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Authors: Karen J. Hasley

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BOOK: Gold Mountain
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“Something she knows?” I suggested, thinking about Suey Wah’s history.

“Or some
one
she knows.”

“But who?”

“I don’t know, and I doubt if Suey Wah knows. But someone is nervous enough to make sure the child doesn’t have the opportunity to let slip any information that might mean something to me or you or the authorities, even if it means nothing to her.”

“Farmer said he’d be back.”

Although in different words, Miss Cameron repeated the same grim information Jake Pandora had shared. “Trading in Chinese girls is a very profitable enterprise, Dinah, and I know it’s not funded by the likes of Wing Chee and Dow Pai Tai. I’m sure miscreants like those two get a cut of the profits, but people much higher up are making huge sums of money. If Suey Wah knows anything about any of the investors involved in the slave enterprise, she is at serious risk. The men I’m talking about cannot afford to have their prestige and social positions compromised by their illegal activities becoming public knowledge.”

“But she doesn’t know anything!” I protested. Miss Cameron’s words were conjuring up all kinds of frightening pictures involving little Suey Wah.

“They don’t know that, any more than we know if she will someday recall a name or a face or a meaningful snatch of conversation.”

“Suey Wah isn’t safe, is she? They’ll come back for her, and there are just so many times they’ll overlook her behind the rice sacks.” We sat in silence, contemplating our alternatives, until I said, “She should come home with me.” It suddenly made such good sense that I repeated the words, adding, “We can smuggle her to my sister’s house this evening. It’s a big house and there’s plenty of room for her. Ruth will support me and Martin will do whatever Ruth asks. I know you want her to continue her English lessons and I can do that and Ruth can teach Suey Wah all the domestic chores she would have learned here. My sister is a wonderful seamstress and a great cook. No one will think of searching for Suey Wah in my sister’s house, and I’ll be able to keep her under my watchful eye. What do you think?” Donaldina listened to me soberly before allowing a humorless smile to appear.

“I think it’s the best alternative for the time being, Dinah, but don’t get too used to Suey Wah being in your home. She will be safer away from San Francisco entirely, but until I’ve worked that out, your idea has merit. First, find out from your sister if she’ll allow it and then we can make the transfer. I’ve never placed any of my girls under another’s care and doing so will take some adjustment on my part.”

“I’ll take good care of her.” Donaldina stood and I did the same.

“I know you will. In fact, I’m sure of it. If I weren’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” We walked together into the hallway. “You acquitted yourself well today, Dinah. Thank you.”

The warmth of Miss Cameron’s rare compliment carried me much of the way home, and it wasn’t until I was climbing Ruth’s front steps that I had a thought that made me stop abruptly, breathless with alarm and shock.

“How did Farmer know about a girl named Suey Wah, Dinah, and how did he know she was here?” Donaldina had asked, and at the time I believed she was right to say that no one at 920 would have mentioned Suey Wah’s presence there. I had forgotten about my trip to the Pandora Transport Company, however, forgotten that I had recently blurted out the child’s name to Jake Pandora, which meant he could certainly have assumed her presence at 920. Of everyone involved thus far, he had the most personal interest in what the child had seen and heard because Suey Wah may well have arrived in San Francisco aboard one of his vessels. My heart pounded uncomfortably in my chest. Was Jake Pandora behind the day’s menacing visit and the threat to Suey Wah? And even worse, was it my fault that it had happened?

I didn’t want to think that Pandora would harm a child but was honest enough with myself to confess that my reluctance could have more to do with my pride than with his innocence. I didn’t want to admit that he had tricked me with his handsome face and a false penitence in his dark eyes. No one likes to be played for a fool, but I feared I had allowed Jake Pandora to do just that, and it wasn’t just a loss of dignity or reputation that made me want to weep from remorse and dread. My brash confidence, my need to flaunt my independence might have endangered a girl’s life, and I knew I would bear some of the responsibility if anything happened to Suey Wah. I owed it to her and to my own peace of mind to discover the identities of the degenerates involved in her ordeal. If Jake Pandora were one of them, God might have mercy on him, but there was no way I intended to offer a similar consideration.

 

Chapter Six

W
hen I broached the subject of Suey Wah staying on Grove Street for a time, my sister gave her immediate and unequivocal approval. I had told her about Quentin Farmer’s visit and how he tried to convince me that his ageing partner in crime was engaged to marry the child. Their shameless and perverted announcement so outraged Ruth that her face turned the color of strawberry preserves.

“That man actually told you he planned to marry a child?! I don’t believe it, Dinah! That’s disgusting.”

“The old reprobate tried to convince me that it was nothing extraordinary. Anyway, Ruthie, it was only a ploy. Someone must have heard that we rescued an unattached Chinese girl and decided there was money to be made by selling her. Again.”

“Do you think it was that Wing Chee you mentioned?”

“I don’t know,” I replied but knew that I would have to look higher than Wing Chee for whoever had sent Farmer to 920’s front door. I didn’t, however, have the heart to share that disillusioning knowledge with Ruth, whose sunny good nature and kind disposition wanted only to see the best in people. One disenchanted Hudson sister was enough for the time being.

“She can stay in the room we’ve chosen for the nursery,” Ruth enthused. “It’s just sitting there empty, and it’s exactly the right size for a little girl.”

Martin, as I expected, showed none of his wife’s enthusiasm for adding a temporary houseguest. Arriving home unexpectedly early that day, he listened without comment to Ruth’s story and sent a disapproving glance my way before replying.

“My dear, your generous heart is a credit to you, but you’re not in a condition to take on the responsibility of another houseguest—and a stranger and a foreigner at that! You don’t need any more burdens at this time in your life. You need to be resting and gathering your strength.” To me, Martin added, “I know you mean well, Dinah, but try to think of your sister instead of yourself for a change.”

He was truly annoyed with me, I judged dispassionately, and wondered why his reaction seemed so out of proportion to the request. Martin seemed to have recovered from the recent stock market crisis that had generated national panic and briefly endangered the bank where he worked. For a few days he had looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Ruth, feeling her husband’s tension, had worn a similar expression. Then one evening Martin came home with a bunch of fresh flowers in hand for his wife and the relieved announcement that however he did it, Mr. Gallagher had restored the bank’s solvency and all was secure. Thus, I couldn’t blame Martin’s work for his resistant mood.

I wondered briefly if despite his protestations, Martin resented my presence in the house more than he was willing to admit and simply couldn’t tolerate the idea of another human being crowding into his comfortable life. Or—the more chilling thought came suddenly to mind—perhaps Martin Shandling, rising young banker and eager newcomer to San Francisco’s glamorous social life, knew more about the trade in Chinese girls than he let on and did not want that dark world brought so close to his wife and his home. Looking at his clear, handsome face and seeing him standing before me, the very personification of propriety and rectitude, the furtive idea seemed impossibly ludicrous, and yet Martin certainly could be involved in the illegal, immoral business. Anyone could be, even my sister’s dearly loved husband—but oh, I hoped not! I sincerely hoped not. Wouldn’t Ruth know if the man lying next to her at night had the heart and the conscience of a devil?

My sister replied to her husband’s rebuke in a voice I had never heard from her before, not even when speaking to me and goodness knows she had had plenty of justified opportunity to quell me with icy tones over the years. Apparently Martin had never been on the receiving end of Ruth’s chilly disapproval because he stared at her as if she’d transformed into a stranger before his eyes.

“You need not speak to Dinah as if I am some spineless, weak woman she can manipulate with a sensational story and a few well-placed emotional phrases. My sister is a credit to our family, but she is not the only Hudson daughter prepared to do the duty laid on her by her Creator and her parents. This is a child, Martin, a child, and we are not talking about her taking up residence in our home until she dies of old age. It is only for a few weeks, Dinah said, and it is the least we can do. We live very well, but we have not been given this vast array of material blessings to hoard for our own pleasure. I intend to read in the front parlor for a while and will be happy to talk with you further once you have had time to reconsider your decision.”

My sister did not flounce out of the room as I surely would have, but her dignified departure was all the more effective because of her calm and unhurried exit. Silently, Martin and I looked at each other, our eyes undoubtedly holding the same startled expression we would have assumed had we just seen a genie appear from a bottle or a dearly loved kitten suddenly swell into a tiger. I swallowed the words I had been about to say and retreated to the kitchen, leaving poor Martin to decide his next action. When he approached me later to say stiffly that he agreed with Ruth that the small nursery would be suitable for Suey Wah’s stay, I swallowed my words once again and contented myself with a meek, “Thank you, Martin. I’ll let Miss Cameron know,” careful not to let one shred of triumph creep into my voice or expression.

I returned to 920 immediately after supper to discuss Suey Wah’s transfer. The clandestine plan we agreed upon would have seemed extreme, almost laughable, if we had not believed the stakes were so high.

“We may be watched,” Miss Cameron commented placidly. For her, evidently, the idea that villains spied on the house was completely reasonable and unremarkable. “When you leave tonight, you will leave alone. Tomorrow morning I will depart 920 dressed in my most voluminous cape—as you’ve discovered, our mornings can be uncomfortably cool until the fog burns off—and I will have our driver take a roundabout trip to Grove Street. Expect me by eight o’clock. I have several appointments tomorrow and will not be able to stay long. Just long enough to leave Suey Wah in your capable hands.” In an unexpectedly physical gesture, she placed both hands on my shoulders before concluding, “Do your best not to grow too attached to the child, Dinah. I have contacts in San Rafael that can guarantee Suey Wah a safe haven, and I intend to move her there as quickly as possible.” She paused. “I must put her welfare above everything else.”

“I understand,” I replied with hesitation, “and I wouldn’t have it otherwise, but I can’t help being fond of her and I’ll grieve when she leaves, even as I pack her bag and send her away. I, too, want to be sure the child is safe and happy.” I said good-night and walked quickly home to let Martin and Ruth know that Suey Wah would be arriving in the morning and her stay, although brief, needed to remain completely confidential.

The two of them sat contentedly in the parlor, Martin enjoying a rare pipe and Ruth knitting the tiniest cap I’d ever seen. The atmosphere of the room fairly pulsated with harmony and concord. They’ve made up, I thought to myself, watching Ruth’s face beam at the news of Suey Wah’s pending arrival and Martin sneak a look at his wife’s expression with a touch of relief. His glance was so affectionate that my former thoughts about his duplicity in the slave trade seemed even more ridiculous than before. No one who gazed at his wife with such an infatuated expression could possibly be involved in so dark an activity as human smuggling. And then, ever practical, I told myself that whether I misread Martin’s character or not, Suey Wah would be safe in his house. He would not want to bring danger close to Ruth anymore than he would want to draw attention to any involvement in illegal activities. Suey Wah could be sure of a safe haven on Grove Street, however long her stay.

Suey Wah charmed my sister from the moment the child walked through the front door—safely camouflaged by Miss Cameron’s flowing cloak—and that evening ingratiated herself with Martin by an instinctive respectful gratitude that he could not resist. I watched the girl’s face carefully when Martin first spoke to her, looking for recognition of any kind in her expression, but she met his gaze openly with a shy smile and not a flicker of fear or hesitation. I was certain she had never heard Martin’s voice or seen his face or figure before and felt a wave of overwhelming relief at her lack of identification. He might still be involved in illegal enterprises, of course, anyone could be, but Suey Wah’s easy acceptance of Martin made me so cordial toward him that more than once I caught him watching me with an expression that mixed equal parts of gratification, bewilderment, and suspicion.

Not long after Suey Wah’s arrival, I left the little girl carefully sewing stitches on a piece of practice fabric as Ruth worked on her dress for the summer cotillion. My own gown was complete and draped gently over the back of a chair in my room. I had stopped in the doorway to watch the two work, both figures intent on their tasks, diligent and—incomprehensibly to me—apparently happy to be sewing. My patience with tiny stitches and perfect seams was lamentably lacking. Ruth recognized my presence, looked up, and smiled.

BOOK: Gold Mountain
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