The Duchess of Ophir Creek Read online

  THE DUCHESS OF OPHIR CREEK

  Behind the Ranges, Book III

  By

  Judith B. Glad

  Something hidden. Go and find it.

  Go and look behind the ranges--

  Something lost behind the Ranges.

  Lost and waiting for you. Go.

  Rudyard Kipling: The Explorer

  Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon

  2006

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Duchess of Ophir Creek

  Copyright © 2001, 2006 Judith B. Glad

  Previously published by Awe-Struck E-Books

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-011-3

  ISBN 10: 1-60174-011-5

  Cover design by Judith B. Glad

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  Published by Uncial Press,

  an imprint of GCT, Inc.

  Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com

  This book is dedicated to the memory of so many young Chinese women who, in the 19th Century, came to America unwillingly and found little but slavery when they got here.

  And to Neil, of course.

  Author's Note: There were towns in the Boise Basin upon which the places in this book are based and there was a gold rush there in the 1860s, but all people and events came solely from my imagination. Please forgive me for taking some liberties with topography, too. Sometimes those darned creeks and gulches just don't occur in the right places.

  Chapter One

  Idaho Territory, 1862

  The trail split where the canyon opened up into the Boise Basin. Silas Dewitt pulled his horse to a halt, wondering if he'd somehow lost his way.

  My God. It's all gone...all changed. How will I ever find it? Dimly remembered landmarks weren't going to help him now. The hills were the same, but everything else was different.

  Fifteen years ago tall pines had marched down the steep hillsides and into the valley, taller than anything he'd ever seen. One step off the narrow game trails and he'd been snarled in huckleberry and mock orange that grew higher than his head. The forest had given way to dense willow thickets along the several branches of a creek that tumbled down out of the narrow valley to the northwest, braiding and weaving its way across the meadow, until it plunged down the canyon whence he'd come.

  Now the lower hillsides were raw with skid roads and freckled with fresh stumps. The creek banks were bare, scarred with trenches, littered with broken sluice boxes and discarded tools.

  He'd heard there were already more than two thousand men in this valley alone. And more were arriving every day.

  "Well, hell," he muttered, nudging his horse into a walk. "This looks like it's going to take more time than I'd planned."

  Just on the edge of town was a half-finished barn bearing a freshly painted sign. Livry Stabel. He arranged to board his two horses and to leave his gear in an empty stall until he found a place to stay.

  "Not likely you'll find one, though," the hostler said past the wad of snoose in his cheek. "This here town's growin' like a jimson weed in a manure heap."

  "Any notion where a letter might be left? There ought to be one waiting for me."

  "Tilly's is the most likely place. Most folks stop in there sooner or later."

  Silas listened to the hum of a town in the making as he strode up the rutted, not-quite-straight street. Hammers pounded and saws screeched through green wood, all to the rhythm of rockers thumping along the creek. Tents and shanties and raw, rough-cut pine structures sprouted on every side, slapped together and hurriedly roofed against the coming winter. Of all the places Silas had seen, Bannock City was the newest, the crudest, the ugliest. Here was a town of men with only one thing on their minds.

  Gold.

  Past the third saloon, he saw miners clustered like iron filings around a magnet. A fight, I reckon. He'd guess that not many days went by here without one. Not wanting to get embroiled in the melee, he angled across to the other side of the street. The less notice folks took of him hereabouts, the better he'd like it.

  Silas dodged among the oncoming miners, staying on the edge of the crowd. Then a high-pitched shriek made him pause.

  A woman? Or a child?

  As he hesitated, a rough voice cut across the laughter.

  "Git a torch!"

  "Yeah, scorch the little varmits!"

  For a moment there was taut silence.

  "Damn right," a miner yelled. "Filthy slant-eyed heathen."

  "Comin' in and takin' work from white men," another cried.

  Just then a small, black-clad figure scooted between two men. Before he could escape, a big-bellied miner caught him by his queue. The child screamed as he was snatched off his feet to dangle, kicking wildly.

  "Lookee here what I cotched!" the miner crowed, holding him high.

  "Hand him here," another shouted. The Chinese boy was passed from hand to hand, until Silas lost sight of him. His shrieks were drowned in the hullabaloo.

  "This ain't fitten," a man beside him muttered. "Somebody ought to put a stop to it."

  Silas agreed. From their expressions, a few others were of the same mind, but no one looked overly eager to interfere. Well, neither was he.

  Another terror-filled shriek from the center of the mob triggered old, unwelcome memories. He shouldered through the circle.

  So much for playing least in sight.

  * * * *

  Once again Soomey was helpless in the hands of men who were bigger and stronger than she.

  She knew the miners were merely amusing themselves. Their laughter was teasing, not threatening. Knowing did nothing to lessen her rage.

  Her fear.

  Kicking and clawing, she fought as she was shoved back against Tao Ni. A sharp jerk on her queue shot tingles down her neck, across her shoulders.

  "You reckon them pigtails is strong as rope?" her captor said.

  More laughter.

  "Tie 'em good, Eli," someone called.

  She leaned into the pull on her scalp. As long as some were still laughing, perhaps she and Tao Ni would escape serious harm.

  "There ye go. Give your'n a poke," the crooked man who held her said. "See which'n pulls the hardest."

  Tao Ni yelped. Soomey was jerked off her feet. The men had tied their queues together!

  The shouts grew louder, the voices more excited. "Half an ounce on the leetle one!"

  "I'll take that. He ain't got a chance."

  "Be still, Tao Ni," Soomey cried. "They want us to struggle. Stop pulling!"

  Her words were lost in the raucous laughter.

  Someone slapped her across the bottom and she sprawled on her face. Moisture seeped through her cotton trousers, icy cold against her belly. Lunging, she tried to catch Tao Ni by the ankle, but as she grabbed, he was pulled out of her reach.

  I will not weep she vowed, lifting herself out of the puddle. Her soaked clothing clung to her body like a layer of ice.

  Tao Ni was doing his best to escape. Each time he lunged toward an opening in the barrier of booted feet, he jerked her off balance. She threw herself on top of him, gasping when one flailing hand caught her across the nose. Hot blood trickled down her upper lip as she held the child. "Be still, small one," she murmured, over and over. "Be calm"

  Fe
ar made him strong. She almost lost her grip.

  "Be still. I will not let them harm you," she promised, wondering if she lied.

  The circle around her and Tao Ni narrowed as the miners pressed closer, their faces filled with menace. Then the crowd broke apart as a wide-shouldered, yellow-bearded man shoved his way inside. He paused and turned in a circle, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

  "Hold on there!" His voice was commanding. The miners seemed to shrink back.

  Soomey caught Tao Ni by the wrist and tensed, ready to run the instant she saw an opening. Too late. With a hand at the back of her coat, Yellow-beard lifted her to her feet.

  "You, boy," he said, "what you do here? Why you not work? You think I pay you for makee play in street?" Tao Ni dangled from his other hand.

  "Them Chinee yours?" one of the men said before Soomey could answer.

  "What does it look like?" the stranger snapped. He set Tao Ni down, released Soomey.

  Her legs gave way under her.

  "Thought they worked for Harding," another miner commented.

  Soomey reached for Tao Ni, wrapping her arms around him, forcing him to be still. The buckets she had been carrying lay empty, rice strewn like pellets of snow on the mud. One stood upside down in a still-steaming puddle of cooling tea.

  Li Ching's work gang would not receive their noonday meal. And she and Tao Ni would go hungry today.

  "Damn theivin' Chinks," one of their tormentors said. "I saw 'em down there in Californy, gettin' rich whilst us honest men worked our arses off."

  There was a wave of agreement. She held Tao Ni against her, felt the shivers that wracked him. For now she was content to let the big man be their defender. But as soon as he turned his back..."Untie our queues, little one," she whispered.

  Tao Ni nodded. His shaking fingers began picking clumsily at the tight knot.

  "Did the boys take gold from you?" Yellow-beard said to the miners. "From your claim?"

  "Well, no, but..."

  "Pick your pocket?"

  "Well, no..."

  "Steal your dog?"

  A few reluctant chuckles sounded.

  "Shit!" A miner spat, narrowly missing the big man's foot. "You want to trust them slanty-eyed devils, you go right ahead, mister! Just be careful they don't slit your throat whilst you sleep, y'hear?"

  A deep, ringing voice came from the back of the mob. "I have seen their graven images and they are an abomination!"

  Soomey saw suspicion flare again in a few faces, saw once more a slow shift away from humor.

  Yellow-beard laughed.

  "Graven images?" he said, his face showing complete disbelief. "Paper dragons made of scraps of foil and bamboo sticks!"

  Tao Ni, not understanding one word in fifty, clutched at her wrist. "What does the one say, Elder Sister?"

  "Hush, child," Soomey breathed. "The danger is not yet past."

  "We was jest havin' a little fun," said the crooked man who'd first waylaid her. "Ain't done no harm."

  "So you say." Yellow-beard's lip curled in contempt. "Well, next time pick on someone big enough to fight back." He turned away and motioned to Soomey. "Let's go, boy. Time you were earning your keep."

  She bristled but knew that she dared not refuse to follow him. Most of the miners had lost interest in their sport and were drifting away. But if she refused to obey Yellow-beard, they would be back quickly. Leaving the broken carry-pole, she snatched up the two buckets.

  "What did he say to make the miners laugh?" Tao Ni asked, once they were away from the disintegrating crowd.

  Still shaking inside, Soomey sought words to reassure him. "He told them we were not worth their while, weak and defenseless."

  "Are you angry with him, Elder Sister? He said no more than the truth."

  Soomey did not reply, for she knew just how weak and defenseless they had been. And how fortunate. The miners had merely been amusing themselves today. Their laughter had been teasing, not threatening. But what of tomorrow?

  In the future she must be ready to defend herself and Tao Ni. Today the miners had taken her by surprise, seeing only two defenseless children ripe for tormenting.

  She dressed as a man, worked like one. She must learn to fight like one, so that no man would rule her. Never again.

  Tao Ni still picked at the knot, making little progress. He stumbled, and Yellow-beard looked back. He pulled an enormous knife from its sheath at his belt. "Come here," he said, motioning Tao Ni forward. "I'll fix that."

  The child cowered behind Soomey.

  She glared at Yellow-beard. "You no cut hair! You not Boss of us!"

  He looked down at her with eyes as cold and pale as a winter sky. "Hurry up, then. I've got things to do." He strode off.

  Soomey grabbed Tao Ni's hand and trotted after him. She would be patient and see what advantage she might gain.

  They followed Yellow-beard to the livery stable. He halted at the door of a stall where saddlebags and a well-stuffed burlap bag were piled. "You two wait here," he told them. "I'll be back in a while."

  Soomey had been thinking furiously. The Chinese camp was on the other side of town. Could she and Tao Ni reach it safely, or would the miners catch them again? And was she ready to tell Li Ching of her failure? He was becoming impatient with her. She must give him no excuse to forget their agreement. He would profit greatly by exploiting her. Perhaps they were better off with Yellow-beard.

  Knowing they needed him could give him power over them, however. This she would not tolerate. "Why we wait?" she challenged. "We no work you."

  Silas scratched his chin. The only sensible thing to do was give these brats a dollar each and send them on their way. But his conscience wouldn't let him. Not until he was sure they had someone to look after them.

  The younger lad's fingers still worked at the knotted pigtails. The older stood stiffly before Silas, not yielding an inch, his chin set stubbornly as he all but dared Silas to issue another order.

  "Who's your boss?" he said.

  A shrug. "Work here one day, there one day. No boss."

  "Where do you live?" Surely there was a Chinese community here. "Where are your parents?"

  Silence.

  Silas said, "Your mother? Your father? Who do you live with?"

  "We live over there." The boy's arm waved in the direction of the creek. "No mother. No father." He made motions of digging. "We work. Work good. You want China boy work for you?"

  Silas almost said no.

  Then he paused. It was like looking into a mirror at his own past. These two might 'work good' but he'd bet they hadn't eaten good in a long time. Neither boy looked old enough to swing a shovel, yet hadn't Silas followed behind a plow when he was barely shoulder high to the plowhorses? Hadn't he been grateful to have food in his belly and a place to sleep? Gratitude, he reflected, often bought strong loyalty.

  "I'm not a miner. I don't need anyone to dig." He saw hope start to fade in the older boy's eyes. "What else can you do?"

  "We good China boy, work hard. No...no..." He shrugged, made a gesture so obscene that Silas had no doubt that this boy had seen far more than his share of the world's evil.

  "How old are you?"

  The boy shrugged. "Old enough," he said, face expressionless. "But him, he too little. He no do..." Again the gesture.

  "Neither do I." What was he doing? The last thing he needed was two Chinese brats hanging on his coattails. Yet they were so young. So thin and bedraggled. What else could he do with them?

  On the other hand, they might be just what the doctor ordered. He and Emmet would need to make sure they weren't followed as they went about their business. One hint of why they were here and they wouldn't be able to take a step without being dogged by half a hundred hungry miners.

  He said, "I want...I could use...well, someone who can keep his eyes and ears open. And his mouth shut."

  Again the narrow-eyed look, suspicious and calculating. "You want two China boy? Do two times as much look, l
isten?"

  Silas nodded, certain now the boy understood far more English than he would admit. "Yes. I'll hire you both. A dollar a week and found."

  The boy shook his head. "Two dolla' him, two dolla' me."

  Silas didn't know the going rate for Chinese boys in Bannock City, but he'd wager it was far less than two dollars a week, even if coffee was selling for six bits a pound. Still, he couldn't fault the lad for wanting a decent wage. "Okay. A dollar a week each."

  "Two dolla' me, one dolla' him." A thumb jerked in the direction of the smaller. "He no work so hard."

  Silas pretended to think it over. "Two dollars a week for you, six bits for him. And found."

  "You wait." The boy jabbered at his smaller companion.

  Not for the first time, Silas wished he had a better ear for language. He'd never learned to understand more than a few words of Cantonese, even though he'd spent years in the Orient trade. Waiting while the boys talked back and forth, he smiled wryly. Two 'China boys' wasn't what he'd had in mind when he came to Bannock City.

  The older boy held out his hand. "We do," he said. "Two dolla' six bits a week and found." A pause. "What this 'found' Boss?"

  Silas chuckled. "Food and shelter." He took the outstretched hand, finding it small and delicate, but strong. "You'll do the cooking, but I'll pay for the food and a place to stay."

  He wondered if he'd be able to keep his part of the bargain. No hotel--if you could call a tent full of cots a hotel--would let him bring in a couple of Chinese boys. A vacant shack was too much to hope for. Was there a spare tent to be found in this whole valley?

  The older boy interrupted his thoughts.

  "Is good. I Soomey, he Tao Ni. You Boss. Now come. We find food."

  "No, you won't. I want you to stay in the livery stable until I get back."

  "You listen me, Boss! We go tell Li Ching we work for you now."

  "Li Ching? You worked for him?"

  Soomey shook his head vigorously. "Get stuff. Maybe food."

  The afternoon was already half gone. "All right, but this hadn't better take long."

  "We go fast."

  Silas had to stretch his legs to keep up. The streets teemed with bearded, rough-clad men, all hurrying somewhere. Except around the doors of the saloons, where a few loitered. Time was golden, with winter on its way. Tomorrow was the first of November.