Gold Mountain (31 page)

I remembered that day, too, Colin’s hand on my shoulder staking a claim and my unhappiness with the action. Was it that early gesture that had cooled my growing fondness for him? Now was not the time to consider it, but I thought Jake Pandora might have unknowingly put his finger on an answer for which I’d been searching. I shook my head slightly to banish those thoughts and changed the subject.

“I will keep my eyes and ears open at the Gallaghers’ but I hardly think it likely that a social evening will be the forum for Ralph Gallagher to discuss his illegal or immoral pastimes.”

“You think he has immoral pastimes, then?”

I gave the question more serious thought than I believe Jake expected and finally replied, “Ralph Gallagher is a man difficult to read. I admit he surprised me by flirting with me, but I don’t see him as a man who would be involved in anything that didn’t promise monetary benefit. I don’t see him doing anything for the pure pleasure of it.”

“An unfortunate man then. Pure pleasure has its place.” I drew the line at pursuing his words and set my coffee cup down to gather up my gloves and bag.

“You would know about that, I’m sure, but at the risk of appearing uninterested in your opinion, is there anything more specific you can tell me about Ralph Gallagher that would help me know what to pay attention to?”

“If I’m right, Gallagher uses a code name for his smuggling enterprise. He calls it his Gold Mountain Interest, a play on a banking term that says something about the kind of man he is.”

“Gold Mountain is what the Chinese call California.
Gam saan
, they say. There’s a folk song I’ve heard in the villages.” I slipped into the sing-song rhythms of the music and sang the English words in a low voice, “If you have a daughter, marry her quickly to a traveler to Gold Mountain / For when he gets off the boat, he will bring hundreds of pieces of silver.”

“The Greeks have a similar song about the promise of California,” Jake told me. “Too bad it’s not always true.” I thought of Suey Wah and Mae Tao, Fei Yen and Lu Chu, and all the girls who had come to America full of dreams for a hopeful future.

“Yes.”

Jake reached across the little table to flick his index finger across my cheek. “Chin up, Miss Hudson. You can’t change the past, but the future is always hopeful.”

I stood and responded with a quick smile, “It is, isn’t it?” To Spiro, now hovering in the doorway, I called, “Thank you, Spiro. Everything was superb. You’re a genius.”

He nodded in agreement, satisfied that at least two of us recognized that universal truth. “You have Jacobi bring you back soon, Miss. You appreciate greatness. You are always welcome.”

Jake laughed out loud at the comment as we started to walk back toward the transport office. When we drew closer to our destination, I saw with unspoken regret that Casey’s cab waited at the corner.

“Listen, Dinah,” Jake said abruptly as he helped me into the cab, “don’t do anything foolish when you visit the Gallaghers. Could you just be quiet and listen for a change?”

“Thank you for that, Jake. Are you saying I talk too much?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Exactly. Only don’t underestimate the kind of men and the kind of money that are involved in the slave trade. Don’t take any of it lightly. These are men who deal in children without a second thought. They’re prepared to risk a great deal for lucrative earnings, and they’d easily sacrifice anyone who threatened their commerce or their anonymity. Your Miss Cameron remains unmolested because of the stature and the number of the people who support her and because she has learned how to use reticence to her advantage, but you are not at her level and her backing alone is not enough to protect you. Will you please remember all that and be careful? Just be careful.”

I recognized his
please
for the concession it was and answered humbly, “I will. I promise.”

“All right.”

He seemed taken aback at my meek acquiescence and stepped away from the cab, gave a quick nod to Casey, and walked away without another word. I watched his retreating back before settling into the seat as Casey jerked the cab forward. The return to Grove Street passed quickly because I spent the whole trip deep in thought. About Jake Pandora and Colin O’Connor and Ralph Gallagher. About expectations and revelations and surprises. About life and how sometimes it took a direction a person didn’t expect and could never have predicted.

Chapter Eleven

T
he invitation to the Gallaghers’ dinner party had come only the week before, and my poor sister, unsure how I would accept the prospect of another evening spent in Irene Gallagher’s company, shared it with her husband before she broached the subject to me. Ruth tried for a casual tone that was not convincing, and I felt an immediate pang of conscience at causing my sister discomfort at what ordinarily would have been a welcome and exciting prospect for her.

“You’re named in the invitation specifically,” Ruth told me, holding the ivory card of fine vellum in front of her. “Irene handwrote a small note.
Be sure to bring the
charming Miss Hudson
, it says. Of course if you can’t bear the idea, we’ll all plead a prior engagement.”

“And ruin Martin’s chances for advancement? I wouldn’t think of it. Poor Ruthie, do you fear I will break down and run shrieking out of the Gallaghers’ fine dining room the same way I fled the summer cotillion? I promise I won’t. I think I’ve come to grips with the Irene Gallaghers of this world, and I guarantee to be on my best behavior. I’m sorry my bad temper has the ability to spoil your happiness.” I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and added with a smile, “But will our budget support new gowns?”

“I’ve already thought about that. I’m going to refurbish old gowns and before you get worried that I’ll embarrass you, come see what I’ve found in the latest McCall’s. I admit that at first I was a little uncertain about proper attire for a dinner party, but the magazine shows just the right style.”

“I trust you completely and would never dream of doubting your instinct for couture,” I laughingly replied and allowed myself to be pulled along to Ruth’s sewing room.

Before my afternoon with Jake Pandora, I had anticipated the evening at the Gallaghers’ Nob Hill mansion with only a stoic sense of duty, something I had to do for my sister and brother-in-law, something to be endured. But because of Jake’s suspicion about Ralph Gallagher, I actually looked forward to the evening as an opportunity to rejuvenate the search for Mae Tao. The few leads I had received about her whereabouts had all turned out to be dead ends, and I hoped that the evening held the promise of progress in my search for the girl I had abandoned so cavalierly months before. As unlikely as the idea was, my conscience found some comfort believing that an evening with the Gallaghers held the potential for unraveling the child’s disappearance. I knew in an objective way that Mae Tao might be lost forever in the impenetrable maze that was Chinatown, but I was nowhere near admitting that fact, even—especially—to myself.

Martin was as excited as Ruth about the evening and endeared himself to me with a quiet thank you as we waited in the hallway for the carriage he’d ordered to carry us to the party. “I know you found Irene Gallagher difficult, Dinah, and I can’t say I blame you. I thought she lacked good manners myself, and you know I don’t usually notice that kind of thing.” He gave me a quick smile, making a joke at his own expense, which I found even more endearing. “So thank you for agreeing to attend. Mr. Gallagher made it clear that I wasn’t to come without you. You seem to have caught his fancy.” Martin made the comment with complete innocence, and it was only my depraved and suspicious mind that attributed either a licentious or a corrupt reason for Mr. Gallagher’s interest in me. Time would tell, I thought with satisfaction, and found myself looking forward to the seemingly unlimited prospects of the evening with happy anticipation.

The magnificence of the exterior of the Gallaghers’ mansion dimmed before the absolute and unending grandeur of its interior. Servants took our wraps from us in the ornate hallway and when we entered the high-ceilinged drawing room ablaze with lights, Ruth’s gasp was audible.

“How beautiful, Irene!” my sister exclaimed. “How very beautiful this room is!” Long and ornately framed mirrors bounced the light all over the room, set off the sparkling thread in the rich gold drapes, and illuminated the rich colors of a tapestry that covered one wall. To Irene Gallagher’s credit, she remained properly modest and restrained in the face of her guests’ admiration. She smiled with no trace of smugness in her expression and accepted compliments with just the right amount of modesty. Once in a while I saw her gaze slide to her husband, and I noticed that he was never too far away from her. If I’d had to guess, I would have said she was working under very specific instructions from her husband, and he had decided to stay close enough to be sure she did not step over any lines of propriety or good taste.

At dinner I sat next to Eugene Schmitz—“Handsome Gene” as I’d heard him called—an odd choice for Ralph Gallagher’s guest list because of Schmitz’s union activities. I recalled Gallagher’s unequivocal opinion of what he termed the “socialist poison” of labor unions and the fact that the two men seemed on such convivial terms made me wonder what activities they could possibly have in common. On my other side sat Ben Ali Haggin, whose block-long mansion also on Nob Hill I recalled staring at in amazement in my earlier tour of the area. The size of Mr. Haggin’s stables was legendary and although he was a perfect gentleman, as soon as he discovered that I didn’t have one jot of equestrian knowledge, interest, or talent, he directed most of his attention to the woman on his right.

“You’re quite the heroine,” Schmitz commented during the meal, bringing up the old refrain, but this time the words did not have the power to make me uncomfortable.

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Mr. Schmitz. Despite the embellishment of rumor, I spent most of my time in Pekin huddled in a small room, hot and hungry along with a crowd of people all similarly situated. Have you ever been to China?”

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure. Surely with your unfortunate memories you don’t recommend the place for travel?”

“Like every country on the globe, China is made up of some very bad and some very good people. San Francisco, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

As white-gloved servants whisked away our dishes, Schmitz leaned back comfortably in his chair. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say the young heroine, daughter of missionaries and defender of the helpless, possesses a cynical streak.”

“A foot wide and a mile long,” I agreed cheerfully. “Do you think it’s unwarranted?”

As delicate goblets of fruit were placed before us, Schmitz shifted in his chair so he could look more directly at me. “I don’t know if it’s very becoming in a young woman of good breeding, but perhaps your past experiences would account for a suspicious nature.” I believe he meant his words to tease and I allowed the intention.

“How understanding of you, Mr. Schmitz.” We ate our iced fruit in silence, and then I asked casually, “Have you known the Gallaghers very long?”

“I’ve had several business dealings with Gallagher.”

“Ah, the world of commerce. Always so impossible for my female mind to grasp. You have an interest in banking then?”

“Not in banking exactly.”

“But from what you said, I thought—well, there you see how I tend to simplify the complicated world of business. Obviously, Mr. Gallagher must have commercial interests outside of banking.”

“Ralph Gallagher is a successful man, Miss Hudson, and like all successful men, he has diversified interests.” Reverting to a former topic, he said, “I understand you speak the Chinese language like a native.”

“I have an ear for languages but how did you know that?”

Schmitz appeared discomfited for just a moment, then stated, “My wife must have mentioned it. She and Irene are friends. Or she may have heard your sister say something to that effect because they work together on some charitable board. I admit the Asian language sounds like gibberish to me.”

“It did to me at first, too, but the Chinese language has an ambiguity to it that I enjoy. So much of its meaning is hidden beneath the surface. It’s really full of surprises.” For no reason I could identify, my words caused Eugene Schmitz to lose his smile.

“Surprises are not always welcome, Miss Hudson,” was all he had time to say before Ralph Gallagher stood and invited all his guests to gather once more in the drawing room for conversation and digestifs.

I stood and made my way to Ruth’s side. “Are you feeling all right?” I asked her. “You look a little flushed.”

“I’m just warm.”

“Shall I get Martin? We could leave, Ruthie, and no one would hold it against a woman in your condition.”

“A woman in my condition does not get out all that often,” Ruth responded, “and I intend to stay as long as I possibly can. I feel fine. But I see Irene Gallagher headed in our direction so you’d better make your escape now before you lose the opportunity.”

I took Ruth’s suggestion to heart and drifted with the other company into the glowing drawing room where servants holding silver trays of fine crystal glasses moved noiselessly among the guests offering brandy to the men and mellow Portugese Madeira to the women. I would have preferred the former but sipped the Madeira and pretended to enjoy it.