all of the formerly blurry figures.
The area must have contained more than a hundred naked women.
“What is this place? Where are we?”
“Cargo hold of a freight ship that the Chinaman’s using to get us outta San Francisco.
“Why? What happened to our clothes?”
“You’re just full of questions, ain’t ya?”
“I can’t help myself or anyone else without information.”
“Hmmm. S’pose you tell me a bit about yourself first. Chinaman’s planted spies b’fore to report any talk of escape.”
“I’m Edith Smithfeld.” She figured sticking with the alias was best, since that’s how most people in San Francisco knew her. “I came to San Francisco to find my sister. Her last known address was the house where Cerise Duval has her bordello. I made a deal with Madame Duval that would allow me to stay in the house and perhaps find out what happened to my sister. Madame changed the terms of our agreement without my consent. She auctioned me to the highest bidder. I imagine she would have done so more than once, if I hadn’t escaped.”
Ella’s mouth went round. “You’re the Boston Virgin?”
“You’ve heard of me?”
“Who hasn’t.”
A number of heads nodded, and Edith realized her audience had grown.
“You’re a ten-day wonder, Miz Smithfeld,” continued Ella. “Ain’t no one on the Barbary Coast can remember the last time any woman got the better of Cerise Duval, ’specially since she hooked up with the Chinaman. Person crosses the Chinaman, they either disappear or wind up dead.”
Gert poked her head up from behind Ella’s shoulder. “Though some say that fella who helped you escape the bordello has the goods on Cerise Duval. They been enemies for years. She wants to dirty his name real bad, but whatever she throws at him, he always comes out clean.”
“I know Mr. Trahern has an intense dislike of bordellos and prostitution. I’m certain he’ll take care of Madame Duval when he feels the time is right.”
Gert blushed and ducked out of sight. Ella shrugged. “If you say so. Gert’s just telling you what’s said ’bout Trahern and Duval. I heard that once those two were thick as thieves. Mebbe he keeps quiet ’cause of fond memories.”
Edith bit back a retort. She wouldn’t gossip about Dutch, but the man she knew had too many reasons to want Duval brought down.
“I’ve answered your questions,” said Edith. “You answer mine. I need information because I’m not waiting around to be rescued, and anyone who helps gets the same chance to escape that I get.”
“If you plan on escaping you better do it quick. Only two sets of empty shackles are left. We’ll be sailing soon as those are filled.”
The lack of warmth kept her shivering, but Edith squared her shoulders. She had to show these women she was serious. “Tell me about the daily routine. When do the guards come to check on you? When are you fed? Things like that.”
“Once a day, food and a water skin are dropped through the opening to the upper deck. The guards make a count every day at dawn and nightfall. The only other time we see the guards is when a new woman is added to the group or the Chinaman comes on board,” Ella replied.
“I can tell from the smell that no one comes in to clean here.”
A collective chuckle rose from the women nearby.
“But when do you bathe?” Edith continued.
Ella laughed outright. “Bathing ain’t something we done in quite sometime. Don’t think the Chinaman cares if we’re clean or not. Leastwa
ys not before we sail.”
That gave Edith pause.
“Would the guards come if one of us was sick or a pair of us fought?” She hated the idea of fighting, even in pretense, but she’d do what she must to escape.
“They’d just bet on the outcome of a fight. But if they thought a girl was gonna die, they might come. Why do you want those mean sons of bitches down here anyways?”
“If we can get them to come one at time, we could overpower them and get the keys.”
“Us?” Gert’s pale face showed her disbelief. “But the guards are stronger, and they have guns, clubs, and knives.”
Ella guffawed. “You got a big imagination, Miz Smithfeld.”
“One man may be stronger than one woman, but ten women could overpower one man even without weapons,” Edith spoke sternly. “We’d have surprise on our side. We’d be on him before he could shoot, hit, or stab.”
Beside her Ella still laughed.
“It isn’t funny,” protested Edith.
“It … it wouldn’t be funny if the guards actually had a key. Why do you think we haven’t tried that before now?”
“Oh. Well I understand why you laugh, and I’m sorry if I underestimated you all.” She searched the women’s faces. “But who does have a key?”
“The Chinaman.”
“Only the Chinaman?”
“Yep.”
Gert nodded vigorously.
“Then we’ll just have to take the key from him.”
“You got windmills for brains?” asked Ella. “How you gonna get the key from him?”
Edith pondered the question for a long moment. “I’m not certain, but I have an idea. How often does the Chinaman come here?”
“When a new girl arrives or the next night. He don’t usually have time to sample the new merchandise when a girl’s delivered — so t’speak. So he shows up the next night.”
“Then he’ll be coming tonight or the next to sample me.” She glanced toward the opening of the hold where the angle of the light coming in told her that less than two hours of daylight remained. “Does he show up right after sunset, or later?”
“Closer to midnight, when the fog’s thickest.”
Edith smiled. “Perfect. We’ve got a few hours to get ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Escape.”
“How?” Ella leaned closer to Edith.
“Here’s what we’ll do.” The women whose chains allowed gathered close. A few on the outer edge of that group passed the word to those not able to hear.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dutch, Marcus, and about a dozen Tsang cousins left the horses several streets away with Tsung, while Lijun guided the men through the fog to the ship. The group waited in the shadows of a warehouse, though the mist was thick enough they could have stood in the middle of the street and no one would identify them. Dim figures passed at an arm’s length, footsteps muted by the chilly damp. Only the noise and the flare of a half dozen lanterns allowed Dutch and his men to recognize the Chinaman’s entourage as it boarded the ship.
“Where’s Father Conroy and his vigilantes?” Dutch growled before biting into a square of chocolate. Based solely on the suspicion that a trap and not Trey lay in Alameda, Dutch had chosen to go after Edith. He prayed he wasn’t wrong, and if he was, he prayed for time to save both of the people he loved. Drizzle slid down his neck adding misery to guilt and worry. With every moment wasted waiting for the vigilance committee the chances of getting to Trey decreased. Hell, it had been hours since Father Conroy’s terse note, Don’t start without me, had found them racing toward the wharves. “We can’t wait much longer, Marcus. It’s almost midnight. The tide will go out in an hour or so, and that ship could sail before we have a chance to rescue Edith and the women with her.”
“I know you’re worried about both Edith and Trey, but we need men and Father Conroy especially. His presence will legitimize this fight. If we don’t wait for him, the Chinaman can claim we wanted his cargo for ourselves. If that rumor gets started, we’d never be able to prove otherwise.”
A hand landed on Dutch’s shoulder. He jerked back and raised his fist.
Before he could throw the punch, Marcus grabbed his arm. “Don’t. It’s Father Conroy.”
The priest’s pale face loomed out of the mist. “My thanks to you, Marcus, I’d not take kindly to a fist in me face.”
“Sorry, Father. You startled me.”
“Perfectly understandable, you bein’ so worried about your brother and your wife.”
Dutch eyed the man suspiciously. “How long have you been there?
“Long enough to know that you’re as much of a hothead as you always were. Marcus is right. Your reputation is shaky enough. You don’t need any more rumors flyin’ about yer dealin’s with whores. Still and all, I’m glad you called on the vigilance committee for help this time. I’d been having me own doubts about your dedication to making San Francisco a respectable city. So what’s your plan?
“We go in quick and quiet from three points. Father Conroy, you and your men attack from the bow of the ship. Marcus and half of the Tsang family will secure the aft section. While the two of you have the guards distracted, my group will come aboard over the ship’s rail on the water side and locate the Chinaman. The fog’ll help. Guards won’t see us any better than I could see you. We take them out first, secure the ship. Capture the Chinaman. Then release the women. We aren’t certain what to expect, but we’re prepared for the worst. My housekeeper and Mrs. Smiley have provided blankets and a some clothes for the women. Enough to keep them decent until we can get them to shelter. Did you bring a doctor?”
“Aye, bucko. I know people will be hurt tonight,” Father Conroy informed.
Dutch nodded. “Is the mission ready to take the women in?”
“Aye, all is prepared. When do we move?”
“Soon as all your men are in place. How many did you bring?”
“Only ten, but they’re me best.”
“Ten should be enough. The Chinaman is already on board, and he only posted two guards on this ship. I figure he believes fewer guards would draw less attention to his cargo. He brought his four personal bodyguards, making a total of between four and six opponents. The Chinaman’s well-known infirmities will keep him out of any direct fighting.
A young man emerged from the fog and tapped Father Conroy on the shoulder.
The priest listened then turned back to Dutch. “We’re ready, lad.”
“Good enough.”
Dutch pulled his watch from his vest pocket. “Set your watches for five after midnight. We’ll board in five minutes.”
The men adjusted their timepieces.
“Good luck.”
Soundlessly, Marcus and Father Conroy led their men in opposite directions; the fog swallowed them in seconds.
Praying that Edith was alive and unharmed, Dutch stowed his pistol in the inner pocket of his leather waistcoat to keep the weapon dry, checked to be certain the knife at his waist was secure, then dove into the mist.
• • •
In the hold, the Chinaman spoke to his bodyguards. Soon afterward, the regular guards hurried off, but the bodyguards remained.
Edith trembled with cold, disgust, and anticipation.
The Chinaman removed his robe and, naked, seated himself on an armless, silk covered bench brought in by the guards. He was scrawny, with sagging sallow skin, but the appendage hanging between his legs was thick and long, even in its flaccid state. From around his neck he removed the ribbon that held the precious key, giving it to the burliest guard. Then the villain pointed at Edith.
“That one,” the ancient voice rasped like rusted chains. “And those two behind her.”
Edith cast a glance over her shou
lder and saw Ella paired with another, very generously endowed woman whose hip-length, dark hair shielded her body a bit.
What did he want with three women? Edith tried to keep her surprise in check. She didn’t need any more attention than she already had.
The guard released her shackles, grabbed her arm, and pulled her toward the Chinaman. The other guard took the key to release her two companions, then returned the key to the Chinaman, who placed it around his neck once more.
Edith had to work hard not to wrinkle her nose in disgust. He stank of herbs used to cover the scent of an unwashed body.
He spread his legs and patted a flabby thigh.
She knew what was expected, but she couldn’t move toward that awful smell.
“Sit!” The command thundered from the scrawny chest. He pointed at the two released women, who stood arm in arm not five feet away. “Or would you like me to hurt them?”
Edith shook her head and sat her bare bottom on the man’s thigh.
Immediately he anchored her there with an arm around her back so that his hand rested on her rib cage, cupping her breast. He lifted a finger and one of those long nails she’d seen in the framer’s shop scraped across a tender nipple. She couldn’t suppress a small cry at the pain. But before the sound left her lips a sharper pain nearly doubled her over. He was pinching her injured nipple. Leaning away from the continuing pain brought her ear close to his mouth.
“Do not react. No master cares to have his pleasure interrupted by the mewlings of the merchandise. Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
The pinching stopped. He licked her ear. “Good. Turn your head to me.”
She complied, bringing her nose to nose with his black eyes.
“Kiss me with your tongue in my mouth.”
She didn’t hesitate. She tried not to think about him, about what she did, about anything.
As she plied her tongue, his hands tested her breasts, flicked his nails over them, pinching, tugging.
She felt the involuntary, but no less demeaning, reactions of her body. Her breasts swelled into his hands. Dampness between her thighs caused her to squirm. The air filled with the scent of her musk, announcing her arousal to the world.
