Cera's Place
Authors: Elizabeth McKenna
Cera’s Place
A story wrapped in love and justice
by
Elizabeth McKenna
Cera’s Place is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Elizabeth McKenna
All rights reserved.
To my family with all my love.
Contents
Chapter 1
“You should have told me you were with child.”
Ever since walking through the front door of his home in Boston and seeing Martha’s swollen belly, Jake Tanner had repeated those words like the chorus of a favorite song. In that moment, he had never been so angry—or so in love—with his wife. Now, as she lay on their bed fanning herself in the early summer heat, he gave in to the urge to say it again.
Martha turned her head away and sighed. “Now what good would that have done, my love, but to give you a needless worry?”
He tugged her thick, honey blond braid until she looked at him again. “I could have gotten leave sooner, maybe even more than once.”
“And what makes you more deserving than the other Union boys with wives and children at home?” She patted her bulging stomach. “We are fine. Even better now that you are here with us.”
The bed creaked when Jake shifted beside his wife. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the coolness of the cotton sheets next to his skin. It had been months since he had slept on anything softer than a horse blanket. His hand wavered above her belly before gaining the courage to join hers. “It was just such a shock. You must have known when I was home for Christmas.”
Martha shrugged, breaking the slow rhythm of her fan. “I wanted to be sure. Things can happen.”
Jake’s stomach did a nervous flip. “But you are all right now?”
“Mama said I can do anything a woman would normally do.” She moved his hand down her belly and under her thin shift. When he found her favorite spot, she closed her eyes.
Jake leaned over and tasted the sheen of perspiration forming between her breasts. They were fuller than he remembered, straining against the soft cloth that hid them from his hungry eyes. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”
Martha flicked her wrist and the fan snapped shut before it hit the floor. “Show me then.”
Happy to oblige, Jake balanced above her, being mindful of his weight. His eyes caressed her face, willing his brain to remember every curve, every lash. He would need these memories in the coming months to keep him sane.
He moved the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip, savoring the sweetness. When she giggled, he smiled. Her lips parted to receive his kiss, and Jake wished he could stay in this moment forever. As their lips touched, a piercing wail filled the room.
Jake jumped back from his wife, panic seizing him. The baby. He must save the baby, but where was it? The cries were louder now and carried an edge of pain. Jake searched the room, crawling on hands and knees to peer under the furniture and behind the curtains.
“Martha, please help me! I can’t find the baby!”
His wife lay silent on the bed with hands folded over her flat stomach. In place of her shift, she wore the dress from their wedding day—the one with small pink roses and lace trim that had always been his favorite. An errant breeze scattered flakes of her creamy white skin across the pillows and sheets, revealing the smooth bones of the skeleton beneath.
As he stared in horror at his once-beautiful wife, a fiery explosion shook the room. Jake dropped to the floor, covering his head with his arms. When all was still, he looked up and there in the doorway stood his old friend Daniel, his eyes staring upward, glazed and lifeless, never to see again. In his dead arms, Daniel cradled the screaming baby, chest heaving with each cry. Blood dripped from Daniel’s scalp, painting the baby’s face and body scarlet and soaking the front of Daniel’s shirt. Jake knew if he tore it open, he would see the black festering wound, courtesy of a too-young-to-be-killing Confederate soldier.
“Save us,” Daniel’s motionless mouth pronounced.
When the second explosion sounded, Jake bolted up in his rented bed, screaming. His eyes darted around the shabby room, trying to place his surroundings. Not his bedroom in Boston or a riverbank in the Indian Territory. His hands fisted over his eyes, willing his breathing to slow. San Francisco. That’s where he was. Mae’s Boarding House for 50 cents a night.
He picked up a corner of the tangled sheet and wiped the sweat from his face. Calmer, he crossed the room to the basin and splashed water over his head. Drying his skin, he let out a heavy breath into the threadbare towel.
“Complications during delivery” Martha’s mother had written. Their baby girl was stillborn and Martha died three days later from fever. And Daniel? So many men died on the battlefield that hot summer day. Despite Jake’s efforts to get him to the field hospital, when it came to his friend, the surgeons were all out of miracles.
Though this terrible nightmare had regularly haunted him over the past four years, it had been a good six months since its last visitation. He had looked upon its absence as a positive sign. Like the North and South struggling to rebuild the country, maybe he too could make a new life. He absently rubbed the spot over his still racing heart. Maybe tomorrow would bring the end to his mission and he could finally move on. Peace. What would that feel like?
He looked heavenward for the briefest moment and then across the room. The night sky glowed through the grime on the bedroom window. Jake didn’t need to look any closer to see why. He had seen that shade of sky more times than he wished to recall. Something big in the city burned. For once, the explosions in his dream were real.
*****
The first explosion rained dust from the rafters onto Cera Cassidy’s gleaming bar top.
“What in blazes is going on now?” She flicked away the offending dirt with her rag. “I want a saloon uptown. I’m tired of this nonsense every other night.”
Surveying the room, she clucked her tongue. The men hadn’t even looked up from their card games. Her good friend and business partner Isaac Knappe continued to move his head to the beat as he pounded out a lively tune on the piano in the corner. Mary Beth Edwards weaved effortlessly through the crowd balancing a tray of dirty glasses, her pale blond curls swinging with every change in direction.
Two seconds after the second explosion, her kitchen girl, Sadie Freedom, crashed through the saloon’s wooden double doors. In her wake, she dragged a wisp of a Chinese girl who Cera had never seen before.
Holding her side, Sadie gasped for breath, her slim frame jerking from the effort. “Miss Cera! Miss Cera!”
Cera shook her head in resignation. It was going to be one of those nights.
“Lord have mercy, Miss Cera! They’re killin’ the China men!” Sadie’s hands flew to her mouth, as if by stopping her words she could stop the horrors she had just seen.
Cera froze where she stood and stared at the shaking girls. Oh Lord, she prayed, please not another riot.
The Chinese girl hung on to Sadie’s hand like a lifeline, her wild eyes taking in the room full of half-drunk white men regarding her with interest. Though tears streaked down her face, she made no sound. A mixture of blood and dirt stained her black, silk tunic. At some point during their flight, she’d lost her slippers. Bare feet peeked out from beneath her pants.
Coming to her senses, Cera hurried over to Sadie, as the girl wavered on her feet. She grabbed Sadie’s shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Don’t you go fainting on me now. Tell me, who’s killing the Chinese?”
“Samuel Biggs and his men…in…in Ross Alley.”
“And who’s that with you?” Cera pointed with her chin at the Chinese girl who looked no more than sixteen years old, if she was a day.
Sadie’s corn roll braids whipped side to side as she looked from the Chinese girl to her boss and then back. “I…I don’t know. She was with the China men. I reckon’d she needed help.”
Cera was about to ask her next question when the saloon doors burst open again. A boy dressed in clothes too big for his scrawny frame rushed in. “Fire! Fire in Ross Alley!”
It took only an instant for the room to empty out, as the customers poured into the street and headed for the alley.
Before the boy could follow, Cera grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him back. “Johnny, what’s going on out there?”
Excitement lit the boy’s face as he danced from foot to foot. “Kong Chow’s buildin’ is burning. There must be rockets inside. Did’ja hear the booms?”
“Did you see the China…?” That was as far as Cera got. Johnny yanked his wrist from her grasp, and the thump, thump of the swinging doors echoed behind him.
“Lord almighty, what’s all the ruckus? Did someone strike another silver vein? I sure hope they spend some of that wonderful money here.” The charming Southern drawl of Ginger Crawford, another of Cera’s serving girls, carried down from the top of the stairs leading to the saloon’s second floor. Fluffing her bright red curls, she swayed her generous hips with each step. Halfway down she stopped, her eyes widening. “What’s happened?”
“No time to explain,” Cera called over her shoulder as she headed for the saloon doors. “Sadie, go get Li from the kitchen. Ask him to talk with this girl while I’m gone.”
Isaac jumped up from the piano and hurried after her. “Cera, don’t be crazy. You could get hurt if you go out there.”
Cera shook her head at his fears. “You remember last year when the whites and Chinese got to fighting? All those buildings looted and burned during the fray? I’m not letting that happen to our saloon.”
“But I’m sure the police and firemen are already there,” Isaac persisted. “They’ll have things under control in no time.”
“I’ll be fine.” She gave an affectionate tug on his gray beard. “I just want to make sure nothing’s coming our way. I’ll be gone five minutes at the most.”
Out on the street, gas lamps cast a muted glow in the foggy night. Cera patted her skirt pocket, feeling the weight of the double-barreled Derringer that never left her side. She hesitated for a moment, shivering in the cool air, but then ran after the crowd headed in the direction of Ross Alley.