The Paper Daughters of Chinatown

by Heather B. Moore

  Dolly exhaled at this. “Do you think Tien will ever see me as someone not to resent?”

  “I heard about the apples,” Miss Culbertson said. “I think you’re going in the right direction with her. Be patient. These girls have lost so much, and they know you understand what it’s like to lose a mother at a young age.”

  Nothing could replace a mother’s love, that Dolly well knew. And no, she had not borne a child from her body, but the girls she served day and night felt as if they had become her own flesh and blood.

  “Dong Ho is as sweet as they come,” Dolly said. “I’ll never forget the day she showed up on our doorstep, that tiny bundle of her earthly possessions gripped in her skinny arms.”

  Miss Culbertson chuckled softy. “I believe she could have fought off two dragons if needed. She didn’t want anyone to touch her things.”

  Dolly nodded at the fond memory. “Ah Cheng and I helped her into the bath, and still she kept an eagle eye on that bundle.”

  “It took a week before she allowed you to peek inside.”

  “Yes,” Dolly said. “Imagine having your most prized possessions be two chopsticks, a broken comb, and a couple of soiled garments.”

  “Garbage to some people,” Miss Culbertson mused.

  “Yet priceless as pearls to Dong Ho.” Dolly leaned back in the chair and smiled over at Miss Culbertson. “They will miss you.”

  Tears gleamed in Miss Culbertson’s eyes. “I could not leave them to anyone else but you. Director or not, you will be their mama, and that is all that matters.”

  “Do you ever wonder how your life might have turned out if you hadn’t come here to work?” Dolly asked.

  “I stopped wondering that many years ago,” Miss Culbertson said. “I discovered that although my life is not conventional, I’ve been happy.”

  Dolly considered this. Working so many hours and in the capacity that she did left little opportunity for socializing or finding a beau. Miss Culbertson had never married, likely because the director’s role at the mission home was all consuming, mentally, physically, and emotionally. But the mission work had its own rewards.

  Somehow Dolly slept that night even though she knew Miss Culbertson would be leaving soon with her niece Anna. Dolly would dearly miss both women.

  Mrs. Field arrived at the mission home the day after Miss Culbertson’s departure, so it was up to Dolly to show her around. The woman wore all black, as if she were in mourning, and the severity of her bun drawn back from her face made her eyes pull tight. Dolly guessed her to be in her early forties.

  “Welcome,” Dolly said, leading Mrs. Field into the foyer. Dolly decided not to go by her first impression, but to stay open-minded.

  “This place is so dark,” Mrs. Field said right away. “Why are the windows so high up?”

  Dolly clasped her hands together. “The dark paneling creates a soothing atmosphere, and the high windows make the mission home more secure.”

  Mrs. Field’s brows pulled together, deepening the lines on her forehead. Dolly continued the tour and made introductions. Mrs. Field asked a few questions, but mostly her expression gave away very little emotion. She didn’t even smile when a group of the younger girls sang a hymn for her.

  Dolly accompanied her to the office where Miss Culbertson had first told Dolly about the many layers of work at the mission home.

  Mrs. Field took a cursory look about the place. “This will do. If I have questions, I will seek you out.” And then Mrs. Field promptly shut the office door.

  Dolly stared at the door for a moment, wondering if Mrs. Field just needed time to warm up. The woman had been recommended by the board, and she had accepted the position. Things didn’t have to always be done exactly as Miss Culbertson had done them. Dolly headed to the parlor, where she stood in the middle of the room for a few minutes as the sun’s rays dappled the furniture and rug.

  A movement behind the chair caught Dolly’s attention, and Tien rose from where she’d been hiding. The girl could make herself so small and unnoticeable, Dolly didn’t doubt that Tien was very well informed of the goings-on at the mission home.

  “I don’t like her,” Tien said.

  It was perhaps the first time that Tien had started a conversation with her.

  “We need to help the new director all we can,” Dolly said. “She’s new here and has a lot of responsibility.”

  Tien’s mouth flattened, and the displeased look in her eyes was well familiar to Dolly. “She doesn’t like Chinese girls.”

  “Heavens, what makes you say that?” Dolly asked, although the growing knot in her stomach told her that there might be some truth to Tien’s observation.

  “The Chinese don’t like Mrs. Field.”

  This was out of line. “Remember we need to speak the truth. Mrs. Field is our new director, and she’s devoted to the cause of the mission home.”

  But Tien didn’t relent. “I heard Yuen Qui say that the tong is glad Miss Culbertson left.”

  Yuen Qui was one of the Chinese residents who had assisted on a few rescues when Ah Cheng couldn’t go. She was a pretty young woman whom Tien seemed to follow around frequently. Before Dolly could reply, someone knocked at the front door, and the sound echoed into the parlor.

  Tien startled like a rabbit, then steeled herself, as if talking herself into not reacting to the sudden noise. This made Dolly wonder if Tien always reacted this way to someone knocking on the door.

  “I’ll answer it,” Dolly said, heading out of the parlor. She didn’t think Tien would attempt to answer the door. In the last several months, Miss Culbertson had put a rule into place that only a staff member could answer a door, especially after night fell.

  Dolly unlocked the door and drew it open. A young man stood there; Dolly recognized him as the errand boy who delivered telegrams. Now, he held out a telegram toward Dolly. She gave him a small tip, and he scampered off.

  Dolly shut the door and was about to take the telegram to the new director, but then the sender’s name gave her pause. It was from Anna Culbertson, and it was addressed to Donaldina Cameron.

  Tien had emerged from the doorway of the parlor. Well, perhaps there was happy news from Anna’s travels that Dolly could share with Tien. And maybe this change in the mission home director could be a new beginning between Dolly and Tien.

  Dolly opened the telegram and began to read.

  The printed words were no report of good news or safe travels. Miss Culbertson had taken a turn for the worse and passed away before reaching her destination. Dolly was stunned. She didn’t know how long she stood in the entryway of the mission home, not moving and not speaking.

  Tien must have alerted Ah Cheng, because she came running, and when Dolly shared the terrible news, the two women fell into an embrace. Then Yuen Qui arrived and wrapped an arm about Dolly.

  “Let us sit down,” Yuen Qui said in a quiet voice.

  The two interpreters led Dolly back to the parlor, where they sat on the settee together. All Dolly could think about was poor Miss Culbertson wanting to travel to see her family and to spend her retirement in peace, but her body had given out. How would they deliver the news to the girls who had loved her so much?

  “I will call everyone together,” Ah Cheng said. “And we will put together a memorial service so the girls can share their feelings.”

  Dolly gave a numb nod. “And Mrs. Field. She must know.”

  “Yes, I will speak with her,” Yuen Qui said.

  Yuen Qui and Ah Cheng kept discussing how they would help the girls, but Dolly’s mind was on Tien. Where had she gone?

  “I need to find Tien,” Dolly said. Her heart was tight with stunned grief, but she could not wait on this. She found the girl in her bedroom, sitting on the corner of her bed and staring at the window.

  Everything about the tenseness of Tien’s body told Dol
ly not to touch her. So Dolly remained in the doorway and spoke softly. “Miss Culbertson is no longer in pain, and she’ll be happy in heaven. From there, she can watch over all of us.”

  Tien didn’t respond.

  “She loved you and trusted you, Tien,” Dolly continued. “I know that if she could tell you one more thing, it would be to help the younger girls. They look up to you as someone wiser than they are. You can help the other girls because you understand what they are feeling.”

  Tien’s shoulders sagged, but she still didn’t move.

  “We’ll be gathering downstairs to tell everyone.” Dolly waited another moment, then she finally left the forlorn girl whose life had changed yet again today.

  As Dolly began the slow walk back to the parlor, she knew the Chinese girls would depend on her more than ever. It was up to her to be the comforter at this time, since Mrs. Field hadn’t yet forged any personal relationships.

  After the staff delivered the news of Miss Culbertson’s passing, the quiet that settled over the mission home was one of mourning and memories. Mrs. Field stayed in the office for hours at a time, and Dolly canceled classes and spent time with the women and girls. Most of them had called Miss Culbertson their “mama,” and this loss was deeply felt. Dolly wasn’t even sure she had slept a full night in many days, as she was awakened over and over by someone knocking on her door in tears. Dolly could not turn away the brokenhearted, no matter how exhausted she was. She would invite whoever had knocked into her room and offer hugs and soothing words.

  Just when it seemed a new routine had finally taken root, with Mrs. Field in charge, Yuen Qui returned from the marketplace one afternoon with purchases for dinner. Instead of ordering the dinner preparations to begin, she sought Dolly where she was teaching Bible study. One look at Yuen Qui’s pretty face clouded with worry told Dolly that she needed to excuse herself from class. She asked Lonnie to be in charge in her absence, then followed Yuen Qui out of the room.

  Tien came after them, always Yuen Qui’s little shadow. Dolly didn’t have the heart to chastise Tien for leaving class. Besides, whatever was distressing Yuen Qui, Tien would find out soon enough anyway.

  “There are rumors going around Chinatown,” Yuen Qui said once they were in the hallway.

  “Should we report to Mrs. Field then?” Dolly immediately suggested.

  “No,” Yuen Qui said. “This is about you. We already know the tong members celebrated Miss Culbertson’s departure.”

  Dolly glanced over at Tien, who had told her as much. The girl was watching them with open curiosity.

  “But now, the tong plans to enact their revenge on you, Miss Cameron,” Yuen Qui said. “They plan to stop you at all costs. They’ve hired lawyers to issue warrants that will accuse our girls of theft so the police will have to return the girls to their owners.”

  Dolly’s breath stalled. The issuing of warrants wasn’t new. It was one of the reasons Miss Culbertson allowed only a staff member to answer the mission home door.

  She felt Tien’s gaze on her, and Yuen Qui’s fear was palpable. “We will find a way,” Dolly said at last, lifting her chin. “None of these girls would be here if it weren’t for Miss Culbertson. If she were still alive, she wouldn’t let a few rumors stop her. She faced threats every day, and so will I. As Miss Culbertson did, we will continue to put our faith in the Lord.”

  Dolly stepped past Tien and Yuen Qui and reentered the classroom to resume the Bible study. One day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time, would be the way to move the work forward. Threats would not stop her. The words of Officer Cook would not leave her mind. This was truly a war, and the tong were only raising the stakes by issuing warrants. So Dolly would raise the stakes too.

  No, not every rescue had gone smoothly. A few months ago, one of the young Chinese women had been returned to her owner due to a fictitious search warrant that claimed the woman had stolen jewelry. The woman had been taken away sobbing, and when her court date had come, Miss Culbertson had come back to the mission home saying that the girl had not shown up. They could only conclude that the owner had taken her and fled.

  As Dolly stood in front of the classroom again, she clapped her hands for full attention. “We will memorize the words of Paul. Repeat after me: I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”

  The dark-eyed girls, sitting in their rows, clasped hands resting on their white outfits, repeated the phrase back to Dolly.

  “Again,” Dolly said. As the girls repeated the holy words, she let the cadence of their feminine voices wash over her.

  Tien joined the back row and repeated each word along with the others, her eyes fierce and intent on Dolly. In that moment, Dolly knew Tien was slowly becoming her ally. At last.

  Shortly after the dinner hour, Dolly received a note delivered anonymously to the mission home. This in and of itself wasn’t unusual, but Dolly was wary as she read the address from the girl begging to be rescued. Right in the heart of Chinatown. She approached Mrs. Field with the note, and the woman waved it off. “Go do your rescues. I’ll not walk among the filth of Chinatown.”

  So Dolly sent word to Officer Cook, and she and Ah Cheng met Cook and Riordan at the bottom of the Sacramento Street hill just as twilight deepened the sky to black.

  Cook fell into step beside her as Dolly led the small group with her long strides straight to the address. “You’ve heard the news about the tong’s increased determination,” he said.

  “I have,” Dolly said.

  “And you’re not going to back down like they wish?”

  Dolly cast him a sideways glance. “What do you think I should do, Officer Cook?”

  “I think you should carry on, Miss Cameron,” he said. “You’re the new general of the missionary army now.”

  A smile curved her mouth. “I like that title.”

  “I thought you would,” he said in a warm tone.

  She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel his smile. A moment later, the scent of cigarette smoke ebbed around her.

  Threats or no threats, she would keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  They had little trouble entering the building. Cook and Riordan didn’t have to use their sledgehammers to break down doors or smash windows. The place seemed quiet, which told Dolly there might have been some warning of the raid. Slave owners sometimes had watchmen in place, and tonight might be such a case. Dolly had been in this building before with Miss Culbertson, so she was familiar with the layout. She led the squad up the back staircase to the second floor.

  She stopped before the numbered door with its faded Chinese lettering. It matched the information in the note. First, Dolly knocked, and predictably, there was no answer. Then she tried the doorknob. When the door opened with no trouble, Cook said, “I’ll go in first. Stay back.”

  He moved in front of her, but Dolly quickly followed. Sometimes the girl would be hidden, and if Dolly could get inside fast enough, she would glimpse the closing of a secret panel.

  But there was no one in the room—at least no living person.

  Hanging from the ceiling was a human form, an effigy. The long skirt, the bronze hair, and the green-painted eyes left little doubt of whom the hanging effigy represented. The swaying body might be fake, but the dagger plunged into the center of the look-alike’s chest was not.

  The message was clear: this was no game or joke. Other threats to the mission home had seemed less personal, but Dolly couldn’t deny, watching the slow swing of the effigy in the garish light, that she was staring death in the face.

  She drew in a shaky breath, closed her eyes, exhaled. Then she turned from the room and walked out. She had already committed herself to this work, so putting her future into the Lord’s hands was all she could do now. Come what may. Her work would go forward, threats and all, as long as she was able.

  “The only e
ntrance to the crib was a narrow door, in which was set a small barred window. Occupants of the den took turns standing behind the bars and striving to attract the attention of passing men.”

  —Herbert Asbury, Barbary Coast, 1933

  1903

  Mei Lien could not move, and she wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. Every part of her body trembled as she huddled against the wall of the hotel room she had come to loathe. She’d been told to dress again, and the other women with their painted faces had been escorted out by the man with the pipe.

  But the three men who’d inspected her body as if she were a skinned chicken at the market were still in the room speaking to Uncle. Their voices were no longer fierce whispers; now they were openly arguing about her . . . price.

  Mei Lien’s stomach tumbled with nausea, both from lack of food and water and from the knowledge that not once had the word husband been uttered.

  Auntie stood between Mei Lien and the men as if she were some sort of guard or sentinel, and the look on her face told Mei Lien that there was no use asking any questions.

  “Three thousand,” Uncle growled. “You saw for yourself she is prettier than any girl in Chinatown. The men will pay double the price of a white woman.”

  What was Uncle talking about? Why were they speaking of the price of women as if they were something to be bought and sold?

  One of the men offered two thousand, eight hundred.

  Uncle raised his hands. “Enough. We will take her elsewhere. There are others—”

  “All right,” the man said. “Three thousand. And I want her right now. No delay.”

  Uncle nodded, then motioned toward Auntie. “Come and witness Wang Foo’s counting.”

  Mei Lien wondered if she were dreaming, or, more accurately, in the middle of a nightmare. Perhaps she was still below deck on the ship, and when she awoke, she would discover that they had yet to land in San Francisco. But no, Auntie stood next to Uncle and the remaining man as he counted out bills reaching three thousand dollars.

  Auntie nodded after the money was counted, then she loaded the bills into Uncle’s trunk.