6

I parked the wagon near the end of Jawbone's "Main Street". It should have been named "Only" street because Jawbone was a mining town, hence, the need for a telegraph office which was really just a small room in the back of the saloon – the only saloon. But it carried draught beer and watered-down whiskey and served as the center of the small town

Hoss and I had stopped once in Jawbone on our way home from San Francisco. The town was populated by copper miners, most without any wives or family. A few houses were scattered about the town and snot-nosed children played in the dirt yards; there was no school. The other men lived in a bunkhouse-type of building and everything was owned by the mining company - The Blue Copper Mining Company, and the miners were paid in company script. When Hoss and I slapped actual money on the bar for our beers, the barkeep was more than happy to see our solid coins and I suspect he pocketed them for himself.

I was wary about leaving the women alone in the wagon, even if it was briefly. But my hope was that after I sent the wire to my father, I could buy a few chickens from one of the houses where a few chickens scratched about in the dirt. They looked scrawny but at least Ju would have her chickens and maybe I would have some peace. And I would make it quick.

I was about to knock on the wagon door when it was thrown open by Ju.

"Why we stop? We Virginia City?"

"No, we're not in Virginia City. We're in a town called Jawbone – you should find the name fitting."

"What? What jawbone? Why we stop?"

"I have to send a wire." Ju looked puzzled. "A telegram." Then she looked suspicious. "Never mind. I'm going to buy some chickens for you to cook, and some bacon for me. All right? And if they have any onions, I'll pick some up."

"Good," she said. "You buy garlic."

"If they have any." I knew they wouldn't but I couldn't be bothered to explain. "Now, I won't be long but you and Wu Lien, stay in the wagon. This is a mining town and there're a lot of rough men so just stay inside and don't open the door for anyone but me."

"Pah! Anyone come, Ju take care of." She made a chopping, slashing motion and I was reminded of how she wielded the cleaver with great dexterity.

"Just stay inside." I pushed the door shut and turned to head for the saloon. I noticed a few men lounging on some rickety wooden chairs outside the company store, watching us. But they had only seen Ju's head out the door and any man who would be interested in her would have had to be without a woman for a very long time. And besides, the mining company provided a few whores for the miners' use.

I decided that by the time of day, it was probably close to shift change in the copper mine. Soon, the miners who came up and out into the falling evening would want beer and attention. Better I take care of my business quickly and move on. I walked through the saloon, watched the whole time since I was a stranger, tipped my hat to a few of the working girls. and then entered the telegrapher's office. No one was there. "Goddamn it," I muttered. Now I'd have to either wait or ask about him.

"You want somethin', mister?"

I jumped a bit and turned. A sloppily-dressed man of about 40 years stood behind me. His shirt was stained, the sleeves rolled up a-ways to show the grimy cuffs of his long underwear. His belly strained against his suspenders.

"You surprised me." I offered a smile but his eyes went to my gun at my side. I took a more relaxed stance, trying not to look threatening. "I'd like to send a telegram. Do you know where the telegrapher is?"

"In the boneyard. He died 'bout a month ago."

"Died?"

"Died – got killed. Same thing."

"Well the end result is the same, I guess." I became anxious; I didn't like how things sat. "I know some Morse code…"

"Morse code?"

"Yes, the dots, dashes that the telegrapher sends." The man said nothing. I wondered who he was that he felt he had the authority to accost me. But I didn't ask. "Well, I don't mind paying. It's…what? How much?" I looked at the sign. "Two bits for ten words? I'd like to send the telegram myself if there's no one else to do it.."

"Hell, iffen you know how to work that damnable thing, you can have the job."

"Well, I just want to send a telegram. Here's the money." I dug in my pocket and came up with the coins. "Who do I pay?"

He turned and shouted out into the saloon. "Sully? C'mere, Sully." The barkeep came and stood by the other man. "This here man wants to send a telegram. He wants to know who to pay."

"You'd pay me, mister, if I knew how to work that contraption. But I don't. Why don't you spend your money on a coupla shots of whiskey instead?"

"I don't have the time or I'd gladly get glassy-eyed. But I know how to send a telegram."

"If you know how to work that contraption, go ahead. But it's two bits for the first ten words. How'll I know iffen you're sending more'n that."

I considered the situation. "Because I don't have much to say."

Sully and the other man looked at each other; the heavy man shrugged his shoulders.

"All right. Go ahead but I'm gonna … supervise."

"Fine." I sat down and it took me a few seconds to familiarize myself with the machine; it had been a long time since I'd read about Morse Code and had never really used it, only used my finger to tap out messages as I looked at the chart. And I only had a vague knowledge of the mechanics but sat at the straight key and lightly rested my hand, placing my index finger on the paddle. Then I started. I hoped that the message wouldn't be too garbled at the other end and that my father would receive the telegram properly written. I felt sweat rolling down my cheeks, down my back and chest, as I worked, trying to remember the number of dots and dashes that represented each letter and the length in between. "E" was one dot – that was the only one I was sure about. And both men watched suspiciously as if I was trying to cheat them.

I finished. And stood up. "Thank you both." I started to move past them and the heavy man grabbed my arm. I sighed. I knew this was going to happen and various scenarios played out quickly in my imagination. "Is there a problem?" I asked, still keeping my hand far from my gun.

"Seems to me you sent more'n ten words. Don't it seem that way to you, Sully?"

"Did seem to go on a long time now that you mention it. I think that'll be another two bits, mister."

Slowly, I slid my right hand in my pocket and pulled out a few coins.

"I think that'll just about cover it." Sully took the coins from my hand and smiled. "Pleasure doin' business with you." He smiled widely showing tobacco-stained teeth. "C'mon," he said to the other man. "Time to have a drink before you go down in the mine."

I was relieved that nothing worse had happened - but it was short-lived. In the saloon proper, people were rushing to the doors, some stepping out onto the street. I could hear Ju shrieking. "Oh, shit," I said as I pushed past the people, the bar girls, standing at the half doors. and rushed out. I could see a group of men standing about the wagon, laughing, while it seemed two of the men were trying to drag Wu Lien out of the wagon door. Ju, was pounding on them, screaming, "You goddamns! You leave her goddamn alone. Stop, you stinkin' goddamns! I kill you!"

One man shoved Ju away, laughing as if she was merely a terrier yipping at their heels, but Ju kept going back, kept trying to pull them away from the wagon., pounding on them with her fists. And I could see Wu Lien's small, flailing feet in their embroidered slippers, as one man held her ankles, laughing, trying to pull her out. And then he did. Wu Lien lost her handhold on the doorframe and slid out of the wagon. The man quickly clutched her to him before she hit the street, by wrapping an arm about her, and lifting her off the ground.

I would have grabbed the man, swung him around and struck him, but he held Wu Lien. The sheet of her glossy black hair fell forward as she struggled, making little noise.

"Let her go," I said, standing with my hand wavering over my gun. "Put her down."

"Mistah Adam," Ju cried, coming to me, grabbing my arm. "You kill these goddamns!"

"Look," the man said who held Wu Lien, "we were just havin' a little fun with these Chink women. I mean, we were just curious if this one looked like this ugly, yammerin' one. We weren't gonna hurt no one. Just curious – that's all." He still held Wu Lien, one arm about her waist, the other across her arms, holding one of her wrists. Her hair covered most of her face.

"Okay. You've had your fun. Now let her go. Put her down." I knew there were more miners than me – about 15 more - and they could easily beat me, kill me, and then take the women. But I did have a gun and could take out a few of them first. I counted on the fact that they were just looking for a little amusement before they had to go back into the bowels of the mine. Also, there was the fact they were miners, not killers, not necessarily cruel men. They had seen their share of death and lived each day wondering if it would be their last, if this would be the day they would end up buried under tons of rock. But you never knew about a situation.

The man released Wu Lien and she dropped to the dirt, unable to get her balance. She looked up at me, pushing the hair off her face, tears on her cheeks. And time stood still. I couldn't breathe. She was glorious.

No one spoke – who could in the presence of such magnificent beauty? The men who had been watching stepped back as well. Even the man who had held Wu Lien in his arms stepped back, stunned by the profound beauty of the woman he had embraced just a moment before. But Ju ran to Wu Lien and helped her stand on her small feet. They spoke in Chinese and Ju held Wu Lien to her.

"I'm sorry, mister. She your wife or somethin'?" the man asked.

"Yeah. Something." My breathing was still shaky.

"She's 'bout the most beautiful woman I ever saw – and a goddamn Chink too. She don't look like no other Chink woman I ever saw. Hell, you're one lucky sonovabitch."

"Yeah," I replied, hoping that would be the end of it. The men began to disperse, and they mumbled among themselves. I went to help Ju with Wu Lien and as the scent of her hair, of her skin, of her whole being came to me, I was glaringly aware of how I stank, how crude I must look – unwashed, unshaven, some filthy bok gwai. Or as Hop Sing had once said, a yĕ mán – a barbarian. I was nothing more than that in Wu Lien's presence.

Wu Lien looked up at me as I tried in some way to assist her. And she gave me a small, sad smile – and then dropped her eyes.

"Lien," I whispered. "Lotus." And I understood why Fang Zhen had waited so long and paid so much to own such beauty – and I wanted her for myself.