Li Jun and the Iron Road Page 12

  “Never talk like that. Never!” she screamed at him.

  Wang Ma looked contrite. Little Tiger turned back to her work and pretended that all was well, but his words scared her.

  They packed their dynamite sticks into the holes they’d made, lit their fuses, and called up the now-familiar cry “Fire in the hole!” The alarm bell rang and the hoist men at the top pulled with all their might to bring them up. Seconds later, they scrambled over the ledge just as explosions from their charges filled the air with smoke and dust. They spent the day working together, making more than a dozen cuts in the cliff. For the first time, Little Tiger felt that her work mattered.

  As the sun set, she and Wang Ma wandered down the tracks with their grave markers.

  “This is such a lonely place,” said Little Tiger. “No families to mourn here, to set up altars and pray for the souls.”

  Wang Ma nodded solemnly.

  “Someone should write the names and make sure their bones get back to their families,” said Little Tiger.

  Wang Ma said, “I thought Bookman did that and then the bone cleaner comes and sends the bones home.”

  “But maybe that doesn’t happen all the time,” said Little Tiger. “Maybe one of us should, to be double sure.”

  Wang Ma agreed. “You do it. You know how to write.” He pointed to the new marker among them. “What does that one say?”

  “You can’t read at all?” asked Little Tiger.

  “No. I never had a chance to learn.”

  “This is Di Hong’s grave,” she explained.

  Wang Ma bowed three times to it.

  Little Tiger walked between the rows of markers, reading out the other names. “This one is named Wu Kai, this one Bai Juan, this one Shen Tao, and this one …”

  She stopped in her tracks and repeated the names aloud. Then, with a sudden realization, she turned and ran full steam back to the camp.

  “What’s wrong? What’s so important?” shouted Wang Ma, but Little Tiger was long gone.

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  A light bulb lit up in Little Tiger’s mind. Now she realized what the Bookman and the Controller were up to: they were cheating the company and lining their own pockets by keeping dead workers’ names on the payroll and taking the money for themselves. Her instincts had been right from the beginning about that conniving Irishman, the Controller — and about Bookman. He must be as bad as she first thought. He was taking advantage of the Chinese, just like his white bosses did. Well, she was determined to end that.

  She wanted to tell James about her realization, but he had taken his father off to Yale and she had no idea when he would be back. Who else could see that these crooks were exposed? Ah — Edgar, the engineer! He could. He was the right person to tell about their treachery. She ran to his work tent and waited until she was sure that he was alone, then shyly called in to him. He was surprised to see the boy and furtively covered up the papers on his desk.

  “I am sorry to bother you,” said Little Tiger, “But I think there’s something wrong with the ledger that Bookman keeps.”

  The engineer smiled at her as if she were daft. “Now what might that be?”

  Little Tiger spun her tale. “I saw the names Wu Kai, Bai Juan, Shen Tao.”

  “Oh?” said Edgar. “So you can read and write. How admirable for a tea boy who is now our number-one explosives expert.”

  She continued, “I think Bookman does not remove the names of dead workers from his payroll when they die, and when it is pay time he takes their pay for himself and splits it with the Controller.”

  Edgar gasped. He seemed flabbergasted by her allegation. “So you think the Controller is in on this too?”

  “I heard them. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think so.”

  Edgar scratched his chin. “My goodness! If this is true, it’s terrible. I will look into it, but right now both Mr. Nichol and James have gone down to Yale. You haven’t told this story to anyone, have you? Perhaps you mentioned it to James before he left?”

  “No, I only found out now,” she answered.

  Edgar ran his hands down his vest. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you bringing this to me. Don’t mention it to a soul until I look into it. We wouldn’t want to warn the guilty parties, would we? You can keep a secret, can’t you?”

  Little Tiger thought to herself, I have kept more secrets than you will ever know.

  Edgar patted her on the shoulder and she left. But she had an intuition that something was very, very wrong.

  A few days later, as the sun was rising above the eastern ridge, she heard the locomotive steam into the camp. Was it James bringing his father back from Yale? She wanted to see him, but things had changed between them and she had told the right person, Mr. Edgar, about the scam, so that could wait. And it did. It was several days until James came running after her as she headed toward the blasting site.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, gripping her sleeve.

  She yanked her arm away and ran along the track where the steam engine was sitting.

  “Please,” he called. “Let me explain.”

  He pulled her into the space between two railcars where no one could see them, took off his hat, and reached out to touch her face. She shied away from his touch and crossed her arms close to her chest.

  “Is your father all right?” she asked.

  “He’s a stubborn old mule, but yes, he’ll be fine.”

  Her lower lip trembled, fearing what he was about to say.

  “Melanie is gone,” he said. “Back to Victoria … forever.”

  He leaned forward to kiss her. “I want to be with you,” he whispered.

  Li Jun turned her head. What was that sound? Was it someone behind the railcar? No, must be her imagination — it had stopped. She looked into James’s eyes again.

  So much to take in, tearing her apart inside. She spoke carefully. “I want to be with you too, James, but we come from two different worlds. I will always be a strange Chinese girl and you will always be son of boss.”

  He shook his head vehemently. “But why does that matter? I need you. I want you and I don’t give a damn who else knows or what they think.”

  Little Tiger fought back tears. “Easy for you, easy for son of boss not to give a damn. Not easy for me.”

  “Who says we can’t make a life together?”

  “Who says?” She wiped away a tear. “Everyone.”

  “But I love you …”

  Little Tiger put her finger to his lips. “I love you too, James, and one day maybe world will be better, people will care about what they share, not what makes them different, but now, for our lives, you can not be part of my world and I will never be part of yours.”

  “The hell with never! I’m talking about how I feel for you right now.”

  “Right now? What about two months or two years from now?”

  James shook his head, confused.

  Little Tiger explained. “Will you send me packing the way Mr. Relic sent his almost-wife packing?”

  “No. I would never do that to you, I promise.”

  She shook her head sadly. “Mr. Relic was right. This way heartache lies. I do not want that for you, I care for you too much.”

  James reached for her. “Tiger …” he pleaded.

  “My name is Li Jun.”

  “What?” said James. “I don’t understand.”

  Her heart filled with sadness. “Li Jun is my real name. You don’t even know who I really am. And I don’t really know you.” She turned away.

  “Wait!” James called out but she ran off sobbing.

  ***

  At the blasting site, Powder was ladling out the noodles. He called Little Tiger over and spoke to her sternly. “You need to be careful out there today.”

  “I am always careful,” she replied. “I am fantastic with black powder, remember?”

  Powder looked at the kid with knowing eyes and pointed to his sleeve, pinned
up over the stump of his arm. “I was fantastic too,” he said grimly.

  Little Tiger wondered what prompted his warning.

  Powder came closer. “Is there a reason the Controller would sneak into your tent? Is there something there for him to find? Something secret? Maybe gambling money, or stolen supplies?”

  Little Tiger shook her head, confused. “I own nothing. Just my pay, and the Controller has no need for that bit of money.” Then she frowned. What about the family photo, with her a little girl, hidden in her rucksack?

  “What are you thinking about, kid?”

  “Just a picture of my family from China when I was very young.” She choked a bit. “When my mother was alive and my father was with us.”

  “The Controller is staggering around drunk, looking for Bookman and saying crazy things.”

  “What crazy things? “

  “Crazy things like ‘James brought a whore back from China.’”

  “A whore?” screamed Little Tiger. Then, catching herself before she gave away everything, she joked, “Where does he keep her? Under his bed? Ha! We’d all know if there was a Chinese woman in the camp. Every man on our crew would be after her!”

  Powder looked at her with pained eyes. “Okay, but warn Wang Ma that something is up. Maybe the Controller found something of his in the tent.”

  “Drink makes men crazy,” said Little Tiger, trying to suppress her fears. What had the Controller discovered? Had Edgar already confronted him with her accusations? Was he now trying to discredit her by planting something he could accuse her of stealing? Maybe he didn’t take something from the tent … maybe he put something there. But what, she couldn’t imagine. She looked around and saw Edgar giving instructions to the dynamite boss, who came over to her, grim-faced.

  “Finish up your noodles and get to work,” he snapped. Then he turned to Wang Ma. “Stay here. I need you up here on the ledge. The kid can go alone on this drop.”

  He grabbed Little Tiger’s arm and pushed her onto her swing chair. Near the hoist, she saw the Controller come up to Bookman and throw his arm around him like a friendly drunk, then hand him something. Little Tiger couldn’t see what it was, but it looked familiar. Bookman stared hard at it, then slipped it into his vest pocket and grabbed the Controller by the throat. But at that moment the hoist men started to lower her down the cliff and she could see nothing more.

  Suddenly she realized — that was her family photo! Slip-sliding down in her swing chair, she heard Bookman scream. What was he saying? She couldn’t hear over the creaking of the hoist and the roar of the river below. What were they doing up there on the ledge? Little Tiger sat stunned in her chair, knowing only one thing: something was terribly wrong and the faster she set her dynamite and lit the fuse, the faster she could call for the hoist men to bring her up. But to what? What would she face once she was on the ledge again?

  Furiously, she chipped away at the granite. But then she heard her name being called. She looked up and saw Bookman leaning over the edge.

  “Li Jun!” he screamed.

  What? It was the first time anyone had called her Li Jun for years and years. Was she so frightened that her imagination was taking over? No. Again Bookman called “Li Jun,” her real name. How could that be? In her confusion and fear only one answer came to her. Somehow he knew her father.

  “Hold tight, Li Jun,” he shouted. “We’re pulling you up.”

  She lit the fuse and held on to her side ropes with both hands, waiting to be hoisted up. But with a sudden jerk, the wooden seat of her chair lurched to one side and dropped beneath her. What was happening? It felt as if the wooden slats were falling apart, as if the ropes holding them together were unravelling strand by strand. She was left with only the rope connecting her to the hoist. She clutched it with both her hands and stared up, too terrified to look down to the river waiting for her below.

  “The ropes under your chair have been cut!” screamed Bookman. “I’m coming to get you.”

  And he leaped onto her rope and shimmied down. She held on, while her wooden seat dangled below her. It was no good to her now — hanging on to the hoist rope was her only hope. But her arms were giving out. They couldn’t support her weight much longer. Her grip started to slip, and she prepared for the worst, but now Bookman was just above her on the rope.

  “Give me your hand!” he shouted. “I’ll support you.”

  Leaning against him, she got a few inches up the rope until they were holding each other, the two of them hanging on to the one rope.

  Bookman looked scared. “You have to get higher. Climb up over me.”

  With her last bit of strength she placed her feet on Bookman’s shoulder and boosted herself above him on the rope.

  “Pull!” he screamed to the hoist men. The single rope groaned under the weight of the two of them. Inch by agonizing inch, they were lifted closer to the top of the cliff. She felt the furious beating of her heart and the tensing of the rope in her hands as she stood on Bookman’s shoulders.

  But at that moment the dynamite that she had set exploded. Little Tiger was thrown sideways like a rag doll, but she managed to hold on to her rope. Not Bookman. He was blown into the air, far off the cliff face. She watched as his body fell. Down, down it went and landed with a thud on a thin ledge far below.

  Now she heard James’s voice. Yes, that was him leaning over the ledge, terror in his eyes, ordering the hoist men to keep pulling her up.

  “No,” she called. “Send me down! Send me down!”

  James stared at her, then called to the hoist men, “Do it!”

  Slowly they released the winch so that Little Tiger could land on the ledge beside Bookman’s limp body. She kneeled beside him. He was almost unconscious, badly wounded, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth onto the rocky ledge. She knew he was dying but she had to get to the truth and he was the only one who knew it. She grabbed hold of his shoulders with steely intensity.

  “How do you know my real name? You must know where my father is. Tell me! The man you killed … was he my father?”

  Bookman stared at her. He could hardly breathe and his eyes were glassy.

  “Forgive me. I did not recognize my own daughter.” He coughed up blood and gathered his last strength. His hand trembling, he reached into his vest pocket, pulled out the family picture, and handed it to her. “They told me you and your mother were dead. My child, can you forgive me?”

  Li Jun stared at the familiar faces and then at Bookman. Yes, he was her father, in spite of his terrible scar! He had been here with her all this time and she hadn’t known.

  His eyes closed and his head rolled back. Li Jun lifted her head to the skies and uttered a terrible silent scream. She brought the photo up against her face, then collapsed with sobs that wracked her whole body.

  Chapter

  Fourteen

  Li Jun stuffed the photograph into her rucksack and watched as the hoistmen lifted Bookman’s battered body to the surface. Then they lowered a chair for her.

  As she ascended the mountainside, she replayed Bookman’s death over and over in her mind. She heard him call her name — Li Jun! How brave he had been to crawl down the rope to save her. She thought of his dying words, the pain in his eyes when he realized that he hadn’t recognized his own daughter. But this had been no accident. Someone had cut the ropes under her chair. The question was who? And why?

  When she got to the top, she knelt beside Bookman’s body and held his hand. She had been searching all this time for her father and he had been right beside her. She collapsed on his chest and wept, then took out the photograph and ran her fingers over her father’s face — the face of the man who became Bookman, scarred and bitter. She had found her father just in time to say goodbye to him.

  Powder came to her side. He stared at the picture in her hand. “Is that Bookman’s family? Hmm. I always thought he was a loner.”

  Li Jun nodded, but at first she didn’t trust herself to speak. How many of
the crew had heard Bookman cry out the name Li Jun and would guess her secret? Edgar, the Controller, and James — they all knew for certain. But how many others did? How many had seen Little Tiger respond to a girl’s name, had witnessed Bookman rescue her on the cliff face? Probably many of them. There was no way now that she could stay on at the camp.

  Powder shook his head sadly, watching the men lift the stretcher bearing Bookman’s body. “Another man lost to the mountain.”

  When his body passed them, Li Jun and Powder both bowed in respect. Without a word, the entire crew followed their example.

  “Powder, I have to tell you a secret. You must promise not to tell a soul.”

  He looked puzzled and she explained — she was the baby in the tintype photo and Li Man was her father.

  “But this baby is a girl!” sputtered Powder.

  “Yes,” said Li Jun. “The only way I could find my fath­er on Gold Mountain was to come disguised as a boy.”

  Powder scratched his head and examined her face with new eyes. “I often thought you were too pretty for a boy, but you were still a damn good worker.”

  “Keep my secret, please? At least until my father is buried.”

  “Of course,” he said, and poked her arm. “You’re still Little Tiger to me.”

  Li Jun smiled and looked around for James. There he was, standing beside the Controller. She ran to him.

  “Thank God, you’re safe,” he said. “I heard Bookman call ‘Li Jun’ and I knew there was a big problem.”

  She stared hard at the Controller, cold as ice. “Why was Bookman attacking you on the ledge?”

  The Controller stood mute, shuffling his feet, avoiding her eyes. James grabbed him by the collar and shouted, “Answer! A man’s dead here. What do you know about it?”

  “Wasn’t my idea!” said the Controller. “We were after her.”

  Li Jun gasped and covered her mouth. James shook the Controller’s shoulders till his head whipped back and forth. “You almost killed her, you little bastard!”