Chinaman's Chance

"Chen!" I screamed in despair. The other man made a grab for me. I dodged and kicked him in the nuts. He grunted and doubled over. I didn't wait to inflict any more injury. My only thought was to save my husband. I jumped into the water where I saw him fall.

I knew the water would be ice cold, but it was still a shock to my system. Besides that, a heavy current was pulling me away from the wharf and I was wearing a heavy woolen skirt that was pulling me down. I stripped out of the skirt as fast as I could. I broke the water's surface and took a look around for any sign of Chen. Nothing. I could hear that murdering bitch ordering her minions to jump in and bring me back. Apparently, they couldn't swim and were not anxious to obey her. I pulled off my shoes and swam.

I figured the current was pulling Chen the same as it was pulling me so I didn't try to fight it. Even so, after a short time, I started to feel fatigued and sluggish. If the cold bay water was doing that to me, it had to be doing the same thing to Chen especially with him being wounded. Wounded? Was I kidding myself? I had to accept that he was probably already dead from his bullet wound, or drowned. If that was the case, did I even want to continue living? It would be so easy to allow myself to succumb to exposure and hypothermia. It was happening anyway. Did I have the strength to make it back to shore even if I had the desire to live? Probably not from the way I was feeling, not just mentally, but physically too. I grabbed hold of a rope hanging from a small boat anchored in the bay. I rested a bit, delaying the inevitable. I expected to die that night. I didn't care.

"Come on aboard," a man's voice said. I was startled and didn't say anything. I could see his silhouette, but none of his features. He sounded elderly. "Suit yourself," he said when I didn't respond. "If you change your mind, here's a Jacob's ladder you can use." He dropped a rope ladder over the side. I found myself climbing it and flopping over onto the deck. I was handed a blanket and I wrapped myself up in it.

"Thank you," I said and the man nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Are you hungry?"

"No, um...is there any way you could get me back ashore?" I no longer wanted to die...at least not yet. There were some other people who were going to die before me. There weren't going to be any hesitation or regrets on my part either.

"Certainly, but you might want to wait until whoever took a shot at you decides you're not coming back." I wasn't surprised he heard the gunshot. Sound travels quite far over water.

"It was my husband they shot," I said and choked back a sob. "He fell into the water. I jumped in after him hoping to save him, but...." I fell silent trying to get control of my emotions. I didn't want to break down completely in front of this stranger. He handed me a bottle. The contents smelled like cheap whiskey. I took a swallow anyway. It tasted like cheap whiskey. "Thanks," I said and handed the bottle back.

"You're welcome. Is there any point in bringing in the authorities?"

"I don't think so. My husband was Chinese. You probably know how that would go."

"My condolences for your loss, ma'am. If you don't mind me saying so, you don't look the type to just accept things."

"I'm not," I responded.

We finally introduced ourselves. The man's name was Tom Logan. He had started his working life as a sailor. He jumped ship in San Francisco to try his luck in the gold fields. Not having much luck there, he returned to the sea as a merchant sailor until pushed aside by younger and stronger men. Winding up back in San Francisco, he turned to beach combing for spending money. His boat wasn't seaworthy, but still safe enough to live aboard. It was anchored off shore to discourage casual thieves. He ate what he could catch with his fishing rod. He never married, but he knew he had fathered at least two children overseas.

After a couple of hours, Tom rowed me to shore in a tiny dinghy. "What do I owe you?" I asked.

"Nothing," the man responded. "You're the best company I have had in years, Jennifer. I just wish it had been under better circumstances."

"Me, too," I said. I reached inside a money belt I had buckled to my waist and handed him a double eagle, 20 dollars gold. "This is for saving my life, Tom. Buy some better whiskey." He let me keep the blanket to cover myself.

I don't know how I did it, but I held myself together until getting back to Maggie's farm. There was a rainstorm on the walk back which made me all the more miserable. She must have been waiting up because the door opened the moment I knocked, her shotgun at the ready. Maggie knew something was wrong when she saw me.

"What happened? Where's Chen?"

"They killed him," I cried before collapsing into her arms and sobbing my heart out. I tried, but I couldn't get the story out without more crying. Maggie gave me a glass of water that must have contained a sedative because the next thing I knew it was daylight and I was lying in Maggie's bed. She was dozing in a chair beside me, but became alert when I moved.

"Chen was like a son to me," Maggie said. I could tell she had been crying.

"I'm sorry," I replied and started tearing up again.

"I want to know what happened, but only when you think you're ready."

I nodded and was able to get the full story out this time, from being confronted by the brothel bitch and her two thugs, my attempt to save my husband after he was shot and finally being rowed back to shore by Tom.

"So I almost lost both of you," Maggie said when I finished.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I wish it had been me instead of Chen."

"And I wish it was me instead of either one of you, but these are the cards we were dealt. Let's decide what we're going to do now instead of wishing we had a better result."

"I know what I'm going to do. I'm going to catch that bitch alone and torture her to death. Only I'm going to do it so slowly that it might take over a week for her to die."

Maggie volunteered to help in any way she could, including participating in the actual executions. That was my term. My deep hatred and need for revenge was so strong that I knew I needed to do any killing on my own. It was very personal. My hostess understood my reasons and agreed with me. The thin hope I had that Chen might have survived faded as the days passed with no word from him. No news of a Chinese man's body being discovered in the bay came to our attention either. I couldn't bear to sleep alone, so Maggie and I shared her bed. We didn't become lovers. It was too soon to even consider that. We were both in mourning.

Chen's locket portrait was ruined from my swim in the bay. Maggie was able to replace it. Chen and I had so many plans. Now I would have only memories.

I started training with small firearms and bladed weapons while Maggie paid visits to San Francisco to gather information on my targets. It wasn't just Madame Bordeaux and her thugs that I wanted to kill. There were also the two cops and the other men who raped me that first evening I was in the nineteenth century.

Finding out where the men lived was surprisingly easy. Maggie obtained their names because San Francisco published an excellent city directory for all businesses and residents. No telephone necessary. That was fortunate because in 1882 there were less than a thousand telephone subscribers in the entire city of more than 250,000 population. Most of those subscribers were businesses and professionals.

I was still in excellent physical condition. I just needed to brush up on the skills I trained for as a stunt performer, the better to visit death on these bastards. I had no second thoughts about killing now. The executions were merely tasks to carry out. I hadn't given much thought of what I would do after that if I survived. I had no illusions of invincibility because I knew my cause was just. The gods were not on my side. More likely they had cursed me and were now having a good laugh together on my account wherever the gods liked to hang out.

The intelligence Maggie gathered was useful, but tracking the targets' movements proved more difficult than we counted on. Most of those bastards tended to hang about the Barbary Coast and frequent establishments where it was unsafe for any woman to enter. I needed a man's help, but I didn't know any. Or did I? More importantly, could I rely on him? He knew of my situation. One night Maggie rented a dinghy and I rowed out to meet him after dark.

"Ahoy the boat," I called when I was about 20 yards out.

"Jennifer?"

"Aye, Captain," I responded. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted and welcome." As soon as I was aboard, Tom handed me a glass. "It's a much better whiskey than the last time we shared a drink, thanks to you." We clinked glasses and I swallowed. Yeah, it was a much better whiskey.

"What can I do for you? Have you begun your campaign of revenge?"

"I'm working on it, but I could use some help."

"From me?" Tom responded. "I don't know that I could. I'm just a washed up old seaman."

"It shouldn't be too hard," I said. "I need a pair of eyes and ears in places where a woman can't go without being propositioned or molested. It'll require drinking in saloons and consorting with prostitutes, but keeping alert all the same. I'll cover your expenses and pay you for your time. Do you think you can handle it?"

"I'm your man," Tom replied and saluted. I returned his salute. I half expected him to treat my offer as some kind of joke. He didn't even crack a smile. I felt a little more confident of my decision. I made sure Tom knew how to read and write. Then I gave him details on who I wanted followed and where they might be found. I also made sure he understood he wasn't to take action against any of these individuals. If anyone was going to get hurt or killed it was going to be me.

"You can depend on me, Jennifer. I'll follow those landlubbers into the jakes if I have to so you can get the information you need."

"Thanks, Tom. Just don't take any risks. They are dangerous men." I gave the man money, arranged a way to exchange messages and set up meetings, wished him luck and rowed myself back to shore. About a week later, I received a message for a face to face meeting. Tom handed me a report with their names, the addresses where they stayed, their usual haunts and the routes they took between home and work. He even listed his expenses.

"I cleaned myself up a bit and then checked into the seaman's hotel," Tom said. "That made it easier to get around."

"Good idea," I responded. He looked younger cleaned up.

"It was easier than I thought it would be. Men like to drink and when they drink they like to talk. They talk about things they should probably keep their mouths shut about. You're right. Those men are crooks and murderers and especially the lawmen. Did you know that police sergeant has a nice house in a nice neighborhood with a wife and family? He didn't get all that on a policeman's pay."

"I guess he has other sources of income," I observed. Being a crooked cop did have its benefits. I read through the report. It was short and thorough. I was very pleased. "You're good. You should become a private detective."

"Do you think so? I'll think about it. It sure pays better than anything I've ever done before."

"That reminds me. I owe you some more money."

"You don't owe me a thing," Tom said. "I mean it, too. Consider it a favor for saving my life."

"I didn't save your life," I responded. "You saved mine. Don't you remember?"

"A friend told me that last night one of those big steamships collided with my boat, smashing it to splinters. I don't think they even realized what happened because they didn't even slow down. I would have been aboard if you hadn't hired me."

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed. "I'm certainly glad you were not aboard, but now you're homeless."

"Don't worry about me, my dear. I'm a survivor."

"But I will worry." I replied, "and I will check on you often." Tom nodded and smiled. I smiled in return. I think it was the first time I felt like smiling since I lost Chen. I asked Tom to continue his investigation in case something new or unexpected came up. I thought I had enough information, but it was an excuse to give him more money. He accepted the additional funds reluctantly.

My first target's name was Abe Slocum. He was a local tough and provided muscle to anyone who needed his services. The word was that Madame Bordeaux had fired him because she blamed him for letting me get away. He was the one I kicked in the nuts. He was small fry as far as I was concerned, but I wanted to go after the big targets last. He lived in a rooming house near the Barbary Coast. He spent a lot of his evening hours in a nearby saloon before walking home. I picked a vacant lot where I knew he would walk by.

I spotted him walking my way, a little unsteady on his feet from too much drink. Well, I wasn't going to let that bother me. Who said this had to be a fair fight? Fortunately, there was no one else nearby. I was dressed in black like a movie ninja.

I called to him. "They're laughing at you, Abe. Did you know that?" He stopped and backed away, a little startled. He pulled a gun, but I was taking the risk that he wouldn't use it. I was money to him after all.

"Huh? They better not! Who's there? You don't know what you're talkin' about."

"They're saying you let a little Chinese girl kick you in the nuts and get away with it." He stepped forward, trying to spot me in the darkness.

"That's a dirty lie," he said raising his voice. "There's only two people coulda told you that, and I'll take care of both of them sooner or later."

"What about me?" I stepped into a patch of light briefly and let him see my face before stepping back out. The man staggered back a couple of steps.

"You drowned, didn't you?"

"Does it look like I drowned?" Did people think I was dead? There were certain advantages to people thinking I was dead.

"Well," he said, sounding pleased now. "It looks like that bitch will have to take back those words she said when I take you back to that whore's den." He holstered his weapon.

"I'm not so sure about that," I said. "It's more likely you'll get your nuts kicked in again." I could see Abe trying to survey the darkness, checking for traps or an ambush.

"You try that again and I just might forget there's a reward out there for you and just kill you."

"Well, that's not very nice," I replied. "See if I ever talk to you again." The galoot made a rush for me. I was counting on that. I braced myself against a large rock and raised a five-foot long wooden pole sharpened on the end. Essentially, it was my version of a medieval pike. Abe could not see it in the darkness or at least not in time to stop. His momentum allowed the pike to impale the man in the gut to about a third of the weapon's length. I smiled as Abe tried to speak. I wanted to hear his last words, but he just made some moaning sounds and then a wheeze as his last breath left him.

I had a little difficulty removing the pike from Abe's body, but I didn't want to leave it behind. I might want to use it again since it worked so well. Looting the body didn't yield anything worthwhile except his weapon and ammunition. I met Maggie at a prearranged place, jumped into the back of the buckboard and covered myself with a tarpaulin for the trip home.

I had to be a little more elaborate in preparing for Gus Brandt. He was the son of a bitch who shot Chen. He was still working for Madame Bordeaux and had a reputation for being trigger-happy so I wasn't going to take any chances. My only decent ambush site was a narrow blind alley in a well-traveled area of the Barbary Coast and it would have to be in the daytime. I would be seen departing the scene of my planned crime so I had to lay a false trail first. Working late at night, I had set up a camouflaged blind where I could watch the street. The camouflage was Maggie's artwork. Dressed as a workman, my friend surveyed the site and then painted a large canvas to blend in with the clapboard siding of the building. I propped an old ladder against one of the buildings, hoping to make the police think I had made my escape over the rooftops. In reality I wasn't going anywhere. Maggie painted some more camouflage. It looked like part of the building where the alley ended. I could hide there until everything calmed down. It was going to be very cramped, but I could fit in tiny spaces anyway. A bloodhound could find me. A human would have to know where to look. Maggie knew how to do that from painting stage sets for amateur productions as a student.

I took up my position before dawn broke and settled down to wait. Fortunately, Gus was a creature of habit. I was going to give him the same type of mercy he gave Chen, which was none at all. Gus might have caught the movement of a shotgun barrel drawing down on him out of nowhere because he flinched and started to draw his weapon. I pulled the trigger and the man's head disintegrated into bits of red goo and bone fragments. Double aught buckshot tends to have that type of effect. I knew I had some seconds before the curious got brave enough and came out from behind the cover they had taken to investigate. I tossed the shotgun down the alley toward the ladder I had propped up. I didn't know what kind of investigative techniques the police had in that era, but I was certain the shotgun was untraceable. I wedged my body into the hiding place and prepared to wait it out. My only regret was that Gus didn't know why he died.

Things went as I hoped. There was a lot of cursing and questions being asked. I imagined there was some amateur detecting going on because the shotgun was discovered and then someone deduced the ladder had been used as the perpetrator's means of escape because no one had been seen leaving the alley. At the same time, nobody had been seen escaping via the rooftops. They were doing a good job of messing up the crime scene. That was good for me. The police showed up and I recognized two of the voices. One of them belonged to Sergeant Sam Butler and the other belonged to Officer Mike Peters. Shit! It was fortunate that I wasn't able to draw my gun at the time because I would have come out of hiding just to finish them off, too. That would have finished me off also with all the witnesses around. The motherfuckers!

Even though Gus didn't have a face anymore, he did have some identification on him so that wasn't a problem for the police. They figured it was some kind of revenge killing instead of a robbery since he still had money on him. They knew he was a hired killer and anyone could have a motive for killing him. No shit? I didn't learn anything else because they moved out of my hearing range. They finally hauled off the body and things quieted down. I wasn't going to come out of hiding too soon though. I relaxed as well as I could manage and took a nap. It was well after dark before I cautiously emerged from my hiding place. It was a job well done as far as I was concerned. Still, there's no rest for the wicked as the saying goes. I had more murders to plan.

Late at night, I cased Sergeant Butler's home. Tom was right. It was located in a prosperous neighborhood of merchants and other businessmen. The area wasn't suitable for an ambush on him unless it was long range with a sniper rifle and I wanted to do something more up close and personal. I knew Butler wasn't at home at that time so I decided to get as close to the house as I could. I wondered if the cop was carousing over at Madame Bordeaux's at that moment. Did his wife know about her husband's vices? Did she care even if she did know? The house was dark and the family was probably asleep, the wife and two children. My goodness! One of the windows was unlatched. Didn't this family know about home security? If I wanted, I could have murdered the man's family as they slept. They were lucky I didn't have anything personal against them. I reached inside and grabbed a small picture frame off a side table. It looked like a family photograph, the proud parents and their children. I had an idea for its use. I went home after that.