by Lynn Landes
“I promise first thing in the morning to buy a train ticket.” Aimee calms Kai and gives him a plate of biscuits to take home to his family. “Take this and go home, Kai.”
Kai takes the plate and turns reluctantly to the door. “Stay hidden. Chen are warriors. They hunt for the beautiful woman with silver hair and eyes like diamonds. You must go soon.” He slams out with his food and money to return to his family.
Bronnah jumps up to gather her things. She stuffs the saloon dress into a bag and sorts through the clothing she stole from the girls. Aimee gives her a carpet bag and helps outfit her with three-day dresses and an evening dress. For fun, she throws in some lingerie from her newest line, and when she's finished, Bronnah has two bags of clothing. While she helps Bronnah pack Aimee tells her the story of how she met Cassandra. Both are thinking about tomorrow, yet neither brings up the Chen warriors.
“Aimee, I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you,” Bronnah said softly.
"You will do for someone as I'm doing for you. That will be enough." Aimee smiles at the thought of Cassie. They place her bags near her bedroom door and fill a canvas bag with the clothes that didn't fit her from Mrs. Killian, including the saloon outfit. She places it inside the closet by the door leading downstairs and sighs.
“Let’s get some sleep if we can.”
Chapter 13
Dane stomps into the house and kisses his wife. “Where’s Dalton?”
“Round back with Cassie. Why?”
“I was in town, and he had some messages waiting for him.” Dane marches through the house and follows the sound of his grandson’s laughter. “That’s music to a grandfather’s ears.” He says as he steps onto the back porch.
A squeal of delight greets his ears, and he laughs as the child runs to him. He swings him up and laughs at his squeal of delight. "Got some mail for you." He tosses a pack of messages to Dalton.
"Cassandra, how are you feeling?" Dane asks.
“Hungry and tired,” she replies with a laugh. Her feet are up, and one hand is resting on her very pregnant belly.
“Sounds perfectly understandable. How about we sneak past Grammy and get a cookie?” Dane asked his grandson.
“Cookie?” he asks with hope in his silver eyes. They laugh as Dane tiptoes inside with his little accomplice and Dalton begins to open his messages and read them. “Cassie, this one has your name on it.”
“Really?” She takes the note and grows pale as she reads it. “It’s from Aimee! Dalton, I think you better read this.” He scans the note.
‘Rivers Railcars are being used to traffic young women against their will from New York to the West. Stop.’
‘One girl escaped. Stop. Need Help. Stop. Chen after her. Please advise. Stop. Aimee Lancour. Stop.’
“You have to help them, Aimee’s in trouble!” Cassie struggles to get up, but a vision strikes her. She gasps as the room goes completely black. A young woman with pale blonde hair is standing in the train station holding a carpet bag in one hand and a ticket in the other. Glancing at the ticket she reads, Chicago, Illinois. Excited she takes a step to find her train when a man grabs her arm and sticks a knife into her side.
"I will show you to your train, Miss." The girl is walked to the back of the twenty-car train until they stop at the car that reads, ‘River's Refrigeration.' Two men jump down and open the sliding door, and when she inhales to scream, she's knocked unconscious. When her eyes open, she's fighting to breathe inside a darkened space. Cassie feels the movement and clanking of the train beneath her feet. The railcar sways as it turns and finally comes to a stop. The dual-bay doors open, and she tries to scream as hands drag her into the light, but she is gagged. Her hands are bound behind her back, and she's tossed onto the ground as they rip at her clothing.
“Come back to me, angel.” Dalton supports her and breathes a sigh of relief when her eyes meet his. He guides her back to the couch on the porch when her eyes return to normal. “Deep breaths, that’s it, slow your heart down and tell me what you saw.”
"A girl with silver blonde hair, boarding a train for Chicago, but they grabbed her and shoved her into a rail car with our name on it. It said Rivers Refrigeration. Oh, God, you have to help her. She'll never make it out of New York. They knew she was going to the train station, Dalton. We have to warn her!"
"I will, but first calm down, Cassie. Think of the babies. I will send Pierce with a message to Chase. His first stop was Chicago. Perhaps he can get to her before they do."
“Okay, Dalton. How long is the train ride to New York from Chicago?”
“Less than a day. I don’t want you to worry. Chase will handle this. This is what he does.” Dalton hurries to find Pierce.
“Hopefully this will be the break in the case that Chase needs,” Cassie whispers as she watches Pierce leave for town. It takes a half a day just to ride into town. “Let us hope she can stay safe until Chase can get to her.”
Chapter 14
How hard is it to become a shadow in a city full of darkness? Not hard at all unless you stand out like a star in the velvety night sky. Bronnah wonders if she was always a shadow. In Ireland, the poor were invisible. To be seen made people uncomfortable. As a nurse for the Sisters, she was protected by the clothing. Anything that made her stand out was hidden, like her hair and her accent. They couldn’t hide her eyes and beauty, so she worked in the children’s ward. Tired of hiding from life and barely existing, her eyes grow hard.
"They will pay. No one should have ta go through what these girls are going through." Glancing at the tattoo on her wrist she rubs it with her thumb. A small flower, what does it mean? It's healing quickly now. The scabs will be gone in a few days, but she fears she will carry the mark for the rest of her life. Maybe they think by marking her that she is nothing more than a piece of property. No one will ever own her.
Bronnah studies the ledger she stole from her kidnappers and is surprised to find the names of each girl, country of origin, and the names of multiple people involved in the trafficking of each woman. From the U.S. Marshalls office, to police officers, to saloon owners. It's much bigger than she anticipated. Frowning, she puts the ledger down on the table, sipping her tea, and the New York Times paper catches her eye. Excitement flutters in her chest as a new idea takes root.
After hiding for the past five days, Bronnah is ready to act. She scans the paper for a few reporter names and chooses one who wrote an article titled, "Silent Sin," written by Augustus Duffy. It would seem he went undercover to expose a ring of doctors performing illegal abortions in the city.
"Very brave, Mr. Duffy but are ya brave enough for this?" she whispers as she rips out some paper and begins copying the information from the ledger down. Two hours later, after copying down the sections that pertain to the city of New York, she pens a letter to Mr. Duffy.
Dear Sir,
Your Sisters and Daughters are in peril. Will you stand by and do nothing, or will you step up and fight for the future of your Country and rescue them?
Right now, under the veiled promise of hope, innocent young women are being lured into those major cities like New York, San Francisco, Chicago and more. They are being kidnapped and drugged, dressed and sold to the highest bidders as prostitutes. Help free them!
Do not turn a blind eye, I beg of you! You know what drug I speak of. Opium. It hides in the backs of laundries, saloons, in all the dark places you are afraid to venture into, staining our souls with its temporary gift.
How can you hope to build a strong Nation if the word of your Men, the very fabric of your future families can no longer be trusted?
Search the railway heads, and you will find innocent women being violated. Senators, Marshalls, Police, and Doctors, your very stations are being raped by those who hide under the guise of morality.
Enclosed you will find the names of those who are convoluting. Don’t take my word for it. Investigate. Search and act now before it’s too late!
Sincerely,
&nb
sp; Anonymous
When Aimee returns for lunch, she sits with her and shows her the package. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Bronnah? What if this reporter is involved somehow?"
“I’m not certain of anything. If something happens to me, no one will ever know about this, and those who have already been lost will never have justice." Bronnah rubs at the sore spot on her wrist and Aimee sighs, reaching for her hand.
"You're very brave. I will have a runner deliver it to the New York Times office this afternoon. I can pay him extra to hand-deliver it only to Mr. Duffy. Let us pray this Monsieur Duffy is an honorable man."
"Do they even exist anymore, Aimee?" Bronnah asks softly.
Chapter 15
Chase leaves the third train depot and returns to his office. Chief Mox and Neal have worked tirelessly by his side for the past few days. The Chief has been indispensable in directing the patrolmen in the search of the depots. It’s intense, dangerous work in a city that houses thousands and more arrive daily. Chicago is a hub of travel either, by train, sea or wagon and that means crime. The train yards and shipyards are crawling with pimps and prostitutes, some call them pigeons. Not to mention the pickpockets, and no one is talking.
It's not surprising that the temperament of the officers is short. Police brutality is a problem here, and Chief Mox is struggling to keep it under control. "What do you want," Neal growls at a pimp who approaches them. Neal stands out in his uniform, hat, and badge, but Chase looks like a simple cowboy.
The man grins at them revealing black and yellow teeth, greasy hair and he smells worse than he looks. “Heard you were looking for information?”
“What kind of information do you have?” Neal asked drawing his black club.
He grins at Neal and then at Chase. “Money talks,” he implies with a leer of hunger in his eyes.
“You’ll talk, pig!” Neal lunges at him with his club raised, but Chase moves quickly and grabs his arm.
“Easy, Neal. I need you to swing by the post office and check for messages after that you’re free to go.”
Anger and rage simmer beneath the surface, but he nods, “If you’re sure.” He spins and stomps away.
“That’s right, go on errand boy,” the man chortles. His laugh dies in his throat when he turns to look at Chase. He clears his throat and stammers. “I have information for you from an interested party. Meet me here tonight at ten o’clock.” He hands Chase a card with the name of a bar on it.
“You bring cash, I bring names.”
Chase watches the man stumble into the crowd and waits to the count of ten before following him. They're multiple ways to get answers, and Chase was never fond of waiting. Sounds too much like a setup for him to be comfortable.
The man is talking to himself and lighting a cigarette as he walks four blocks to the Dirty Dog pub near the docks. Chase stays out of sight and watches him enter the bar. He knows enough to wait and see if anyone is waiting for him and once he’s sure it’s clear he smiles. The first thing to go is his cowboy hat, followed by his long denim duster. He rolls his hat up inside the coat and stashes it behind a barrel, hoping it will be here when he returns.
"Time for a drink." The scent of cigarettes, sweat, and beer assault his senses. He glances around the crowded room and finds his prey at the bar. He's drinking and tapping his fingers nervously on the bar as though waiting for someone. Chase moves off to an open table and waits.
“Can I offer you a drink?” A saloon girl asked in a husky voice. Her long red nails are painted to match the exact shade of her lips and hair. Large white, powdered breasts are pushed high in a red and black corset with black lace stockings and heels to finish off the look.
Chase stares in fake appreciation, trying not to flinch in horror as the smell reaches his nose. “Yes, Ma’am, and some company?”
She smiles and takes his order, moving to the bar she returns with two large glasses of beer and sits next to Chase. "So, what's your name, handsome?" Under the garish lights, she almost looks pretty. He imagines that once before this life consumed her, she was decent looking. Her makeup is painted on thick, and he can tell by the stench coming off her body that it's been a busy night for her.
"Chase," he replies drinking the ice-cold beer. It is a relief to his system in the hot, crowded bar. Her hand drops to his thigh, and she strokes up and down.
“Well, Chase, my name is Jackie. Do you wanna do this here or in the back room?” Chase squeezes her hand to stop the movement.
“I’m gonna need you to stop talking.” She shuts up as he watches the man wave and moves off to the back of the bar.
"Jackie, I've got a fifty-dollar bill with your name on it, if you help me." Jackie grins at him, and her eyes go hard.
"You've got my undivided attention, Chase." He leans close, and she giggles while he traces a finger over the swell of her breasts.
“I need you to follow that man at the bar who just waved and find out who he’s meeting. I need information.” Jackie leans back and sips her beer before casually glancing around.
"His name is Paul. He's a regular, and I know how to get him to talk. Do you want time with him or the person he is meeting?"
“The man he’s with.” Chase nibbles at her neck, hoping the show looked convincing and she sighs with pleasure.
"Keep that up, Chase and I may do it for free. Move to the back of the bar, and up the stairs, my room is number three." She slides him a key and grabs his glass. "I'll bring a refill." Chase grabs the key and hurries to the room.
Fifteen minutes later, Chase is sitting in the small room which is surprisingly clean. A large bed, chair, and dresser with mirror face a window which overlooks the alley below. Chase checks to make sure it’s not nailed shut and opens it up to let some fresh air inside. He lights the lantern and takes a seat in the chair with his pistols loaded and ready.
“Come on, Jackie. I don’t have time for this,” a familiar voice says.
“But, baby, you said if I had the night off to let you know.” Jackie lays it on thick and presses her breasts into his chest as she runs a hand down the front of his pants cupping his bulge. “Someone is happy to see me,” she purrs as she strokes him.
“Always. Have you been a bad girl, Jackie?” He asked groaning in pleasure.
"Oh, so bad, baby. Are you gonna punish me?" She laughs as he slips two fingers in her corset and pinches her nipple hard. "Yes, just like that!" Jackie opens the door and steps inside blocking Chase from view, and she closes it behind him.
Neal freezes when he hears a pistol cock. “Shit!” He exclaims as she steps aside. Walking over to Chase, she runs her hand inside his breast pocket. He grins as she finds the cash.
“Don’t make a mess, Chase. I just cleaned this room.”
“Thanks, Jackie,” Neal sneers.
“It’s just business, Neal.” Jackie steps outside and leaves.
“What are you doing here, Marshall?” Neal takes a step only to see the glint of steel enter Chase’s eyes.
“I’d ask you the same question, but I think I found my answer. Why’d you kill those girls?” He demands.
Neal laughs at him, “For a Federal Marshall, you sure are stupid. You think I did it? Well technically, I did slit their throats, but I was just following orders.” Chase slips one of his guns into his holster and orders him to a chair. Neal tries to run for the window, but Chase is ready for him. He trips him and slams his gun down on his collar bone. Neal screams as the bone crunches under the blow of the gun’s handle. Chase grabs him by his hair and tosses him into a chair in the corner.
“Sit, Neal. You can tell it to the judge.” Neal groans and struggles to stay awake against the pain which threatens to make him pass out.
Chase tosses a glass of water in his face, ignoring the coughing and sputtering that follow. Neal glares at him with hate-filled eyes and laughs when Chase begins to read him his rights.
You are under arrest for the murder of …” Neal laughs louder.
&
nbsp; “Which Judge? How deep do you think this goes, Marshall?” He spits at him as Chase ties him up tightly. Both wrists are strapped to the chair and both ankles.
"That's exactly what I plan on finding out." Chase puts away his gun and pours water into a bowl. "We can do this two ways, Neal. You can tell me everything you know, or I can force you to tell me everything you know." He strips the pillowcase off Jackie's worn out bed and turns back to him. "Either way, I win. I don't have time for these games anymore."
"This is not a game, Marshall." Fear begins to enter his eyes, and his voice grows shrill. "If I tell you, they'll kill my family. You have no idea..." Chase brings down the handle of his gun on Neal's right hand and breaks the bones. When Neal inhales to scream Chase grabs the pillowcase and pulls it swiftly over his head. Neal screams and tries to twist out of his grip but Chase jerks backward on the cloth and pours a glass of water slowly over Neal's mouth and nose. Neal chokes and coughs, struggling violently. Chase releases him. He pulls the case off and steps away to refill the glass. This was a technique they used on Confederate spies during the war.
"I can't," he coughs and chokes only to scream again as Chase breaks his other hand. Neal's eyes roll back in his head, and the room starts to go black. Chase waits for a few seconds and smacks his face. "Neal," he smacks his face again. "Wake up Neal! I need you to listen to me, now. You killed four young women in cold blood. They had families too. Tell me what I need to know. I have this room all night, and no one cares if you scream." Chase pulls out a large bowie knife and presses it to Neal's throat. "I know how to silence you, but I prefer not to do that, just yet." Neal is shaking with pain, and his eyes are full of terror.
"Have it your way." Chase sighs and take out a small brown leather roll and begins unrolling it on the nightstand beside Neal. "I grew up with Indians. They taught me lots of things, like how to ride a horse, tie a knot and how to fish with my bare hands. Once, I was lucky enough to witness them torturing someone who had violated one of their women. It was horrible but effective."
