Strong Convictions: An Emmett Strong Western (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 1)

by GP Hutchinson

  As Emmett took it all in, he said, “I’m not in Virginia City for sporting, sightseeing, or striking it rich. But you’ve gotta admit—if a man’s looking for opportunity, this town’s got it.”

  Juanito gave a low whistle. “Never seen anything like it.”

  The train had arrived late in the day. Emmett wanted to find suitable accommodations for at least one night. While they scouted the streets for an acceptable hotel, clusters of miners made their way in from the nearby mountains. Shops were crowded with folks making end-of-the-day purchases. Piano, banjo, and fiddle music drifted into the streets from the open front doors of saloons and gambling parlors.

  Ambling along with the crowds, Emmett said to Sikes, “OK, those fellas were speaking English, but not from this side of the pond, I’ll wager.”

  Sikes nodded. “Cornish, if I had to guess. From the mines in the far southwest of England. The silver strike here is fortunate for them. Copper and tin are playing out back home in Cornwall.”

  They strolled on. Emmett intentionally headed away from C Street. He decided he liked the looks of the Comstock Queen Hotel straight ahead on Washington.

  “Those chaps we just passed,” Sikes said, “Irishmen, I’m sure you gathered. A clannish lot. Seems like they always go about with a chip on their shoulder. Always spoiling for a fight.”

  “Well, tread softly around here, gents,” Emmett said. “This Texas Ranger badge may not mean much to folks in these parts.”

  Juanito unpinned his badge and tucked it into his vest pocket.

  “Doesn’t mean you need to be ashamed of it, brother-in-law,” Emmett said.

  “I’m not ashamed. I’m proud to be a Texian—and a Ranger.”

  “Then why’d you take it off?”

  “I just thought you wanted to begin our hunt for Charlie Blaylock as quiet as possible. No sense in having people announcing for all the world to hear that it’s Texas lawmen that are asking around about the Blaylock brothers.”

  “True enough.” Emmett paused and pocketed his badge as well.

  The Comstock Queen Hotel looked to be a good choice. Plenty of guests—usually a good sign. Clean. And unlike the hotels over near C Street, it didn’t seem as likely that some yahoo might put a bullet or three through the windows during the wee hours of the morning.

  The front desk clerk also happened to be the hotel’s proprietor. He insisted on having a Chinese fellow run Emmett’s and his compadres’ bags upstairs to their rooms.

  They had spotted some Chinese folk at the railroad depots starting around Sacramento. Those had been the first people of Asian descent that Emmett or Juanito had ever seen in person. Sikes had seen a few Asians in the far south of Africa.

  Here in Virginia City, Emmett had noted quite a number of Chinese folk out on the streets. More men than women, but certainly women too. Seeing Chinese women had surprised him, since almost everything he’d heard or read about Chinese in America had had to do with male immigrants. Dangerous and difficult labor on the one hand, laundry, cooking, and housekeeping on the other—Chinese men seemed willing to tackle any job.

  Emmett sized up the Chinaman who was supposed to carry his bag up and guessed the man couldn’t stand any taller than five feet four. Couldn’t weigh a hundred and fifteen pounds sopping wet. It made him feel peculiar to hand their war bags over and let such a small man haul them upstairs.

  “You know, we can handle these,” Emmett said.

  “No, no, no,” the proprietor insisted. “It’s just a little something extra we do here at the Comstock Queen…to set ourselves apart.”

  Emmett gave in but didn’t much like it. As they ascended the stairs, he noted that although the Chinese man wore ordinary trousers, vest, and shirt, he still maintained a long, plaited queue that hung from beneath his black silk cap.

  Once he had stowed the bags in their rooms, the Chinese fellow glanced furtively up and down the hallway. “You like good food? I tell you where you find good restaurant.”

  “What kind of food?” Juanito asked. “Chinese food?”

  “All kind food. Cheap too. Everybody in Virginia City want charge you too much money. Too much money for everything.”

  Emmett gave his friends a glance and shrugged.

  They shrugged back.

  “OK,” Emmett said. “Where’s this good, cheap restaurant?”

  The fellow beamed. “Go over there Union Street. Past L Street.” He pointed. “Xu’s Golden Dragon Café. You like.”

  Emmett reached into his pocket for a two-bit coin, but the Chinaman held up his hands. “Oh, no. You just tell Yong Xu I send you.” He grinned again.

  “You sure?”

  “I sure.”

  “And what’s your name—so I can tell Yong Xu?”

  “Chin. Just tell Yong Xu, ‘Chin send me.’”

  “Thank you, Chin,” Emmett said. “I’ll do that.”

  Chin was all smiles as the men descended the stairs.

  Out on the street, Sikes asked, “What do you think?

  “What do I think about what?”

  “The little Chinaman is sending us out to the edge of town. Is that where we really want to go?”

  “If that’s where Yong Xu’s restaurant is,” Emmett said. “And if Yong Xu is willing to serve some non-Chinese folks, then yes, that’s where I want to go.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Juanito said, patting his belly.

  “All right then,” Sikes said, looking askance. “If it’s insects and animal entrails you want…”

  Juanito grinned and shook his head. “Add some pico de gallo, sounds OK to me.”

  Emmett gave a faint smile and stepped off toward the restaurant. “Juanito, you were right to tuck the badge away for the time being.”

  “Still chewing on the same plan?”

  “Yep. Even though Charlie Blaylock’s telegram went to Carson City, I like the idea of starting on the very edge of Seth Blaylock’s territory. If Charlie’s brother is in fact some kind of big bug, I don’t wanna go plowing straight into the hornet’s nest.”

  Emmett sidestepped to avoid an errand boy in a big hurry. “We show up at the best restaurant in Carson City inquiring about Blaylock, maybe somebody runs off and warns the man before we’ve learned a single thing about him.”

  Juanito nodded. “Take it slow and easy.”

  “Another thing,” Sikes said. “Charlie Blaylock may expect us to show up right on his heels. If he doesn’t feel us shadowing him, maybe he decides we didn’t follow him up here after all. He may let his guard down.”

  They turned onto Union Street. Lanterns illuminated the boardwalks in front of a number of the avenue’s businesses.

  “I’ve got a feeling Charlie Blaylock already supposes he’s home free—especially if his brother truly is some kind of kingpin,” Emmett said. “Likely figures he’s got plenty enough protection up here. Probably believes there’s not a Texas lawman that can touch him.”

  Didn’t matter what Charlie thought, though. To Emmett this was the most important fugitive hunt since he chased down the hard case responsible for his wife’s death. If Blaylock had protection, he’d just have to outsmart him.

  As they continued along, the composition of the traffic on the street changed—more Chinese than any other folks now. Emmett could see the sign for Xu’s Golden Dragon Café just ahead.

  “Based on past experience,” Sikes said, “what are the odds of us taking Charlie Blaylock without a big fight?”

  “Slim,” Emmett said. “Had to chase an outlaw up into Arkansas once. Even with the local law helping out, it still came down to shooting. Same thing in New Mexico.”

  Juanito fastened his collar button as they approached the restaurant. “Big shootout in New Mexico.”

  With its signage in both Chinese and English, Xu’s Golden Dragon looked much the same as
any other establishment on that end of Union Street. Whereas many of the buildings back near the rail station boasted brick facades, most of the structures this far out had only wood siding, some painted, some raw. A porch roof covered the boardwalk in front of Xu’s—one feature that did set the café apart. Golden lamplight poured out onto the walkway from windows on either side of the entrance.

  Emmett could see diners at several of the tables inside. Most were Chinese. In fact, non-Chinese occupied only one table.

  Although the aroma—even from outside—started his mouth watering, for some reason he hesitated with his hand on the door. Then he thought, Aw, why not?

  The three were hardly inside the cheerfully lighted eatery when a Chinese fellow with a shaved head hurried toward them wearing a broad smile.

  “Hello. Welcome,” he said. He bowed.

  Emmett eyed the man’s gray frogged jacket and loose black trousers and recalled sketches of Chinese immigrants he’d seen in the newspapers a few times. “Ah…Chin sent us,” he said, striving to match the host’s grin.

  For a moment the Chinese man’s smile wavered. Then he seemed to gather himself. “Well…thank you for coming,” he said. “I’m Yong Xu.”

  “It’s OK, isn’t it?” Emmett asked, touching his chest, then motioning toward the table of non-Chinese patrons.

  “Why, of course. Yes.” Yong Xu nodded. “I’ll bet you gentlemen would love a nice, thick steak, right?”

  Sikes cut his eyes at Emmett. “He said steak, correct?”

  Before Emmett could respond, Yong Xu chuckled. “Yes, steak. Only the finest.”

  “Beefsteak?”

  “Fresh beef.”

  Sikes wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Juanito tried to refrain from laughing aloud. When he failed, the unfortunate results included an embarrassing snort. Other diners looked up from their meals.

  With a grin, Emmett said, “Thank you. Steak sounds perfect.”

  “Li,” Yong Xu called out. “Come seat these gentlemen while I throw some more wood on the grill. These men would like beefsteak. I’d like to show them what I learned from the steak masters in San Francisco.”

  “Yes, Baba,” a female voice called from the kitchen.

  What Emmett saw next sent electricity to the tips of his fingers and toes.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Emmett stood transfixed near the doorway. The Chinese girl who had emerged from the kitchen, napkins and cutlery in hand, was the most entrancing woman he’d laid eyes on since Gabriela had passed away.

  He felt his face flush.

  “Hello? Emmett?” he heard Sikes say. “Are you going to join us or just stand there in the doorway all night?”

  “Coming,” he murmured.

  As he made his way to the table, he couldn’t take his eyes off the Asian beauty. What she wore amused him. Looked to be boys’ clothes. American boys’ clothes—slim-fitting dark-blue corduroy trousers and a bib-front shirt in white with narrow, light-blue stripes. The outfit modestly covered but couldn’t conceal her subtle feminine curves. She wore her dark, silken hair parted on the side, half held up with an exotic Chinese hairpin, half draping over her shoulder.

  At the table he paid no mind to Juanito or Sikes.

  She smiled cheerfully as she laid out the tableware.

  Just then Yong Xu strode back into the dining room with a meat cleaver in hand and a grin on his face. “Do you ever use chopsticks?”

  They glanced at one another and hemmed and hawed until Emmett managed to get out, “No, I can’t say that we do.”

  Forks and knives having already been distributed, Emmett noticed that Li still held in her hands a number of tapered sticks. They looked to be of polished steel, each about nine inches long.

  Yong Xu turned to his daughter. “I guess we don’t need them then, Li-Li.” He winked.

  With no wasted motion, Li spun and threw the metal sticks one after another at a sawed-off cross section of tree trunk hanging on the wall near the kitchen door. One, two, three, four, five, six. Each hissed through the air and lodged with a sharp thwack in the wood.

  Emmett’s jaw dropped. His gaze darted from the target to Li to his compadres. Juanito and Sikes burst into laughter.

  Li wore a coy smile as Emmett gawked and slowly began to applaud.

  With a wide grin, Yong Xu surveyed his new guests. “What do you think of that?”

  But before the men could answer, he himself whirled and released the cleaver. End over end, it whooshed across the room and cracked into the wooden ring.

  While the act flabbergasted Emmett and his friends, the other diners had to have seen Li and Yong Xu perform the feat before. They all—including the other non-Chinese guests—simply smiled for a few moments, applauded politely, and continued their meals.

  “Madre mía!” Juanito wagged his head, still laughing.

  Emmett’s slack-jawed staring turned into grinning at Yong and Li. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a middle-aged Chinese woman leaning briefly from the kitchen door. She sighed, exasperated, it would seem.

  “I taught my daughter well, didn’t I?” Yong Xu said.

  “Indeed you did,” Emmett agreed. You taught her very well.

  The Chinese man patted her shoulder. “Li-Li, let’s go check on the steaks.”

  Both walked away smiling.

  “Well, if that doesn’t beat all!” Sikes said after another round of hearty laughter.

  “I didn’t expect entertainment,” Juanito said.

  Sikes held his hands apart. “I didn’t expect any of this. I came to Texas. Now I’m on a manhunt in Nevada—in a Chinese restaurant in Nevada—watching a Chinaman and his daughter perform a sensational throwing act. Nowhere else but the Wild West.”

  When Sikes mentioned the manhunt, Emmett made a hasty, silent plea for his deceased brother’s forgiveness. And immediately his thoughts darted back to Li Xu. His mind buzzed with curiosity about her. He wondered what it would be like to enjoy the day-to-day companionship of such a lively and breathtaking woman.

  Then he caught himself. Was he actually daydreaming about courting a Chinese girl? He felt a fleeting twinge of guilt and asked himself why. Because Li Xu was of a different race?

  Gabriela had been a Texian—by blood as Mexican as anyone. But folks generally didn’t think of her that way. Why not? Because she was so beautiful? Because her family had come to Texas and fought for the republic’s independence? He wondered whether he had actually married across racial lines. Had anybody ever said so? Aside from Victorio Sanchez—the bastard.

  He shook his head and tried to pay attention to Sikes and Juanito. But he couldn’t. His mind raced back to the kitchen—or wherever Li Xu had trotted off to—hoping he hadn’t seen the last of her.

  What did they call them? He tried to remember the word used in the newspaper articles. Antimisconception…No…Antimiscegenation. That was the word. Antimiscegenation laws—laws declaring it illegal for men and women of different races to marry.

  People had argued heatedly over the matter when he’d been a kid right after the war. But that had been mainly about Negroes and whites. Now all of a sudden it seemed like the newspapers were ginning up all kinds of commotion over antimiscegenation once again. This time mostly in news stories slanted against the Chinese—stories that usually left the reader with the distinct impression that Chinese weren’t quite as fully human as other folks.

  Sakes alive! If this girl Li Xu wasn’t human—and as lovely a human as you’d ever find—then who was? If she didn’t seem more full of life than any woman he’d laid eyes on since his Gabriela…

  Emmett leaned in his chair, trying to steal a peek into the kitchen. He just wanted to talk to her for a little while, to show himself this was nothing more than infatuation. That’s what it had to be—pure and simple. He figured as soon as he f
ound out how different they really were, he’d return to his right mind and move along.

  But he did want to talk to her.

  He cleared his throat and did his best to concentrate on his compañeros. They were still jawing, apparently unaware of his mental absence.

  “There was this one girl in Cape Town,” Sikes said in a low voice, his hand partially blocking his mouth, his eyes beaming.

  This time Emmett followed a little more of their conversation. Before long, though, he found himself considering Kit Carson. A hero. Everybody respected Kit Carson. He had not one, but two Indian wives…and later a Mexican wife. Nobody thought any less of him.

  Movement in the kitchen snatched him back to the present. It was Li Xu and her father, each carrying platters of faintly sizzling food. The smoky aroma of the steaks made his mouth water. He hadn’t realized how famished he was. Even so, his gaze went to Li Xu’s eyes rather than to the food.

  Was it hot in here? He felt as though he’d guzzled two, maybe three whiskeys one after the other. And that hadn’t happened often.

  Her dark eyes met his.

  “Your steak,” she said with a pleasant smile. The quality of her voice—he loved it. Soft, yet by no means timid.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Smells delicious.”

  Glancing quickly around the table, he noticed that his steak was larger by half than Sikes’s or Juanito’s.

  “Would you like egg on top of your steak?” she asked the three. “It’s my father’s San Francisco specialty.”

  Yong Xu clasped his hands in front of him. “I recommend it.”

  Each accepted the suggestion. Sikes and Juanito dug into the meal with eagerness.

  Yong Xu beamed. “Enjoy.”

  Before turning away, Li hesitated just a split second and gave Emmett another glance.

  Barely chewing his steak, he watched her go.

  “Hermano,” Juanito said, his fork suspended over his food. “What’s this? I haven’t seen you look at a woman that way since you first met my sister.”