Chapter 28

Malik found Lee Jin sitting on the front edge of the verandah outside the sheriff’s office, part of the old mission complex.

As he went about lighting a Guardia Real, Malik said, “I take it you came in on the train?”

“Came on train today.”

“Did you hear us talking about our prisoner’s confession?”

“I hear.”

Malik was quiet, watching the people busy about the plaza and the ongoing work on the hotel.

Lonegan came out and, seeing Lee Jin, said, “Oh, with all our scheming, I forgot to tell you your shadow was here.” Lonegan pulled the hefty stub of a cigar a shirt pocket and re-lit it.

“Jin,” Malik said, “I still need to go out to the Flat Grass Valley, though I probably will wait until Tuesday. I’ll want to give Tsela a day’s rest, assuming Long Hand gets back today.”

“Jin go, too. Learn to ride long way.”

Malik looked down at Lee. After a moment of thought, he said, “We’ll see if someone has a smaller horse and saddle we can borrow or rent. And we can take it easy on the trail, do more walking. You’re still going to be sore.”

Lee just nodded his head.

“Somebody should have some salve. Let’s go over and talk to Chief Blue Maize. Come on, Connor, Blue Maize likes you.”

The next day, with Long Hand’s assistance, Malik searched Dorado Springs for a suitable horse and saddle for the diminutive Lee Jin. The only two riding horses they found were the mounts for the children of the man who owned the lumber yard. There were other small horses, but none trained for riding, nor were there any small saddles for sale or rent.

In the end, they borrowed a moderate-sized horse and saddle from Long Hand. The horse was a pinto, the offspring of a pair of wild pintos that Long Hand and Stream-In-Winter had captured nearly ten years earlier.

As Malik was watching Long Hand instruct Lee Jin in riding techniques, it came to him where he might find the perfect horse and saddle.

And so, the next day, Lee Jin and Malik set out for the Smoky Valley rather than the Flat Grass Valley. Malik allowed two full days for the trip.

Les Toomey called, “Hey, Boss. Didn’t expect to see you ‘til next month.”

“Where is everybody?”

“Round-up. I drew the short straw and have to do the ranch chores and eat my own cooking.”

Malik, grinning said, “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Well, all I’m havin’ for supper is some elk jerky and fried potatoes, but you’re welcome to add to the feast.”

“Say Les, I don’t think you’ve met Lee Jin. Jin, this is Lester Toomey, the general manager of the Doña Anna. Lee Jin is something of a bodyguard, Les.”

Toomey reached a hand up to Lee and the men shook hands. Toomey said, “Good to meet you, Mister Lee.”

“Call, Jin, please. Good meet, too.”

“And you can call me Les.”

The two men dismounted and led their horses into the stable.

“Isn’t that one of Long Hand’s string?” Toomey asked, nodding toward Lee’s mount.

“It is,” Malik replied, as he was loosening the cinches. “We were looking for a horse and saddle around the Springs that would be more suitable to Lee’s size, and this pinto mare was the best we could do. But she brought to mind another horse that might just be perfect.”

Toomey said, “Josephine.”

“Just so. Is she still in the upper paddock?”

“She is, and doing fine. And we keep her saddle oiled, too.”

“Anyone riding her?”

“No. Only Rosalie Fenn would be the right size, and she’s got her own horses that her pa gave her as a wedding gift.”

“Do you reckon anyone would be offended if Jin were to take her as a personal mount?”

“And if they were? Shadow, Josephine’s just puttin’ in time, here. She was trained to riding by Cowboy and the Mister bought Anna that custom saddle. It’s all goin’ to waste. I admit, everybody’s got a soft spot for that pony, but that wouldn’t keep ‘em from eatin’ her if they was starvin’. No, you go ahead and take the horse and I’ll tell ‘em where she went. If they wanted her as a pet, then they should have offered to buy her. I reckon they’ll understand and get over it pretty quick.”

“You need to put a price on her and her tack, Les. I’ll buy her from the ranch.”

Toomey squinted and said, “I’d as soon you not, Emil. If you’re just borrowin’ her, it’ll go down easier with the sentimental boys. Those Fenn brothers, scrappers that they are, are also the first to shed a tear over a chick that falls from its nest.”

“How ‘bout I rent her, then?”

Toomey thought for a moment. “Yeah, I reckon that’ll work. How’s five bucks a month sound?”

“Only if it includes the saddle and tack.”

“What? I offer you a bargain and you want to haggle?” Toomey was laughing.

“Sorry, Les. Reckon it’s the lawyer in me. Ten dollars a month, and not a penny more.”

“She’d sell for less than a year’s rent will cost you.”

“Then, after a year, I’ll just be borrowing her.”

The two men, both grinning, shook hands.

Lee said, “Jin good cook. Make supper.”

Turned out, Lee was a decent cook. That first night, he made a fried rice that included bits of the jerky, some scrambled egg, and finely-diced carrot and onion, and some peas. Both Toomey and Malik were surprised that such a concoction could taste so good and be so filling. Lee fried eggs and potatoes for breakfast the next morning, too, and made a pan of biscuits.

Toomey said, “You ain’t no Sage Tsosie at the cookstove, Jin, but there’s nothin’ wrong with the vittles you put on the table. I’d push a trail herd with you along as cook.”

“I glad ... I am glad you like it.”

Malik said, “You’re a talented young man, Jin. Your pa should be proud.”

“Father say learn, always learn. Learn mean ... means learn new things. So I ride horse long way.”

“Speaking of horses, how long’s it been since anyone was on Josephine?”

“No one since the Tsosies found her, a few weeks after Miss Anna was killed.”

“You want to get up on her?”

“Not the first time.”

“Yeah, neither do I.”

“Take her over to the Tsosies on a lead. Let one of those youngsters over there gentle her down. Them young’uns all seem like they was born to horseback. Hell, Sage is our best horse-trainer, besides bein’ a good cook.”

They stayed another night, then set off for the Flat Grass Valley. To accommodate Lee’s thigh muscles and abraded skin, Malik kept to a slow pace and took two full days to make the forty-five mile trip. His plan was to stay three nights with the Tsosies, then go back to Waypoint by way of the Sonora mine, where he’d leave Long Hand’s horse. There was still considerable snow atop Long View Pass, though the west-facing slopes that bordered the pass had melted down and made the transit possible. Having to work their way through the snow, however, assured that the trip would take Malik’s requisite two days.

The Tsosie’s welcomed them in typical fashion, with a crowd of youngsters flooding out of the house and outbuildings to engulf their horses. Then the older children came out and finally Tilly made an appearance, gesturing them into the house. The children saw to the horses and Malik and Lee went inside, where Tilly was just finishing supper preparations. She hugged both Malik and Lee. Sargent came in a few minutes later, his face still glowing from the heat of his forge. With a big smile on his face, he embraced Malik like a son and shook hands with the diminutive Lee. There was happy talk around the crowded supper table, with sixteen adults and children pressed shoulder to shoulder on the long benches, while Tilly and Sargent presided from chairs at either end.

The next morning, Thrush Tsosie, selected for her smaller size, took Josephine through her paces, reasserting the training that her older cousin, Cowboy, had ingrained into the mare when Josephine was a three year old. In the afternoon, Thrush went through it all again, repeating the commands where the mare seemed slow to respond. Lee observed both morning and afternoon sessions.

Following the session in the training ring, Thrush showed Lee how to groom the horse, pick the debris from under her shoes, and what common maladies to watch out for, as well as demonstrating how to care for saddle and the tack. After lunch, she talked to him about a horse’s need for food and water under varying circumstances.

In the meantime, Malik had sat down with Mockingbird and Stands-To-Cougar to discuss any interest the two might have in managing the Spa resort. They were more than ready for a new challenge, as the ranch was becoming crowded with competent adults and growing adolescents. Malik made arrangements to meet them in Dorado Springs.

On Monday morning, the training exercises began again, but this time with Lee in the saddle and Thrush coaching from the tall fence enclosure. She made some corrections to Lee’s riding, having him move more forward in the saddle and she shortened the stirrups a notch. It helped Lee to nearly eliminate his bouncing during a trot.

Then, late in the afternoon, there was another riding session, but this time in the large pasture below the house. Thrush rode along on another horse.

After both training periods, Thrush observed and critiqued Lee’s horse grooming and tack care, giving him helpful tips to assure that Josephine formed a bond with her new rider.

After supper, Malik sat on the front porch with Sargent, both of them in rocking chairs. Malik was smoking a cigar, Sargent a pipe.

“Hmph,” Sargent said. “Would you look a’ that?” He pointed the pipe stem toward the figures of Thrush and Lee Jin walking slowly along the creek bank, a hundred or so yards below the house. “S’pose they’re talkin’ ‘bout horses?”

“I would think there’d be more gesturing and hand waving if they were talking about horses,” Malik replied.

“Yeah, that’s what I’d a’ thought, too.”

“How old is Thrush?”

“Well, let me think.” Sargent and his brother, Scout, had fathered fifteen children between them, though several, including Cowboy and Aspen, were dead. “She’s my youngest girl, with Rebekah. She’s born in sixty-nine. Reckon that makes her comin’ up on nineteen. How old’s that boy?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Who’s his pa?”

“Doctor Lee Wuying. He has a part-time office in Ranch Home. The rest of his time is at that new Chinese settlement just inside our east line they’re calling Summer Lake. His pa trained at a British medical school in Hong Kong. He seems like a good man. I’ve also met his daughter, Jin’s sister, Lee Kwan. She’s a nurse.”

“They have different surnames?”

“The Chinese fashion is to place the surname first. Theirs is Lee.”

“Huh.” Sargent paused, then said, “That sure would have been helpful in the army.”

Malik chuckled. “It would be helpful in all sorts of applications.”

“Does the boy work for you?”

“I’m not quite sure. I didn’t hire him. There’s a Chinese clan leader, name of Fu-Chun, who assigned him to me. Actually, he’s the second one that was assigned. There was a woman before him, Peng Yan, but she was shot in the foot by those Nestor characters I told you about.”

“A woman bodyguard?”

“And what’s so surprising about a woman bodyguard?” came from Tilly, who had been standing, unseen, in the doorway.

Sargent twisted in his chair to look at her. “Just surprisin’, is all.”

Malik went on. “So I didn’t hire either of them. I give him room and board. The question of pay has never come up.”

“Does he own anything? He doesn’t seem to own a horse an’ I didn’t even see any guns.”

“I really have no idea.” Malik was thoughtful for a moment. “In a way, the Chinese live much like the Indians, at least those groups I’ve encountered. The clan seems to hold the property and to take care of its members.” Malik chuckled. “Besides, Thrush is part Navajo. Seems to me Jin ought to be establishing her mother’s bona fides.” That made Tilly, who was black, not Navajo, laugh, but Sargent just grunted.

“He’s a smart, thoughtful young man, been to college, and hell-on-wheels in a fight. Even if he were barehanded, I’d not want to go against him with a knife. Both he and Peng Yan have a fighting style unlike anything I’ve seen before. They don’t wrestle and they don’t punch, at least not with their fists. When I was attacked, and Jin seemed to appear out of nowhere to save me, one of the men went after him with a Bowie knife. Jin grabbed the man’s wrist, sidestepped his lunge, then fell backwards, dragging the man with him. He pulled up his feet as he fell, tucked them into the man’s midsection, then kicked up as they rolled. The man went flying, ass over teakettle, and landed flat on his back with a mighty thump and the breath knocked out of him.” Malik was shaking his head at the memory. Then he said, “I watched Peng Yan spar with Fu-Chun once. It was faster than the fastest dance I’ve ever seen. All sorts of kicks and leaps.”

“A man sparred with a woman?”

“That style of fighting seems to have ways to equalize fighters. It’s quite different.”

“And you say this Jin knows that fightin’ style?”

“Oh, yeah. He follows a practice exercise, most mornings. He likes to find a sandy spot. Look for him just before sunrise. He’s usually at it for a half hour or more.”

The next morning, Sargent was out on the porch, smoking his pipe, as he watched Lee Jin, in the sand next to his smithy, slowly going through his forms, a slow dance that made Sargent wonder as to its purpose. But Lee, who was shirtless, gradually quickened his pace, repeating, then changing the routine, each repetition faster until he was a whirling dust storm, the sweat streaking the powder that settled on him.

Inside, as soon as Sargent had gone onto the porch, Tilly had fetched Thrush. Both of them watched through the window. They were soon joined by Thrush’s nineteen-year-old cousin, Willow, with whom she shared a room. The three women watched in breathless silence as the lithe Chinese man twisted, turned, and kicked in an incredible dance of overt aggression.

Later, as they rode away from the Tsosie spread, Malik asked Lee, “If I come back out here, would you want to come with me?”

Lee was silent for a moment, then said, “I like her.”

They overnighted by Gabriela’s and Anna’s grave, then rode to the Sonora mine camp on Wednesday. Emmet Quincy was there and, on Thursday, after they put Long Hand’s horse in the Sonora camp’s corral, Quincy accompanied them over to the Dry Valleys Co-op mine.

As they approached the mine, Quincy said, “Have you considered hiring some guards for this mine? Not that the Chinese men aren’t capable of defending themselves, but you know how it would be published if they had to act to defend the mine against white men. It would be deemed an example of another atrocity perpetrated by the yellow race. The miscreants would be mislabeled as some errant hunters who were gunned down in cold blood or some like subterfuge. So, if you do consider guards, I would recommend white men.”

“I know the miners have a couple shotguns. Do they have any other firearms?”

“They received two rifles and two pistols, this last Tuesday, as I recall.”

“Had you ordered them?”

“No. I don’t believe anyone ordered them. But, if I were to speculate, I would think that perhaps Mister Fu-Chun had sent them, after receiving news of the attack on the tunnel and the subsequent gunfight.”

“Fu-Chun Li? You’ve met him?”

“Oh, yes. He’s been out here at least once a month. He visits both mines. Sometimes he brings new men and relieves others. He seeks my approval, first, as good order might demand.”

“Well, I think you’re right about the guards. I reckon no more than three men should be sufficient. You can have at least two on site while the other takes a day or two off. The miners can still take a hand in their own defense. We can always say that they were acting under the direction of a white man. I’ll put it to Andy when I get to town.”

Quincy rode with them through the recently bombed tunnel and over to the stamp mill and smelter on the eastern side of the ridge. Both units were fully operational and under the management of Peng Zhao, Yan’s and Delan’s father. Peng Zhao’s crew was a mix of Chinese, Mexican, and a few white workers, the latter Welsh immigrants who had left their homeland because they did not want to mine coal. Peng had appointed an Irishman, a cousin of Brian Kelly, to supervise the stamping mill. John Kelly had supervised a similar mill near Deadwood, up in Dakota Territory. When it came to operating the mill, he was as serious a man as Peng. Which was not to say he lacked humor.

At lunch with Peng and Kelly, the latter said, “I came over in ‘Fifty-two, just a lad of eighteen, when I landed in New York. Them Protestant nativists was spittin’ on the Irish Catholics, back then. Nowadays, the Irish Catholics are spittin’ on the Russian Jews. That makes no sense to me. I resolved never to treat a man in like manner jus’ for bein’ different. White, black, brown, yellow, if he turns in a good day’s work, I got no complaints.” Then he patted his belly and added, “An’ I surely do appreciate the variety in the menu,” laughing in emphasis.

After lunch, Quincy rode back to the mines while Malik and Lee rode to Waypoint. It was already past sunset when they arrived and they went directly to Mrs. Kuiper’s.

The next morning, as was his habit, Malik, now accompanied by Lee Jin, stopped in at the Malik ranch office on his walk into town.

“How are the coach runs going?”

“Better than I expected,” Val Garcia said. “Those new coaches are nice, and so is that trail surface.” He paused, then said, with a chuckle, “Guess I’ll have to start calling it a road. In any event, riders on them coaches was pretty lively the first few days, with full loads from Monday afternoon until Thursday. But it’s tapered off some. It’s been five or six a trip, lately, plus the children. We’ve even had a few drummers takin’ the coach out and back.

“Which reminds me,” Garcia said, “is that your new business coach over there on the siding?”

“New coach?”

“Well, it’s likely not brand new, but there’s a fancy coach parked over on your siding by the depot. Tom Palmer says it’s one of the sixty-footers. It has that raised section on the roof, you know, with those little windows.”

“Huh,” Malik said. “It’s news to me. Set on my siding?”

“Yep. Showed up a couple days ago. And it’s attached to a stock car that Tom said was twelve feet longer than your old one. It has stalls for eight horses.”

“Well, this bears looking into. Right after I bid good morning to Jacob, but, more important, to visit Hannah in the bakery, before all my favorites are gone.”

Twenty minutes later, Malik and Lee had made their way to the depot.

“Good morning, Missus Watts.”

“Good morning, Mister Malik. I have some mail for you.”

“Am I to understand that there are cars set on my siding, Missus Watts?”

“Quite so, sir. This envelope arrived at the same time. It’s from Wichita.”

“Oh, is it now? Well, let’s just see what they’re up to, shall we?”

Malik took the large envelope and accepted a paper knife, some called them ‘letter openers’, from Mrs. Watts. As he slit the folded edge, he recognized the wax seal of Chen Ming-teh securing the flap; he knew that the stamp was of the Chinese character “chu,” meaning “to go out.” In fact, the railroad’s logogram of the wheat stalks and the saguaro was a rough approximation of that character.

Inside the envelope, he found several sheets of paper. On top was a page of linen stationery with a heading imprint above a lengthy handwritten note., Chen Ming-tehKansas & Arizona Southern RailroadWichita, Kansas.

I was deeply chagrined to hear of the destruction of your private rail cars. I hope you did not lose much in the way of personal or business valuables, nor any sentimental items. I know that you were absent, at the time, assuring that groups of my countrymen were being defended and that railroad property was being protected. For that, I am profoundly grateful.

As we are in the process of purchasing three new seventy-foot business cars, I took the liberty of sending you the coach that has, of late, served as my personal road office. I hope that it might serve your purposes as well as it has mine.

Enclosed is a bill of sale for the business car and the accompanying stock car. You are under no obligation in their use. Both are yours to do with as you will. There is also an invoice enclosed requiring that you send us two dollars to complete this transaction, one dollar for each car. This is a formality insisted upon by our general counsel, Mister Castillo. Our prior agreement regarding movement and placement remains in effect.

A further note on the issue of movement: I have instructed the Fort Birney branch dispatch office to be prepared to provide you with a locomotive when you deem that exigent circumstances demand immediate travel. Each stationmaster, yard manager, conductor, and road crew foreman was likewise provided with standing orders to cooperate with you in the provision of equipment and laborers should you deem the situation warrants. For your information, I have enclosed a copy of what may be referenced as General Train Order 88-02. I took this measure because your interests and the railroad’s interests always seem closely allied. Please do not hesitate to take advantage should conditions warrant. I have every confidence in your discretion.

Emil, I am without words to adequately express my sincere appreciation for all you have done, and are doing, in the interests of so many people.

With warmest personal regards,

Ming

“Missus Watts, may I have a sheet of business stationery and an express envelope please?”

“Here you are.”

“May I borrow your pen?”

After penning a brief but heartfelt thank-you note to Chen, he asked for a second envelope. The note he enclosed, along with two dollar bills, read:

Dear Raul,

Here’s your two dollars. Are you working on commission, now?

With humorous regard,

Emil

He sealed the envelopes with some mucilage glue, also borrowed from Emma Watts, and gave them to her for the mail pouch. Then, with a wry grin, he said to Lee Jin, “Shall we see what largesse has been visited upon us?” They exited through the corridor to the depot’s back door.

There, Malik found himself looking upon a more-or-less standard passenger coach. The only hint that it was not such arose from the irregular arrangement of the windows, with some gaps of several feet between groupings and others isolated from those groups. There was also a freight door of modest size, fitted inconspicuously into the side of the car, midway down its length. As was his army-surplus car, this one was painted in the colors of the K&ASR livery, but inversely, with a base of cobalt blue and a silver gray longitudinal stripe and highlights. There was a small K&ASR wheat-stalks-and-saguaro logogram, a discreet representation just above the car’s registration number. The coach featured standard, covered, end platforms, with ornate iron railings, while the central portion of the roof was raised ten inches and lined with narrow, clerestory windows.

“It look good, boss,” Lee Jin said.

Malik turned to him. “Boss? Since when? You know you can call me by my name, unless the occasion warrants more formal address.”

Lee shrugged. “Me, uh, I like ‘boss.’ It fit you. It, uh, it, um, it make, uh, good, uh..., good show for other men. Yes, it good show for other men, call you boss.”

“So you’re saying that calling me ‘boss’ makes it more acceptable that you accompany me everywhere. So that people don’t think, heaven forbid, that I have a Chinese friend? I don’t like that, Jin. I know you have a job to do, but you have become a friend. I don’t give a damn what people think.”

“Think no friend, no bodyguard. If Jin no friend, no bodyguard, bad men not careful with Jin, ah, with me,” he corrected his self-reference, again.

Malik regarded him silently for several long seconds. Then he said, “That’s a different notion altogether. You want to lull possible troublemakers into making mistakes around you by pretending to be something you are not. What, then?”

“Man servant. Care for clothing, hold horse, light cigar.” Lee grinned.

“I’ll be lighting my own cigars, and you’d best be careful Tsela doesn’t have you for breakfast. I think he might be too large for you to toss over your shoulder.” After another brief pause, Malik said, “Very well, then, but keep in mind that it’s for show. I need a man servant like I need another nose,” he concluded, shaking his head.

“Come on, let’s go look at this car.”

Inside the car, the quality of the decor was apparent, though leaning toward the utilitarian. The seating was upholstered in medium brown leather and the wood framework and surfaces of the seating, tables, and desks were of a red-stained maple. The floors were covered with a cobalt blue wool carpet. The colors were a little dark for Malik’s taste, but the clerestory windows and plethora of side windows went a long way toward keeping the interior bright, even with the heavy, silver-gray curtains that lined the lower glazing.

The small reception office, with a compact desk and two guest chairs, opened into a large central cabin. That room extended for more than twenty-five feet, across the ten-foot width of the car. Upon entering, immediately to the left, was a large desk with two guest chairs facing it. Beyond that, also on the left, were four compact couches, in a rectangular placement, all facing the center, where there was a low table. The couch seating could comfortably accommodate eight men. All the furniture was fastened in place, save for the two swivel desk chairs.

An open strip of carpeted floor served as a passageway along the right-side of the space, with a handrail attached to the side panel; the freight door was on that side. From the far right corner, the passageway ran past two enclosed bunk rooms, with a privy closet beyond them, just inside the exterior entry door at the other end of the car. The bunk rooms, with lower and upper bunks, included floor-to-ceiling lockers. The bunk rooms and the privy were noticeably more spacious than had been those in his old car. An unusual feature of the privy closet was a small, built-in wash basin, with a water spigot and drain. It was an appliance Chen insisted be placed in all privies on K&ASR rolling stock, along with a bar of lye soap, secured to the basin with an embedded length of cordage. There was a large storage locker in the passageway, next to the privy.

Behind the business coach was a fifty-two foot stock car, again in reverse livery, with a hatch door at the same level as the coach’s exterior platform. That hatch meant there would be no more need for roof-crawling to tend to the horses while underway.

Returning to the main cabin, Malik looked at Lee and said, “Not too shabby, eh?”

Andy suggested that the brothers ride the ranch’s stage coach to Ranch Home that afternoon, a Friday. Andy had ordered one coach with traditional steel tires and the other with a newer style of solid rubber tires. He arranged with the drivers that, whichever coach took them to Ranch Home on Friday, the other would be available for the return trip Monday morning.

For the brothers, it was a chance to rest and relax in the family home, with the children on their knees. Lee Jin took the opportunity to spend Sunday with his family in the recently re-named village of Summer Lake.

“The rubber tires were certainly quieter,” Malik said, as he and Andy were walking over to his business coach, which Andy had yet to view. It was late Monday morning and they had both just debarked the coach at its terminus at the Waypoint train depot. “They seemed to provide a gentler ride, but I can’t really say for certain. I will say this, that road surface was a heap of Sundays better than my wagon ride with broken ribs.”

Andy chuckled. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said. “The torment of broken ribs is something I’ll be happy never to experience again.” Then, turning serious, he said, “But I thought the ride on the rubber tires was noticeably gentler. However, it remains to be seen how well the rubber will hold up, compared to the steel. Then, too, I’m not sure there’s a wheelwright in Jackson County who knows how to set a rubber tire. Nearest I know, for sure, is in Fort Birney.”

“We’d best have one of our men trained in it, then, else we’ll lose a coach for days if we have to ship the wheels out of town. That, or we should have a couple spare wheels with the tires already set.”

Andy nodded. “I’ll contact the ranch via the telephone and see if Jim has a recommendation.”