The wizened old woman had given Ling-Ling a strong potion to produce a labor. The labor had been agonizingly slow. The baby had been turned the wrong way.
This is my punishment, Bao told himself. I brought this on Ling-Ling and this innocent child. The guilt is surely mine but they have paid with their lives for my dishonor and villainy.
His rambling thoughts turned yet again to his little friend, Mei-Xing. Indeed, she was rarely far from his mind, the familiar and haunting reminder of his evil deeds. He wondered if she still lived or if she daily suffered from the defilement that had been Fang-Hua’s judgment on her—the sentence he had carried out.
I am guilty. My punishment is just, he reflected, for just as Mei-Xing’s suffering and shame is without end, I will carry the weight of my wife and son’s deaths into eternity.
He had another thought, this one strangely comforting. It is better that my son did not live to bear the shame of my name.
A sob he had not known was in his throat escaped his mouth. My son, he groaned, rocking back and forth in agony.
Ling-Ling’s family mourned and wept around him. Her mother threw herself upon the floor next to Ling-Ling’s body screaming in grief.
Messengers from the Chens arrived bearing flowers, fruit, and messages of sympathy and support. Two large men took up station outside his home, politely screening mourners as they came to call.
Bao knew why the men were there. Ling-Ling and the baby were dead. Fang-Hua could no longer hold his family’s safety over his head, wagging her bony finger and breathing thinly veiled threats if he failed to execute her vile wishes.
Righteous fate has freed me from her, he sneered to himself. With what can she now punish me for failing to bring Su-Chong back to her? My life? My life is but dirt. I am glad her son slipped through her fingers.
As he pondered his freedom from Fang-Hua’s clutches, he began to play with an as-yet unformed idea.
—
For three weeks O’Dell had used every resource at his disposal—the police, the Pinkertons, Marshal Pounder’s men, the Denver papers, and bribes spread throughout Chinatown and the red light district. No trace of Su-Chong or Mei-Xing surfaced.
He had heard rumors, mere whispers, of strangers arriving in Denver a few weeks back. Dark-haired Asian men, he was told. Men whose hard faces brooked no questions or interference. The Pinkerton agents posted at Palmer House had reported a similar suspicious sighting.
And then nothing.
More frustrated than he could ever remember being over a missing persons case, O’Dell insisted that the guard at Palmer House and Michaels’ Fine Household Furnishings be maintained. He ground his teeth and drove his sources beyond their tolerances.
“You can’t get blood from a turnip, O’Dell,” Pounder growled at him. “’Preciate it if you’d ease up a bit on my men. Otherwise I’m gonna have to cut you off.”
—
The household of Palmer House gathered together in the great room each evening to pray specifically for Mei-Xing’s safety and for O’Dell’s efforts to find her. At the end of his own wits and resources, O’Dell began to seriously question whether, perhaps, God was his last resort. Not that he’s helped so far, he scowled.
After prayer last evening, however, they had celebrated Will’s first birthday. Although the little guy was accustomed to being the center of attention much of the time, the cake, candles, singing, and abundance of gifts proved too much. He took refuge in Marit’s arms and refused to participate any further.
Everyone laughed but did not pressure the little one-year-old. Occasionally he would peek out to see what was going on before diving into Marit’s blouse again. So they cut the cake and enjoyed it with a fruity punch Gretl had made.
O’Dell looked about the room. Even with Mei-Xing’s disappearance weighing on them, this group of people—this family—took time to truly celebrate a joyous milestone. He found himself wondering if, somewhere, sometime, he would belong to such a family himself.
Don’t be going soft, O’Dell, his mind chastened him. You have a job to do, and you have never failed yet. O’Dell nodded to himself. He could not—would not—fail now.
—
Sarah turned with a smile when she heard the bell on the shop door. An attractive couple entered and looked about with interest.
They were striking together—the man broad and strong, wearing a perfectly cut three-piece suit and derby; the woman, slender and exquisitely gowned. The jet beaded bodice and skirt of her dress tinkled pleasantly. The gentleman was solicitous, cupping the woman’s elbow and whispering in her ear.
As the woman turned, she lifted her veil and her midnight blue eyes met Sarah’s. For a single second there was stunned recognition on both sides and then—then Sarah saw the soul-wrenching hopelessness written on Esther’s face.
With a near imperceptible movement of her head and a glance toward the man, Esther conveyed it all. The man was not solicitous of Esther; he was controlling her.
Sarah turned to the man and, polite mask in place, asked sweetly, “How may I help you today, sir?”
She recognized the scrutiny he gave her for what it was and deduced his thoughts as well. Men like him were always looking for “fresh girls.” She kept herself smiling cordially and waited for his response.
“We would like to see your bedroom suites,” he replied softly. “Wouldn’t we, my dear?”
“Why, yes, Cal,” Esther answered quickly. Too quickly, Sarah thought.
“Right this way, sir, madam,” Sarah answered, her smile plastered in place.
She led the way through the arched doorway into the bedroom section of the store. On the way they walked by Corrine who started in recognition. Sarah quickly headed her off.
“Corrine,” she ordered with a managerial tone she had never used before. “Please see Mrs. Michaels regarding those invoices.”
Corrine opened her mouth in confusion, but Sarah cut her off again. “Right away, Corrine.”
By this time they had passed the girl who now dimly understood the situation and made her way hastily to the office to inform Joy.
Sarah busied herself displaying every bedroom set in the shop, hoping to somehow separate Esther from the man at her elbow. She was not successful, however, and realized how difficult the situation truly was.
Just then Esther sneezed and sneezed again. “Oh dear! Please forgive me.” She reached for the beaded reticule hanging from her wrist. The man released her elbow as Esther required both hands to draw out a hankie.
She turned her back politely and made a small show of sniffling and blowing her nose. The man frowned and moved away in disgust.
Sarah took the opportunity to point out a matching bed frame and chest of drawers in glowing oak. As the man followed Sarah’s gestures and stepped away a few feet farther, Esther drew something else from her reticule. Seconds later she stood close by the man admiring the set. He immediately pulled her arm possessively into his.
“Yes, I believe this set will do nicely,” Esther breathed, looking up into the man’s face with a look of contentment that Sarah knew was forced.
“You heard what the lady said.” The man nodded to Sarah and they made their way to the register.
“If you will write the address here, we will have it delivered Thursday.” Sarah thought her face would crack from the insincerity of her smile, but the man just took her hand and smiled back, looking deeply into her eyes.
“You are a lovely young woman,” he replied, gently stroking her hand with his thumb and gazing at her intimately. “Lovely, indeed.” Beside him, Esther reddened and cast her eyes on the floor.
Nausea rose in Sarah’s throat. It was all she could do to politely repeat, “Your address, sir?”
The man smiled again and slowly released her hand. “No need. I will send someone to pick it up. Thank you for your excellent service.”
“My pleasure,” Sarah answered. She waited until the door closed behind Esther and her captor before
she sank onto the stool behind the counter. Joy and Corrine were instantly beside her.
“Are you all right, Sarah?” Joy asked. The young woman looked up into Joy’s concerned face and crumpled in her arms.
“Thank you,” she wept. “Thank you for saving us from that house, from that horror! Thank you, Miss Joy, thank you.” She clung to Joy as though she feared being ripped away from the safety and liberty of her new life.
Later, Billy handed Sarah a card. “Found this back in the bedroom furnishings,” he said. Sarah, Joy, and Corrine gathered around and studied the words printed on the expensive stock:
Cultured Conversation and Companionship
Monday–Saturday Evenings, Eight O’clock
An address was printed across the bottom of the card. On the back were scrawled two words:
help me
~~**~~
Chapter 26
(Journal Entry, December 20, 1909)
We have seen Esther! God himself arranged the meeting and she is, as the Lord revealed in my dream, in serious trouble.
We called Mr. O’Dell as soon as Sarah related the encounter to us and showed him the card she dropped. He took the card and wrote down the address, promising to look into it as soon as possible.
The dear man is discouraged and worn. He has found no sign of Mei-Xing and I know it weighs heavily on him.
O Lord, please strengthen him, I ask in the name of our Savior! Give him a fresh insight into Mei-Xing’s disappearance that will encourage him.
—
“Pounder and I sent a man into the house to ascertain the situation,” O’Dell related to the household that evening. They were gathered in the great room to hear what he had discovered.
Grant had asked Pastor Carmichael to join them. The young minister sat in the corner behind Rose and observed quietly. Blackie, who was curled as usual beside Joy’s chair, thumped his tail as O’Dell spoke.
“Our man “dandied” himself up and lounged about in their parlor drinking watered down bourbon for an evening. He discovered what we needed him to discover.”
“Did he see Esther?” Rose asked eagerly.
O’Dell nodded. “Yes. She’s the house’s madam. She greeted him and set him up with a drink. Offered him a woman, so he asked who was available. She mentioned Jess and two other girls, but we’re assuming Ava and Molly are there also.”
“What will you do?” Joy whispered her question.
O’Dell didn’t look directly at her but replied to the group at large. “It is a large house. Apparently, they have only been in it for a couple of months.”
He paused and plucked the ever-present cigar from his breast pocket, rolling it around in his fingers. “The man who was with Esther when she was in the store.” O’Dell’s voice was flat.
They all waited but he didn’t finish his thought. Finally Grant asked, “Yes? What about him?”
O’Dell ran his hand through his hair, shoved the cigar in his mouth, and pulled it out again. “It’s Cal Judd.”
Tabitha reacted first. She jumped to her feet in agitation and then slumped back in her chair. Rose was certain she heard the girl use a swear word under her breath.
“His reputation in the market district is fearful,” Pastor Carmichael murmured from behind Rose’s chair. “I have . . . heard things.”
Grant frowned. “Cal Judd? That name sounds familiar.”
Joy nodded, downcast. “It is. If I remember correctly, Cal Judd is the owner of the . . . place where you rescued Monika Vogel.” She shot a sympathetic look toward Tabitha. “And Tabitha.”
All eyes turned to Tabitha. She again looked ready to jump up and run. Flinty took her hand and held it firmly in his.
“Ain’t no one gonna come in here ’an’ take you, Red,” he muttered. “Ya hev m’ word.” The men in the room, Grant, Billy, Mr. Wheatley, and O’Dell, as one, agreed, and said so.
O’Dell’s face darkened. “You all need to understand. If we go forward from here, Judd will become a real problem. We’ve already stung him once. I took two of his girls but because we all left town right afterwards, he chose to let it slide. This time will be different.”
After another long pause, Joy swallowed and asked, “How will it be different?”
O’Dell finally looked at her. “Esther is known to be Cal’s woman, his particular property. We take her, the other three, and anyone else who wants to come, and he will certainly not let it go. And where would we take the women? Here?”
The danger was instantly obvious. Tabitha shuddered, her face white. “We can’t . . . they can’t!” she whispered.
O’Dell agreed. “Exactly. If we take them out of there, I will have to take them away from Denver.”
Joy interjected, “But what if we did bring them here and took adequate precau—”
“No.” O’Dell’s voice was harsh. “No, they will not come here.”
Grant stared at O’Dell and a look passed between them. “Mr. O’Dell is right. We cannot bring them here. It would endanger the house and our family. All of our family.”
Pastor Carmichael made a gesture of agreement that only Grant and O’Dell observed. His face was grave.
Rose, who had been listening with her head bowed, finally spoke again. “What if we sent them to . . . RiverBend?”
Only Joy grasped what Rose was proposing. “You mean send them to Pastor and Mrs. Medford? To Søren and Meg? Brian and Fiona?”
Rose nodded. “No one would dream of looking for them there.” There were no objections and O’Dell slowly nodded his approval.
“I will place a telephone call in the morning,” Rose said. She looked to O’Dell. “What will happen next?”
“I realize the day after tomorrow is Christmas. A time for celebration and for . . . family.” O’Dell swallowed. “And I know how raw Mei-Xing’s . . . absence is.”
The sweet memories of last year’s Christmas at the lodge in Corinth were burned into his heart as surely as if a branding iron had been applied. “But the timing is perfect. Christmas night the guards will be less vigilant, perhaps even lax.”
Breona spoke, her words heavy with emotion. “Aye, we’ll be makin’ sure th’ wee ’un is havin’ a foine Christmas morn, boot for me,” and here her voice cracked, “didna th’ babe coom t’ set th’ captive free? Mus’ we na’ be aboot his business?”
“Amen,” Grant loudly agreed.
“Yes!” a few others replied.
Pastor Carmichael flashed Breona a smile of admiration.
“All right, then.” O’Dell set his jaw. “Mrs. Thoresen, those arrangements must be firmly in place tomorrow.”
Rose nodded. “They shall be.”
—
Explaining to Pastor Medford what they needed was not difficult. Waiting for him to think through the implications of bringing four high-class prostitutes into their tiny farming community and for him to pray about how they would handle the stir took several hours.
When he finally called back he had spoken to Brian and Fiona and two other mature couples in his church. They would take the young women.
“Thank you,” Rose breathed to the Lord when the call ended. The arrangements for O’Dell to take them from Denver and hand them off in RiverBend had not been complicated. No, the difficulties would begin when the inexperienced couples of her former church received the four women.
Joy and I were as naïve as newborns, Lord, when you called us to this ministry. I know you will help Pastor Medford, Vera, and the others. I also know how hard it will be. Please be their strength and courage!
The family at Palmer House observed a sober Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. All the women in the house knew the four girls O’Dell would attempt to rescue that night.
They knew, too, what it was to attempt an escape from such a place. They had experienced or observed in others the consequences of a failed effort. They could not help but place themselves in Esther, Ava, Jess, and Molly’s shoes.
—
&nbs
p; O’Dell and Pounder sent two of Marshal Pounder’s “dandied up” men, Randy and Mike, into Esther’s house that evening. Both men were carrying tiny notes for Esther.
They hadn’t anticipated Cal Judd being at the house, but there he was, ensconced in the parlor, watching with dangerous, possessive eyes while Esther handled the clients. Neither Randy nor Mike could manage a private moment with her.
The best Randy could do was get himself assigned to Molly. Once they entered her room, he quickly explained who he was and outlined the plan to her. He handed her one of the notes for Esther.
“I-I think I can get her away for a minute,” Molly whispered in a shaky voice. “But, but Cal . . . you don’t know him! You don’t know what he’d do if . . .”
“We know him,” Randy assured her grimly. “Six marshals and two Pinkertons will come in the front and back. That’s in addition to Mike and me.” He showed her the revolver tucked into the back of his pants. “This place has but three guards, right?”
She nodded, fear still showing in her eyes.
“Does Judd carry a gun?”
She nodded again. “It’s real showy but small.”
Randy nodded. Likely a derringer. “Go. Get Esther away from Cal for a moment. Give her this note. I’ll wait here.”
At ten minutes past 11 o’clock, the doorbell in Esther’s house chimed. The guard, Donovan, peered through a peep hole and saw two likely-looking customers on the porch. He opened the door and gestured them inside, only to find himself face-to-face with a snub-nosed revolver.
“Make one sound and it will be your last,” O’Dell rasped. He pushed Donovan out the door where Pounder’s marshals quietly hauled him away.
Two of Pounder’s men were to have taken the backdoor guard into custody at the same time. That only left the third guard who would be monitoring the parlor and the staircase.
O’Dell cocked his head toward Tyndell, the marshal with him. “Esther should be along shortly to welcome you. Make it look like you are the only new guest. Position yourself to take out the other—”
The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) Page 18
