Tempted Tigress (29 page)

"Where are your male servants?" Anna asked, turning to Wife Two. She was the only one not dealing with a sobbing child or fighting tears herself. She seemed grimly resigned, with an anger that was part bitterness, part annoyance.

"Gone," Second Wife answered with a sneer. "When your husband killed our husband, they ran, fearing for their lives."

"Cowards," Anna spat. "You are better off without them. They would not help in a fight anyway."

Second Wife blinked in surprise. "That is what I have been saying. But what can we do with no protection?"

"You are not unprotected!" Anna snapped, startled by her anger. "My husband and his men will save us." She had their attention now. Wives and children alike quieted enough to hear her. She lifted her chin and tried to exude a confidence she didn't feel. "But we must also rely on ourselves."

Second Wife cursed and spat. "What can we do?" She gestured to her leg and then the room at large. "Lame, pregnant, with babes in our arms—we are doomed."

Anna took a deep breath, praying that Zhi-Gang would be correct about the children. She turned to them, catching their eyes as best she could. "Can you hide? And be very quiet?"

The eldest boy—a child of about nine—stepped forward. "I am the head of the family. I will not let my mother—"

"You will not endanger your mother or your sisters and brothers," Anna said with a stern tone. But then she allowed her voice to lower with respect. "Will they listen to you?"

He puffed up with pride. "Of course! I am the oldest."

"Do not lie, child. All our lives depend on you answering correctly. Do not die from stupidity like your father."

It was a harsh thing to say to a child, especially one who had just lost his parent. But apparently the child was also smart, and had a realistic view of his parent.

"My father was—"

She didn't understand the words, but his attitude was clear. Especially as he straightened and gestured to Wife Two. "Mother and First Auntie have taught me better." He looked at his siblings. "They will listen to what I say."

Anna glanced at Second Wife. "He can be counted on to protect them?"

Second Wife nodded. "He knows his responsibilities. As does
she."
A second child stepped up. A girl, obviously Second Wife's daughter. She appeared to be the oldest girl child, graceful on her bound feet, and with a spark of honest bravery in her eyes. Better yet, she knew to keep just behind her older brother, where she could be seen as a leader without upsetting his masculine pride.

"Very well," Anna said. "All our lives depend on the next few hours." She turned to the boy, but her gaze encompassed all the children. She was excruciatingly aware of the time she was taking with this. Who knew what was going on in the reception room? But the more she gave the wives the impression that someone was in charge—herself and the two oldest children—the more manageable they would be.

She straightened and put as much force as possible into her voice. "The children must hide and stay silent." She looked at the oldest daughter. Girls tended to be much better than boys at that last part. "You take them and keep them quiet."

The boy spun on his heel and ordered his sister in a sharp voice, "Pretend father has the ugly ghost on him. Go!"

The girl didn't respond. She was already herding the younger ones out, whispering instructions in their ears before they dashed away. She paused to glance back at Anna. "They will stay out of sight," she said.

"And quiet!" the boy added.

The girl ignored her brother, slipping away with two of the youngest. Anna breathed a sigh of relief. The children were in good hands. Now for the harder part. She turned back to the boy. "You must keep your aunties safe. They are frightened and must rely on your strength. Can you do it?"

"Of course!" he said with haughty pride.

Anna dipped her head in respect for his status: head male of the household. "My husband will send a man to guard the door, but he may be called away. If that happens, you must keep all your aunties very, very quiet. Maybe even help them hide if need be."

He opened his mouth to give her what would probably be a very masculine response, but she did not let him speak. Instead, she turned abruptly to Second Wife and held out her hand. "You must come with me. My husband needs your help."

Second Wife's eyes widened in surprise, but she struggled to her feet. And as they hobbled together to the door, she managed to start interrogating Anna with short insightful questions. "Your husband knows everything now?"

"Yes. Everything," Anna said with absolute truth.

"Hmph." Second Wife clearly doubted.

"He will protect us," Anna pressed, startled to realize she believed. Zhi-Gang—the Emperor's Enforcer—would keep them all safe.

"Is it your father who attacks?"

Anna didn't falter. "Yes, I think so." Actually, she had no idea who it was, but people tended to follow direction better if they believed you understood the situation. And who better understood a man than his own daughter?

Second wife paused at a crossway in the hall, and looked hard at Anna. "Do you trust your husband?" She glanced to the left, in the opposite direction. "There is a good place to hide. Back there. We could say we got lost."

Anna hesitated for a moment. She did not pause because she doubted, but out of habit. Running and hiding was what she'd always done.

She shook her head. "I trust my husband."

Second Wife stared at her a long moment, then sighed in envy. "You are a fortunate woman."

Anna nodded, but the movement was uncertain. She had never thought of herself as fortunate—still didn't—and yet, for one moment it was a delight to feel that what she pretended was true: Zhi-Gang loved her and would risk all to protect her.

Still lost in uncertainty, she didn't notice when Second Wife turned down the wrong hallway. The woman was halfway to the door before Anna caught up.

"Where are you going?" she gasped. "My husband needs you in the receiving room."

Second Wife nodded, but her eyes focused on the gaps in the window lattice work. Anna was about to reprimand her again, but something in the woman's narrowed gaze made her stare out the window instead. "What do you see?"

"A boy. In the tree."

Anna nodded. "One of the soldiers. I thought he might be clothes stuffed in straw, but..." Even she could see that the soldier swung his leg back and forth in boredom.

Second Wife snorted. "Might as well be straw. That's Tseng's first son, and a more useless boy never lived."

Anna took a step closer to the window, still keeping out of view. She inspected the man. Second Wife was right. He was very young, barely out of his teens, and—more important—without the hardened air of her father's career mercenaries.

An idea began to form. She pushed away the silly romantic feelings of a moment before and began to think for real. "This boy," she pressed. "Will he talk to you? Will he listen to you?"

Second Wife straightened her spine, her face splitting into a grin. "I could get that boy to sell his ancestral shrine."

Anna returned the smile. "Then by all means, let us go this way."

From Anna Marie Thompson's journal

March 3, 1886

I saw. I'm sixteen today and I saw what Father had to show me. Another boy went with me. He was a little older—a half white, half Chinese boy they call Halfy. He's the son of a prostitute, and he had large hands and big eyes. He didn't talk much. I think he's shy, but we went together to celebrate my birthday with Father.

We went to an opium den. Father owns it. He showed us how to measure it, how to boil it—everything. He told us the amount of money that he gets every day, and we watched while a customer lit his pipe. I couldn't wait to taste it. I know how it feels! I knew and I thought we were there to smoke.

But we watched this man smoke. He was tall and lanky for a Chinese, and his smile lit his entire body. One puff and his eyes began to sparkle, his hands lost their tremble, and all the bad things fell away from him. I could see the smoke work in him, and I remembered.

Then Father—Samuel—asked him if it was good. "Very good," the man answered. Even his voice had changed. Instead of being high and nasal like before, it had dropped to a lower, sweeter tone. People are so much nicer when they're smoking. I even sat down next to him on the bench because I thought I would get my turn.

All the while, Samuel kept talking to the man, asking him about his last run. That's what the man did for Samuel. He ran opium into the interior of China, to a governor in a province where white people weren't allowed.

He answered easily enough. He talked about how happy the governor was, how much money he paid, and all the details. Father had told me and Halfy to listen carefully, so I was very attentive. He said he'd test us on it afterwards. I listened and I remembered, and then, just when the man was about to talk about the governor's wives, Samuel killed him. Stabbed him. Right through the heart. There wasn't even really a rattle. More of a gasp, and the man was dead.

Samuel pulled out the knife, wiped it on the man's pants, and then ordered me and Halfy to carry the body out to the back. Halfy didn't want to do it. He just stared at the body, his eyes huge and kinda watery. But I've worked in the mission hospital since I was seven. Dead bodies are nothing to me. Still., it was hard. He... the body was still warm and we had just been talking to him.

He was really heavy. Halfy went to get the wheelbarrow, but he wanted me to lift the body into it. At least I didn't have to strip the body. Halfy did that. And he did it so fast, I'm pretty sure he'd done it before. Not strip a dead body. But a drunk? Probably. It doesn't matter. Halfy did that, and then together we got the body into the wheelbarrow. Samuel walked with us to the river where we dumped it in.

"Just another dead Chinese," Samuel said. "There are lots of dead people who float down this river. Women, men, white or yellow or something in between."

I swallowed. I think I would have thrown up if I didn't have a question just bursting to get out. Samuel waited. He knew what I wanted to ask, what both me and Halfy wanted to know. Finally, I just said it.

"Why? Why would you kill your own runner?"

"Because he smoked it" Samuel said. "He was late delivering because he was smoking. He came back with too little money because he'd been smoking."

"But you want us to taste it," I said. I don't know when I got so bold. The runner had seemed like such a nice man and... and I don't know. It didn't seem fair. "You want us to celebrate with the customers! You've said so!"

Samuel looked at me hard, and there was no trace of the man I call Father. When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to make me shiver. Even now, remembering it, I am still afraid.

"A good runner can make a fortune," he said. "A bad runner dies."

I understood then what he wanted us to know. Life outside the mission has its own set of rules. Break them and die.

I understood. And more than that, I had already made my decision. "I will take his route" I said.

I know I surprised him. He raised his eyebrows and smiled—slow and sweet, like a man who suddenly sees his child for the first time. I have seen that at the mission, so I know what it looks like. Samuel looked at me just like that, and it was better than opium.

"I will run for you, Father," I said. "And I will be the best runner you've ever had"