THE IMPERIAL ENGINEER (37 page)

She could see shining shards scattered across the floor and a dark shape that was
unmistakably the lantern. Then she smelled the coal oil. "Tony!"

Her voice came out a squeak. She cleared her throat. "Tony, come here,
please."

Lulu stood perfectly still until he came up the steps behind her. "What?"

"Someone's been in the house."

"You're sure?"

"No, but I think it's likely. The lantern is on the floor, broken. The back door may
be ajar. I can't tell. But I'm sure I locked it this morning."

"Shit!" He stepped past her, pushed lightly on the door to the kitchen. It swung
open. "Go back to the buggy. I hadn't started unhitching. There's a pistol under the driver's
seat. If I'm not out in ten minutes, you take out for town, and don't stop until you get to the
sheriff's office."

"No. I'll stay--"

"Lulu, you are carrying our child. Go after the sheriff."

Put that way, she had no choice but to obey.

Tony stepped inside the kitchen, avoiding the squeaky board by the door. He stood
absolutely still, listening. Not a sound, save the whisper of cold wind across a loose
shingle. Another step, and another, setting each foot carefully, not knowing where chairs
and table might have been pushed by the intruder. At the third step, something caused his
foot to slip, and he windmilled his arms to keep from falling. One hand struck something
hard, causing it to fall with a loud clatter.

"Shit," he repeated, this time under his breath. If there was someone inside, they'd
know he was coming now. Not caring whether he made noise, he moved toward the parlor
door, but stumbled across an overturned chair. As he was setting it upright and out of his
way, he remembered the candle he'd tucked into a drawer the other day, just to get it out of
the way. He went toward the cupboards, stepping on and into both liquids and solids, the
latter turning or rolling under his feet.

The drawer was gone, leaving an empty hole in the cupboard. Now his eyes were
adapted to the darkness, he could see that all the cupboard doors were open, some drawers
missing and others standing open. Unidentifiable shapes testified to debris scattered across
the counter. He felt around on the countertop, finding sticky fluid, dust, and shards of glass
or porcelain. Whoever had been in here had destroyed anything and everything they could
find.
God, I hope they didn't get to my books...

He gave up his search for the candle and went back outdoors. "Lulu? Lulu, where
are you?"

"Here, in the buggy." Her voice was high, tense.

"I'm fine. Nobody's inside. But we need light. Whoever was here tore the place
apart."

He heard her scramble down. "My books?"

"I don't know. Couldn't see a damn thing. There must be some candles in the barn.
Do you know where?"

"I gave some to Mr. Lee. Let me see if I can find them."

"Wait--"

But she was inside. He followed. "Lulu?" The place was dark as the inside of a
well.

"Here." The sound echoed, and he heard a rustle above him. As if the owl that
lived in the rafters had been disturbed. "I found one. Have you a match?"

He did, and in a moment they had light. That was when he saw the lantern. On the
opposite side of the barn door from where he usually left it.
Well, hell!

"I'd better warn you," he said, as they walked toward the house. "It's pretty
bad."

The sound she made might have been a curse. He sure felt like letting loose with a
string of them.

It was indeed pretty bad. The kitchen cupboards had been emptied. Every
package, bag and canister of food had been emptied. Glasses and crockery were smashed,
the enamel coffeepot crushed, and the four chairs dismembered. The ax from the woodpile
was driven into the middle of the round oak table.

Their new furniture was ruined, its upholstery slashed, the fine black walnut
scored and splintered. The glass-front bookcase lay on its side surrounded by the remains
of its contents. His engineering texts, her collections of magazines and pamphlets were
reduced to scraps and smeared with coal oil and molasses. "Careful with that candle," he
warned when he caught a whiff of the lamp fuel.

"Oh, Tony," she said, sounding as if she was on the edge of tears, "all our books."
She bent and picked up a red leather cover from which all pages had been ripped and
clutched it to her breast.

How typically Lulu, to worry about books and papers, when her brand new
furniture had been destroyed.

Further searching revealed that the vandals had left virtually nothing in the house
undamaged. The ebony screen with its embroidered silk panels was gone. "At least they
recognized it was worth something," Tony muttered, when he realized it wasn't in splinters
among the destruction. He kicked his slashed boots aside, wondering where he would find
another pair so comfortable. That was when he saw the writing on the wall above the bed.
Thou art a curse among the heathen!
written in foot-high letters with what looked
like molasses.

He stifled a curse. So this was because Lulu had hired the Lees. He'd been afraid
of something like this. Just not as immediate and not as serious.

He heard her come through the door behind him, and wished he'd been able to
wipe away the words. Her gasp told him she'd seen them.

"Oh, Tony, you were right. This is all my fault."

He turned and took her into his arms. Holding her tightly, he buried his face in her
curls. "No, it's not. I backed you, so I'm equally to blame." The anger he'd kept in control
since he'd realized what had happened burst free. "God damn it! This goes beyond a
boycott. I'd like to--"

She silenced him with a hand over his mouth. "I hear a buggy. Take this, in case
it's not the Lees." She handed him the pistol that had been under the buggy seat. Trust Lulu
to think ahead.

It was the Lees and Xi Xin. The girl's few possessions had suffered the same fate
as everything else in the house, but apparently the vandals hadn't been aware of the small
apartment in the barn. "We can't all stay here," Tony said as they stood at its entrance.
"Lu...Mrs. Dewitt and I will go to town. We'll get a room at the Nevada Hotel."

All three of the Celestials shook their heads. "You go to Mr. Yu," Ru Nan said.
"Be safe there. One who did this could find you in hotel."

"I don't think there's much danger of him harming us," Lulu said. "This is the work
of a coward, someone who would fear a face-to-face confrontation. Better that you three go
to Mr. Yu and we'll stay in the hotel."

"My son and I will stay here, get early start on cleaning your house," Mr. Lee said
to Tony in Chinese. "If you will take Xi Xin to her honorable uncle?"

"No, don't do anything until the sheriff has a chance to see it. I don't want it said
that we made this up."

"We will watch then, until he arrives. Your house will be safe. You are
armed?"

Tony showed him the pistol "I've a shotgun at the office."

"And I have this," Mr. Lee said, showing Tony a broad cleaver. "It will cut more
than vegetables."

Tony didn't like the idea of leaving the man and the boy alone, but getting Lulu to
a place of safety was of paramount importance. What if the vandals decided to return,
perhaps to burn the house and barn? "The house isn't important. You come to town with
us."

But Mr. Lee and his son proved even more stubborn than he was. At last, tired and
dirty, with no clean clothing to put on and not even a toothbrush to their names, Tony,
Lulu and Xi Xin headed toward town.

"When I find the men who did this..."

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and snuggled close. "You won't be
alone. I've never felt as angry with anyone as I do now. I would like to...well, I'm not sure
what I would do, but it would not be gentle or ladylike."

He looked down at her, once more appreciating the worth of the woman he loved.
No shrinking violet she, to hide behind a man. "I'll be sure and leave some for you," he
said, hoping they would get the opportunity to wreak revenge upon those who had
destroyed the home he and Lulu had scarcely begun to make.

NEVADA HOTEL
Corner Main and Carbonate Sts.,
HAILEY, IDAHO.
S.G. Humphrey, Proprietor.
______________
In connection with the Hotel is
THE NEVADA CHOP HOUSE,
RUN ON THE EUROPEAN PLAN, with an established reputation as the best eating
house on Wood River.

Wood River Times
- Regular Advertisement

~~~

"I'll see to it at first light," the sheriff said, "but I don't reckon we'll find anything
much. Not with this new snow."

"No, neither do I," Tony agreed, "but I'd like you to see what all they did, before I
have it cleaned up."

"You know, don't you, that this might have something to do with you hiring the
Chinamen?"

Shrugging, Tony said, "Not much doubt of that. I've been giving some thought to
the vandalism at the telephone company, and I think there's more than coincidence at work
here."

The sheriff was clearly skeptical, but didn't argue. "I'll come by your hotel in the
morning, about six-thirty."

"I'll be ready." Tony wondered if Lulu would mind the office for him tomorrow.
Not that he expected any business with Eagleton out of town, but in case there was a
problem at the telephone exchange.

He narrowly escaped bumping into Frank Correy as he came out of the sheriff's
office.

"Looking for protection against your enemies, Dewitt?" Correy's companion said,
his words a mocking drawl.

Newell again? It seemed like every time he turned around, the man was underfoot.
"Not at all. Just discussing business with the sheriff." Tony went to step around them, but
Newell blocked his way.

"Chinese business? Maybe how to protect those heathens your wife hired? Your
wife who appears to be putting on weight...?"

"Why you--"

Newell dodged back. "You should have joined the League, Dewitt. We protect our
own. And we see that those who oppose us pay for their folly. Let's go, Frank." He turned
and walked rapidly down the street.

Frank Correy hesitated, looking from Tony to Newell and back again. He seemed
about to say something, when Newell called his name and he went scuttling away.

Tony stared after them, wondering if Newell was drunk. There had been no smell
of spirits about him, but still... "I don't know what I did to make him dislike me," he
muttered, "but he's not one I'd care to call friend, either." He never had been able to see
why Frank Correy had become friends with Newell.

When he got to the hotel, Lulu was in bed, but not asleep. Propped against
pillows, she was writing on a pad of paper held against her knees. "I was beginning to
wonder if you planned on coming back tonight. What did the sheriff say?"

"He agrees it's more than a childish prank," he told her, as he removed his
overcoat, "but he doesn't believe it's connected to the vandalism at the telephone
company." Once again the sense of outrage threatened to overpower him. He pushed it
aside. Time enough for anger and thoughts of revenge when they discovered who had
destroyed his home.
Their
home.

"You mean like last week at the switchboard?" She scooted upright and laid her
pencil aside.

Sitting on the side of the bed to remove his shoes, he said, "I think so. The more I
think about it, the more I'm convinced it's all of a piece. The cut wires, the downed poles,
the missing equipment and supplies." Rising, he paced the floor on bare feet. "I thought
they were isolated incidents at first, but there were too many of them. Last week, when the
sheriff was looking for clues to whoever tried to destroy the switchboard, I mentioned that
there had been too much happening to be entirely coincidental."

"Did you give him a list?"

"No, but I mentioned some of them. He said it sounded like kids' pranks."

"Isn't that what you thought at first?" She picked up her pencil, turned to a fresh
sheet in the pad. "When did it start?"

Thinking back, he said, "I'm not sure. There were a couple of shipments that were
damaged. The freight company swore they'd left Salt Lake City in good shape. But when I
got them, the crates were broken open and some of the contents missing or damaged.
Eagleton said it was to be expected, but I thought one of the crates--it held the porcelain
cups for the batteries--looked as if somebody had taken a crowbar to it." He sat again,
scratched his head. "Now that I think about it, we didn't find any fragments of the missing
cups, and we should have."

"So someone broke into the crate and stole them?" She wrote a moment, then said,
"What else?"

For an hour they discussed the setbacks and accidents that had plagued the
installation and operation of the telephone exchange. Lulu listed every one, marking each
item according to whether he thought they might have been real accidents. She added her
own opinion, and often he noticed she thought something suspicious that seemed perfectly
normal to him. When they were finished, the list covered three pages. It included
apparently innocuous events as a cow's using a telephone pole as a scratching post to the
destruction of their house. All but about a dozen were marked with either Lulu's stars or his
plus-or-minus.

"I forgot to ask if you'd sit in the office and answer the telephone tomorrow, while
I go out to the house with the sheriff," he said, when several minutes had elapsed without
anything new being added to the list.

"But I--"

"Lulu, I know you could deal with the house every bit as well as I could. But the
sheriff doesn't. He's a decent enough fellow, but do you think he'd take you as seriously as
he will me?" He braced himself for her reaction.

And was surprised when she only sighed. "No, I'm sure he wouldn't." She laid the
pencil and pad on the stand beside the bed. "All right, I'll mind the store while you slay the
dragons. But someday..."