just as I was hired to do.” He leaned toward me. “Time for you to run along home. Before you step in something . . . nasty.”
He wanted me out of this town—he wanted me gone and bad. But why? If he already had the box, had already turned it over to . . . who? I was of no use to him. He was setting me up, this Wilkie, but for what, I didn’t know. I knew my pa wasn’t a killer, but Wilkie. . . I took a chance. “Pa didn’t commit that murder. He didn’t kill that man Black. You did.”
Wilkie eyed me for a minute. “Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. Either way, you’ll never prove it.”
I was right. Kula Baker has a good sixth sense. “Watch me.” Brave words, backed by nothing but air.
He shook his head. “You have no idea what you’ve stepped into here, girl. This is bigger than you; there are things you don’t understand. Why, this is even bigger than me. Your pa’s in the way, and he’s a problem. I solve problems.”
What Miss Everts had said—“things you don’t understand”—echoed in what he said. “I don’t care. I’ll find a way to bring you to justice. You’ll see.” My legs shook; my strength was all gone to my brave words.
“Now, I’m sorry you feel that way. And so it looks like we got us another problem. You keep meddling where you don’t belong.” He took a step closer again. I clenched my fists and set my legs to run. “But we can fix that.”
A rush of fear ran up my spine. “Get away from me.” I turned to dart off, but he was too fast for me. His hand gripped my wrist hard, twisting it.
I pulled, but he tightened his hold. “Let me go!”
I tried to wrench my wrist from his grasp. A movement behind Wilkie caught my eye, and I sucked in air: Min stepped from a doorway and moved swiftly toward us.
Wilkie heard her coming and turned, letting me go, leaving me so he could strike out at her. “I told you to leave!” He raised his fist at her.
I edged back away from them even as I cried, “Don’t!”
Min, as fast as a cat, moved to Wilkie and dropped, right there in the alley, to her knees and then facedown, placing her forehead on the toe of his boot. I gasped, my hand covering my mouth.
Wilkie stood still, his hand raised to strike her, and Min lay prostrate at his feet, clutching his foot, a sacrifice in the filth of the alley. My heart pounded. I knew I should run for safety, but I couldn’t leave Min . . .
And then, for an instant, an expression crossed Wilkie’s face that I wouldn’t believe, couldn’t believe—something like affection, a softening of his features. But it was fleeting, and it vanished as he lifted his foot away from her, his rough gesture kicking her in the face, causing her to whimper. “Go on,” he said to her, his voice quiet. “Get out.”
She didn’t move. I crept backward toward the busy avenue. He reached down and yanked Min to her feet. As he lifted her, our eyes met, and I saw in hers a plea, but not for her. She was trying to tell me to leave, to get away, that I couldn’t save her, she was already lost. Telling me to save myself, yes, get away. I backed toward the street as Wilkie pulled Min down the alley in the other direction. He lifted his chin to me, his eyes narrowed. “We’ll finish this later.”
I turned and made for the corner.
She was his. He owned her, or so he thought. I shuddered to think of it. She was like me, an outsider, a foreigner, judged by how she looked and not by who she was. She was Chinese, and that was enough to allow Wilkie to think that he owned her and could do as he please. That he might have felt a shade of fondness for her didn’t matter to me.
I stopped and looked back. The slap of Min’s feet echoed as she tripped and stumbled on the cobbles, as Wilkie pulled her away. It made me want to retch. I vowed, there and then, that I would save Min from Snake-eyes Wilkie. I wouldn’t care at what cost.
Chapter FIFTEEN
April 3, 1906
“Of course I was in love with little
He wanted me out of this town—he wanted me gone and bad. But why? If he already had the box, had already turned it over to . . . who? I was of no use to him. He was setting me up, this Wilkie, but for what, I didn’t know. I knew my pa wasn’t a killer, but Wilkie. . . I took a chance. “Pa didn’t commit that murder. He didn’t kill that man Black. You did.”
Wilkie eyed me for a minute. “Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t. Either way, you’ll never prove it.”
I was right. Kula Baker has a good sixth sense. “Watch me.” Brave words, backed by nothing but air.
He shook his head. “You have no idea what you’ve stepped into here, girl. This is bigger than you; there are things you don’t understand. Why, this is even bigger than me. Your pa’s in the way, and he’s a problem. I solve problems.”
What Miss Everts had said—“things you don’t understand”—echoed in what he said. “I don’t care. I’ll find a way to bring you to justice. You’ll see.” My legs shook; my strength was all gone to my brave words.
“Now, I’m sorry you feel that way. And so it looks like we got us another problem. You keep meddling where you don’t belong.” He took a step closer again. I clenched my fists and set my legs to run. “But we can fix that.”
A rush of fear ran up my spine. “Get away from me.” I turned to dart off, but he was too fast for me. His hand gripped my wrist hard, twisting it.
I pulled, but he tightened his hold. “Let me go!”
I tried to wrench my wrist from his grasp. A movement behind Wilkie caught my eye, and I sucked in air: Min stepped from a doorway and moved swiftly toward us.
Wilkie heard her coming and turned, letting me go, leaving me so he could strike out at her. “I told you to leave!” He raised his fist at her.
I edged back away from them even as I cried, “Don’t!”
Min, as fast as a cat, moved to Wilkie and dropped, right there in the alley, to her knees and then facedown, placing her forehead on the toe of his boot. I gasped, my hand covering my mouth.
Wilkie stood still, his hand raised to strike her, and Min lay prostrate at his feet, clutching his foot, a sacrifice in the filth of the alley. My heart pounded. I knew I should run for safety, but I couldn’t leave Min . . .
And then, for an instant, an expression crossed Wilkie’s face that I wouldn’t believe, couldn’t believe—something like affection, a softening of his features. But it was fleeting, and it vanished as he lifted his foot away from her, his rough gesture kicking her in the face, causing her to whimper. “Go on,” he said to her, his voice quiet. “Get out.”
She didn’t move. I crept backward toward the busy avenue. He reached down and yanked Min to her feet. As he lifted her, our eyes met, and I saw in hers a plea, but not for her. She was trying to tell me to leave, to get away, that I couldn’t save her, she was already lost. Telling me to save myself, yes, get away. I backed toward the street as Wilkie pulled Min down the alley in the other direction. He lifted his chin to me, his eyes narrowed. “We’ll finish this later.”
I turned and made for the corner.
She was his. He owned her, or so he thought. I shuddered to think of it. She was like me, an outsider, a foreigner, judged by how she looked and not by who she was. She was Chinese, and that was enough to allow Wilkie to think that he owned her and could do as he please. That he might have felt a shade of fondness for her didn’t matter to me.
I stopped and looked back. The slap of Min’s feet echoed as she tripped and stumbled on the cobbles, as Wilkie pulled her away. It made me want to retch. I vowed, there and then, that I would save Min from Snake-eyes Wilkie. I wouldn’t care at what cost.
Chapter FIFTEEN
April 3, 1906
“Of course I was in love with little
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