4- San Francisco Smugglers

Andi takes charge when she learns that the little Chinese servant-girl at her San Francisco finishing school is really a slave.

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Chapter One

The Flood

San Joaquin Valley, California, Winter 1881

“Flood’s a comin’!”

Andi Carter jerked her head up from where she slumped, chin in hands, daydreaming. A flood? Now? In the middle of church? She straightened in her seat and watched a man wearing a rain slicker pound his way to the front of the sanctuary and steady himself against the pulpit.

Andi’s brother Chad leaped to his feet. “Where, Fred?”

“From the east. We need every man to lend a hand with the levees, or the water will take most of the town.”

“What about teams with plows to cut ditches?” Sam Blake shouted. “My livery was hit pretty hard a couple years back. I aim to make sure the water passes me by this time around.”

Fred pushed away from the pulpit and headed back down the aisle. “The Bentley brothers are working on it. Wheeler’s passin’ out shovels.” He paused and waved a hand in the air. “We gotta go!”

As one, the worshippers rose and began gathering up their outerwear.

Andi jumped up with the rest of her family. Her heart leaped. What luck! A flood was much better than listening to one of Reverend Harris’s long, dull sermons.

She’d never seen a real flood. The Circle C ranch lay more than an hour’s buggy ride from Fresno, on high ground. The yearly risk of flooding from Fancher, Red, and Big Dry creeks never threatened the Carter spread.

Andi had to content herself with hearing stories of folks working together to channel the water away from their beloved town. Her friend Cory’s secondhand tales were always laced with thrills and narrow escapes.

Scrambling along behind her three brothers, Andi paused at the door of the church and looked east. Nothing. No water. No flooding. No nothing. If it wasn’t for Fred Woodworth’s warning, she’d think it was just another dreary, rainy February day. The downpour of a few hours ago had turned to a light drizzle.

Disappointed, she watched the men hurry away.

“I gotta get my things outta the cellar,” a man yelled from the middle of the street. “She’s comin’, I tell ya!” He disappeared around the corner of the church.

Andi knew that if she didn’t disappear pretty quick, she’d lose her chance to see something interesting. She glanced over her shoulder. Her mother and her older sister Melinda were busy helping the women collect their children. Melinda held a sobbing little girl, while Elizabeth Carter had her arms around a young mother.

“I can’t go home,” the frightened lady confessed. “I couldn’t stand seein’ our furniture float away.”

Mother murmured something Andi couldn’t hear and led the woman toward a pew. She seemed to have forgotten about her youngest daughter.

Andi clattered down the steps and into the street. She would take a quick peek and come right back inside to help.

“Andi!” Cory Blake ran up beside her. His blue eyes and disheveled hair reflected his excitement. “The water’s rising fast a few blocks over. If you want to see it, come with me.” He grabbed her sleeve.

Without a backward glance, Andi allowed Cory to pull her along.

When they reached Tulare Street, they stopped. As far as Andi could see, a torrent of water was pouring down the street. She gasped. “How can a few levees and ditches control this?”

“You’ll see. Everybody pitches in. You’ve never seen such shovelin’ and plowin’ and shoutin’ and”—he grinned—“high spirits, even. No pesky flood’s gonna get us down.”

Careful to avoid the worst of the muddy stream, Cory and Andi picked their way along the raised wooden sidewalk. The water rose steadily.

One block over, men with plows and teams of horses worked to channel the flood away from the business district. Cory pointed toward a house surrounded by water up to its porch. “Look at Mr. Fuller.”

The old man was fishing his stove wood out of the “ocean” swirling around his doorway.

“Need some help?” Cory waded through the churning, muddy stream and went after the floating logs. Laughing and splashing, he steered them toward Mr. Fuller’s front porch.

Andi stayed put and watched.

“Thanks, young fella,” Mr. Fuller said. He stashed the wood safely above water.

“You look like you’re enjoying this,” Andi remarked when Cory sloshed his way back to higher ground. “What if the water gets deeper?”

“Then I’ll get a rowboat. It’d be fun to row around town and rescue folks. And if I couldn’t find any people to rescue, I’d save chickens or cats or any poor critter caught in a fix.”

He tugged on her sleeve. “If we climb to the roof of the Grand Central, we’ll see everything.” He didn’t seem to care that he was soaked to the skin.

“No, I’ve seen enough. I better get back to the church. Mother doesn’t know I left.”

Cory shook his head. “Too late, Andi. Look.”

Andi’s heart sank. “Oh no.” The flooded street had cut off the two explorers from the rest of town. “How am I going to get back?”

“This way.” Cory headed for the railroad depot.

Andi followed her friend the last couple of blocks to the station. Everywhere she looked men were building levees and cutting channels to divert the water. The clanging of shovels could hardly be heard over the rushing water, the boisterous laughter, and the shouting of orders.

Andi could tell by the way the townsfolk were working together that they’d done this before. It was surely only a matter of time before Fresno returned to normal.

Suddenly she heard a yell above the clamor. “The levee broke! Water’s comin’ through!”

The muddy current rushed down the street and alongside the railroad embankment like a young Mississippi River.

Cory snatched Andi’s hand and yanked. “Hurry!”

They scrambled up the sloping mound of dirt and gravel, where the train tracks rose above the valley floor. With a final jerk, Cory pulled Andi to her feet. She stumbled and crashed into a cluster of Chinese residents.

“Sorry,” she said, righting herself.

The Chinese men ignored her. They stood silently, watching the rising floodwaters. So far, the high railroad bed had kept the flood away from the Chinatown side of the tracks—a perfect dam. But the embankment was now throwing the water back against Fresno in fresh waves.

“I think we’re stuck up here,” Andi said.

“Stuck is right,” Cory agreed. “Who knows how long it’ll take before the water finally runs off?” He lowered himself to the tracks and settled down to wait.

Andi didn’t feel like joining him on the soggy ground. “If it gets much higher, we’re going to get soaked.”

Cory cocked his head to look at her. “Andi, we already are soaked.”

The rain had stopped for the moment, but it was damp and chilly. From the top of the embankment, Andi could see the sheet of water spreading north. If the townsfolk didn’t do something soon, the entire town would be immersed in waist-high water, and every building filled with squishy mud.

Standing in the cold, watching the water drown her town, Andi lost her enthusiasm. Her brothers were no doubt building levees. Her mother and sister were busy helping others. But here she was, slogging around in the mud and trapped on the railroad bed until the water receded.

A flood’s no fun, she decided. It was just a lot of hard work. She wished she was back at the church, warm and dry, helping Mother.

At the thought of her mother, Andi glanced down at her clothes. Her skirt peeked out from under her coat and clung to her legs in limp, soggy folds. Mud caked her Sunday slippers.

“Mother’s going to have a conniption fit. What was I thinking?” It was one thing to wade in the creek on a summer’s day wearing overalls but another thing entirely to tramp around in a February flood, dressed in her best.

“Did you say something?” Cory asked. He looked perfectly content sitting on the tracks. His straw-colored hair was plastered to his head in long, dirty hanks. Mud speckled his face.

Andi didn’t answer. She turned her gaze toward Chinatown. She almost envied the Chinese. Their section of town was dry. Dozens of residents, however, held shovels in their hands and wore bleak expressions. Why?

She became more confused when a handful of shy Chinese women made their way to the top of the embankment. Half a dozen small children clung to their mothers’ blue cotton trousers. They stood off by themselves in a small, tight group.

Andi stared at them. She knew it was rude, but she couldn’t help it. She had never seen a Chinese woman or girl before. There were plenty of Chinese men in Fresno. She even knew the laundryman’s son, Chen Lu, by name. But the few Chinese women in town kept themselves hidden away.

A few years ago, Andi had asked her lawyer-brother, Justin, why she never saw Chen Lu in school. Justin explained that the law in California did not allow Chinese children to attend.

“That’s not fair,” Andi exploded. “Why isn’t there a law forbidding me to go to school?”

Justin had laughed and sent her on her way.

Now Andi wondered if one of these tiny, timid women was Chen Lu’s mother. She smiled tentatively at the group, but the women gathered their children closer and turned their eyes to the ground.

Suddenly, a string of high, agitated Chinese voices rose above the sound of the rushing water. The men pointed and shouted, then began scurrying away.

Andi turned to see what had upset them. A crowd of townsmen was gathering near the water tower.

Cory jumped up. “I wonder what they’re up to.”

“We’re cutting through the embankment just north of the tower,” a dirt-splattered young man told them in passing. “It’s the only way we can keep the town from washing away.”

Andi now realized why the Chinese men had rushed off in such a hurry. “But if they do that, Chinatown will be flooded.”

The man slung his shovel over his shoulder and grinned. “Better them than us.” He hurried away to help.

Andi glanced back at the bedraggled group of Chinese women and children. Would their men be able to raise levees in time to save their small community? She hoped so. She had a sad, strange feeling that the citizens of Fresno would not go out of their way to lend a hand to their neighbors on the other side of the tracks.

“I’m wet and cold,” Andi said. “I want to go home.”

Cory laughed. “You gonna swim?”

“I don’t have to. Look.” A small boat was coming toward them.

An older man with an unkempt, graying beard and worn overalls cupped his hands to his mouth. “Howdy, kids,” he called from the boat.

“Howdy, Mr. Henderson,” Cory yelled. “Howdy, Reed.”

Reed lifted an oar in greeting. “Give us a hand with the boat, would you?”

Cory and Andi snagged the prow as the rowboat scraped against the embankment.

Mr. Henderson squinted at Andi. “Your ma’s a mite worried, Andi. She wants to get back to the ranch before things get worse. She sent me to look for you. Climb aboard and I’ll row you to dry land.”

Andi didn’t hesitate. A mite worried? More like a mite angry, I bet. She reached for Reed’s outstretched hand and stepped one foot into the rowboat.

“Careful, Andi,” Reed warned.

Too late. Andi’s other foot slipped on the loose gravel. Arms flailing, she toppled into the floodwaters.

Splash! Water rose clear to her chin. “Help!”

“I’ve got you!” Reed locked his fingers around Andi’s wrist and held on.

The water wasn’t deep, but it was cold. Andi grabbed the edge of the boat with her free hand. Mr. Henderson dug the oars against the current, while Cory kept a firm grip on the bow.

Reed hauled Andi over the edge and dropped her into the boat. Then Cory jumped in. They drifted with the current along Front Street.

“That was close,” Cory said. He’d lost his usual grin.

“Yep,” Reed agreed. “The last lady we rescued fell overboard too. She swallowed so much water we had to fetch Doc Weaver.” He turned to Andi. “You all right?”

Andi huddled in the bottom of the boat, shivering. “I’m fine.”

She wouldn’t admit to the Hendersons—or to Cory—how scared she’d been when she hit the water. There was no real danger, but she couldn’t help remembering her plunge into an overflowing creek just a couple of months before. She’d almost drowned that day, and this dunking brought the terror back in full force.

Mr. Henderson’s sympathetic voice brought her back to the present. “I’m right sorry, Andi. We’ll have you to shore in no time.”

Before long the rowboat scraped bottom. Andi and Cory climbed out onto a street away from the worst of the damage.

Mr. Henderson shook his head. “You two look like a couple of drowned rats, I’m sorry to say. Better hurry home, before you catch your death.”

“Yes, s-sir. Thank you, s-sir,” Andi said between chattering teeth.

“I’d best find my pa,” Cory added.

Andi waved to her rescuers then turned and ran back to the church. When she rounded the corner, she saw her mother standing in the muddy street, near the family carriage. She was gazing toward the flooded parts of town. When she saw Andi, she shook her head.

Andi took a deep breath and hurried over. “I’m sorry, Mother. I didn’t—”

“Get in the carriage,” Mother said.

Andi gulped and obeyed.

She was in a heap of trouble. Again.

Chapter Two

Out of the Frying Pan . . .

Andi sat shivering with cold during the hour-long ride back to the Circle C. She’d wrapped herself in the carriage’s lap robe, but it barely made a difference. Her soggy hair and icy feet sent continuous, freezing reminders of her foolishness.

Worse, Mother didn’t say a word. Neither did Melinda. The eerie silence—broken only by the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves—gave Andi plenty of time to think about her poor choices. This was no doubt what Mother had in mind.

To keep her mind off her misery, Andi tried conversation. “Reed Henderson fished me out of the water, Melinda. He’s real nice. You should go with him instead of that ol’ sourpuss, Jeffrey Sullivan.”

Melinda rolled her eyes.

“Did you know they’re cutting through the track bed and letting the water flood Chinatown?” When no one replied, Andi continued, “Don’t you think that’s a terrible idea? The people in Chinatown will be—”

“That will do, Andrea,” Mother said.

Andi closed her mouth. No doubt about it, she was in disgrace. She pulled the lap robe tighter around her shoulders and settled back to endure the rest of the trip home in silence.

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“You’re home!” Andi shouted when she saw her brothers ride into the yard Wednesday afternoon. She slid from Taffy’s back and ran to meet them. “What happened? Is the town still there? Is the water gone?”

Chad brushed Andi’s words away with a weary hand and nearly fell from his horse. “Yeah, the town’s still there, but you might not recognize it.” He tossed his reins at a ranch hand, who snatched them up and led the horse toward the barn. “Have somebody return these mounts to the livery later today, will you?” Chad called after him.

“Sí, señor,” came the cheerful reply.

“I’ve got some bad news for you, Andi,” Mitch said.

Andi felt herself grow pale. “Did somebody drown? Did one of my friends get hurt?”

“No, nothing like that.” He sighed. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Sis, but the worst-hit building in town is the schoolhouse. It’s still surrounded by water.”

Andi frowned in confusion. This was bad news?

“The whole first floor is covered in a foot-deep layer of mud,” Justin put in. He headed for the house.

Andi trailed along, trying to make sense of her brothers’ words.

“Everything in Miss Hall’s classroom is a loss,” Justin went on. “Your classroom upstairs escaped damage, but it’s going to take weeks to put everything back in order.”

“Weeks?” Andi pondered. The main floor of the building full of mud. School supplies for the little children a loss. Repairs taking weeks. “Does this mean . . . ?” She held her breath.

Mitch’s blue eyes twinkled. “I think so.”

“We called a hasty board meeting and decided to close school for the rest of the term,” Justin said. “Hopefully, we can get the building cleaned up in time to open for the spring session.”

“Yippee!” Andi threw her arms around her oldest and favorite brother and hugged him tight. She was glad he was on the school board. She was probably the first kid in the county to hear the glorious news: no school for two months!

Her thoughts whirled with possibilities. It was only mid February, but the days were already growing warmer. In no time, the sun would shine more often, and the fruit trees would bud. The meadows would soon burst into wildflowers. For once, she’d have all day—every day—to ride Taffy and welcome spring back to the valley and the surrounding hills.

“Thank you, Justin.” She smiled up into his face. “You’re the best brother in the whole world to close school like this.”

Mitch laughed. “I figured the news would hit you hard.” He yanked on her braid in passing and took the porch steps leading to the kitchen entrance in one long stride. He eyed Chad and pulled a coin from the pocket of his muddy trousers. “I’ll toss you for the tub.”

“Nothin’ doin’,” Chad retorted, suddenly wide awake. Then he was off, slamming through the door like a small child. Mitch was only a few steps behind.

Andi turned to Justin. “I wonder who will win.”

“Neither one, the way those two are tearing through the house. When Luisa gets finished with them, I’ll wager they end up using the horse trough to cool their heels.” Justin smiled. “I believe that will give me all the time I need for a good, long soak in the tub.”

Andi laughed. Justin was right. The Carters’ fiery little Mexican housekeeper put up with no nonsense. She was just as likely to scold grown men like Chad and Mitch as she was to give Andi a piece of her mind for sliding down the banister.

It was never a good idea to cross Luisa.

Supper that night was a gala affair for Andi. Nothing could dampen her spirits. “No school, no school,” she chanted quietly while she scooped two huge spoonfuls of mashed potatoes onto her plate. Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll brush Taffy ’til she shines and then off we go. She hummed and passed the potatoes to her sister.

“Your sulky mood didn’t last long,” Melinda said when she took the bowl. “I thought the scolding and chores you ended up with would keep you quiet longer than a few days.”

Although Mother had held her tongue during the ride home last Sunday, she had plenty to say later. Andi found herself saddled with the job of thoroughly washing and ironing her Sunday clothes, scrubbing her slippers, and cleaning her coat.

Andi had indeed felt grumpy, at least until this afternoon. Now, nothing could dim her joy.

She elbowed her sister. “Hush. I want to hear what the boys are saying.”

Flood stories dominated the supper conversation. Andi listened, wide-eyed, to the account of what had happened to Fresno after she’d left. The railroad bed had been cut, and the water began to recede shortly afterward.

She frowned. “The water poured into Chinatown, didn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Justin admitted. “But don’t worry. Chinatown turned out in full force to save their quarter. They built a levee, and most of their property was spared. Which is more than I can say for the business section of Fresno.”

“We battled those levees for three straight days,” Chad grumbled. “They’re still not secure. The banks are soft and seeping considerable water. If folks let their guard down, the levees will break again, and we’ll have another mess on our hands.”

“Justin, may I ride into town with you and see it sometime?” Andi asked.

“You’ll get the chance to see Fresno soon enough, Andrea,” Mother said from the head of the table. She took a sip of water. “The school’s closing has prompted me to consider other options.”

“Other options?” Andi put down her fork. “Other options for what?”

“For your schooling.”

Silence. Then, “I reckon I’m on holiday for a couple of months, Mother.”

“You reckon wrong,” her mother replied. “This is an excellent opportunity to continue your education in San Francisco. You have a standing invitation to stay with Aunt Rebecca and attend Miss Whitaker’s Academy for Young Ladies.”

Andi’s stomach turned over. “Mother, I—”

“Allow me to finish, please.” Mother held up her hand. “I’ve never consented because I knew you didn’t want to be away from the ranch for so long. Now, however, we have the perfect compromise. You can finish the winter term with Aunt Rebecca. She’ll be so pleased. I’ll wire her first thing in the morning to expect you this weekend, in time to begin school next Monday.”

Andi glanced around the table, numb with shock. She waited for somebody to jump in and say this was a bad idea. When no one came to her rescue, she shoved back her chair and leaped to her feet.

“I can’t go to San Francisco, Mother. Aunt Rebecca is no more than a jailer. She’ll hover over me morning, noon, and night. I might as well be—”

“That’s enough, Andrea,” Mother warned. “Sit down and finish your supper.”

Andi sat. But she didn’t finish her meal. Hot tears rose and threatened to spill over. Her throat swelled. She couldn’t eat. Even the smell of hot apple cobbler didn’t revive her appetite. She clutched her linen napkin in her lap and stared at her now-cold slab of beef and half-eaten potatoes.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, supper conversation resumed. Andi’s brothers told more flood stories and discussed the plans for cleaning up Fresno. They shared the town’s ideas to help folks who were temporarily homeless because of ruined furnishings and a layer of mud in their parlors.

Andi could not choke down another bite of food, and flood news was suddenly unbearable. While all her friends enjoyed an unexpected holiday or pitched in to help clean up Fresno, she would be stuck nearly two hundred miles away at some fancy school for young ladies.

Worse, when she wasn’t in school, Aunt Rebecca would be breathing down her neck to conduct herself properly every waking moment.

Even before Andi’s father was killed almost seven years ago, his older spinster sister had considered it her Christian duty to interfere with his family. Since James Carter’s death, Rebecca had poked her nose in more often. Her unwavering, outdated opinions—freely aired—along with a keen sense of what was proper before God and society, made Aunt Rebecca’s visits to the Circle C unbearable for Andi.

“Andrea.”

Her mother’s voice jerked Andi from her musing. She looked up.

“Sulking is unseemly.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I know you’d rather stay here, sweetheart. But think of Aunt Rebecca. She loves you and wants to see you. You’re old enough to put aside what you want and think of an old woman.”

Mother smiled. “And consider this. Katherine lives with Rebecca. The children, also. I don’t think a visit to San Francisco will be as bad as you imagine. You’ve told me more than once the past month how much you miss your nieces and nephew.”

Andi let out a long, slow breath. It was true she missed Levi, Betsy, and Hannah. When her sister’s family had boarded the train two months ago, she’d as much as promised Levi she’d come to San Francisco to see him.

Besides, Andi knew Mother wouldn’t budge once her mind was made up, especially if she thought it was the right thing to do. Andi shivered. The last time she’d heard her family talking about a visit to Aunt Rebecca’s—nearly a year ago—she’d bolted, running away with her beloved horse, Taffy.

That adventure had cost Andi dearly. However, she’d learned something from almost losing Taffy, and she didn’t want to repeat past mistakes.

“All right, Mother,” she said. “I’ll go.”

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