Issue 13: "Children of Heaven"

1871:

The sound of hammers clanging against iron could be heard for miles as workers laid rail across the broad plain. It was a steady rhythm, with men driving spikes into the ties just as soon as other men set them into place. Save for the clanging, the workers themselves made very little noise: they’d learned early on to work in silence, their heads down and eyes focused on their individual tasks. There was still the chance that one of the gwailo bosses might come up and beat them for no good reason, of course, but despite that threat, they continued on with their work, hoping that one day the dreams that had brought them to America would be fulfilled. Sadly, they were unaware that the chances of a Chinaman becoming anything more than a common laborer in this country were terribly slim.

Up and down the rail line, the workers kept up the pace. At one section, a pair named Jin and Fong were busy moving a wooden tie into the spot of earth another worker had just leveled. As they bent down to settle it in, Jin overbalanced and fell, the tie barely missing him as it hit the ground. Fong rushed over to make sure his friend was all right, but he soon saw the glassy stare in Jin’s eyes and felt the heat coming off his bone-dry skin.

“Why are you two coolies laying down on the job?” O’Rourke, the team boss, yelled as he stomped over to them. Like many of the Chinese in the railroad’s employ, Fong only understood a handful of English words, but he could read the angry expression on O’Rourke’s face very clearly. “We’ve got a schedule to keep, so get up right now! Chop-chop!” He slapped his meaty hands together violently.

Fong tried to tell O’Rourke what was the matter, but the man had him so flustered, he couldn’t think of the proper words in English. Instead, he made a cupping gesture with his hands and raised them to his lips. In response, O’Rourke slapped Fong’s hands back down, saying, “It ain’t lunchtime yet, you little slant-eyed bugger! Now get up!” He went to grab the two of them and haul them up, but Fong pushed O’Rourke away, wrapping his arms protectively around his friend, which didn’t please their boss at all. He kicked the Chinaman, yelling at him to get on his feet that instant, while the other workers continued on with their jobs, sparing only the briefest of glances their way so as to not incur O’Rourke’s wrath as well.

Then something hit O’Rourke square in the back, hard enough to send him sprawling in the dirt beside the two Chinamen. “Who the Hell did that?” he said as he turned over, itching to throttle whichever coolie had attacked him. But when he looked up, he saw a white man on horseback, casually slipping his dusty boot back into the stirrup. Between the noise of the hammers and O’Rourke’s haze of anger, he hadn’t heard the man ride up.

“Ain’t no reason tuh be treatin’ them fellas like that,” the man said.

“And you ain’t got no reason to be kickin’ me in the back.” O’Rourke climbed to his feet, glaring at the newcomer. Whoever he was, he certainly was an ugly cuss: though his face was partly hidden by the Confederate officer’s hat he wore, what O’Rourke could make out looked like it wouldn’t be out of place on a church gargoyle. “Why don’t you get a move-on before I decide to make both sides of your face match?”

The man said nothing, but then his left hand came up fast as lightning and reached across his waist, towards the ivory-handled Dragoon tucked under his belt. O’Rourke’s eyes widened and he stumbled back, but then he saw the hand pass over the gun and continue on behind the man, and when he brought it back, he was holding a battered canteen, which he promptly tossed at Fong. The Chinaman caught it and, amidst many expressions of thanks in his native tongue, uncorked it and began to pour the water down Jin’s throat.

“Not so fast, yuh’ll drown him,” the man said, then turned his scarred visage towards O’Rourke. “Workin’ out here in the hot sun day after day, an’ yuh ain’t never seen a man with heatstroke afore?” Before O’Rourke could reply, the man spurred his horse and continued on.

O’Rourke watched him go, then realized how quiet it had gotten. He turned around to see most of the workers standing there, stunned to see their loudmouthed boss put in his place by the gray-clad stranger. He waved a hand at them, shouting, “This ain’t no stage show, dammit! Get back to work!”

“Jackass,” Jonah Hex muttered under his breath as he rode parallel to the rail line. He considered turning around and adding a few more boot-prints to the man’s backside, then dismissed it. His destination was in sight, and he’d already wasted enough time following that false lead on his quarry. This time, however, he was quite sure he was on the right track.

The town of Tanglewood hadn’t been much to look at in its early days, but now that the railroad was rolling right up to its doorstep, the place seemed to have grown overnight. It was a lovely spot of civilization in the middle of nothing, offering just about anything a wandering heart could desire. For Hex, that desire was simply to find Big Dan Willis, collect the bounty on said man, then grab a bite to eat and retire to a room that was hopefully free of bedbugs. The sooner he took care of the first two, the sooner he could see about the last two. Catching sight of a saloon, Hex dismounted out front and tied his reins to the hitching post. The way his luck ran, he’d have to hit every damn watering hole in town before he came across Willis, but he had to start somewhere.

Jonah entered the saloon, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as he scanned the room. A man played piano in the corner, the music mingling with the patrons’ voices and the sound of glasses clinking about until it all became just a wall of noise. Girls in low-cut dresses fawned over half-drunk men as a young Chinese man scuttled about, cleaning up after the white customers. Reckon he wasn’t lucky enough tuh get a job on the rails, the bounty hunter thought sarcastically as he rolled a cigarette, never taking his eyes off the room as he did so. He watched the Chinaman go about with his bucket and rag from one mess to another, slipping between people like the star of some busboy ballet, until one man stood up a mite too fast and jostled the Chinaman right into the neighboring table, where a card game had been in progress. Drinks, cards and poker chips flew everywhere, the majority of them landing on the poor Chinaman as he plunked down on the floor. The men at the table leapt to their feet, cursing and threatening him with bodily harm, but unlike before, Jonah didn’t intervene, he merely hung back and continued to smoke as he watched the room. Then he saw that one of the card players, whose back had been to Hex previously, had a very familiar face. He took a final drag on his cigarette, crushed it beneath his boot, and strolled on over.

“I had a full house, you clumsy slant-eye!” the man was saying as he started to reach for the Chinaman, but he stopped and turned around when he felt Hex tap him on the shoulder.

“Howdy, Willis....remember me?” Jonah said, then belted the man across the jaw, sending him flying into another table, the other patrons backing away from the fracas as quickly as possible. “Thet’s fer pepperin’ muh coat with a load of buckshot o’er in Santa Fe,” the bounty hunter informed Willis as he took hold of the man, then slammed a fist into his gut. “This here’s fer tellin’ thet whore tuh send me in the wrong damn direction.”

Willis spat on him, saying, “That was my sister, you mule-faced sonovabitch.”

“Like Ah said,” Jonah quipped, then threw Willis towards the bar, cracking the man’s head against the mahogany front. “An’ thet’s fer...aw, Hell, Ah’ll think of something later.” Jonah grabbed Willis by the collar and nodded with satisfaction when he saw the man was out cold. He looked up at the bartender and asked, “Y’all got a sheriff ‘round here?”

“S-s-south on Main, two blocks,” he replied.

“Much obliged.” Jonah touched a finger to the brim of his hat, then hoisted the unconscious Willis over his shoulder and headed out of the saloon. The noise level in the place didn’t rise back to normal until he was well out of sight, and even then, all the chatter seemed to be focused on what had just occurred. Only the Chinaman, however, dared to walk over to the door and watch Hex as he went down the street to the sheriff’s office, and he didn’t stop watching until the bartender ordered him to start cleaning up the mess.

Jonah Hex lay on his bed in the Grand Hotel, his boots off and his belly full. Capturing Big Dan Willis had brought him a decent payday -- four hundred dollars -- and he’d celebrated with a nice juicy steak and a bottle of good whiskey. He figured on resting in Tanglewood for a day or two before picking out some new owlhoot from the wanted posters in the sheriff’s office, but for now, the only thing he was hunting was a good night’s sleep. Blowing out the lamp on the bedside table, Jonah tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

His eyes flew open five minutes later when he heard someone coming up the stairs at a fast pace -- not running, but definitely with a sense of purpose. He got up and, grabbing one of his Dragoons, pressed himself flat against the wall beside the door. There was a chance that he was getting keyed up over nothing, but he’d been in too many situations where “nothing” had turned out to be a big something, and he wasn’t about to totally relax just yet.

Sure enough, the footsteps stopped outside his door, followed by a swift knock. “Who is it?” Jonah said, pointing his gun at the door.

“It’s Jenkins, Mr. Hex, from the front desk. There’s someone downstairs to see you.”

“Why don’t they come on up themselves?”

“Well...frankly, sir, the management here doesn’t allow Chinese on the premises. I’m really not even supposed to let them in the lobby, but...”

“Chinese?” Jonah echoed. “Ah don’t know any Chinese.”

“That may be, sir, but he’s asking for you just the same. I think he wants to hire you.”

Hex’s brow furrowed, then he said, “Tell him Ah’ll be down in a minute.” He lowered his gun, then put his boots and coat back on. He had to admit, he was intrigued by the notion, but he couldn’t imagine why a Chinaman would want to hire him. Maybe some fella ain’t paid his laundry bill in a while, he thought as he strapped his gunbelt on.

He left his room, and as he was halfway down the stairs, he spotted an old Chinese man standing near the hotel door, close enough to it that Jenkins could hustle him outside if the manager came by. “Y’all wanted tuh see me?” Jonah said as he walked over to him.

The Chinaman bowed slightly, saying, “Good evening, Mr. Hex. My name is Mei Xiao-Ping. I have heard very much about you.”

“Everybody does, it seems,” he replied. “There a reason fer this social call, Mister Ping, or did y’all just want tuh impress yer friends by sayin’ yuh met me?”

“Mister Mei, if you please,” he gently corrected. “And yes, I am here for a very good reason. I wish to ask your assistance in a matter of injustice.” The old man seemed to draw himself up a bit straighter as he said, “For many years, my people have suffered at the hands of yours. I have been informed that you witnessed some of this suffering very recently.”

“Ah’ve seen muh fair share.”

“Then you know what I speak of. My people have endured much, with little in return. We have toiled long and hard for a reward that always eludes us, yet our desire for that reward does not diminish.”

“Muh heart bleeds fer yuh,” Jonah said flatly. “Don’t see whut one bit of this has tuh do with me, though.”

“We want to end this suffering, Mr. Hex. We want to be given the rights and the respect that we deserve...and we want you to help us achieve that.”

“Me? Who the Hell do yuh think Ah am? President Grant?” he scoffed. “Yo’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, mister, if’n yo’re lookin’ fer somebody tuh fix all yer woes.”

Undeterred by his reaction, Xiao-Ping said, “I know it is a difficult task, and it cannot be achieved overnight, but with a man of authority like you representing us -- one who believes in our cause -- we could finally make our voice heard.”

Hex narrowed his eyes at the man. “Do y’all even know whut Ah do fer a livin’?”

“You are a hunter of men. You uphold the law by bringing those who break it to justice.”

“Thet’s right...an’ Ah don’t do it fer free, neither, so unless yuh got a few hunnert dollars stashed under them pajamas,” Jonah said, pointing at the simple Chinese garments Xiao-Ping wore, “we ain’t got business.”

“But...but we do not have that sort of money. My people barely make enough to survive from day to day. That is why we need your help.”

“Whut y’all need is tuh grow a spine. Every Chinese Ah’ve ever seen gets spooked the second a fella raises his voice, an’ thet’s half yer damn problem.” He hitched his thumbs on his gunbelt and said, “If’n yuh want respect, yuh gotta earn it, an’ yuh sure as Hell ain’t gonna earn it by hidin’ behind somebody else. Ah’m sorry, mister, but Ah ain’t the fella yo’re lookin’ fer.”

Xiao-Ping stood there silently for a moment, then said, “No, it appears that you are not. Forgive me for burdening you with our troubles, Mr. Hex.” He bowed to Jonah once more, then turned and walked out of the hotel.

As the Chinaman left, Jenkins let out a chuckle from his place behind the front desk. “Whut’s so damn funny?” Hex said to him.

“The whole idea of it,” Jenkins replied. “A coolie trying to hire a white man? What was he gonna have you do, guard the laundry?”

Hex was about to tell the man to shut his pie-hole, then stopped when he recalled that similar thoughts had gone through his own mind before coming down. With a grunt, the bounty hunter went back up the stairs to his room. Once he got there, however, it took him some time before he could nod off to sleep.

“Yuh got a problem there, boy?”

“N-n-no, sir.” The barber stood beside Hex with a straight razor in his hand. He’d already given the bounty hunter a trim, and was now halfway through the shave, but he’d become too intimidated by the task before him to finish. “It’s just that...I mean, I...I would hate to...you know...”

“Do yuh honestly think a little slip with thet razor’s gonna make things any worse?” Jonah turned his soaped face so that the hole where his right cheek used to be was more prominent. “Hell, if’n yuh improve it enough, Ah might actually tip yuh.”

The comment did nothing to bolster the man’s confidence, but with a gulp, he continued on anyways. He was nearly done when a young Chinese woman banged open the door to the barber shop, startling him so bad that he nicked Hex’s ear. The bounty hunter cursed and sat up in the chair, but before he could check to see how bad the cut was, the woman came up and slapped the good side of his face. “You killed him!” she said, then struck him again. “You told him to do it and you killed him!”

“Dammit, woman, whut are yuh goin’ on about?” Jonah grabbed her wrist as she came in for another blow, then shoved her back so hard that she fell to the floor. “Ain’t bad enough thet Ah’m bleedin’,” he muttered, tearing off the towel draped over his front and using it to wipe off the shaving soap. “Now Ah’ve got tuh deal with some fool China girl thet’s gone out of her head.” He got out of the chair and stood over her, saying, “Whut’s yer beef, anyhow? Ah shoot some fella y’all was sweet on?”

“My father. You killed him...you...” She stared down at the floor and started crying, arms hugging her chest.

“Stop thet...Ah said stop.” He pulled her to her feet, his fingers digging into her slim arm. “Listen tuh me: Ah ain’t killed no Chinamen, so whoever yer father was, Ah’m not...”

“His name was Mei Xiao-Ping,” she said haltingly. “You spoke with him last night...told him to deal with the gwailo bosses himself, and now he...he’s...” The tears took over again, and she leaned against Jonah’s chest. The bounty hunter was too stunned to do anything but put his arms around her as she sobbed. Then he noticed the barber still standing there, staring at them. “Get out,” Jonah growled at him.

“Me? B-but this is my shop. You’re...”

Hex’s face darkened as he said, “If’n yuh don’t, Ah’m gonna take thet razor an’ make us look like twins, yuh savvy?” The barber did indeed savvy, and beat a hasty retreat into the back room as Hex guided the woman over to the chair. “Whut’s yer name, sugar?” he asked.

She took a moment to compose herself, then said, “Mei Ling.”

“Okay, Mei Ling, tell me whut happened.”

Slowly, the details of the massacre came out -- one of the workers who’d witnessed it firsthand had told her, just as others had spread word about it amongst all the Chinese in the shantytown. “My father was a peaceful man,” she said once she’d finished. “He never would have provoked the gwailo if you hadn’t told him it was the only way to make them listen.”

“Ah didn’t tell him tuh provoke nobody. Ah said him an’ the other Chinese weren’t never gonna earn any respect if’n they didn’t...” Jonah paused, reflecting on his choice of words the previous night: Whut y’all need is tuh grow a spine...thet’s half yer damn problem. He turned his face away from Mei Ling, saying quietly, “Ah didn’t mean it like thet, Ah swear.”

“If that is not what you meant, then why did you say it?”

He didn’t have a good answer for her, so instead he asked, “Does the sheriff know ‘bout this yet?” She shook her head, and he told her, “Then Ah’ll go talk tuh him. Probably won’t take muh word fer it since Ah wasn’t there, so y’all go on home an’ find some of yer folks thet’re willin’ tuh speak up on the matter. Kin yuh do thet fer me, sugar?”

“Yes...yes, I can.” Mei Ling got up from the chair, then paused at the door long enough to say, “And thank you.”

Once Mei Ling had left the barber shop, Jonah turned his attention to the mirror hanging behind the chair. There were still a few unshaven whiskers on the right side of his jaw, not to mention a streak of blood running down his neck from the cut on his earlobe. He picked up the towel again and wiped the blood away, then dug a coin out his pocket and laid it on the barber chair. “The job yuh did ain’t worth two bits,” he called towards the back room as he went to leave, “but Ah reckon Ah owe yuh thet much fer all the ruckus.”

Though Mei Ling had tried as hard as she could, she’d only managed to persuade three of the workers to speak up about what they had witnessed. The fear of further retribution had silenced the rest, as least as far as speaking to other gwailo about it was concerned. Now, Mei Ling and the three workers were sitting in the one-room shack she had shared with her father, waiting for Jonah Hex to show up with the sheriff. She did her best to hide her grief from the others, even though it felt like it was consuming her heart like fire. The only thing that helped was the thought that the killers would be brought to justice -- like her father, she tried to always follow the peaceful path, but she knew those men could not be allowed to hurt anyone else.

There was a knock on the shack’s door, and Mei Ling jumped. The workers tried to hide their nervousness as she opened the door, but to their dismay, they saw only Jonah Hex standing on the other side, hat in hand. “Ah’m sorry, Mei Ling, but the sheriff ain’t comin’,” the bounty hunter said. “Reckon now I see whut yer father was gettin’ at.”

The workers behind her asked in Chinese what was going on, and she told them, surprised at the calmness of her voice. She then said to Jonah, “Thank you for trying, Mr. Hex. It...it was very kind of you.” She bowed slightly to him, then began to close the door, only to have it blocked by Jonah’s hand.

“Yo’re gonna give up on this, ain’tcha?” he asked her. “Yuh cain’t let them get away with this, sugar. Yuh’ve gotta fight.”

Mei Ling could feel her facade of calm cracking at his words, and tears began to flow again as she said, “We have seen what happens when we fight, and it solves nothing. What will more fighting do other than cause more of us to die?”

“Whut if y’all weren’t the ones doin’ the fightin’?” He pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside the shack. “Yer father thought thet somebody like me could make the railroad men listen tuh yer demands, but Ah thought y’all would be better off doin’ thet yerselves.” Jonah paused, took a deep breath, then said, “Ah was wrong, an’ I want tuh help y’all fix this mess.”

“But you said the sheriff...”

“Tuh Hell with the sheriff. It’s only O’Rourke thet we need concern ourselves with. If’n y’all back down now, after whut he did, yuh’ll never have a moment’s peace. Tomorrow, me an’ him is gonna have a little chat, see if’n maybe Ah kin get him tuh meet some of yer demands.” Jonah scratched at his chin, then said, “Of course, like Ah told yer father, Ah don’t work fer free...be bad fer muh reputation if’n Ah started doin’ things like thet. Ah’m gonna have tuh charge yuh fer all this help.”

Mei Ling appeared crestfallen as she told him, “It may be some time before we can pay you anything. Most of the workers make about ten cents a day...and that’s only when the gwailo bother to pay them.”

“Ten cents a day, eh? Sounds like a fair rate, under the circumstances.” Mei Ling looked at Jonah in confusion, and he explained, “Ain’t no rule thet says Ah cain’t take a pay cut. If’n y’all only make ten cents a day, then Ah’ll charge yuh the same.”

The workers stared at Hex in shock after Mei Ling translated the conversation for them. A white man willing to work as cheaply as a Chinaman? The fact that he was going to help them was incredible enough, but this new piece of information was almost unbelievable. They came up to him, talking animatedly in Chinese and trying to shake his hand, but Jonah got a sour look on his face and said to Mei Ling, “Call ‘em off, will yuh? Ah ain’t even done nothin’ yet!”

This whole situation wasn’t the sort that Jonah was used to finding himself in. Normally, all that was required of his services was a fast gun and nerves of steel, not going back and forth over increasingly-fine points in a contract. But he told Mei Ling and the other Chinese that he’d do his best to help, so that’s what he did, talking to O’Rourke until Jonah wondered if his tongue might unhinge and fall out of his mouth. He also wondered how in blazes people actually managed to do stuff like this for a living -- the thought that every lawyer, politician, and businessman must eventually go mad from constantly prattling on like this crossed his mind more than once.

After they’d hammered out a deal (and he was relatively sure the railroad men would stick to it), Hex paid another visit to Mei Ling, and soon found himself talking at ridiculous length again, this time with the two Chinese elders Mei Xiao-Ping had met with before his death. They wished to know the details of the deal Jonah had struck on behalf of their people, so he laid it out for them: double their previous wages, along with payment of any money that had been withheld from them over the past few months. Unfortunately, none of this would be immediate, as O’Rourke claimed that his coffers were empty, and the money would have to be sent to them from the rail company’s headquarters back east. Jonah thought it was a damned lie, and said so, but he was willing to give O’Rourke the three weeks it would supposedly take for the payroll to reach them. After that, Jonah promised he would perform the task he was better suited to and bust some heads until the money turned up. The elders were pleased to hear the news...or at least, Mei Ling told Hex that they were. Since their knowledge of English was a bit spotty -- and Hex didn’t know one iota of Chinese -- she served as translator during the meeting, filling in the parts that one party or the other didn’t understand.

Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Jonah’s schedule varied little: he’d spend the day out by the rail line, riding his horse at a slow walk up and down the length of it as he made sure O’Rourke and his men kept their word about no longer harassing the Chinamen. There would be the occasional incident between the two groups, but Hex defused them easily enough, and everything would go back to normal. Despite O’Rourke’s predictions to the contrary, work didn’t slow down in the least -- in fact, some of the Chinamen seemed to be working even harder now that they didn’t have that constant cloud of fear hanging over their heads -- but that didn’t stop O’Rourke from throwing Hex a glare every time they passed by each other.

When work was over for the day and the Chinamen made their way back to the shantytown, Jonah would accompany them, just in case the railroad men decided to pull something on the sly. Once he was assured that all was well, he would speak briefly with Mei Ling and the elders, to let them know how things were progressing. At first, this constant reporting annoyed him -- he didn’t think it was necessary, as very little changed from day to day, but the elders insisted on it -- but he soon found himself looking forward to it just so he could see Mei Ling. Though they rarely said a word to one another that didn’t concern the business with the railroad, the sound of her voice gave Jonah a feeling that he hadn’t experienced in a long time, as did the soft touch of her hand against his when she would give him a cup of tea. It struck him as strange that Mei Ling would make him feel that way, since he was reasonably sure his heart had turned into a dead lump of muscle in his chest years ago. He still experienced lust, of course, and wasn’t above spending a few dollars at a whorehouse every month or so to quell that age-old urge, but this most certainly wasn’t lust he was feeling.

Trouble was, he didn’t want to feel like this: he’d become quite contented with the notion of being on his own for the rest of his life, thank you very much, and didn’t need to complicate things by becoming attached to some woman. Which is probably why Jonah was rather surprised to find himself lingering outside Mei Ling’s home one evening. The elders had already left, and Hex had been in the process of leaving as well, but just couldn’t bring himself to take up his horse’s reins and actually get moving. He stood beside the animal, one hand on its neck, as his brain tried to override the impulses coming from his very-much-alive heart, until the horse got tired of its master’s indecision and nudged him back a step with its nose. “Y’all ain’t helpin’,” he said to it, to which the horse replied with a snort. Jonah snorted himself, then turned away from the horse and went over to the door of the shack.

The door was partway open, and Jonah could see Mei Ling clearing away the cups on the low table in the center of the shack’s single room -- her back was to him, and his eyes lingered on the delicate curve of her neck, then slid down the simple Oriental dress she wore, all the while the unwanted feelings inside him growing stronger. Then she turned around, giving out a small gasp when she saw him in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hex, I thought you had left,” she said. “Is something the matter?”

Jonah stepped into the shack, fumbling with his hat as he did so. He held it close to his chest, looked down at it, rolled the edge of the brim beneath his fingers...basically anything he could think of to do that didn’t involve talking. Finally, he came up with something reasonably innocuous to say: “Y’all had any supper yet?”

She hesitated a moment before replying, “No, not yet.”

More brim-rolling, then he said, “Kin yuh...Ah mean, would yuh like tuh have supper with me? Ah ain’t talkin’ nothin’ fancy or anything like thet, Ah just...” He forced himself to look at her. “Ah’d just like some company, thet’s all.”

Mei Ling said nothing, and Jonah began to wish he’d never even tried to speak with her like this. Then a small, demure smile came to her lips, and she said, “I would like that as well.”

Jonah was too stunned to speak for a moment, but he managed enough rational thought to put his hat back on and offer Mei Ling his arm so he could lead her out. The two of them made their way into Tanglewood proper -- there was a small restaurant within the Grand Hotel, and Jonah figured it would do just fine. When he and Mei Ling entered the lobby and began to walk towards the restaurant area, however, Jenkins popped out from behind the front desk. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hex, but you know the rules,” he said as he stepped in front of them.

To tell the truth, Jonah’s mind had been so focused on Mei Ling that the hotel’s rule about no Chinese on the premises had been briefly forgotten. He wasn’t about to admit that, though, and said to Jenkins, “We’re just goin’ tuh get a bite tuh eat, whut’s the harm in thet?”

“I’m just doing what management told me to do, sir. You can come in, but the woman’s going to have to wait outside.”

“Listen, skunk, all’s we want tuh do is sit down an’ have a nice quiet supper, an’ if’n yuh don’t get out of muh way, Ah’m gonna...”

“Can I help you, sir?” The hotel manager came out of the restaurant, and behind him, more than a few diners were looking up from their meals to see what was going on in the lobby.

“Yeah, Ah’d like tuh have a word with yuh ‘bout this stupid ‘no Chinese’ policy. Ah’m a payin’ customer, dammit, Ah’ve got a room upstairs, an’ y’all ain’t got no right tuh tell me who Ah kin an’ cain’t invite tuh supper.”

“If that’s how you feel, perhaps you’d be better off checking out of this hotel,” the manager replied.

The bounty hunter began to take a step forward, intent on knocking the manager flat, but Mei Ling held onto his arm and said, “It’s all right, Jonah. Let’s just leave.”

“No, it ain’t all right. Ah’m sick tuh death of the way people act in this cussed town. Ah’ve got a good mind tuh set a match tuh the whole damn place an’ be done with it.”

“Jonah...please, I want to leave.”

His jaw set tight, his hands balled into fists, Hex didn’t look like he was about to back down. But Mei Ling’s words slowly overrode his rage, and he turned around to walk out of the lobby. It was a difficult thing to do, it wounded his pride, and he stayed silent as he and Mei Ling walked around town, the setting sun painting the buildings in shades of red and orange. After a while, she said to him, “It was kind of you to invite me, even if it didn’t work out how you wanted.”

“It ain’t fittin’, the way people treat yuh,” Jonah replied, his face showing no emotion.

“No, it’s not...but you’ve been helping to change that.” She leaned against his arm as they walked. “I do not see any need to be violent about it, though. We already know where that path leads.”

“Sometimes violence is the only thing folks understand. Y’all kin talk as sweet as yuh want tuh them, but a good right cross works better.”

“But you understand more than that.” Mei Ling stopped walking and stood in front of him. “There is a gentleness inside you, yet you seem determined to deny its existence.” She took hold of his hands, running her delicate fingers over the scars and calluses upon them, then said, “What happened to you that you would choose to live this way?”

Jonah’s eyes dropped to the ground as he quietly said, “Wasn’t completely by choice. Ah just...it’s just how things came about. Yuh don’t always get tuh decide where life takes yuh.”

“Do you ever wish it had taken you somewhere else?”

“Not tonight, Ah don’t.” He was surprised at how easily he said that, after being so flustered before. Then he looked at Mei Ling, who didn’t seem surprised at all, and took a deep breath. “Sugar, Ah...it’s been a long time since Ah told a gal this, but...but Ah...” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he tried to force the words out, but they seemed stuck. God ,when was the last time he’d said this? Too damn long ago, so long that doing it now was like working a rusty hinge.

To his relief, Mei Ling gave him a way out: she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips. That simple action freed up whatever inhibitions were holding Jonah back, and he wrapped his arms around her and picked her up off her feet, holding her close as they kissed some more. He could feel his heart swelling with emotion, just a sheer joy and passion that he hadn’t felt in years, to the point where he couldn’t imagine why he’d tried so hard to quash it.

Unfortunately, Jonah’s attention was so fixated on Mei Ling that he never noticed the man watching them from the shadow of a nearby building. When the two of them had sated their desires long enough to continue walking, the man followed, doing his best to stay out of sight in case Hex suddenly turned around. It never happened, though, even after they made their way into the shantytown -- the man stayed with them the whole time, stopping only when he saw the bounty hunter and the China girl enter one of the shacks. “So that’s the way it is, eh?” the man said under his breath, then hightailed it back the way he came until he’d reached the town saloon. “Boss! Hey, boss!” he yelled as he ran up to one of the poker tables.

“Quiet, Sullivan,” O’Rourke said, not even bothering to look up from his cards. “I’ve already lost eighteen dollars tonight, and I’m not letting these boys get another penny out of me.”

“But, boss...I figured out how to get rid of Hex!”

That got O’Rourke’s attention. He looked at Sullivan and said, “You’d better not be joshin’.” Sullivan insisted he wasn’t, and O’Rourke folded out of the game. “Now, what’s all this about?” he asked once the two of them stepped away from the table.

Sullivan laid it all out for his boss, starting with the argument he’d overheard when passing by the Grand Hotel, and ending with what he saw in the shantytown. “Judgin’ by the way him and that little coolie was actin’ out in the open, I’d say things are gettin’ pretty hot in that shack right about now, if you know what I mean,” Sullivan said.

O’Rourke pulled at his bottom lip as he mulled over the information. Ever since Hex first stuck his nose into their affairs, he and the other men had tried to come up with a way to get rid of him permanently. But once they learned of Hex’s reputation, none of them were willing to risk a confrontation with the man, not so long as there was a possibility of him being armed -- even going after him at night up in his hotel room seemed risky, not to mention the witnesses that might crop up. However, if he was in the midst of having relations...and doing it out in that shantytown, to boot...Hell, it was too perfect to pass up. “Go round up as many of the fellas as you can find,” he told Sullivan, “and meet me back here. Make sure everybody’s got a firearm of some sort too. We’re gonna make that ugly sonovabitch sorry he ever set foot in this town.”

“The new rail boss will arrive in a week or so.”

Jonah grunted in reply, his eyes on the ceiling. The bullet wounds he’d sustained were healing fine, but the doctor still wanted him confined to bed for a few days, and was keeping him in the back room of his office to make sure of it. Not the most ideal situation for a man like Hex, though having Mei Ling stop by for a visit helped lessen the sting.

“He’ll be bringing along the money we’re owed, as well,” she continued. “Apparently, O’Rourke had never requested a cent in our favor...and according to Mr. Sullivan and some of the other men, they’d all been pocketing a good amount of the railroad budget.” She shifted a bit in her chair, then said, “It’s still up in the air about whether or not those men will be...sentenced.”

“Hanged, yuh mean,” Jonah said. “Considerin’ whut they did tuh yer father, Ah figured yuh’d want ‘em tuh swing.”

“I wanted to see justice done, and I have in a way, but...killing those men won’t really change anything.”

“Pretty enlightened thinkin’. Ain’t how most folks would look at it, thet’s fer certain.”

“And which way do you look at it?” she asked. Jonah said nothing, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, and Mei Ling reached out and touched his hand, saying, “That night we were together, you dared to show me a beautiful side of yourself...and since then, you have buried it. Is there any hope that I might see that side of you once more?”

A shadow seemed to pass over his face, then he finally turned his gaze towards her. “Ah want y’all tuh understand something, sugar. Over the years, Ah’ve lost more people than Ah’d care tuh talk about, an’...an’ it seems tuh me thet it usually happened ‘cause Ah let down muh guard in some way. Thet’s why them fellas got the drop on us. Ah almost got yuh killed ‘cause Ah...” His mouth twisted, and he looked away for a good long time. Then his hand clasped hers tightly, and when he looked at her again, his eyes had begun to mist over. “Ah love yuh, Mei Ling. Ah love yuh, an’ Ah cain’t bear the thought of losin’ yuh.”

Mei Ling’s eyes were misting over as well, the tears soon spilling down her cheeks as Jonah strained to sit up in bed, then pulled her close to him. They remained like that for some time, arms around each other as Jonah repeated those three simple words over and over, as if realizing for the first time in his life what they meant.