Odds and Ends, Tag: Rusty

[Wen Ming-Chen]

June 4th, 1869


The locals called it "Hop Alley". One of the most run down parts of Denver, the kind of place you don't go to at night unless you're looking for trouble. Unless of course you lived there. The wooden buildings seemed to lean on each other for support, like drunks trying to make it home after a late night. They had grocers and laundries, a meat market and tailors, places to buy sundries and goods impossible to find anywhere else. Not that most of the men shopped anywhere else.

Because of it's opium dens and the proximity to the red light district, where anything could be bought for a price but trouble often came free of charge, the neighborhood had a bad reputation. Truthfully most of the residents were working class men, immigrated from their homeland seeking wealth and fame like so many others, and finding something quite different on the other side of gold mountain. Those who were established were waiters, housekeepers, cooks, and launderers. Working cheaper than their European counterparts, they took the only occupations that were open to them aside from the backbreaking work of ditch digging, agricultural labor, and mining. The newer residents were recently redunant railroad workers. With the iron ties between east and west coast all laid, they had no where to go.

Unemployed men sat in front of shops, idlly drinking cup after cup of 'white tea', hot water. They loitered waiting for work, for news, for anything. Others went about their daily business, buying, trading, and selling.

That's one thing that most visitors find most strange after they become used to the exotic wares and foreign signs, the discordant sound of various Chinese dialects spoken, often loudly and enthusiastically, all at once. There were no women in the streets. No children. Some of the merchants had wives, but they were few and far between. For the most part, it was a neighborhood comprised almost solely of men.

On one hand, after spending so much time in the rail camps, Ming Chen knew that most of these men were rather average sorts, just trying to making a living, and would never offer her any harm. But that was most. Not all. And she didn't know this neighborhood, or the people who lived there. And then there were the 'tourists', foreigners come to visit the opium dens and brothels, who she was much more worried about. The only Chinese women they knew were prostitutes, and in their mind the two were synonymous. A problem she'd encountered a few times in San Francisco, being harassed by men on the street looking for a good time.

Not that Ming Chen could be mistaken for a lady of the evening by anyone with sense.

She wore a new jacket she'd made, a pale blue-grey calico, suitable for one recently widowed, with a pattern of small white flowers, with cloth covered buttons. It fell just below hip length, the sleeves tighter than the usual style in a western fashion. Her black trousers were also fairly new and unfaded, and her shoes were her second-best, black embroidered with morning glories on the vine, which were quickly getting caked with the mud that washed down the unpaved street. She wore no jewelry save for tiny gold studs, and her hair, black and shining as if lacquered, was styled into a demure knot at the base of her neck.

Ming Chen looked to Russell, sure he couldn't possibly be comfortable here, and gave a reassuring smile. It was kind of him to agree to come with her. He didn't have to, and she was fairly certain part of the agreement might have been sheer curiosity. As they walked she felt eyes following her, the sensation making her skin crawl. Spotting a sign down the lane for a grocers, better written than most, she decided to try there first. A delicate hand rested on Rusty's arm as she nodded, "This way."

[Russell Scarborough]

---

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

With his “nephew’s” birthday just two days away Rusty thought a trip to Denver would prove to be most conducive in getting the kid a gift. He never came to Denver anymore now that Henry had moved back home with his wife and kids since Bella’s return last month. As he and Ming rode the buckboard past Henry’s house to the station in Buffalo Creek he had spied something that made his stomach flip, something he hadn’t seen before but he simply made note of it and they moved on. A mystery headstone in front of his cousin’s house was surely a conversation piece, but that would be for later.

The two hour train ride to Denver was nothing spectacular, never was but when they exited the station in the big city Rusty was used to heading west into the business district or north where the apartments stood where Henry still had that apartment leased and spent the night on occasion when traveling home was not possible for whatever reason. But Ming quickly led him east and he had never been this way before and was feeling somewhat uneasy. Denver was not much different from any other big city he had been in, Philly, Canton, Indianapolis or New York City even. But this was a lot further west than he had ever been and he was not expecting a China Town, especially something this run down. Good lord it was worse than the outskirts of Canton where he and Henry had lived for a few months, from the looks of it these people had lived here a long while. It smelled far worse than Canton too, ditches running full of excrement were surely to blame, skinny donkeys tied out in front of buildings sporting heavy bundles of wares, their coats caked with mud were just as sorry looking as a few of the people standing around watching them walk past.

Both Russell and Ming had dressed in their best as he was sure they would be going somewhere somewhat nice but there was absolutely no need to impress anyone here. His dark blue coat over his silk vest and dress shirt complete with tie would do little to influence anyone here, but at least he was wearing pants. A very faint flicker of a mischievous grin played on his lips at that thought, it was funny now. Well, they didn’t have to be here long, it wasn’t Canton and he had a home to return to that was one hundred times better than a horse stall he shared with his drug addict cousin and his horse.

When she put her hand on his arm he habitually offered his elbow like he did with any woman in town whether it was a pretty young lady he had never met or sixty-five year old Mrs. Penance on a Sunday morning. She made it clear they were going in there and instantly Rusty saw himself as a stubborn mule with his hooves in the mud and Ming trying to drag him down the street. He did not want to go in there then again his curiosity was mounting. He had already learned so much about Ming and her culture this was just another opportunity to learn something else. She was here to buy spices he was sure, she had used so many cooking for him as they had agreed, however he had quickly found she was impartial to dairy. He took a deep breath to follow her and instantly regretted it, one would think being surrounded by a few thousand cows would smell bad but to be honest he never noticed it. People were disgusting.

Just as they were nearing the grocer a young boy ran across the road with what appeared to be a ball in his hands. Russell stopped and looked at him as he drew nearer, watching him as if he were more an elusive deer than a kid, “What kinda place is this let’s a little kid run around like that without his parents? Looks dangerous around here an’ he’s all by hisself.” he asked Ming Chen concernedly, maybe he had nothing to worry about but he was indeed apprehensive not just for the kid but the shady looking characters lining the street, he felt so out of place and moved his wallet into his inner jacket pocket.

[Wen Ming-Chen]

The petite asian woman moved her hand to the crook of his arm when he offered his elbow, ensuring they shared a pace, which for Ming Chen was a dignified clip down the muddy street. And then remarkably, a boy darted out across the road.

It was like some bright, colorful bird had lighted in their path. Ming Chen smiled that brilliant, irresistable smile. She could tell someone had taken great care with his clothing, it was simple but well made and boardered in silk, and his que, the long pigtail hanging down his back, was neatly braided. He scampered off down the street in the opposite direction. A small, lonely figure.

Ming Chen watched him for a moment, her dark eyes shining , her voice quiet. "That boy if safer here than anywhere in the city. I bet most of the men on this street are like his brother. For Chinese people, to have sons is most important. When you die, they carry your name and feed your spirit and tend the family graves. Otherwise the spirits go hungry and no one remembers them. That is the worst thing, to be a hungry ghost, lost forever."

And a fate most of the men here knew approached unless they returned home, which is why they'd gladly spend a lifetime of savings to be returned for a proper burial in China, to be buried among their relatives. Some might even adopt at the last minute, so they could meet their ancestors with a son.

Blinking away the threat of tears they continued on until they reached the shop that had caught her eye.

Out front were crates of fresh fruits, and strands of dried chilies and braids of garlic hung from the rafters, as well as bundles of dried herbs of various kinds. They passed the threshold into the store itself, it's shelves lined with jars and bottles, boxes and various small articles. A little bit of everything. Ceramic spoons and bowls and funny looking brooms, incense and soaps and fans. Barrels of dried legumes and different types of peppers and rice. A counter in the back showed a variety of hams, sausages, and various other meats for sale. Some evidence of a woman's input, the carrying of sandalwood and jasmin scented soap, the variety of fans. The smell of a pungent mix of garlic and spices, sweet, smoky incense, and the smell of the open sewer outside.

A shop keeper approached from the back of the shop. A slim, neat man with round glasses, dressed in a long black tunic worn under a vest of deep blue silk. His long que was short through with silver, and upon speaking his voice surprisingly low for such a lean man. "Nei hou maa? His sharp eyes looked first to Ming Chen, and then to Rusty, whos arm she'd let go of the instant they entered the door. "How are you? You looking for something?"

"Géi hóu. " Ming Chen replied with a polite bow before producing a list from a trouser pocket, "I have need of some things. " Handing it to the shop keeper he reviewed the list, his eyebrows rising for a moment as if surprised. She'd guesstimated the amounts of salt, vinegar, sugar, and spices she'd be needing, trying to keep her estimate conservative. The shopper keeper nodded, almost to himself, then called out to someone in the back. A younger man dressed in a white, western style shirt and trousers appeared, a look of annoyance on his face as his boss handed him the paper and gave him instruction. Following him from the backroom came a chorus of puppyish yips and barks. Obviously the young man had been keeping the puppies distracted.

Ming Chen followed the shop keeper to the front counter where he started the bill and they haggled for a bit over the prices of the items she needed, but in the end she was satisfied with the result. His assistant began pulling bags of salt and stacking them behind the counter as Ming Chen picked up a basket to pick out the rest, sparing a curious glance towards the back room.

Stopping before mid turn, she pointed to a clear jar on the counter full of what looked like petrified eggs. Their shells were grey and crackled "Rusty. Look. Hundred year egg." Opening the lid of the jar the pungent smell of ammonia and sulfur wafted out, like piss and old eggs. "I buy it, you try?" Her dark eyes sparkling with mischief as she dared him.

[Russell Scarborough]

---

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

It was very important for anyone to have sons it seemed but now it was geared more toward just having children in general, settling down and having a family. If one had three daughters and no sons so be it little girls were adorable and the apple of their fathers’ eye, something to be cherished and protected until she ultimately spread her wings and flew the next leaving her father behind to weep in her absence like no grown man should. Not that Rusty was worrying about having kids anytime soon, if ever. He spent his days after work volunteering at the orphanage and donating his time to the needier kids of the place, the ones that needed help both emotionally and long term if they were to find a loving home. Such a waste he thought, to go through the trials of bringing another human being into this world, the beautiful miracle of creating someone with ones’ loved one, only to throw it away. Of course not all the kids there were placed because they were unwanted, some were the unfortunate souls left behind after the war, famine or disease claimed their parents. Ming explained her thoughts on parenting and the safety and better yet value of the boy Russell claimed no one must have cared about.

Ming gave him that reassuring smile and he was sure he would be okay, hell he would try anything once which he had already proven and so far nothing bad had happened, why worry? The smells of the ripening fruit outside in the crates was a welcome reprieve from the stench of the crude sewer system in the street outside. It was surprisingly cool within the confines of the little building and Rusty’s vibrant blue eyes traversed every nook and cranny of the joint, the colt revolver in his belt always sitting pretty in the back of his mind just in case trouble should arise. As Ming and the clerk had their foreign exchange Rusty remained detached until the little man turned to him and the foreman, lost in his thoughts, had no idea what he had asked and opened his mouth looking at Ming, fully inviting her to answer the question. She answered in her native tongue it sounded like and the foreman was satisfied the attention was off of him again and he turned to look over his shoulder for the kid in the street, still feeling a little uneasy about him being out there alone. He had noticed Little Ming seemed to almost get emotional talking about the kid which was why he had dropped the subject almost as quickly as he had brought it up wondering what had triggered her nearly pained expression.

Ming handed the clerk her list of wanted wares and he handed it off to what appeared to be an apprentice, maybe his son even or some other relative. Both customers perked up at the sound of puppies in the back room and Rusty immediately grew suspicious of what they may be up to with live dogs in the back. Were they going to be eaten? His eyes got a little wide at that prospect as he tipped forward on his toes some to try and look into the back room. A quick side glance and he noticed Ming too was trying to peer into the back room but called his attention a jar of questionable looking eggs floating in it. He nodded in acknowledgement with a knowing smile, but it dropped right off his face when she asked if he would eat them if she bought it, “Uh, well I . . . um.” then he slowly turned back to her with that smirk and narrowed gaze, nudging her with his elbow he laughed, “Honestly I would for twenty bucks . . . twenty-five, if you could promise me they wouldn’ kill me.” he looked around the store again, so many strange things yet some was recognizable and he had to even consider that maybe the Chinese had influenced Americans a little bit more than he had originally thought. As Ming’s things were being prepared to leave out the door with him Russell was sure he would be doing a little heavy lifting today.

[Wen Ming-Chen]

June 4th, 1869

The sprightly Ming Chen laughed again, a teasing pout forming on her small, expressive face, "Awww. You ask too much." Replacing the lid onto the jar she shook her head, a brow arching as she looked to Rusty with a side wards glance and a tilt of her head, "I try cheese for you, even though smells like feet. You cannot try egg for me?" She chided, though she pushed no further. Collecting a basket she began picking out other items. Knobby ginger root and strands of chili peppers. She was considering buying some ham from the trip home when the boy from the street wandered back inside. He took one look at the new customers and darted behind a shelf, self conscious as only a nine year old boy can be.

Ming Chen didn't mind the hide and seek game. She walked down the row next to his. Bending to his height, she moved aside a green, square tin with a picture of a mountain on it, the two of them staring at each other through the gap. "Nei hou. Néih giu māt'yéh mèhng a?" She asked, speaking to him across the shelf.

"Pun Po Hong."The boy replied after a moment of consideration.

"Good to meet you, Po Hong. You may call me Liu Tàitai, " Ming said, pointing to herself ", and this is my friend Mr. Scarborough." Standing she waved a hand to the foreman.

The boy laughed at the unexpected and unusual introduction, "Mrs. Liu, Mr. Scarborough, do you want to see my puppies?" Po Hong easily switched between English and Chinese, his accent almost flawless. She expected no less from the child of a merchant. He seemed very clever, though a little small for his age. She wondered if she had children, if they would be small, like her. She hoped not. The world was a difficult place for small things.

Her smile was incandescent, overjoyed. "I would love to see your puppies." Like the lonely bachelors on the street, her eyes followed the young boy, but hers were filled with a strange, heartfelt longing. Waving Russell along they followed him to the backroom, filled with crates and barrels and more shelves for delicate, overstocked items.

The young man putting together her order seemed disgruntled to see them, but little Po Hong quickly smoothed the way. In the far back a series of crates were arranged, like a little pen, and inside the wooden walls were 6 fat puppies, about 7 weeks old. Little balls of fur in tawny and black and silver, they looked like tiny bears.

Ming Chen gasped, "These we called temple dogs." She explained, " They used to guard temple and houses, and for hunting and herding animals. " The boy picked one up that wandered close to the crate wall, the curious pup standing up on his back legs to sniff curiously, a puppyish warning bark. The boy picked up the young pup, petted it for a moment, and then handed it to Ming who instantly melted, cradling it to her breast, it's head on her shoulder where it immediately began licking at neck and face."Awwwwwe." No translation needed.



*Nei hou. Néih giu māt'yéh mèhng a?=Hello. What is your name?
*Tàitai=formal address, Madam, proper for a married woman

[Russell Scarborough]

---

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

He clenched his teeth in a tense smile, shrugging his shoulders up like he was trying to hide in his jacket when she gave him a hard time about the eggs. The leery foreman had already taken a few steps back from her when she opened the jar, that noxious smell hitting him full in the face, “I dunno . . . smells like death, if it smelled like feet I would eat it but that smells like somethin died.” he laughed even though she was joking but still sounded pretty serious about him trying the eggs. She said it was one hundred years old, how in the hell would be able to eat something older than he was? About four times older than him. He was glad to see that playful side of her though, after that midnight mishap he was surprised she had even stayed in the guest house and not demanded to stay in the main home. But just as she had said that night ‘I don’t know what you are talking about’ they both acted like it hadn’t happened. Which turned out to be quite convenient, but he wore pants to bed now regardless. He was beginning to warm up to Ming the way he had to Darla, feeling a little protective and could sometimes feel the hair prickle across the back of his neck when he heard Mina bossing the new maid around. He could still remember that day when Darla jerked his revolver out of his belt, stomped outside and blew her father’s brains out right in front of the saloon, God and everybody else. He had grabbed her before she could object, thrown her up onto his own horse and sent them home whilst the marshal arrested him on suspicion of murder. Henry had scorned him for his willingness to hang for that woman, firstly he didn’t much care for Darla in the slightest but Henry was concerned that Russell would do something so drastic for someone he barely knew. But he would do it again, not just for Darla but he was incredibly loyal to Daniel Helm to a point he would die for the man and respected him greatly.

The little boy from earlier wandered into their midst soon after and Russell stood there with his hands jammed into his pockets, watching the exchange between Ming and the boy known as Po. He grinned and nodded politely to the boy when he was introduced, leaning forward some to peer into the aisle he had secluded himself to, one may have mistaken it for a bow, but curiosity satisfied he straightened back up and watched the clerk and his assistant gather the objects of Ming’s list. He bought groceries on occasion and always had a sharp eye for the way his wares were tended, he would not be going home with squished bread, he would just assume make it himself if they were going to be careless enough to squash it. But his attention quickly returned to Ming, keeping his eye on her, he was sure he wasn’t just here to help her carry everything back home, he was armed for a reason. When Henry had lived here Russell had been armed when he visited his sad and lonely older kin as he sat on the couch hugging a pillow to his chest staring blankly into space. For a long time Rusty just told himself something was wrong with that man, but now it was as if nothing had happened, he was all smiles and that worried him even more, was he suppressing everything? God help whoever happened to be around when everything built up and boiled over.

He was a little confused Ming did not introduce herself to the boy the way she had introduced herself to the him and the Helm’s, was it a cultural thing? The name she chose to share with the boy sounded borderline complicated and he was grateful the one she had habituated them to was simpler, but was it her real name? He was even more surprised when the boy answered Ming in almost perfect English and he heard something he was interested in, the puppies in the back room belonged to the boy. The balls of fluff running around in the pen instantly had both Ming and Rusty in one of those inescapable grins that stretched across their faces. He was intrigued by what she had to say about the dogs’ breed, “They must get pretty big.” he noted, if they were indeed guard dogs they should grow to be pretty big and intimidating. How could something so fuzzy and adorable be a guard dog of any kind? He knew those big shepherds could be very protective but some dogs were just not cut out to have a mean bone in their body. The boy picked up one of the squirmy puppies and handed it to Ming who immediately cuddled it like a child would a stuffed bear. The foreman pet the tawny fur of the temple dog and noted its downy like texture, “Looks just like a stuffed bear.” and that curly tail was wagging nonstop.

[Wen Ming-Chen]

"It's an egg. Of course it smells dead." Ming Shen said reasonably, a teasing smile still playing at the corner of her lips.

It had taken about a week before she could look him in the face again without blushing, but she'd never mentioned the truth in what happened that night to anyone else. If others assumed anything otherwise, it certainly wasn't because of anything she'd said.
Other than the one event, the foreman had been a very considerate bunkmate, and Ming Chen found that she appreciated his company. Though now and then she couldn't help but steal curious glances his way when no one was looking.

They got along fine. The same could not be said of everyone. She wasn't particularly fond of Mina, but she obeyed her just the same. She believed that the universe had put her there for a reason. Miss Darla certainly seemed to need her help. Fate had diminished her status in life, but her learning would not go to waste. Life on the ranch was very busy, but she felt more at peace than she had in many years.Though her life up until now had been one of failure and disappointment, perhaps she could find a purpose yet.

The housekeeper made note take careful account of everything before it went out the door, including the bill. She could tell that the shopkeeper had been surprised when she handed him a list, He probably still assumed that her husband had written it for her, and she'd have to check carefully to make sure he didn't throw in anything extra, or tack on any extra charges thinking she was too ignorant to notice.

In the back room, Ming Chen relished the small, warm, fuzzy bundle in her arms, and even the sweet puppy breath. When Russell moved to pet him she reluctantly offered him to hold,"Not so big." The petite woman held a hand up, about hip high on her, "About this high, but big around the shoulders." The pup, despite his fuzz ball appearance, had a sturdy conformation, already exhibiting stout little legs, thick paws, and the hopes of a broad chest.

Po Hong grinned proudly, "Would you like one? My baba is selling them, but we don't have any takers. Nobody has any money. He'd give you a good price."

Ming Chen opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again. Looking at the puppy she reached to pet his soft ears, "Not today." Or tomorrow, either, but it would be rude to refuse outright. She didn't have the extra money to spend, no matter how much she wanted to take the little guy home.

[Russell Scarborough]

---

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

He rolled his eyes playfully at her statement, “Actually eggs normally have a . . . a pleasant odor they don’t smell like a dead animal, unless they’re rotten.” he added with an unpleasant curl of his nostril, still leaning back away from the jar as she replaced the lid and the noxious fumes slowly dissipated, thankfully. She probably thought little of him and his reaction to that but it did not smell like anything anyone should ever, ever eat. He had pickled eggs once and didn’t much care for them but these, were something else entirely and smelled like nothing of this world. It was another reason why he never drank, liquor smelled positively revolting and tasted ten times as bad, like when he was up all night vomiting from the flu and had that taste in the back of his throat, that’s what it tasted like. To watch his cousin drown himself in that shit years ago, just the very thought of how it tasted made Rusty want to gag.

The puppies would have melted the hardest of hearts and Russell almost wished they could take one back to Buffalo Creek and he could hand it to Cyrus at the bar and watch him smile for once. Or Sam, give the puppy to Sam, a man that was ruthless and mean as a rattler but would take a baby off someone’s hands in a heartbeat and not lose an ounce of respect from anyone, that was a hell of a guy and since coming to Colorado Rusty always felt he was the man to talk to about anything. But not being too fond of the drink, cursing or smoking the saloon just wasn’t the place for him and he avoided it mostly unless he happened to see his troubled cousin in there, then he would stop and sit by him, cut him off if need be just like he had those years ago in Ohio and Indiana. He had been taking care of that man since he was eighteen, nothing, not even eight years later, would keep him from that. Just like Ming had said, he was family. After being here for some weeks Russell was sure she had heard all about Henry’s stay at the guest house, the explanation for the scratches on the wall of that room, but at least they had replaced the window before she came.

Taking the puppy and settling him into the crook of his arm Rusty waved his fingers around the little dog’s face and watched him try to bite at them, stretching his paws forward like a cat, “Perfect size, not too big an’ not too little, I never liked little dogs they always barked too much, an’ bit me.” it was a big deal if a big dog bit someone, his owner was obligated to drag the mutt behind the woodshed and shoot him. Smaller dogs didn’t do as much damage and seemed to get away with everything. When he was arrested a while back the marshal had asked him over and over if he really killed the man sprawled in the street with the back of his head blown out and Russell had nodded every time. But Murphy didn’t buy it for a second, the foreman looked so harmless. When Danny came to get him he was shackled in his cell and just grinned shrugging his shoulders.

From the look on her face Ming wanted to say something other than what came out of her mouth and the foreman had that deep thoughtful look about him as he watched her pet the puppy in his arms again, “That’s too bad.” he handed her the warm fuzzy puppy and fished his wallet out of his pocket, “You got a birthday comin up, why not?” he was sure she said she would be twenty-six in June, “It c’n be an early present.” he smiled and looked over at Po Hong and asked politely for the price of the wriggly puppy.

[Wen Ming-Chen]

"Mmmm." The little boys ink-dark eyes studied Rusty shrewdly for a moment, as if sizing him up. A merchants son for sure, this one. "One dollar, please." His hand outstretched as he gave a gap-toothed grin, one front milk-tooth missing.

It was too much. Ming Chen took the wiggling puppy back into her arms, holding the warm, soft body against her chest. The puppy whined faintly, kicking his back paws and ready now to be returned to his litter mates. She shook her head and held him a little closer, stroking his ears.

She couldn't accept him. It would be wrong. She certainly hadn't done anything to deserve such a gift, and Ming Chen couldn't help but feel guilty and a bit ashamed, taking advantage of Russell's good nature. Surely he just felt sorry for her, and this was an act of pity.

But she wanted the squiggling little puppy she held in her arms. Why couldn't she have something she wanted, just this once?

Ming Chen felt something damp roll down her cheek, and realized she was crying. It had been a very long time since anyone had done something for her just because, and her roomate was still practically a stranger. Talkative as he was, she knew his life story, while he knew almost nothing about her. Mostly because much of it was too painful, too ugly to remember. She didn't care to think about the past. But now that she thought about how such a small act of generosity could mean so much, she saw how bereft of the most simple comforts her life had been compared to the life she was born to, and it wrought a terrible ache in her heart. Ducking her head she tried to hide her tears in the mane of golden brown fur, knowing that to wipe them away would only draw attention to herself.

[Russell Scarborough]

---

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

He wondered if the other puppies would have as nice a home as this one would, lord knew Ming was going to spoil the hell out of him not to mention he would have lots of friends on the ranch and room to roam. Since they were supposedly an ancient breed of guard dog he would be an asset to the place guarding the house, livestock and his owner. Maybe in the future Ming would not need to travel with another person when she went to Denver and could just take the dog. The family dog at home, the one he had practically grown up with was an elderly pit dog named Sam, his grizzled face, greying eyes and rounded yellow teeth giving away his old age. He mostly took to long naps on the front porch, getting up only to wander the area in front of the house, maybe find a cool spot in the grass under an oak. He was stiff and even walking a good fifty yards was tiring for the old fella but they loved that dog. His father shot the few ranch dogs they had when they up and bit someone, they had one that badly attacked his oldest brother Benjamin and Graham put him down like anyone would. But Sam was a gentle soul and given his increasing blindness sometimes snapped out of surprise at an offending hand but Graham hadn’t the heart to shoot him, said it wasn’t his fault. In every letter he wrote to his parents he asked three questions; how was Ma, how were his brothers, and how was Sam? Expecting at any time to get the return letter with the saddening news that Sam had found himself a nice sunny spot in the pasture, laid down and passed on.

Why couldn’t all kids be this adorable? Little Po Hong put a smile on Rusty’s face he knew wouldn’t be leaving him for a long while as he asked for ‘one dollar’ in exchange for the fuzzy, potbellied pup. Not noticing Ming’s reaction, in fact he was almost afraid to look, some people got oddly offended when one bought them gifts. However the fact she had a birthday this month he felt she was almost obligated to accept anything anyone gave her, that was the tradition anyways. Fishing out a silver dollar coin thinking the kid might like something shiny better than paper money he looked over the seated liberty on the face and then the eagle on the back, yep it was definitely a dollar he thought to himself and handed it to Po Hong, “That oughta cover it, I thank you sir.” he shook the little boy’s hand and finally looked over almost cautiously at Ming and saw her hugging the puppy. Tapping the little black nose with his finger the tawny dog went to nip at him again and ended up yawning instead, “What’re ya gonna name ‘im?” he asked suddenly, maybe putting her on the spot but he was feeling somewhat awkward at the moment.

[Wen Ming-Chen]

"You are very welcome, Mr Scarborough. Pleasure doing business." The young boy tried to contain his enthusiasm when he saw that bright coin. He was trying to pretend at being a genuine businessman, like his father, but he couldn't help but grin and hop back and forth on his feet when the coin hit his palm. His first dollar! He shook Rusty's hand firmly. His father said that Americans put a lot of store by a man's handshake, so he tried to squeeze as hard as he could before admiring the silver coin. He should save it. Or frame it. Or better yet, buy lots and lots of candy and hide it from his brother. Yeah, that would be great...

Shoving the coin into his pocket, he noticed something odd. Putting his foot next to Ming's he commented off hand, "You have big feet for a lady, Mrs. Liu." He said with the guileless candor only a child can muster. Her foot was only slightly bigger than his, but they still seemed huge compared to his mothers.

Russell and Po Hong's attention turned to her, she could no longer hide the tears on her cheeks. Holding the pup in one arm she wiped at her face with her sleeve. [b"]Deui m̀h jyuh."[/b]She said with a bow to both, apologizing for her unseemly behavior, a self depreciating smile and laugh. Unable to express her gratitude in words, she wrapped and arm around the Hellfire's foreman, pulling him in to a hug. "Thank you." She muttered quietly before she let go, laughing again with a faint sniffled and looking at the long-furred golden puppy. A name? She didn't want something typical or obvious.

Holding him out in both hands, she looked at the broad face, the bright, dark eyes. The puppy regarded her in return, his ears perked. I think I will give him an American name. Something that cannot be translated It seemed fitting. "I will call you Bob." She said with a nod and a grin. He looked a bit like a mule team driver she knew in California, who was always singing off-key songs. She didn't understand what they were about, but guessing from the bawdy laughs they were never appropriate. He would give Ming sugar and tea sometimes, knowing they could scarcely afford such things. The sugar she never really had use for, but she did appreciate the tea. He had a red Indian wife named Lottie who used to travel with him. Ming never really spoke to her, but the two seemed happy together.

[Russell Scarborough]

---

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

Well Rusty had bought a puppy today from a kid named Po Hong in the Chinatown in Denver for his roommate Ming. There was something he couldn’t say every day. The foreman couldn’t say however that he had even been aware of a Chinatown in Denver until today. The little boy gave his hand a squeeze and a shake and Rusty smiled all the more, “That’s a nice grip Po.” he complimented, his father must have been or would be very proud of him. Once more the boy addressed Ming by a name Rusty had never heard but he told her she had big feet and looking down he saw how teeny they were and looked confused for a moment then shook it off.

He finally saw that Ming was crying, maybe tears of joy, had she wanted that dog that badly? Or perhaps it was dredging up some sort of fond, or maybe even bad memory for her. He would have hugged her if he felt it would have been appropriate, but he didn’t know her all that well just yet, but was pleasantly surprised when she threw an arm around him, about as surprised as he had been when Darla hugged him, “Don’t mention it . . . happy early birthday.” he laughed it off. To break the awkwardness he continued the conversation asking her what she would name the pup, to which she replied ‘Bob’ very decisively. That was simple, sounded like something one named a draft horse, a short moniker to get the animal’s attention as quickly and effectively as possible; Jed, Bob, Sam, Jack, Tom, Ike, Pete, Molly, Fred, Bill, Lucy the list went on forever. Henry had a draft named Attila, and Danny’s were named Zeus and Apollo, “That’s a great name, he looks like a Bob.” he pronounced Bob the way he would have back home, with a slight “a” sound rather than the “o” just trying to sound obnoxious.

They were called the front shortly thereafter to pick up their wares and since Ming now had a puppy in one arm Rusty took the liberties of grabbing most of the groceries, some of which looked very interesting and he wondered how on earth one cooked with these things. They would head back to the house and lord only knew how the pup would handle a train ride or a new life on a ranch. Maybe to keep the dog from relieving himself in the house while they were working they would put him in a horse stall in the stables or something. He wasn’t looking forward to Bob teething either and chewing everything from boots to table legs. The joys of raising a dog.

[Wen Ming-Chen]

June 4th, 1869
Denver, Colorado


"My family come from Hakka people." She explained to the boy, who nodded as if that made perfect sense. Among those that immigrated, a large number of the men were from the Pearl River Delta in southern China, and many were Hakka. The 'guest people' were long habituated to migration, hence why despite being ethnically Han, like the majority of the Chinese population, their women did not bind their feet. This and other cultural idiosyncracies set them apart from their neighbors, among whom only girls not fit for proper marriage were left unbound. But this meant little in the New World, were Chinese women, bound feet or not, were rare.

"He looks like a Bob I knew in California." The last b in her Bob not fully pronounced, making it sound more like 'Bop'. "Hopefully he sings better."

Hearing Po Hong's father announce that they'd gotten everything she needed, Ming Chen bounced the newly christened Bob in her arms and went to the front to settle her bill. Some people might have taken it as insult, but she thoroughly inspected both the bill of sale and double checked that everything was there and exactly as she'd requested. After some last minute haggling in rapid fire Cantonese some of the prices were adjusted and she settled her bill. Russell collected the bulk of the packages, for which she was grateful, and she left with few of the lighter sacks on one arm and Bob in the other, the poor pup looking confused and frightened as they left the shop, twisting in Ming Chen's arm and trying to burrow his head in her armpit.

Excited and distracted by the new puppy, she didn't think twice as they reached the train platform, the train ready to board. In Buffalo Creek she'd boarded without incident, but this time before she even made a step towards the passenger car a porter stopped her, redirecting her with a curt gesture "Colored passengers, car 4."

For a moment she'd almost forgotten what it was like off the ranch. Denver was a site larger than Buffalo Creek, and with the slightly larger diversity came the rules that kept people in their place. Looking to Russell for a moment she felt flushed with embarrassment. "Excuse me." She replied in accented English to no one in particular. "I'll see you at the station." Ming Chen offered with a forced smile.

Balancing the squirming, whining puppy in her arms, she turned towards the last passenger car that had been designated for people of color, awash with the irony that she was restricted in the use of the railroad her husband and her countrymen had helped to build at the expense of years of blood, sweat, tears, and even lives. But that was how things worked in this country. It was useless to fight, if you wanted to survive it.

[Russell Scarborough]

---

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

As Ming told him she was naming the dog after a coincidental likeness to someone she knew in California, the foreman couldn’t help but still yearn for a visit to that place, he was sort of halfway there. After being promised for four months that he would get to go all the way to the other side of the country, see the Pacific ocean, raise cattle only to have it all turn out to be lies was still leaving that hole in him, a desire to see what he had missed out on. Being just eighteen at the time and having all of that promised to him of course he had spent nights lying awake in that musty stable fantasizing about his future. He had everything all planned out and to suddenly wake up one day and realize he had nothing when Henry left him, threw into shock and for a little while he didn’t even know what to do with himself, then he started walking, “Hope he saves all his singin for in the daytime, not at night while we try t’sleep.” the foreman noted.

Rusty waited patiently, maybe even took the liberties of looking a few people up and down as Ming went through her purchases and then negotiated the prices in her foreign tongue. He couldn’t wait to see that fuzz ball of a pup bouncing around the ranch that was going to be a sight to see, but maybe not outside until he was bigger, otherwise the older dogs may very well mistake him for a rabbit or something. That would be rather heartbreaking. Once Ming seemed satisfied she paid for her groceries and Rusty gave a polite nod and a genuine grin to everyone, took up an armload of the heavier bags and they went on their way. The train awaited them and was making a run north and of course would be stopping at Buffalo Creek and as she sat steaming at the station the two Hellfire employees made aim to board.

Mounting the plank Rusty might have boarded without much notice that Ming had been halted on the dock if it hadn’t been for the voice of the porter. Ming’s quiet 'excuse me' was drowned out by a whish of steam released from the engine and the foreman, probably a good five inches shorter than the man stopping Ming from boarding, turned and came back down toward them, staying atop his board so as to speak directly to the man, “Excuse me.” looking far from a ranch foreman Rusty was dressed to impress today and maybe he would impress someone after all, “Colored people?” he said it like it was a joke, standing there with bags of heavy groceries he needed to make this quick, “Call me blind as a bat but I do believe I’m darker than her, you too, not t’mention she’s with me, she’s my responsibility an’ she’ll be ridin on this car with me so’s I c’n keep an eye on ‘er. If somethin happened to ‘er . . . well let’s say thing’s wouldn’ turn out too well for ya.” Rusty gave him that stubborn look and hoped what he had said had convinced the man, otherwise he would have to get Danny or Henry involved, two well respected businessmen here in Denver that rode the train often. They should have been very familiar faces. Speaking of faces there were several in the window of the car they had been trying to board, curious and maybe even disbelieving, was that man really trying to get a China woman on their car?

[Wen Ming-Chen]

June 4th, 1869
Denver, Colorado

She loved him. Despite the fact that Russell's indignation probably stemmed from never having encountered such treatment in his life. Ming Chen never thought in a million years she'd see a white man stand up for a Chinese person in such a public place. People took noticed and she felt her face color, but kept her head held high instead of trying to evade notice as she might have. For a moment she remembered who she was. Her father was the headman of their village. Her mother descended from an imperial scholar. In her own country she'd been a lady, well educated, a beloved daughter. I was a pearl in my father's hand. It took coming to America for her to learn what it was like to be nothing.

"Sir, I do apologize, but it's company policy. You must understand, it's for the sake of the other passengers as well. I promise your little maid here will come to no harm, but she needs to go the car designated for her kind." The station agent said, his tone completely reasonable. The way he said it, it was a matter of plain sense. Of course. Russell might be a little more worldly than most, but he couldn't expect decent men and women to share accommodations with a heathen Chinese. Why, who knew what diseases her and that little dog carried. It was for the public safety, really.

Ming Chen gave a cold, hard look to the station agent's back as he spoke around her, as if she wasn't even there. Her kind. The little maid. But this needed to stop before it escalated to something unfortunate, and both of them ended up in jail, or worse, "It's okay. My mistake. I go now." A look to the foreman saying wordlessly leave it. She hoped that he would take the hint. As admirable as the action was, it wasn't worth a fight.