The Captive Within (A Prairie Heritage, Book 4) (19 page)

Esther shuddered and hid herself behind O’Dell’s broad back.
O’Dell just stared nonplussed at Judd as the marshals forced the struggling,
cursing man into the back of the police wagon.

He motioned to Esther and they went back into the house.
There he found five other women milling about the downstairs, unsure of what to
do.

“I am offering you all a chance to change your lives,”
O’Dell stated tersely. “For those of you willing, tomorrow I will take you
aboard a train and to a distant locale.”

“Would Cal be able to find us?” Ava asked hesitantly. O’Dell
noticed that her nose was changed from the last time he’d seen her, bent to one
side, certainly broken.

“I don’t believe so,” O’Dell replied. “But if you decide to
come, it must be now. Tonight you will stay with friends of mine. Pack and take
what you need. Leave the rest. You have 30 minutes.”

Hesitantly, Esther asked, “Friends of yours?”

“Yours, too. They found your note, Esther,” he replied
softly, and he saw the glistening moisture that gathered in her eyes.

A half hour later Esther, Ava, Jess, Molly, and two other
girls crowded into two cars driven by Pinkertons. O’Dell took a last pull on
his cigar. The next few days would be trying at best.

God, if you are there, I’m guessing I need you.
O’Dell
dropped his half-smoked cigar on the ground and jumped in the waiting car
before it sped into the night.

~~**~~

Father God, you have answered our prayers for Esther,
Ava, Jess, and Molly! I stand in awe and amazement, Lord, and thank you.

Your word tells us that you are “able to do exceeding
abundantly above all that we ask or think” and you have. Two women in addition
to “our” girls arrived at Palmer House Christmas night. They came with a price,
though, and I do not forget this.

One of Mr. Pounder’s marshals was terribly wounded in
their rescue. We do not know yet how he will fare, but we are praying
diligently for him. And our dear Mr. O’Dell also suffered a gunshot to his
shoulder.

Dr. Murphy came immediately to care for him and
pronounced Mr. O’Dell the worst patient he has tended to date. While the wound
was not difficult to treat, Mr. O’Dell lost a great deal of blood and the good
doctor demanded bed rest.

Our Mr. O’Dell, however, would have nothing of that. He
and another Pinkerton man left with the girls the following morning, taking
them away from Denver. I will not say where in this entry for fear it may some
day be read by those who wish to pursue them.

He did not say, but Mr. O’Dell’s eyes told me that he is
worried. As he bade me goodbye, he whispered that he cannot return to Denver
for a time. He will, he said, go directly to Seattle and attempt to find
Mei-Xing’s family.

I understand his concern. Cal Judd, a name now infamous
in our home, is in jail, but we have already seen that the law is not always
able to retain evil men. Still nothing has been found of Dean Morgan or Su-Chong
Chen.

If Cal Judd were to be freed from the restraints of the
law, to what lengths would he go to reclaim Esther? Mr. O’Dell’s worries were
unspoken but his eyes told me all. For these reasons, the Pinkertons maintain a
guard here and at the shop. We are taking precautions, Lord, but our trust and
hope are in you.

—

Bao Xang hovered with indecision across the street from the
Li home. What he was considering would have severe, irrevocable consequences.
Nevertheless, for the first time in the weeks since Ling-Ling and the baby had
died, his heart felt stirred, as though something
right
might come from
his wretched, miserable existence. Perhaps Mei-Xing could even be restored to
her family.

He shook his head and thought of the more likely
consequences of his actions. If he told Mr. Li that Mei-Xing had not killed
herself, and that, instead, Fang-Hua had arranged for Mei-Xing to be forced
into a life of prostitution, would Mr. Li even believe him?

What would Mr. Li do when Bao told of his own part in the
deception? He wondered if the man would kill him on the spot.

A suitable response
, he mused.
A just end to my
dishonorable life
.

If Mr. Li
did
believe Bao, what would he do with the
information Bao gave him? He was a wealthy, powerful man, with many loyal
employees. He was honest to a fault.

The Chens were also wealthy and powerful, but they did not
conduct their businesses honorably. Bao knew well of their gangs of thugs,
their cutthroats and “fixers.”

If he told Mr. Li, what would the man do? Would there be a
bloodbath?

He paced down to the corner, lost in his indecision, and
stood staring at nothing.

“Friend, you seem disturbed.”

The presence of another man so near him shocked Bao out of
his stupor. Wild-eyed, he backed away without thinking and stepped off the
curb.

With a cry, the stranger leapt toward him and, grabbing him
by the lapels, jerked him back onto the sidewalk. “Have a care! You will be run
down!”

To emphasize the man’s point, a sleek motor car flashed by,
dangerously near the gutter.

“Are you all right?” the man asked solicitously.

Bao nodded and stared about him. He had not realized he was
so close to the corner.

“I am Yaochuan Min Liáng,” the man, a Chinese perhaps 35
years old, said quietly. He held out his hand and Bao automatically shook it.
“You are Bao Shin Xang, are you not?” The man asked his question in Mandarin.

Bao jerked back his hand as though it were afire. “How do
you know me?” he demanded.

The man pointed to the Li home. “I am a friend of the Li
family. You have been on this sidewalk for several hours. You are a friend of
this family. The servants know you and expressed some . . .
concern.” His expression was gentle, sympathetic. “Mr. and Mrs. Li tell me you
recently suffered a great loss.”

Bao opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He
looked toward the Li home, half expecting and dreading that Mei-Xing’s parents
would be watching from the windows.

The man placed a hand on Bao’s arm. “Mr. Xang, I am Mr. and
Mrs. Li’s minister. Your heart seems greatly burdened. Would you care to talk?
I am a good listener,” he assured Bao.

“Their minister? But, they are not Christian, are they?” Bao
frowned and looked at the man with wary eyes.

“Ah. Yes. They are new to their faith,” Minister Liáng told
him. “They, too, have lived through a crushing time. Their trials have led them
to faith in Christ.”

Liáng looked about. “Come, Mr. Xang. Shall we go into that
little shop down the street and share a pot of tea? I could use a hot cup.”

Bao allowed himself to be ushered along. Perhaps this man
could hear what he could not bring himself to say to Mr. and Mrs. Li’s face.
Perhaps
fate was showing him the way
.

An hour later, hunched over the now-empty pot of tea,
Minister Liáng stared at Bao in disbelief. Bao had been on the verge of
confessing his burden many times since they sat down, only to avoid confronting
his torment by turning the conversation in another direction.

Minister Liáng saw a troubled heart and, puzzled by Bao’s
behavior, continued to try to draw him out. Oddly, he had finally deduced that
whatever was tormenting Bao had not to do with his wife and son’s demise, but
with the Li family’s daughter.

“Bao,” he said, earnestly imploring the young man before
him, “If you know something about Mei-Xing’s death, I urge you to cleanse your
conscience. The God of Grace will forgive you, whatever it is!”

“God of Grace?” Bao had never heard this. He turned it over
in his mind.

“It
is
about Mei-Xing Li, is it not? This is why you
have been standing across the street from the Li home?” Minister Liáng
insisted, near to losing his patience.

Bao stared at him and then dropped his head. “I am an evil
man, Minister Liáng. It is only fitting that such disaster has come upon me and
my family. I . . . I am haunted by Mei-Xing. Soon, I will ensure
that justice is meted out on my head as well . . . and,
before I am gone, I must speak the truth.”

Minister Liáng shivered. “You must tell me then, Bao.
Whatever it is. Mr. and Mrs. Li deserve to know the truth.”

Bao squeezed his head with both hands as though he could
block out his agony. “You don’t know what the truth will do! You do not know!”

He spoke loudly and the minister shushed him. Curious faces
turned in their direction.

“The truth is important, Bao,” Minister Liáng assured him
softly.

Bao laughed, sounding crazed as he did. “The truth will mean
war, sir! It will lead to death, death, and more death!”

Liáng caught his breath and began to pray.
Oh Lord, you
know this man’s beleaguered heart. I begin to see that his pain has unhinged
him. Father God, have mercy on him right now. Restore his mind and deliver him
from the evil that is oppressing him!
For Yaochuan Liáng felt the evil
torment under which Bao was laboring.

They were both still for a time, Liáng praying silently, and
Bao staring at the table. At last Bao whispered, “She is not dead, you know.”

He had spoken so quietly that Liáng was not certain he had
heard correctly. “She is not . . . did you say she is not dead?”
Certainly he meant his wife, only a few weeks gone now.

Bao nodded. “Yes. I said that. She is not dead.”

Yaochuan Min Liáng studied Bao. The younger man seemed
calmer, but Liáng had seen mad men appear calm and sane one moment only to
descend into babbling lunacy the next.

“I understand she had a difficult childbirth,” he
temporized, hoping to lead Bao toward reality.

Bao gave a short, harsh laugh. “I do not speak of
my wife
,
Minister Liáng.”

Liáng’s mouth dropped open. “You, you do not?” His head
began to spin as Bao’s words took on new meaning. Impossible meaning.

Bao’s face contorted in anger. “That evil witch hates her.
Hates her with all the venom of a serpent. Mei-Xing spurned her son, you see. Fang-Hua
wanted to punish Mei-Xing, punish her in the most vile, degrading manner she
could conceive.”

Yaochuan Liáng could not breathe. He knew the Chen family
and knew Madam Chen by reputation. What had been whispered to him in confidence
by his parishioners had horrified him. “What . . .
what
did
Fang-Hua do?”

Bao told him. Dry-eyed, he recited the entire tale. Once he
began, he could not stop until he had told it all.

Yaochuan Liáng’s vision darkened and he felt nauseous. He
dropped his head to the table.
This could not be true
! He thought of Mr.
and Mrs. Li, so broken by their daughter’s suicide, so filled with recrimination.
He recalled how their unrelenting guilt had driven them to
despair . . . until, urged by a trusted family servant, they had
come to him and found forgiveness in Christ.

What would this news do to them? Was it true
?
Could
it be
? He shivered. If Fang-Hua Chen were involved, it
could
be
true.

“How do you know she is still alive?” he whispered to Bao.

The man looked blank for a moment. “I know because Su-Chong
has seen her.”

Yaochuan Liáng drew back in astonishment. “Su-Chong? Has he
been heard from, then?”

Bao nodded slowly. “Men I employed have seen him. In the Denver city of Colorado.”

Yaochuan Liáng said nothing, but his eyes asked the
question.

“Fang-Hua sent me to Denver to break him from jail,” Bao
replied as though it were an everyday event. “She sent me to bring him back
here, but he overpowered and killed the men we hired. He saw her before he was
arrested and now he is again looking for her. Looking for Mei-Xing.” He related
Morgan’s conversation with Fang-Hua.

The minister sat back. It was too much. Too much to take in,
to grasp.

“Will you tell them? Will you tell Mei-Xing’s father and
mother?” Bao asked. The young man’s exhausted eyes begged him.

The dangers were every bit as great as Bao had insisted. But
what if what he said was utter nonsense, the ravings of a mad man? And yet his
tale seemed all too plausible.

“No,” Liáng answered slowly. “It would serve no purpose at
present except to horribly distress them . . .” his sentence
trailed off. But something had to be done. The web of evil had to be untangled,
beginning in the right place.

“No. I will myself go to the town you spoke of,” Yaochuan
Min Liáng said softly. “This town of Corinth?” The name sickened him, now that
he knew of its wickedness. “I will go and, if what you have said is true, I
will find Mei-Xing and take her out of that horror.”

For the first time in many months, Bao felt a ray of hope.
“You will help her?”

Liáng nodded, his face sober. “No one must know, Bao. You
must return home and grieve for your family, but speak of
this
to no
one. We will trust that the God of Grace will guide me on Mei-Xing’s behalf. I
will ask him to make a way for me to restore her to her family.”

It was the second time Bao had heard Minister Liáng speak of
his God of Grace. Was this the Christian god then?
No matter
. He was
certain no god could possibly have grace for him.

—

Edmund O’Dell disembarked in King Street Station and took a
cab to a modest hotel near the waterfront. He and another Pinkerton agent had
seen Esther and the other girls safely to Rose’s friends in RiverBend. Then he
had immediately set out for Seattle.

His shoulder burned fiercely and he was exhausted. Inwardly
he railed at his body’s weakness. How many weeks had he spent in Denver searching for Mei-Xing? And had he found any trace of her? Absolutely none. His
inability to pick up a trail churned like gall in his gut.

Frustrated, he set his will like iron to press on, ignoring
his body’s needs. He had no time to waste on an aching shoulder. Discovering
Mei-Xing Li and Su-Chong Chen’s roots was his best hope now.

In a moment of weakness, Mei-Xing had told Breona she was
from Seattle. Mei-Xing and Su-Chong had a history. Therefore, presumably,
Su-Chong was from Seattle. Su-Chong and Morgan had a history. Perhaps Morgan
was also from Seattle. The keys to finding all three of them
had
to be
somewhere in Seattle.

He refused to think on how large Seattle was and how little
he had to go on. He would start by searching for families with Mei-Xing’s last
name, Li. He didn’t fool himself about that possibility. Seattle and the
surrounding area would likely be home to hundreds of families with the Li name.

However, something else tugged at the back of his mind,
something that Mei-Xing and Su-Chong had said to each other that eventful night
in the plaza.
Something important
to his search.

He frowned and rubbed a hand across his bleary eyes. As soon
as he checked in he would sit down and write out everything he could recall of
their confrontation in Corinth. He would start with when Su-Chong grabbed Mrs.
Thoresen by the throat and Mei-Xing stepped in front of
him . . .

What was it that they said?

~~**~~