He ran into the side wall before he stopped moving and slid down, smearing the whitewash with his blood. The boy had to step over him to get at Shih Hsui-mei. She was screaming. He had never before heard a Chinese woman scream.
He couldn’t get her to be silent. His hands tore her lovely embroidered silk jacket. He kept telling her to hush, talking to her as if she were a baby, but she wouldn’t stop screaming. He tore her silk blouse, and her breasts were so small and lovely he was suddenly dazed by the sight of them.
There were Chinese coming from the mines, running up through the mud of late spring, through the snow still frozen under shack porches. He had never seen so many Chinese.
He grabbed Shih Hsui-mei, this time with his arm around her waist. He would carry her all the way to the Snake River, he thought. But they made it only to the little creek below Cheng-k’uan’s shack. He ran through the cold water, slipping on the smooth stones, thinking that if he crossed the creek into the white part of town, he would be safe. No white man would harm him for killing a Chink.
Her people caught him at the river. There were too many of them. They pulled little Shih Hsui-mei from his arms, and one slit his throat as he might draw a blade across a squealing pig.
His gushing blood turned the cold creek water purple. He stumbled on the smooth rock and fell forward, grabbing his throat, and died faster than Cheng-k’uan.
The whites came running down from town. They found him cold and stiff and bloodless. There was not a mark on his body, except for the fine, thin slice across the length of his throat. His blue eyes held a steady, unflinching gaze, as if here in death, he had finally found the answer to his young life.
CHAPTER SIX
“OH MY GOD,” MARGIT exclaimed, seeing Jennifer. “What on earth has happened?” She reached out and pulled Jennifer into an embrace.
“I was mugged,” Jennifer stated, and in the comfort and safety of Margit Engle’s arms, she began to cry.
“David!” Margit shouted over Jennifer’s shoulder. “David, come quick! Jennifer’s been mugged.”
Jennifer pulled herself from her friend’s arms and wiped the tears from her eyes. She felt her bruised cheekbone.
“Jennifer, are you all right?” David asked. He handed his wife his drink as he approached Jennifer. “What happened?”
“She was mugged, David!” Margit’s voice betrayed her anxiety. “We have to call the police.”
“No. Don’t call anyone!” Jennifer blurted out. She caught sight of herself in the living room mirror and began to cry again, but this time she let the tears flow. David guided her to the sofa and arranged a pillow behind her head.
“I’ll get my bag and we’ll take care of these bruises. You’re okay, Jennifer, don’t be afraid.”
Jennifer nodded, but moving her head drove a piercing wedge of pain between her eyes, and she reached up with her hand to feel the raw flesh on her forehead. It would be days, she guessed, before the bruises would be gone, and that made her start crying again.
“I still think we should call the police,” Margit declared. She was standing in the middle of the living room, nervously twisting her fingers.
“No!” Jennifer said. She tried to sit up but couldn’t gather her strength.
“Jennifer is right,” David said, returning. “Jennifer has had enough trouble. And what are the police going to find anyway? Whoever did this is already long gone.” He knelt beside the sofa. “Get me towels and warm water,” he told his wife. “I want to clean up these bruises.”
“Thank you, David,” Jennifer whispered, but her lips had swollen and she was having difficulty forming words.
“Shhhhh,” David whispered, smiling down at her. “No need to say anything, just rest. Close your eyes. You’re all right.”
Jennifer did close her eyes, thankful that she had made it to West End Avenue and that Margit and David were taking care of her. She did fall asleep, knowing she was safe from everyone out on those city streets. But still she was frightened of herself, of what she had done.
When she awoke she could hear their muffled voices from the other room. She turned her head carefully on the pillow, trying to avoid the wedges of pain every time she moved, and saw through bruised eyelids that they had closed the door to the dining room. The lights were off in the living room, where she still lay, now covered with a heavy quilt. Her shoes had been removed and her skirt loosened.
She wondered if she should get up to tell them that she was all right, but even as she wondered, she knew she didn’t have the strength. How could she tell them what had really happened, how she had killed the man? She couldn’t tell anyone the truth, ever, and when she closed her eyes again, she wished that she wouldn’t wake up, that she would never have to face the nightmare of what she had done.
She woke crying, struggling to free herself from the hand on her shoulders. It was a moment before she realized she was being held by David. “You’re having a nightmare, Jennifer. That’s all,” he was whispering.
One lamp was lit, and she saw David above her and Margit at the foot of the sofa, both looking pained and upset. Jennifer relaxed and slipped down into the soft pillows.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be sorry. You just had a nightmare.”
“I’m sorry I’m causing you all this trouble. I really should go home.” Jennifer started to rise, but David placed his hand on her shoulder.
“You’re going nowhere. Stay with us tonight, and I’ll take you home tomorrow, if you’re up to it. Otherwise, you’ll be our guest for a few days.”
“Thank you, but I can’t. I have to go to Boston for a meeting.”
“Well, we can talk about that tomorrow. You listen to me; I’m the doc here.” He kept smiling, comforting her with his gentle manner.
“Thank you, David,” Jennifer whispered. She was relieved by his insistence. The thought of being by herself was frightening.
“What about something to eat? A clear soup?” Margit asked.
Jennifer tried to smile and said, “That would be wonderful, Margit. I’m famished.”
When Margit left the room, David asked, “Jennifer, nothing else happened to you besides being struck, am I correct?”
“What do you mean?”
“You weren’t raped, were you?”
“Oh, no.” Jennifer sighed, terrified that David might guess the truth. “I managed to get away.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked.
Jennifer shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I feel so stupid, getting mugged. I mean, I should know better.” She had her eyes closed and her head back. In her mind’s eye, she saw the man again, saw him lunge at her, saw rage and hunger on his face, and then she hit him, attacked him like an animal, with her bare hands.
“You’ll feel better tomorrow,” David said reassuringly.
Jennifer nodded, but she knew that in the morning she would feel worse, not because of her bruises, but for what she had done.
“Here we are,” Margit announced, coming back into the living room with a bowl of soup, a place mat and cloth napkin tucked under her arm.
Jennifer tried to sit up and again felt the wedge of pain between her eyes.
“Easy,” David cautioned. He had taken hold of her elbow.
“Maybe we shouldn’t try this,” Margit suggested.
“No, I think getting something warm into Jennifer will do wonders. You can sit up, right? Otherwise, Margit will just feed you.”