THE IMPERIAL ENGINEER (14 page)

Converse in an ordinary tone of voice, standing about eight inches from
transmitter.

When through talking, party calling for connection will give one sharp
ring for disconnection.

The telephone should not be used during a thunderstorm.

Now he could only hope everyone would follow the instructions.

The line to Bullion developed problems the day after service to the isolated
mining community began. Of course it would be that line. Bullion lay up a canyon about
eight miles from Hailey, but it was a steep, narrow eight miles. They'd set the poles on the
slopes above the road, because there wasn't any level ground to dig in.

Once again the weather complicated the matter. Snow now sat deep on the hilltops
and the snowline came lower every day. The old-timers swore winter had never come
earlier, and Tony believed it. Leaves still lingered on the cottonwoods along the river and
littered the crusty snow underneath.

He tested the switchboard first, then went to Bullion. The wires between the road
and the mine office had been torn loose from the pole. It looked as if someone had done it
deliberately. When questioned, the shift boss denied that anyone at his mine would do such
a thing. "We'd be crazy to mess with the telephone. It'll save us sending a man to town
whenever we need supplies."

Once everything else was working, Tony still couldn't get through to the
switchboard from Bullion. He spent a couple of cold, wet days climbing poles. He tested
each connection between two wires, tested the circuit at every pole. At last he isolated the
source of the problem, a disconnection between two wires halfway up the canyon. He
anchored one wire to the pole with a staple, because gusts of wind were making it whip
furiously, probably the cause of the loose connection.

Wearily he drove back to the mine and called the switchboard. With relief, he
heard the operator say, "Who are you calling?"

He reported that the line was in working order and rang off. "Keep an eye on the
wire," he told the shift boss. "Pass the word. I won't always be able to come up here and fix
it."

It was full dark when he drove into Hailey at last. He turned the horse and wagon
into the livery stable and tipped the hostler to take care of them. Wearily he walked to the
office. His new bicycle leaned against the wall behind his desk but he just looked at it. The
cot was still in the storeroom. And tomorrow was Sunday. He would go home and clean up
in the morning.

* * * *

The first two days after Lulu arrived at the Savage ranch, she and Katie caught up
on family news, played with the children, and drove around the ranch. On the third day,
Luke took Charlie and Melanie with him to check fences. So Lulu had no more excuses not
to ask for the advice she'd come for.

She began at the beginning. No, not at the beginning, for she'd never told anyone,
not even Regina, of that night before he'd ridden away from Cherry Vale without saying
goodbye, of how Tony had dismissed her dreams as less valuable than his own.

She began when she'd first stepped off the train in Hailey and he was there.
Haltingly she told of their few meetings. Of his ill-advised 'rescue' of her at the Fourth of
July celebration. Of the night she told him to go away, to get out of her life.

"I couldn't turn him away," she said, when she'd finally got to the point where
Tony had arrived at her door, burned, exhausted, and about as welcome as an undertaker at
a wedding. "He's family."

"Of course you couldn't. I hope he wasn't too badly burned."

"More painful than serious, I think." She stirred her tea, although it had gotten too
cold to drink. The swirling surface told her nothing. "Actually, it's what happened later that
I need advice about." She couldn't look up, couldn't meet Katie's eyes.

For an eternity the only sound in the kitchen was the soft scrape of her spoon
against the cup. "You made love with him, didn't you?" Katie said at last.

Lulu nodded.

"Well, good! It's about time!"

Stunned, Lulu looked up to see her cousin grinning. "I don't--"

"Oh, Lulu, you two are meant for each other. I've known that ever since you were
about ten years old. So has the rest of the family. And until he went off to college, we all
thought it was inevitable." She reached across the table and took both of Lulu's hands in
her own. "Soomey's been hoping to be a grandmother for ten years. Your mother lives in
constant fear that you'll bring home some Eastern swell. And my mother thinks you're
crazy."

She chuckled. "Of course, Ma believes no woman is complete without children, so
that might have something to do with it."

Distracted from her own confusion, Lulu said, "I've told everyone, time and again,
that I won't ever marry. I don't know why they won't believe me." Her own parents, for all
their strong support of her work, were the worst of the lot. Nearly every letter asked about
her social life. She'd gotten so she skipped those questions and never answered them.

"Mamma wants grandchildren too. But I'm not her only hope. There's Gabe. But
he's so darned busy playing spy, he hasn't time for women."

Laughing, Katie said, "Oh, I don't know. The last letter I got from Buff said Gabe
had fought a duel over a woman. And Uncle Silas told us, last Christmas when he was
here, that Gabe was squiring around a countess or some such. A rich widow, anyhow.
Sounds to me as if he's got plenty of time for women. He just isn't interested in settling
down with only one."

"A duel? My quiet, gentlemanly brother?" Lulu had to laugh, too. "Swords or
pistols?"

"Buff didn't say." Katie lifted the cozy and tested the heat of the teapot. "There's
about enough for two more cups."

Lulu scooted her cup across the table. "It was a mistake," she said when she'd
dribbled honey into the tea. "I should never have done it."

"Was it wonderful?"

"No, It was..." She saw Katie's raised eyebrow and realized she had to tell the
truth. "It was...more than wonderful. I never realized it could be like that. Almost as if we
were one person. I felt...I don't know. Safe. Complete. Loved.

"But it's not going to happen again."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because being involved with a man doesn't fit the life I've got planned.
I don't want emotional responsibilities. I don't want children--" A memory of how Terrence
Teller's tiny fingers had curled around hers emerged, and she quickly banished it. "I would
be a terrible mother, so I'll never inflict myself on a child. And if I'm not going to have
children, there's no reason to marry."

"Oh. Lulu, you have no idea! There are many reasons for marriage, and children
are only one. Look at Soomey and Silas. They've never had children. Tony only lived with
them sometimes. Mostly he stayed with Ma and Pa. Can you tell me that either one of them
would be complete without the other?"

"They're different."

"Pooh! Any man and woman who marry simply to have children are cheating each
other and their children. I never even thought about babies when I made up my mind to
marry Luke. I wanted him. I wanted to be with him all my life, to make love with him, to
sleep beside him and work beside him. The babies are wonderful, but they'll grow up and
leave someday. Luke is my life."

"You're different too." Even as she spoke, Lulu knew she was clinging to a faulty
hypothesis. "I can't imagine a man being at the center of my life. I'm perfectly content
alone."

"Are you?" Katie stared at her until Lulu looked away. "I don't think so. I think
you need a man in your life every bit as much as I do. Not to take care of you or support
you. To complete you. To be the other half of your soul."

"Nonsense!" Lulu got up and set her empty teacup on the drainboard. "I think I'll
go for a walk while the sun is shining." Moving awkwardly, she took a coat from a hook
by the door and slid her arms into its sleeves as she went out. Only when she was striding
across the barnyard did she realize it was one of the boys' and he had recently cleaned a
chicken coop while wearing it.

She followed the road down to the river and walked along the bank on the path the
children had worn. It led upriver to their swimming hole, an eddy where water swirled
deep and clear, even now that the river was low. A rope hung from one of the cottonwoods
and she imagined the children using it to swing out over the water as she and her brothers
and cousins had done.

Someone had built a bench of a split log. She brushed the fallen leaves from the
seat and sat down, staring across the river. A magpie squawked at her from a high branch.
Overhead an eagle with a white head circled. She watched it for a few minutes, until its
lazy circles took it out of her sight.

How she wished she could fly away like that. Fly off into another place, into
another life, where everything was clear and precise. Where there were no questions pitting
her heart against her intellect.

She and her brothers had been schooled by their parents until they were in their
teens, when they went to Boise to school. Mamma's education had been exceptional, for
her teacher for several years had been her godfather, Everett Hetherington, later the Earl of
Heatherwood. Lord Heatherwood had seen to it that the Kings were supplied with an
enormous library--literature, philosophy, natural science, and mathematics. Pappa, who
hadn't learned to read until he was an adult, had devoured each book when it arrived, until
he was, in her opinion, one of the most knowledgeable men of her acquaintance. Mamma
had been more inclined to literature and the natural sciences, but she, too, was
exceptionally well-read.

One of the ways they had spent the long winter nights in their isolated mountain
valley was to have what Mamma had called 'deep philosophical discussions.' Someone
would make a statement, treating it as a fact. The others would examine it from every side,
following strict rules of logic and debate. No opinion was disregarded, even from the
children. Sometimes, in fact, the younger children's questions had been more profound
than the adults'.

She remembered one discussion, when Micah was about five. The others were
debating weather, whether it was caused by the spinning of the earth or by the heat from
the sun. Good arguments had been presented for either case, along with some outrageous
ones. Then Micah had piped up. "What I 'ticularly want to know," he'd said, "is how come
folks say the wind is blowing, when if it wasn't wind, it wouldn't be blowing?"

That had ended the debate for the evening. Micah still liked to remind the rest of
them that he'd never received a satisfactory answer to his question.

She yawned. For some reason she was sleepy all the time. The sun was warm, the
river sang a lullaby. She curled up on the bench and closed her eyes.

* * * *

After the fire, Tony had to find a new laundry, because Wang Chong had been
burned out. By the time he got the line to Bullion fixed, he had a bigger bundle than he
could carry on his bicycle.

Taking the wagon home on Monday gave him a chance to stock his larder, too,
since he'd had little time to do so while he was making sure service to Bellevue and
Bullion was working smoothly. Tuesday morning he drove to Yu Meng's Excellent
Laundry with a small bundle of soiled shirts and a larger one of filthy work clothes.

"I need one of the shirts tomorrow," he told the elderly Celestial behind the
counter. "There's no hurry on the rest."

The old man swept the bundles under the counter. "What you name?"

When Tony told him, he wrote some spidery Chinese characters on a slip of paper.
"We do. Quick, quick." The man said. "You come two day."

"No, that won't work. I need one of the shirts tomorrow." He held up a hand with
one finger raised. "One shirt tomorrow. The rest later."

More nodding. "Two day. Quick, quick."

Well, hell!
"Okay. I'll be back in two days." He could wear this shirt one
more day, he supposed, as long as he kept his coat on.

"You come morning. One shirt."

"You mean you'll have one shirt tomorrow and the rest the day after?"

"One shirt one day, all more two day." The fellow's smile indicated it was about
time Tony caught on.

"Thanks," Tony said, as he turned to leave, feeling as if he'd made a fool of
himself.

"
Bukeqi, bukeqi. Xiexie, Nin. Mingtian jian
."

Without thinking, Tony replied, "
Xiexie, lao fuqin. Mingtian jian
."

He was climbing into the wagon when he realized what had happened. He looked
up the street and down, but saw no one close enough to have heard the exchange.

My God! What if...

He sat there, unable to function. Once again he was a small, helpless child, a
defenseless victim. He heard the raucous laughter of the mob, smelled the sour odor of
dozens of sweat-soaked bodies, of clothing unwashed for weeks. His scalp tightened as his
queue was caught and he was dragged through the mud.

He saw the fist coming at him, just before his head exploded in a blinding
pain.

"You sick?"

His vision slowly grew clear and he looked down at the Chinese laundryman who
stood with one hand on the wagon seat. "What?"

"You sit here long time. Maybe you sick?"

"No...no, I'm all right. But thanks." He clucked to the horse. As he pulled away he
heard the man say something.

At first the words made no sense, being an alien gabble. Then his mind translated,
"No secret can be kept forever."

Oh, God, let it be kept long enough.

The massacre of the Chinese laborers in Wyoming is one of the crimes which disgrace
a people, because it is due to the jealousy and hatred of a race. In excluding the Chinese
from the country by law we have especially stigmatized them, and common decency and
humanity should lead us to protect those of them who unfortunately happen to be among
us, and whom the law shows that we wish were somewhere else.