THE IMPERIAL ENGINEER (43 page)

"Let me take a look at your eyes," he said, holding a lamp high. "Hmmm." He
peered closely at Tony's eyes, so close he was little more than a tan-and-gray blur. "Pupils
look all right. But if you feel dizzy or light-headed anytime in the next day or two, you
come see me. You hit that rock floor pretty hard when you fell. Too bad it didn't knock
some sense into you." He removed the bandage around Tony's ribs. "Good, the bleeding's
stopped."

Tony craned his neck, trying to see the damage, but the doctor had replaced the
bandage. "How bad?"

"Not as bad as it could have been, if he'd hit you square. You've got a cracked rib
and an ugly tear where the bullet slid along the bone. Just be happy he was using a
handgun." Finished tying the strips that held the bandage snug, he said, "Are you up to
this?"

"Believe me, Doctor, I'd rather stay in this bed than go anywhere right now." Tony
stood and tested his balance. Better. As long as he didn't turn his head too rapidly, he
should be fine. "But I'd better go talk to Mr. Yu."

Alone again, he took a wide stance and closed his eyes. Breathing to his belly, he
calmed his mind and reached for strength. In a few moments, he felt it flood him, until his
legs were firm and his mind clear. He performed a quick Qigong routine, then opened the
door. "I'm ready," he said.

* * * *

Lulu could hear the deputy's snores when she pressed her ear to the door.
Good. He's sound asleep.
She had already worked loose the nails he'd pounded
into the window frame. Fortunately he'd paid attention when she insisted he should drive
them no more than halfway in.

If only the vandal hadn't destroyed her britches along with everything else. Tony's
really didn't fit. If she tried to walk anywhere in them, they'd trip her up.

She pulled her skirt between her legs and tucked it into her waistband. The wool
socks she'd found among Tony's clothing covered the legs of her Union suit, and the dark
shawl, its ends knotted at her back, held the too-big, ragged sweater close to her body.
She'd be cold if she had to stand still for long, but the outlandish getup would let her move
freely.

She listened a bit longer, making sure Deputy Goode was truly asleep. When she
was satisfied, she tiptoed across the room to where she'd leaned the shotgun beside the
window. Easing the lower sash up, she slipped out, gun in hand. Again she paused to
listen. Something was happening down toward Chinatown. A mob? Had the local
troublemakers decided to take the law into their own hands? "I wouldn't be surprised," she
muttered.

Her breath formed an icy cloud before her face as she crossed the small back yard
and emerged onto Second Street from behind the bare lilac bushes.
If only there was a
moon
, she grumbled silently, as she all but tripped over something. Again she paused,
listened. Both sides of the duplex house were quiet. Soft light shone though the sheet
stretched over the parlor window of her half, but Mrs. Graham's half was completely dark.
Staying close to the edge of the street, she headed south, hoping that the house where Tony
was belonged to Dr. Lewis. She had no idea where the other doctors kept their offices.

The noise from Chinatown grew fainter as she walked north. Chinatown sat lower
than Main Street, and the slope, combined with the tall buildings downtown, effectively
cut off the worst of the racket. All she could hear was the deep, formless snarl of anger and
fear.

She was across the street from the doctor's house when the door opened and the
sheriff emerged. "I'll be back to get him in a while," he called to someone inside. "You get
him ready to go."

She had a terrible suspicion he referred to Tony. What were they going to do with
her husband? Sacrifice him to a mob?

How did they discover he is Chinese?

She waited until the sheriff was out of sight, then crossed the street and crept
along the side of the house. At each window, she halted and tried to peer inside.

The first was covered by a roller blind, so all she could see was a narrow strip of
the room. Enough to tell it was an office, faintly illuminated by light from an open door. It
was unoccupied, unless someone was sitting in the dark. The next window was uncovered,
but since it gave onto a dark room, she could see nothing beyond a pale outline of a
four-poster bed.

There was a picket fence across the lot, attached to the back corner of the house. It
had a gate, but Lulu chose to climb it. In her experience, gates always squeaked. With a
little effort and having acquired only one splinter, she got to the other side and into the
back yard. She rounded the corner and eased along the back wall, past a screened porch
that undoubtedly gave off the kitchen. As she approached the next window, a light went on
inside. Lulu pressed herself against the siding and winced when the shotgun barrel scraped
the wood. Holding her breath, she waited for someone to come and check, but after a while
decided no one had heard, or if they had, they'd ignored it.

She eased up to the edge of the window and looked inside. All she could see was
the foot of a bed and a man standing at its foot. Because all that was visible was his
shoulder and arm, she couldn't be sure if he was the doctor or the sheriff. Squatting, she
duckwalked under the window and rose again on the other side. Once more she peeked
around the edge of the window.

Yes!
There was Tony, sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed. The
other man was Dr. Lewis. Both men's voices came only faintly to her ears. After a while,
the doctor left, pulling the door shut behind himself.

Tony looked awful. Deep lines bracketed his mouth. As she watched, he touched
the back of his head, gingerly, as if it hurt. About to tap on the window, she hesitated when
he got to his feet. He moved with caution and a certain clumsiness, unlike his usual catlike
grace.

The fool! Where did he think he was going?

She watched until he left the room, then dashed back the way she'd come, no
longer caring whether someone heard her or not. The fence slowed her briefly when one of
the pickets caught on her skirt and pulled it free of her waistband. She let it hang, because
she'd heard the front door open.

The sheriff was just coming up the walk when she got to the corner. She ducked
back, out of sight.

"You about ready?" she heard him say.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Tony replied. His voice was steady and strong. Perhaps
he wasn't hurt as badly as she'd feared.

Never mind. She was going to make sure he stayed out of trouble.

Lulu kept half a block behind the two men as they walked south along Main.
When they turned into Silver Street, a narrow, willow-lined lane, she hurried to catch up.
Afraid she'd lose them in the dark, she all but trod on their heels. Being silent was no
longer an issue, for the crowd noise had increased as they drew nearer. It was filled with
anger and a wordless warning of violence to come. She could hear individual voices, but
not the words they yelled. Now and then a loud report, either a pistol shot or a firecracker,
punctuated the rumble.

Bitter memories all but overwhelmed her. So had the mob of Klansmen spoken
with one enraged, dangerous voice as they gathered before Reverend Thomas's house.

Would tonight's outcome be the same?

When Tony and the sheriff stepped into the flickering light of the many torches,
she slipped behind a tangle of leafless willows. Half a dozen men with rifles stood in the
middle of River Road, their backs to the Chinese barricade. Protecting the Chinese? They
must be. Afraid to draw attention to herself, she stayed where she was and fumed.

The sheriff called out. "Fun's over boys. Go on home now, and let me settle
this."

Catcalls answered him. A rock clattered on the icy road by his feet. Lulu stepped
out of her hiding place far enough that she could see the crowd of men filling the street
between where the sheriff stood and the edge of town. No, not a crowd, a mob, for the
angry roar came from the men comprising it.

She recognized several faces in the mob, although she could put names to only a
few, idlers and layabouts mostly, who were often to be found sitting on the benches in
front of one or another saloon. They carried torches, pitchforks, clubs, and coils of rope.
One man in the front held a can of coal oil.

She had no doubt what he intended it for.

Piled diagonally across the intersection, the barricade was made up of furniture,
logs, turned-over carts, and debris. Behind it were the Chinese. They carried torches,
pitchforks, and clubs, but they stood quietly. Waiting.

The sheriff said something to Tony, then turned to face the mob of
townspeople.

Tony walked toward the barricade.

An opening was made between two carts, and he disappeared into it.

It is by the goodness of God that in our country we have those three unspeakably
precious things: freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, and the prudence never to
practice either of them.

Mark Twain

~~~

Tony felt the pressure of a hundred angry glares upon his back as he walked to the
barricade. When it opened before him, he resisted the urge to move faster, and when it
closed behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief. There were far too many rifles in that
crowd.

Mr. Yu stepped forward and greeted him.

He bowed. "You summoned me?"

"I regret we must impose on your goodwill," Mr. Yu said. "Only in the greatest
necessity would we do so."

"It is of no import. You have been obliging when I requested assistance. I am
merely repaying the kindness."

"We have prepared a statement to be presented to the rulers of this town. If you
would be so kind as to read it and ascertain it contains the words we wish to say, we would
be eternally in your debt." A bespectacled man handed Mr. Yu a paper, which he in turn
gave to Tony.

Opening it, he saw it was covered with Chinese characters.
Well,
hell!

"As you can see, we have not yet translated it into English. We hoped--"

"Mr. Yu, I am willing to assist you as much as I can." Even as he spoke the words,
Tony realized they were true. The Chinese community had helped him over and above the
assistance he'd asked for. They had welcomed him as one of them--at least Mr. Yu had--yet
they had kept his guilty secret. "I'm willing to help," he repeated, "but I cannot read this. I
never learned."

"Ah. Unfortunate. Perhaps if we spoke the words, you would be kind enough then
to write them down."

"Certainly. Is there somewhere we can go to sit down?"

Shortly he was ensconced at a table in a small room. Scrolls and packets of paper
were piled neatly on shelves along one wall, and the smell of cooking reminded him he
hadn't had a bite since dinner. At least twelve hours ago. "I'm ready," he said, sternly
telling his belly to be patient. "Tell me what you wish to say."

The declaration was a simple one, a reiteration of their previous statement. The
Chinese of Wood River communities had a right to stay in the homes they had made for
themselves and had no intention of leaving. They had him list the work they did and the
property they owned. "Are you sure you want to put valuations on these buildings?" he
said. "Wasn't there already an accusation you'd underpaid your property taxes?"

"Perhaps we have not paid taxes for as much as the buildings are worth. We did
not know their true value, only what a person not Chinese would offer us for them." He
cast a quick glance at an older man who stood in the shadows. "We have since been
advised what our property is worth."

Tony listed the numbers without further comment, wondering if they'd gotten
honest advice.

He worked for an hour and more. When he lay down his pen at last, he saw that
half a dozen older men were crowded into the room. "Shall I read it?"

"In English, if you please, very slowly. I will translate," the fellow with spectacles
said.

When he'd done reading, the men in the room all nodded. "It is good," Mr. Yu said
after looking around. "May we prevail upon you to carry it to the office of the newspaper
tomorrow?"

"To the newspaper? I thought you wanted to give it to the sheriff."

"The sheriff will treat us fairly, unless he is ordered to do otherwise by those who
govern this place. Thus far they have restrained themselves."

"Let's hope they keep on doing it," Tony said. When he saw the puzzled looks on
several faces, he realized he'd spoken in English. He repeated his words in Chinese.

Everyone nodded again. "It is to be devoutly desired," Mr. Yu agreed. "Are you
ready to depart?"

"More than," Tony told him, feeling the results of a gunshot, a lump on the head,
and a week of too-short nights.

When he emerged from the barricade, he saw that the crowd had dispersed while
he'd been in Chinatown. The sheriff was waiting for him, accompanied by a tall man with a
rifle over his arm. And a woman.

"Lulu?"

She couldn't decide whether to kiss him or kick him. At the very least, she was
going to tear a strip from his hide for risking his fool neck.

"What the devil are you doing here?"

Caught with her mouth open, she could only gape.

The sheriff answered for her. "She followed us. You'd no more than gone inside
when she came busting out of the brush, waving that shotgun around and yelling for us to
stop you."

"Do you blame me? Sending that deputy to tell me my husband had been shot,
then locking me up so I couldn't find out if he was alive or dead!" She glared at the sheriff,
then at Tony. "What are you laughing at?"

"You." He put his arms around her. "Were you really worried about me,
Lulu?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I was scared stiff. And that fool deputy kept saying, 'He's
just fine and dandy,' until I thought I'd scream. So I decided to see for myself."