Chapter Thirty-six

Wang Chow saw Zack Clark as soon as he stepped into Lu Win’s Restaurant.

“There is your friend,” Mae Win said.

“Zack, come and join us,” Wang called out, speaking in English.

“Jntin w bùshì Zack. W shì Loh.”

Zack spoke the words in a guttural tone that even the few Americans in the room and didn’t understand the language, recognized as an implied threat.

“Why did he say that today he isn’t Zack, he is Tiger?” Mae Win asked.

“I think he has come to challenge me,” Wang said.

“Challenge you? Do you mean he wants to fight you?”

“Shi.”

“Are you ready, my friend?” Zack asked, switching back to English.

“Not in here. I have no wish to bring damage to this place and the fine people who own it.”

“In the street, then, Dào s,” Zack said, again, making a guttural challenge of the last two words.

“Dào s,” Wang replied as calmly as if he had just been asked to share a drink.

“To the death?” Mae Win gasped, horror-stricken by what she had just heard. “But no! You are friends! Why, Tiger? Why do you wish to fight to the death?” She asked the question in Chinese.

“It is a matter of honor,” Zack replied in the same language.

“It is honorable for a friend to kill a friend?” Mae Win’s words were filled with anguish and confusion.

“Wang Chow brought dishonor to the Temple of Changlin. Dowager Ci’an has issued a decree ordering his death, so as a priest of Changlin, I am honor bound to kill the man who was my friend.”

Even though they spoke Chinese, the others in the restaurant realized rather quickly that there was about to be a fight, and that this fight would be like none they had ever seen before.

As Clark and Wang Chow left the restaurant, the others, including Mae Win, the employees, and even Lu Win himself, left the restaurant to follow the two men out into the street.

* * *

As Duff and the others continued their conversation in Fiddler’s Green, someone stepped in through the batwing doors and called out. “Come quick! That Chinaman ’n another feller’s about to have a fight in the street!”

“Wang?” Biff asked.

“It must be,” Duff replied and his table, as did every other table, and even the bar cleared of customers as everyone rushed outside.

Already the street was filled with citizens of Chugwater as they gathered to see what was about to happen.

“That’s a white man goin’ up against Wang,” Biff said. “What kind of fool would do that?”

“It’s Zack Clark,” Duff said. “He trained with Wang when they were boys.” Duff knew of Zack’s history.

“I thought they was friends,” Elmer said. “What they fightin’ for?”

“I don’t know,” Biff said. “But I’ve got an idea it’s goin’ to be a doozy.”

Wang knelt before Zack and removed Zack’s shoes. Then Wang stood as Zack knelt before him, removing Wang’s shoes. With bare feet the two men stood in the middle of the street, facing one another. Putting their hands together, prayerlike, just under their chin, they made a slight bow of their heads toward each other.

With all the preliminaries out of the way, both men assumed a fighting stance, and the more observant of those who were gathered for the fight saw that the way they stood, and the way they held their feet and hands, were mirror images.

Approaching each other, they began making thrusts and jabs, but to no effect as they were mutually avoided or blocked. Then Zack took Wang down with a sweep of his leg to Wang’s leg. As Wang was getting back up, Zack, with a yell, charged toward him and brought down a wicked chop toward Wang’s neck. Wang moved to avoid the chop, and Zack’s hand smashed through the thick hitching rail, breaking it into two pieces.

“Damn! Did you see how he broke that hitchin’ rail? It must be four inches thick,” someone called out, impressed by what he had just seen.

Wang rolled quickly out of the way and regained his feet. Again the two men made wicked thrusts toward each other, the kind of thrust that would have instantly brought down the average man. But neither of these two men were average.

Wang spun around and kicked his leg out, catching Zack in the chest. Zack went down but was immediately on his feet. Closing on Wang, he hit him on either side of the head, his cupped hands on Wang’s ears stunning him for a moment.

Zack took advantage of that and hit Wang with a two-hand thrust that again knocked him down. Wang fell where the two pieces of the hitching rail hung from the end posts, making a V with the point at the ground.

Zack grabbed one of the pieces and, ripping it free, raised it over his head. With a loud shout, he started down with the large club, intending to deliver a killing blow to Wang’s head.

Just before Zack could bring the club down, Wang shot his arm up, and the heel of his hand caught Zack on the tip of his nose. The blow caused Zack to drop the club as the splintered bones entered his brain. He fell backward on the street where he laid faceup, his arms out to either side of him. He wasn’t moving.

Wang knelt beside him, placed the tips of his fingers on Zack’s neck, then reached out to gently close Zack’s eyes. He bowed his head and remained quiet and unmoving.

“What the hell?” someone said. “Is he dead?”

“He ain’t moved a muscle since he went down, so he must be.”

Finally Wang got up, walked over to put his shoes back on, then he got Zack’s shoes and to the surprise of everyone, put Zack’s shoes back on his feet as well, doing it in a way that could almost be described as reverent.

Duff went over to put his hand on Wang’s shoulder. “Are you all right, Wang?”

“Shi. Loh was a friend from my youth. I am saddened by what happened here.”

With Jake and Kay

As all of Chugwater was buzzing with excitement over what they had just witnessed, Jake and Kay were just approaching something that had their hopeful attention. At first, it looked like nothing but little hillocks rising from the prairie before them, but as they drew closer they realized what they were seeing was a town.

“Jake, you did it!” Kay said. “You led us to a town.”

Jake chuckled. “If it is Bordeaux, I led us to it. If it is some other town, it was a matter of blind luck and we merely stumbled across it.”

“At this point it makes no difference. It is a town with a blacksmith shop, I hope. And a restaurant and a hotel with a means of taking a bath.”

“Yes, but all those things cost money,” Jake replied. “And here I am, the son of one of the wealthiest men in America, without a cent to my name. My hosts took all my money from me when they decided to make me their guest.”

“Yes, they took my money as well.”

“Then we are paupers who will be forced to beg, or attempt to convince them that I am who I say I am.”

“Well, we aren’t complete paupers,” Kay said with a lilting laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“The pistol isn’t the only thing I took from the late and unlamented Mr. Butrum. I also took all of his money, one hundred and two dollars.”

“Uh, Kay, forgive me for asking what I’m sure must be a very dumb question. But is one hundred and two dollars much money?”

Kay laughed out loud. “Only someone who is very rich could ever ask a question like that. Yes, honey, one hundred and two dollars is quite a substantial amount, especially under our current circumstances.”

“You have made me a happy man.”

“Ha, you mean I can buy you with one hundred and two dollars?”

“No, I mean because you called me honey.”

Kay started to say that the word honey came easily from her lips as she, and all the other hostesses, used that word with just about every cowboy who came into Fiddler’s Green for a drink. But she said nothing.

A few minutes later they rode into the little village.

WELCOME TO
BORDEAUX
Population 215
~Obey our Laws~

“Well, it would appear that it is your brilliant navigation and not merely a stroke of luck that brought us here,” Kay said.

“Pa would be proud,” Jake said with a little laugh. “I can’t wait to tell him of my skill as a navigator.”

At first glance, Kay saw that the town of Bordeaux seemed to be about one half the size of Chugwater. There was only one main street, running north and south, and it was intersected by two cross streets. The business establishments of the town appeared to be on both sides of the main street.

A single wagon was rolling up the street, coming toward them, and at least three horsemen were on the street, riding away from Jake and Kay. There were a handful of pedestrians on the walks and just as they were passing the Red Dog Saloon, a couple of patrons came through the swinging batwing doors.

“Well I’ll be damned! Would you look at that?” one of the two men called out. “There’s a man who’s a-ridin’ sidesaddle, ’n the woman with ’im is a-ridin’ astride. I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that in all my borned days!” The man punctuated his observation with a loud guffaw.

“I guess you can see who wears the pants in that family,” the other saloon patron said, laughing as loudly as his friend.

The strange sight of a man riding sidesaddle and a woman riding astride caught the attention of a few other pedestrians as well and though they stared in unabashed curiosity, no one, other than the saloon patrons, made any comments. Or, if they did make any comments they were so quiet that neither Jake nor Kay heard them.

What they did hear was the welcome, ringing sound of steel on steel, a blacksmith at work.

“Do you hear that?” Kay asked happily.

“Oh yeah, I hear it,” Jake replied.

The blacksmith was standing in the open door of his shop when Jake and Kay rode up, and just as had the other citizens of the town he looked in surprise at the strange scene of a man riding sidesaddle and a woman riding astride. But, when he saw Kay helping Jake dismount, and saw the leg irons on Jake’s ankles, the mystery was solved.

“Ten dollars,” he said as Kay walked and Jake hobbled toward him, speaking before either of them had said anything.

“What?” Kay asked.

“I reckon you’re a-comin’ here to get them things offen your ankles, ain’t you?”

“Indeed, I am,” Jake replied.

“That’ll be ten dollars,” the blacksmith repeated.

“Isn’t that a little steep?” Kay asked.

The blacksmith shook head. “No, it ain’t cheap at all. Lookin’ at his ankles there, I reckon it ought to be worth five dollars to have them leg irons took off. ’N I’m goin’ to have to be just real careful so’s I don’t hurt ’im none. ’N the other five dollars is for not never tellin’ nobody about it.”

“Why should I be concerned if you tell anyone about taking off my leg irons?” Jake asked.

The blacksmith pointed to the leg irons. “Them things you got on your ankles there is what they put on prisoners to keep ’em from runnin’ away whenever they are transferrin’ ’em from one jail to another. I figure that’s what you are, but somehow your lady friend here helped you to escape.” He chuckled. “I have to hand it to you, lady, comin’ up with the idea of takin’ a sidesaddle with you so’s he could ride with them things. Ten dollars,” he repeated.

Kay took the money from her dress pocket and handed him a ten-dollar bill. “All right. We’re paying for your labor and your silence.”

The blacksmith took the money. “Come back here. I’ve got a place for you to sit on a stool where you can put your feet up so’s I can get at them things.”

After the blacksmith made quick work of removing the ankle cuffs, their next stop was the apothecary.

“You say you got some chafed skin? Well sir, there ain’t nothin’ no better than Vaseline to use on that,” the druggist said. “’N it just so happens I got some, right here.” He held up a small blue jar.

“We’ll take two jars,” Jake said.

“Now, before you use this, you need to make certain that the affected area is very clean.”

“We’ll rent a hotel room and get a bath,” Kay said. “I must say I’m looking forward to it, and I don’t have any chafing at all.”

“What good will it do to take a bath if we have to put these same dirty clothes back on?” Jake asked after they left the apothecary.

“We can take care of that, too,” Kay replied as, with a smile, she pointed toward a mercantile.

* * *

Jake and Kay stood at the front desk of the only hotel in town. They were clutching in paper bags the change of clothes they had just bought.

“You folks is mighty lucky on account of we only have one room left,” the clerk said as he turned the registration book toward Jake.

Jake looked at Kay and, with a smile, she gave him a little nod. He signed the register Mr. and Mrs. J. Poindexter.

“Do you have provisions for a bath?” Jake asked.

“Yes, sir, we have a bathing room at the end of the hall on the first floor. There is a tub and a pump to provide water. Should you wish the water to be warm, there is a stove and a bucket for your convenience. And, I am proud to say that the stove uses coal oil instead of wood, so it’ll heat up just real quick.”

“Thank you,” Jake said as he took the key. “Ladies first.” He pointed toward the end of the hall as he unlocked the door to their room on the first floor—convenient to the bathing room.