“Breona.”
Breona was nodding next to Joy, nearly asleep in a comfortable sofa near the fire. She awoke with a start. “Whist?”
Mei-Xing handed a yawning Shan-Rose to her. “I . . . would you and Joy take Shan-Rose upstairs to bed? I must speak to my father.”
“Of course.” She nudged Joy and the two of them dragged their feet up the stairs. Cluney followed them and stayed until he heard the snap of the lock on their side of the door.
“Father, may I speak with you?”
Jinhai turned toward Mei-Xing. She could see the sadness that engulfed him. “Yes, daughter. Of course.” Ting-Xiu had gone up to bed an hour ago, but he had not been able to think of sleep.
Mei-Xing looked for—and found—Liáng’s watchful presence not far away.
Why, how have I come to depend on him so? she marveled within herself. And he is always . . . with me. Pushing those thoughts aside for later consideration, she faced the task ahead.
“Father, I must tell you something.”
Jinhai’s countenance sank further and Mei-Xing faltered, but only for a moment.
“I am sorry that we have brought such turmoil to your home,” she began. “I am sorry if what I wish to say will grieve you more.”
Jinhai touched her arm. “No. Do not be sorry. My heart is rejoicing that you are alive. I am only mourning my blindness and my insensitivity. I know the Lord will heal my heart.”
They examined each other then, looking for—and finding—acceptance and forgiveness.
“You were thanking God earlier for bringing me back, for bringing you a granddaughter, but—”
Jinhai took her hand. “I think I know what you wish to say. You will not be staying, will you? You will go back to Denver, to the life you have there?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Minister Liáng told us that you did not even want us to know you are alive. Do you wish us to pretend that you are still . . .” He did not finish his sentence.
Mei-Xing thought for a minute. “I don’t know yet. I don’t know how to handle all the things coming to light. It may be that these things will be public knowledge soon regardless of what we decide. Certainly the servants will talk and news will get out. Could we pray about it?”
“Yes! Yes. We will pray.”
“But you are right about the other. I will be going back to Denver when this is all over.”
Jinhai nodded.
“I had an idea, though . . . I have the sense that it will upset you. I will only say that it would be my express wish if you could find it in your heart to follow this idea.”
Her father looked up, waiting.
“It is that you have no son, no one to carry on our name and your business.” Hesitating, and then pressing through, Mei-Xing spoke what was in her heart.
Jinhai said nothing at first, but his expression became forbidding.
“No.” It was his only response.
“I understand,” Mei-Xing whispered. “It is almost unthinkable. But . . . I think you will reflect on it more. If it is right, I know the Lord himself will show it to you. Good night, Father.”
~~**~~
Chapter 28
O’Dell had been on watch for an hour when his ears caught the sound—the lightest metal-on-metal scratching at the door to their room. He used his cane to prod Pounder awake, who jostled the officer dozing next to him.
They had been wrong about the direction of the attack, but it did not matter—they were ready. Three men clothed all in black entered the room, intent on the covered figures in the beds. They did not sense O’Dell, Pounder, or the two officers until it was too late.
The four of them fell on the intruders, pounding them with clubs; O’Dell used the heavy end of his cane to good advantage. A gun went off, harming no one, but O’Dell’s ears rang from its discharge.
Someone turned on the lights, revealing three figures prostrate on the floor. Then the two officers were running for the door connecting them to the next room—that was when O’Dell realized that both rooms had been attacked simultaneously.
“Hold them here,” Pounder yelled over his shoulder.
O’Dell, using his cane for what it was intended, steadied himself and trained his revolver on the groaning intruders while Pounder followed the officers into the room next door.
The wall between the rooms shook as bodies crashed into it. O’Dell’s eyes did not leave the three men he guarded, but he followed the fight with his ears as it grew more violent until—a gunshot. Another. Then silence.
He heard Wolsey. “Get ’em up.” More voices shouted in the room; O’Dell recognized Groves and one of the policemen.
Pounder stepped back into the room. “We’ve got them.”
“How many?”
“There were four. Only three now.”
O’Dell heard screams and shouts and footsteps pounding the outside corridor. “Guess we’ve disturbed the other guests.”
He grinned and Pounder grinned back.
The sun was lighting the sky by the time the police had hauled the six thugs and one body away. Not one of the attackers—all Chinese—had spoken a word in response to the questions put to them. It was Wolsey who pointed to a small tattoo on the back of each neck.
“Chen,” O’Dell heard him mutter.
Wolsey gathered O’Dell, Pounder, Groves, Gresham, and the rest of the defenders together. “Wei Lin will have used a lookout to report back to him. By now he will know his men have failed. He will likely be told that Mei-Xing and Bao were not here. You should warn Jinhai.”
Gresham used the hotel telephone to ring Jinhai’s house. The sleepy servant who answered rushed to get Jinhai from his bed.
“It is all right,” Jinhai replied. “I could not sleep. I will alert my men; please come as quickly as you can.”
Wolsey and his officers went to assure the hotel management that the danger was past and that the police had the situation in hand. O’Dell, Groves, Pounder, Gresham, and Donaldson piled into a single car and drove with all speed toward the Li residence.
When they arrived, Jinhai’s soldiers were no longer hidden. They openly walked the perimeter of the Li house, an unconcealed warning to any who might think of breaching the home.
Jinhai met the returning men in the foyer. “Come. I have ordered coffee, tea, and food.” He led them into the living room. Liáng and Bao were already waiting for them; it was obvious that they, too, had not slept much.
Wiping the fatigue from their faces, O’Dell and Pounder recounted the attack on their room.
Groves and Gresham picked up and finished the account. “We heard the scuffle start in the room next door just as four men broke through our door. We had them beaten, but they would not give up until their leader lay dead on the floor.”
“So!” Jinhai stood and paced. “We have thwarted Wei Lin and now he is running out of time and options.” He turned to Liáng. “I have been praying and studying all night on how Wei Lin would act and how to counter him. And then something Mei-Xing asked of me began to work in my heart and the Lord has been wrestling with me all these hours. I believe he has given me his direction.”
He turned to Liáng. “Minister Liáng, you led me to Christ and you helped Ting-Xiu and me find peace after losing Mei-Xing. I value your friendship and your counsel.” In a few sentences, Jinhai explained what two things he had prayed and struggled over through the night.
Liáng could scarcely believe what he heard. “You are sure?” Liáng’s heart was pounding.
Jinhai nodded. “I believe they are the Lord’s answers, both to stymie Wei Lin . . . and to heal my family.”
He tipped his head a little to the side and Liáng recognized the gesture immediately. Just like Mei-Xing, Liáng marveled.
“My friend, Yaochuan Min Liáng,” Jinhai asked formally, “You love my daughter, do you not?”
Shan-Rose, Joy, and Breona were still sleeping when Mei-Xing awoke. She dressed and wandered through the halls of her p
arents’ home. While all things about the house were familiar, they also seemed strange and foreign to her now.
As the sun was rising she slipped down the back staircase to the ground floor and out the back door. Heavily armed men watched her as she paused at the gate to her father’s garden. Lifting the latch, she stepped inside.
The buds on his ornamental plum trees were just opening, enveloping the branches in a haze of delicate pink. Mei-Xing walked among the trees, remembering the evening, three years ago, she had stood here, plum blossoms falling like snow all around her. It was here she had decided to accept Bao’s offer of a train ticket to Denver.
I never wished to return here to my father’s house, Mei-Xing pondered. I was afraid to revisit those painful days, yet here I am.
She turned her eyes toward heaven and smiled. My heart is hidden in you, Lord Jesus, she whispered. You have healed my pain and you have made me whole again. Thank you.
At peace, Mei-Xing returned to the house and wandered through the kitchen where the servants were already busy preparing a large breakfast. Mei-Xing was starting up the front stairs when Liáng appeared.
“Mei-Xing, I would speak with you.” Liáng extended his hand to her. Mei-Xing automatically took his outstretched hand but she was off balance, unsure of the boldness of his words and actions.
He grasped her fingers and gently tugged her into the Lis’ library. He closed the door behind them. They were alone in the room, facing each other.
“Mei-Xing, this morning your father and I will face Wei Lin and Fang-Hua together. With honor and in God’s power, we will defeat them both.” He stared at her lovely face; he stared into her dark eyes. Liáng took a deep breath.
Then he poured his heart before her.
Joy had not slept soundly. She sensed the household stirring and, with a start, realized the sun was lightening the curtains of the room in which she, Breona, and Mei-Xing slept. When she saw that Mei-Xing was gone, Joy dressed as quickly as she could, hoping that someone would have news of last night.
Did Wei Lin send men to the hotel as Jinhai and Liáng were sure he would? Are my friends, O’Dell and the others, safe?
She was relieved to find the men of their party gathered in the living room. They stood in small knots, speaking in low voices. She spied O’Dell. He was hunched over in a chair, rubbing the side of his thigh. Joy ran to him.
“Is all well?” Joy demanded. “Did they come?”
“Yes, they came. Seven men, all Chen. Wolsey shot one of them, but the rest have been arrested. We came back as soon as it was over.”
Joy glanced around the room again. “What is happening? Where is Minister Liáng?”
“Ah! Liáng.” O’Dell was exhausted but a ghost of a smile lit his tired eyes. “He is fine. He is . . . preparing for the battle this morning.”
Joy knelt on the carpet next to O’Dell’s chair. “Will you go with them to face Fang-Hua this morning?”
He nodded. “Yes, but . . .”
“What is it?” Joy was alarmed by his reticence.
“We know Wei Lin is running out of time and options. He knows the police are coming to arrest Fang-Hua this morning and that we will be there to confront her. I don’t trust the man—he may be counting on this house being vulnerable while we are gone.”
O’Dell sighed. “I promised Grant I would not leave you vulnerable.”
“But Mr. Li has the house protected, doesn’t he? You left last night and all was well here, wasn’t it?” Joy searched his face. “Besides, I want to go with you. I want to be there when you ask her where Edmund is. He may even be there, in her house!”
“You cannot go, Joy.”
“But—”
“No. I will not permit it.” O’Dell’s expression turned to stone. “Even with Wolsey and the police with us, we will be walking into Chen territory and will be surrounded by his men. And I am concerned, Joy. Cornered animals strike unpredictably, and Wei Lin is cornered.”
He sighed again and scrubbed his eyes. “That is why I am considering staying here. Just in case, while the others are gone . . .”
Joy reached her hand to his and touched him. “But you must go this morning, dear friend. You really must. That woman may have Edmund! Please! Go and make her tell you what she has done with my baby boy!”
She was at the end of herself, and O’Dell could not stand the desperation he heard in Joy’s words and witnessed in her weary eyes.
Lord, he begged, what if Fang-Hua doesn’t know where baby Edmund is any more than we do? Ah, God! Then what do I tell Joy? What will I tell Grant?
“Grant would want you to go!” Joy sobbed. “We will be safe here. Just, please . . . I beg of you, find Edmund for us!”
O’Dell sensed a small nudge in his spirit. He nodded a grudging response. “All right. I will go.”
Joy went back upstairs to calm herself and do a more adequate job of her toilet. She found Breona, bleary-eyed, bouncing Shan-Rose on her knee. The baby was fussy and cantankerous.
“Air ye knowin’ where Mei-Xing is bein’?” Breona was almost as cranky as Shan-Rose.
“I didn’t see her downstairs. Just let me comb and braid my hair and I will see if I can find her.”
But she did not need to look for Mei-Xing; the girl opened the door just then and peeked in. “Oh! You are all awake!”
“Aye. And this wee one is bein’ that hungry,” Breona growled.
Joy studied Mei-Xing. Something about her was a little off. Her cheeks were too pink and—
As though Mei-Xing sensed Joy’s scrutiny, she blushed more deeply, but she covered it by cooing at Shan-Rose and getting herself settled to nurse.
Joy eyed Mei-Xing while she finished fixing her hair and began straightening the room. As she spread the covers on her bed, she stole another glance. Mei-Xing was still blushing! And biting the inside of her cheek!
Something was certainly up.
Two hours later Wolsey and five officers arrived at the Li home. Wolsey and three officers drove a regular police motorcar; the other two policemen stepped from a vehicle that looked part wagon, part motorcar—a conveyance designed to hold and transport prisoners.
Ting-Xiu had arranged for a late breakfast to be served in the living room as the men laid their final plans. O’Dell, who had once studied the Chen estate, provided insight into the guards and protections they would encounter as they drove through the front gate.
“I knew Wei Lin’s business dealings had to be dirty just from watching the Chen house,” he stated. “It’s built and guarded like a fortress.”
Jinhai nodded. “I had not thought of it like that, but you are right.” He shivered as he recalled how he and Ting-Xiu had called on the Chens to console them on the death of their son. He would never forget the covert malevolence of Fang-Hua’s response.
Joy and Breona sat across the room as men made their arrangements, not hearing the details, but praying for them. Mei-Xing and her mother sat near them; Ting-Xiu played with Shan-Rose, but Mei-Xing seemed distracted, Joy thought.
In addition to Wolsey and the five policemen, O’Dell, Jinhai, Liáng, Bao, Groves, and Pounder would attend the arrest of Fang-Hua. Both Groves and Pounder wore their uniforms. Gresham and his men would remain at the Li home to supplement the guard set by Jinhai.
At the end of the hour, Wolsey scanned the room. “Are we agreed on all the details? Is everyone clear on their jobs?”
He received nods and affirming murmurs in response. “All right. We should get going.”
“Wait. We would like to pray first.” It was Jinhai speaking, but a small chorus of agreement answered him.
Wolsey and the officers hung back but, with a gesture of his hand, Liáng gathered them into the circle forming in front of the fireplace. He even looked toward the women at the other end of the living room. Joy, Breona, and Mei-Xing joined them.
“Heavenly Father, above all things, we have come to Seattle to find and return little Edmund to his mother and father. We
know that Fang-Hua Chen orchestrated his abduction. So we ask, our Lord, that you go before us to prepare the way. We ask that you uncover what is hidden and put to naught the plans that oppose you.
“We also ask for your safety and protection. Thank you for watching over us last night; we are grateful for your many blessings. Let your will be done this day, we ask in Jesus’ name.”
“Amen,” a dozen voices agreed.
“Yes, Lord, amen,” Joy breathed.
O God, I know you see my baby right now. You are watching over him. Please comfort him and comfort us! I will not let my heart be afraid. I know you are caring for him.
Wolsey’s motorcar, with Pounder and Groves seated inside, was followed by the paddy wagon and Jinhai’s automobile. The three vehicles rolled to a stop in front of the impressive gate to Wei Lin’s home. Two Chen guards with stony expressions stood between the cars and the gate. A third guard came to the window.
Wolsey rolled it down and pointed to the badge pinned to his suit coat. “Detective Martin Wolsey to see Wei Lin Chen. He is expecting us.”
The guard said nothing, but he gestured with his chin. The gate swung open. Wolsey rolled up his window and drove on. The two other vehicles followed him up the long, curving drive to the imposing house.
As the motorcars emptied, armed men stepped from the shadows. O’Dell felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck prickle and, not for the first time, he wondered: Would Wei Lin dare to attack policemen in the conduct of their duty?
If he did, it would be a massacre.
Wolsey, his officers, Pounder, Groves, and those from Jinhai’s car walked up the large porch to the Chen’s front door. Wolsey rang the bell. At his word, three of his uniformed officers turned and faced the menacing Chen guards, folded their arms across their chests, and remained there, blocking the doorway, as the rest of their party entered the house.
Stolen (A Prairie Heritage, Book 5) Page 26
