The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,50

Mr. Wang Foo is a top member of the tong. He will not let this rest. My hands are tied on this one.”

“I understand,” Dolly said.

Cook leaned closer. “You need to understand he paid five thousand for her.”

A chill raced through her. Dolly knew the sums of money paid for the paper daughters could be extravagant, but five thousand was the highest she’d ever heard of. In 1870, the highest amount paid for a Chinese girl once she arrived in San Francisco was one thousand. Now, that number had inflated.

“I’ll speak to my attorney tomorrow,” Dolly said. Her attorney, Henry E. Monroe, had replaced Abe Ruef when he had switched to aiding the Chinese tong. Monroe had helped the mission home secure the legal guardianship papers needed to protect the girls.

“Good.” Cook left with a shake of his head, and Dolly shut the door. The scent of Cook’s cigarette smoke lingered in the entryway, both a comfort and a warning somehow.

“We can’t have this kind of trouble brought upon the mission home,” Mrs. Field said from behind Dolly. “We need to draw the line at harboring criminals. They might bring harm to the other girls.”

Dolly spun toward the woman, trying to hold back words she might regret. She swallowed her anger and said as calmly as possible, “Each girl is valuable here. And we will do whatever it takes to protect them.”

Without waiting for the director to reply, Dolly turned to the door and slid each lock into place. When the last bolt clicked with finality, she discovered that Mrs. Field had gone back up the stairs, and the other women and girls had collected on the landing.

Dolly scanned their faces. “Where is Chan Juan?”

Lonnie pointed downward, a solemn expression on her face.

“I showed her where to hide in the basement,” Tien said. “And I told her not to be afraid.”

“Very good,” Dolly said. She was proud of Chan Juan for her bravery and pleased that Tien had helped the frightened girl. The Chinese owner hadn’t even dared go down there. It was a rare Chinese person who would venture into a dark sub-basement; most harbored a fear of lurking evil spirits. But Tien had an odd fascination with the dark place.

Dolly strode to the basement door, Ah Cheng following. Dolly called for Chan Juan as soon as she stepped into the darkness. “They are gone,” she said in a soft voice. “Come out, dear, you are safe.”

Ah Cheng walked with Dolly, translating into Chinese. Finally, Dolly heard a scuffling sound from the far corner, and the young woman appeared, clothed in her nightgown.

She trembled like a dead leaf in the wind. Dolly reached Chan Juan and wrapped an arm about her thin shoulders. “Come,” she said. “We’ll get you some hot tea.”

Chan Juan nodded, then wiped at the tears on her cheeks. She had refused to share her story with anyone at the mission home. Perhaps someday she would, but for now, Dolly would show her the compassion and love that every girl deserved.

When Dolly brought Chan Juan out of the basement, the girls surrounded them, hugging Chan Juan. Some even wept with her. Dolly’s heart swelled at the compassion the girls showed each other. That alone would make their rocky journey a bit smoother.

By the time Dolly returned to the office, her heart had been wrung dry.

She sat in the chair and lowered her head into her hands. What if Chan Juan’s owner returned before they could get the guardianship papers? She hoped that Monroe would be able to work a miracle tomorrow.

“Miss Cameron?” Ah Cheng said from the open doorway.

Dolly lifted her head. The line drawn between Ah Cheng’s brows didn’t bode well. “This just came.” She held up a rumpled piece of paper.

“Can it wait until morning?” Dolly asked.

Ah Cheng shook her head, apology shining in her eyes.

With strength Dolly didn’t know she had left, she rose to her feet and crossed to Ah Cheng. After taking the paper and reading the few short words, Dolly knew her interpreter was right. “I’ll be ready in a few moments.”

The evening hour was late, but still early enough that Chinatown would be lively with night life. Going now would ensure Dolly and her rescue team an audience, and possible barriers, but that couldn’t be helped. A slave girl on Baker Alley needed rescue. And the young man who’d brought the note was waiting at the bottom of the hill.

Dolly couldn’t call Officer Cook because he was still likely