Chapter 34

The groundbreaking ceremony was to serve several functions.

At its most basic, it was a community pot luck picnic. The Malik ranch supplied a yearling calf and two market-ready hogs for spit roasting. Several businesses pitched in for a variety of beverages, including three kegs of beer.

At the same time, as its purpose stated, it was also the groundbreaking ceremony for an opera house.

The term opera house was often a bit of a misnomer. In the late nineteenth century American West, an opera house was often the term used by a community to describe any theater or sometimes just a building with a room large enough to provide a performance venue. The term, opera house, itself, conjured images of the grand theaters of Europe and was used freely as a means of promoting a town as a desirable location for businesses and families, suggesting both culture and prosperity.

Indeed, some opera houses even approached that ideal of grandeur, though on a reduced scale. The Central City Opera House in Colorado was, perhaps, a classic example. But the Valerian and Manuela Malik Opera House in Waypoint, Arenoso, was to be just a bit grander than most.

It was to be built in the clean and symmetrical lines of a style of architecture dubbed “Renaissance.” While not as ornately detailed as some other styles, its overall appeal was more that of a Roman temple rather than a Gothic cathedral or a Baroque palace. And, while those lines would be apparent in the pillars and pediments of the Malik Opera House, the building was not so large that they would be overdone. Likely its most distinguishing feature would be a central domed roof, an architectural detail that would be plainly visible from the exterior, but it would also add significantly to the acoustics in the three-hundred-twelve seat theater. It would be a building of which Jackson County could be justifiably proud.

A third function of the gathering was the figurative groundbreaking for the Sundown Ridge development. Pamphlets were distributed describing how the opera house and the park around it were to be the centerpiece of a new, modern neighborhood, with conveniences such as indoor plumbing, telephone service, and electric power available at each and every homesite.

The final purpose of the gathering was entertainment. There would be speeches made, and people expected the featured speakers to be engaging and stimulating. They expected to hear intriguing stories, or to have their heartstrings plucked, or to be roused in patriotic fervor, but they expected at least one notable entertaining speech.

There were four speakers scheduled to address the crowd. Maylon Rademacher, as Chief Judge of the county, was to welcome the crowd. He was to be followed by each of the Malik brothers. Andy was to describe the history of their parents’ involvement in Jackson County and Malik was to paint a glorious future. Finally, Chen Ming-teh, who, as the primary donor of the funds for the opera house, was to tell of his railroad’s connection to the community.

It was Chen who became the stellar speaker that afternoon. The railroad chairman told of the wildly varied lifestyles, fortunes, and misfortunes that had marked his life. The people were fascinated. From his childhood on a farm, to walking the halls of palaces and statehouses on five continents; from international diplomacy to hiding, alone and destitute, in the swamps of the Sacramento delta; and finally to his meeting with three white miners who went from wanting to chase him off at gunpoint to becoming his best friends and business partners in founding a railroad. The crowd hung on his every word.

Chen finished with a sentimental description of the Fort Birney branch and the unexpected growth that had occurred, most of it centered on Jackson County. Finally, he finished by crediting the Malik brothers as being two of the prime movers of that growth, and following in the bold footsteps of their parents, for whom the opera house was to be named.

People cheered. Then they went to eat.

The next day, Monday, saw the funeral of Peng Zhao. Like most of the Chinese associated with Chen Ming-teh and Fu-Chun Li, Peng Zhao was a Roman Catholic. Hence, the funeral was to be held at Saint Francis Xavier Church in Waypoint, with burial in the church cemetery.

After the near debacle at Tian Wu’s funeral, Andy had had a quiet talk with the pastor, Father Drew Jones, suggesting to him that ministering to his entire flock, including the Chinese, was in the parish’s best interest, as far as continued financial support from the Malik family was concerned. Jones had capitulated, backing off his attempts to exclude the Chinese from the parish.

Still, it was the assistant parish priest, the aging Friar Enrique Lopez, who conducted the service. Peng Delan wept openly. Peng Yan maintained her stoic facade, but Malik could see the emotion in her eyes. Yan had been estranged from her father for many years, but she had never explained what caused the breach, not even to her sister.

The sisters had been offered time off with pay for the rest of the week, but both preferred to stay busy at work.

On Wednesday, the Malik brothers and Wilber Shea met with Charles Upton, an architect from Cabot. He had been recommended to Malik by Jonathan Nicholson, who knew Upton from college. Upton was being considered as the designer of the first houses to be built in the Sundown Ridge development, one for Andy and Christina, and the second for Malik.

Malik, however, was not really interested in moving from his rooms at the ranch nor from the bunkhouses room at Mrs. Kuiper’s, so he planned to offer his house for sale.

If hired, Upton would also act as an overall design consultant for the layout of the development, hence Shea’s interest in the meeting. Upton had had some city planning experience with an architectural firm in Chicago. He had arrived in Waypoint on Tuesday, and he and Maliks had scheduled a meeting to discuss Malik’s house.

The meeting was in a private dining room at the Inn, on Wednesday, at lunch. Upton had suggested that a large table would be helpful to looking at photographs and drawings.

After spending the day with the architect, the Maliks, with Shea’s accord, informed Upton that he had the job.

At sunrise on Saturday, August eleventh, Malik began to practice T’ai chi ch’üan (TY chi CHWAHN) with Lee Jin. Peng Yan set aside her cane and joined in, though slowly. Malik, of course, was even slower, but Lee was a patient teacher. They practiced in the courtyard of the hacienda.

Peng Delan had asked Fang Bai to accompany her on an overnight visit to Doctor Lee’s home in Summer Lake. They would return to Waypoint with the Lees for Sunday services at St. Francis Xavier church.

On Monday, August thirteenth, the decomposing body of a Chinese man was found under a hopper car on a storage siding of the K&ASR exchange yard at Junction City. The man’s left hand was bandaged. Underneath the bandage was a Tiger Poppy tattoo.

Word of the discovery reached Malik by way of the telegraph clerks at Junction City and Waypoint. The Junction City telegrapher had “read the mail,” that is, listened to transmissions on the line between other stations the prior week, and had recalled Waypoint’s messages about the Chinese man with a bandaged hand. So he sent a wire to the telegraph clerk at Waypoint when he heard about the body found in the switch yard.

Malik made inquiry of the town marshal at Junction City and learned that the dead man’s throat had been cut and that he carried nothing to identifying himself. The marshal did confirm the tattoo under the bandage. Malik wired a response, assuring the marshal he would receive a copy of the local reports of the explosion and their suspicions. Afterwards, Malik wrote an account, describing the entire coal torpedo incident and its aftermath, from the point of view of his involvement. He sent copies to Connor Lonegan, Cheng Ming-teh, and the Junction City town marshal.

On Thursday, Malik hosted the Peng sisters and Fang Bai at dinner at the Old Courthouse Inn. They were seated in a quiet corner of the main dining room. The warm glow of three candles lit the starched white linen and the heavy silverware, as well as the faces of Malik and his guests. The staff was attentive and the selected courses perfectly prepared and presented,

Malik let Fang carry the conversation, as the man had some interesting stories from his work as a public prosecutor in the Hong Kong colony. The evening was enjoyable, as both sisters seemed to put aside their grief as they smiled and joined in conversation.

That is, up until the point at which Fang mentioned that the criminal gang of which he and his family had run afoul was the Tiger Poppy Society.

Peng Yan immediately sat up straight and rigid in her chair, her smile replaced by her neutral, stoic mask. She lifted the napkin from her lap and placed it on the tablecloth. She said to Malik, “I wish to go home now.”

Delan looked at her with concern and asked what was wrong.

Peng gave her a faint smile and said, “I just don’t feel well and need to go home.”

Delan then put her own napkin on the table and began to stand up, but Malik intervened. “No, no, no. You two stay here. Have dessert and tea, even a digestif; the Inn has some excellent brandy. Just relax and enjoy yourselves and I’ll see Yan home.”

Peng patted her sister’s hand where it rested on the napkin. Fang rose and bid Peng a good evening and thanked Malik, shaking his hand.

On the way out of the dining room, Malik stopped at the maître d’s desk for a quick word with Jorje Garcia. “Bring them whatever they want, and take them each a snifter of that Spanish brandy. Miss Peng doesn’t feel well, so I’ll walk her home. Everything was excellent. This is for you, this for the waiter and busboy, and this is for the kitchen,” Malik said, handing him several silver dollars.