Read an Excerpt

Chapter One
 
 
A warrior walks, swishing the dew aside with the ends of his bow.
—YOSA BUSON (1716–1783)
 
“YOU’RE CERTAIN THIS is where he can be found?”
 
“I’ve been followin’ Cap’n Talbert, jes’ like you asked me to, fer the last three days. He’s been comin’ to this place every evening at the same time. That’s how I knew to send you a message to come.”
 
Meghan McLowry looked up at the Oriental script over the door of the small building. The white lettering glowed with the last rays of the setting sun, bold strokes against the dark, weathered wood. She clutched the hood of her cloak beneath her chin, as much to conceal her face and hair as to protect herself from the brisk wind blowing in from the bay.
 
“What kind of place is this, Mr. Boone?”
 
“Don’t know, rightly. All I can tell you is the cap’n has a powerful hankerin’ fer heathen things from the East. Ain’t enough for him that we make port in Malaysia, Japan, the Philippines, the Sandwich Islands, takin’ on cargo … he heads straight fer this little Japanese corner of San Francisco soon as we drop anchor.”
 
So this was Japanese writing. Meg examined the characters with interest, noting the differences from the Chinese script she’d seen since 1852, when her parents first brought her to this booming city.
 
“Why does Captain Talbert come here?”
 
Boone rubbed his short brown beard and took a step forward. He offered snidely, “Maybe it’s a whorehouse.”
 
She looked at him sharply. “A bit small and out of the usual style, wouldn’t you say?”
 
Shrugging, he shifted forward again, coming closer in a way that Meg immediately recognized as encroaching. “Like I said, the man has a yen fer the mysteries of the Orient, including them dark-haired, slanty-eyed women. The only thing more important to him is his collection of swords and daggers.” His grin showed teeth marred by a career at sea and several bouts with scurvy. “Now me, I prefer my women white, blond, and fully fleshed out.”
 
His hand suddenly appeared at her cheek. Meg caught a glimpse of dirt-stained fingernails just before he caressed a wayward lock of her hair. Damn her unruly curls, forever escaping their bonds.
 
She refused to flinch or back away, drawing confidence from the cold, familiar companionship of the pistol hidden beneath her cloak. Eighteen years in this city, since the age of nine, had taught her that although the most rough-hewn miner could treat a lady with the same deference afforded the shiny metal of his dreams, there was the occasional scum who considered women easy prey. In this case, however, she didn’t need to use the gun for defense.
 
Two hulking figures, identical in height and breadth of shoulder, stepped from the shadow of the building behind her.
 
“Don’t touch,” warned one of the young men in a voice that rumbled from the depths of a barrel chest. They both strode forward on legs like tree trunks, their blond hair and beards glittering in the light of the setting sun.
 
“Understand?” the other growled, jabbing Boone in the chest. The seaman staggered back, nodding vigorously.
 
Meg struggled not to laugh at the expression on the man’s face. “Meet the Richter twins, Mr. Boone, newly emigrated from Germany. Their mastery of English is minimal, yet effective. I’m not so foolish as to venture into this part of town alone. Now, I believe we have a business transaction to complete.”
 
He straightened and jerked his coat into place, then spat in the dirt at Peter’s feet. Quickly, she reached out and touched Peter’s thick forearm. His beefy fists unclenched slowly.
 
“What I can’t figure,” Boone said sourly, “is why you’re interested in the cap’n because he got hisself into trouble on the Barb’ry Coast the night we made port.”
 
“What interests me is the fact he managed to extricate himself from that trouble, and the manner in which he accomplished the feat.”
 
“Eh?”
 
“The fight, sir.” His knitted brow cleared now that she was talking down on his vocabulary level. Meg slipped the pistol into the deep pocket of her gown, then pulled out a small velvet bag, communicating in a language he could understand even better. The distinctive clink of coins caused Boone to lick his lips.
 
“Gold?” he rasped.
 
“That was our agreement.”
 
“Let me see.”
 
His hand shot out. Meg caught the dangling bag firmly in her fist, jerking it beyond his grasping fingers.
 
Boone backed off with a wary glance at the glowering twins.
 
Annoyed by his transparent greed, she snapped. “Not yet. First, I need to confirm some things. The newspaper article was true, wasn’t it? Four men, armed with knives and cudgels, attacked Captain Talbert on the waterfront?”
 
Boone snorted. “Four men as dumb as miners’ mules, you mean.”
 
“You were there? You saw the fight?”
 
“It were hard to miss, when that first fella’ came flying through the window of The Golden Mermaid, where me and my crew mates were liftin’ a mug o’ ale. He’s the one ended up with cuts and a cracked skull. Everyone in the tavern rushed out to watch the fight. Yep, another paid fer his trouble with a broken wrist, the third with cracked ribs,” Boone stated, drawing himself up as if he’d played a role in the outcome. “Don’t know why Talbert let the last one get away. Guess those boys were new to San Francisco. Didn’t know any better, poor dumb bastards.”
 
So Jacob Augustus Talbert did have a reputation. Better and better. Meg could only hope word of that reputation had made its way to Chinatown.
 
She tugged open the string of the bag and poured the coins onto her palm. Boone’s fingers twitched. His Adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed.
 
“One last thing. The newspaper article mentioned that Captain Talbert struck blows with his feet in the fight, as well as his fists. Is this true? I don’t want to base my decisions on secondhand information.”
 
“I can give you a guar-un-tee on that one. I watch the cap’n practice them heathen eastern moves on the ship every day. It’s like some kinda’ religion with him.”
 
Relief washed through Meg, leaving a tingle of anticipation in its wake. She wasn’t wasting her time here. “Thank you, Mr. Boone.” She replaced the coins and tossed the bag his way.
 
He caught it deftly. “Jes’ one word of advice, missie. Don’t let on to the cap’n that you learned about him from that story in the paper.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“He’s real partic’lar about having his privacy cut up,” he said ominously. “That’s why I ain’t stupid enough to return to the Shinjiro.” With one last glare at the twins, Boone turned and disappeared into the gathering darkness.
 
Well, that didn’t bode well, for Meg was about to cut up Talbert’s privacy in a way that went beyond the machinations of a nosy newspaper reporter.
 
For both our sakes, Captain Talbert, I hope you accept my first offer.
 
Meg took a deep, fortifying breath and pressed her palm against the rough, weathered wood. She now had the captain on neutral ground, where she needn’t suffer the indignity, the disadvantage, of seeking him out on his ship. Time for the next step in her plan.
 
She pushed open the door.