Odds and Ends, Tag: Rusty

[Russell Scarborough]

---

June 4th, 1869
Denver, China Town
Around 12:45pm

It was company policy, well he had never heard of anything so strange in his life. Negroes of course he had heard of that, making them ride in different cars. There seemed to be a hell of a grudge there for reasons that were beyond him. They were brought here not of their own will, forced to work for the white man, released after a four year war was waged to do so. Yet after all they had done, some had even fought for the Union and still they were not granted the equal rights the Declaration or the Constitution granted them. He was sure the both of those two documents had even been signed and ratified in his very own Philadelphia, how cool was that? As for the Chinese well Rusty had never really met and interacted with one before Ming, he saw them around sure but never talked to them. Just like the negroes he was encouraged to have no kind of contact with them because they were a dirty and unclean people, riddled with horrible, foreign diseases and of course their heathen ways. So apparently they were like Indians, only worse Rusty guessed. But never one to judge too quickly, Rusty knew for a fact that the black people he knew, were not dirty, they were not heathens and they were not diseased. So the same could be said for the Chinese. Ming was a sweet woman, one of those kindred spirits that were so likeable and easy to befriend and the few Chinese he had met today were just as nice.

He opened his mouth to say something smart to the porter when Ming quickly apologized and silently insisted he leave it at that. He stood there a moment looking at her with that ‘no way this is over’ expression but that pleading guise won him over and he rolled his eyes, “Well I’m not colored sir so I’ll sit where I please sir, have a nice day, sir.” clearly this man was not entitled to such a moniker and Rusty was sure as he walked away to board the fourth car he would be glaring at the back of his head and calling him all sorts of unpleasant things, as long as he didn’t say them aloud this was indeed over. He was almost curious what the car designated for colored people even looked like. Was it dark, was it dirty, were there even benches? Maybe it was just a box car with a few sleeping homeless travellers inside, would they be friendly? Perhaps it was a live stock car with straw bedding and stalls since that was how his people treated everyone, “M’sorry if I embarrassed you or anything Miss Ming but sometimes I hate the way my people treat others, like dogs . . . no offense.” he quickly added looking down to Bob for a second, “It ain’t right if ya ask me, people are people, I wasn’t raised t’treat nobody like this.” his mother was a saint, his father may have had his beliefs but if they were unfavorable he said nothing and certainly never forced them on anyone. His parents were accepting, tolerating and steadfast in their ways and as a result so were their children. People may have frowned on his brother Benjamin when he serviced negroes and the plethora of other foreigners in his store in New York, but he treated everyone equally, no matter what.

[Wen Ming-Chen]

People were staring at the confrontation, muttering among themselves. Even as they walked away, a few in the crowd who'd witnessed the little outburst whispered behind their backs, and Ming Chen's heart beat rabbit-quick in her chest. It took all her concentration just to keep looking forward and not glance back over her shoulder to make sure no station agent or police were following in their wake to grab them at the last minute.

"You don't emberrass me." Ming Chen assured in a quiet voice.

They boarded car number four without event. In a past life it had been pressed into service transporting troops, and the wear and tear of that arduous task showed. The inside of the passenger car smelled of too many unwashed bodies packed together. The leather of the seats was cracked and worn, and the wooden paneling was scuffed and scraped and here and there carved with names and dates to mark their former passengers journey. And aside from Russell, Ming, and Bob, it was empty.

Ming Chen chose a seat towards the middle, setting down her bags on the seat across from them, the anxious puppy whining and struggling to be free of her lap. Shortly the last call was hollered outside and the door closed. As the train slowly began to roll, Ming Chen leaned across the seat and kissed the foreman on the cheek. The barest brush of her lips, light as butterfly wings, and quickly over. Sitting back she looked out the window as if nothing at all was amiss, that sudden gesture so smoothly withdrawn and quickly over it might leave one to wonder if it were imagined.

[Russell Scarborough]

---

June 4th, 1869
Denver, China Town
Around 1:00pm

Never before had he seen someone treated like this, special cars were reserved for livestock not people, and especially not because they were foreign. If anything the Chinese were probably catching diseases from white people not the other way around. White men killed off the Indians with their small pox, whooping cough and plague, spread diseases with the kindness of their hearts giving the natives blankets infested with small pox. Turning to look over his shoulder at the disapproving faces in the windows of the car he couldn’t help but scowl at them and a few turned back to their business but that was nothing compared to the looks they were getting from passersby. He would have reacted no different if it was Darla they were not letting onboard the train, he viewed Ming like family and would demand she was treated like a decent human being. Once anyone joined the Helm crew they became part of the gang and there would be no easy way of getting away from them, so loving was the atmosphere here that had allowed Rusty to flourish and settle down, finally moving on from his parents’ place. He hoped Ming would be around for a good long while she seemed to be attached to Darla already and he enjoyed her company.

She was nice enough to guarantee him he had not embarrassed her, but looking around now he cracked a smile and laughed, “Nope I reckon not, just embarrassed myself, but I’d do it again, just wish I coulda done more.” locking eyes with a rubbernecker at the fence about fifteen feet away Rusty gave him that icy glare as well before boarding the train, blinking a little at the musty smell but it wasn’t too overbearing or anything. He wondered if it would be possible to open a window or if maybe they were frozen with rust in their metal frames, forever stuck that way. Oh well they could manage even in the stuffy heat. But it suddenly seemed a lot hotter when he froze in his seat, feeling that familiar but long missed sensation of being kissed. But women kissed him all the time, a thank you for helping them to cross the street, throwing a cantankerous client out of the brothel or maybe one from a friend like Mary at the saloon or Darla. So he quickly wrote it off as a friendly gesture and nothing more, despite the butterflies and noticeable brush of color on his cheeks that he would attribute to the heat of the train car. But the sheepish grin of a shy little boy couldn’t be blamed on anything else.