Lady Samurai

Chapter 1

San Francisco, 1854.
Gold Rush

The horse's head hung so low with exhaustion he appeared to be bowing and the rider was swaying sideways as if about to fall off the saddle any moment. Both presented a pitiful sight as they rode into town.

Their looks spoke of a former prosperity that had sadly fallen on harder times. The traveller's clothes must have originally been black, but, at that moment, looked dirty-grey, covered in dried mud and layers of dust. A keen observer would be perhaps able to see past that sorry appearance and notice the fashionable cut and the expensive material of the clothing, as well as the good quality saddle and the undeniable value of the exhausted horse. The street was, however, almost empty at this - late for some and early for others - hour and there was nobody caring enough to pass judgement. Besides, this part of town was widely known for its free and unconstrained character. All were welcome here... as long as they could pay, that is.

The rider stopped in front of the most prosperous Chinatown's pleasure house, stiffly dismounted and, after tossing a coin to a small boy to take care of the horse, went in; and was instantly assaulted by the smells of cheap perfume, tobacco, alcohol and many unwashed bodies, all crammed into a tight space of a windowless reception parlour.

"Mama-San," with a refined bow the visitor expressed due respect to the owner who was sitting just behind the door, resplendent in her scarlet cheongsam and heavy make-up.

The Madame knew enough about her guest's past to appreciate the greeting as a sign of deep respect and even if it wasn't a Chinese honorific, she replied in kind. "Ah, Lottie-San," a genuine smile threatened to crack the layers of paint upon her face. "We were not expecting you back so soon." Although she spoke with an obvious accent, her English was fluent.

The guest removed her hat, allowing long blond hair to fall freely onto her back. "I need a bath," she sighed. "And a place to stay for a day or two. I should also value your discretion." Her voice was low and ragged.

"Lottie-San, you know that the girls can be trusted. Nobody will trouble you in my house." Mama-San clapped her hands and in rapid Chinese gave orders regarding a bath and a room for her guest.

"Thank you," Lottie bowed again, in eastern fashion, from her waist. "I appreciate that." She rubbed her stiff neck and followed a servant. She was taken to a private part of the house, which was only used by the domestics and where paying guests were not allowed. Servants efficiently prepared the bath and then withdrew, leaving her alone.

It wasn't the first time the fair-haired woman had stayed as a valued guest at the house. The girls whispered it had something to do with a favour or a spot of trouble she had once helped Mama-San with. She was polite, witty and valued regular baths, which was something to set her apart from the other white people. San Francisco was then teeming with all kinds of people: prospectors, merchants, adventurers, con men and criminals. Finding someone with an appreciation of the Eastern culture was quite unusual. Lottie-San always paid handsomely and treated the girls with courtesy, which earned her their loyalty and friendship.

Now, left alone, Lottie kicked off her boots and took off her clothes, discarding them on the floor like a pile of rubbish. With a sigh of relief and contentment she lowered herself into the tub and closed her eyes.

Immediately, as if only waiting for the right moment, the vision of her uncle materialised in her mind's eye. Uncle Gilbert... A heavy sigh escaped her. He was her only family. And now he was dead... She could see his silhouette as clearly as if he were standing right in front of her. Tall, slim, with unruly blond hair and a charming smile that often got him into trouble. For the past ten years he had been her teacher, business partner and her best friend. He had taught her everything he knew himself.

And he taught me well! She thought with sudden pride.

She certainly wasn't a cotton-swaddled little Miss. She could shoot like a gun slinger, ride hard with no rest and drink as much as any man. A gentle smile flitted on her lips, but it disappeared almost instantly. She thought again about everything he had taught her. She became a decent tracker, could survive by her own wits and didn't shrink from killing and skinning animals. But, although she protested, her uncle knew it wasn't a life for her.

His most powerful argument, when the subject of her future appeared and reappeared in their conversations, was that she was the Count's daughter. "You can't live like this forever!" His voice echoed through her memory. She wouldn't admit it, but she knew he had been right. As always.

His crooked smile flashed at her from under her eyelids. On this occasion he was scrubbed clean, wearing a new suit he had bought with their first profits, as the bit of land they had staked started bringing a modest, but steady supply of gold.

They were lucky. The Gold Rush had attracted thousands of desperate souls hoping to get rich, yet only a few made their fortunes. By now, the land was mainly mined by machines and owned by powerful entrepreneurs who didn't take kindly to any competition.

She gritted her teeth remembering the day when a few unsavoury characters had paid them an unexpected visit. They worked for a big local landowner, Seth Callahan. For a share of the profits these gentlemen had offered uncle Gilbert their 'protection'. He, naturally, refused.

Lottie's chest contracted painfully when she recalled what had followed. She could still feel her confusion as the dark figures had run towards their camp, the gun shots and the burning cabin. And her uncle shouting for her to run...

Then she felt rage. The same rage she had felt the following day, discovering that they had killed her uncle and left him there to rot. Discovering that the blame had been put on her. People talked about how she had murdered uncle Gilbert during a frenzied quarrel about the money. There was a talk of a posse and of a lynching.

She knew well she had no chance of proving her innocence. Not with Callahan who coveted her land and who pulled strings with the law in all neighbouring towns. So she did the only reasonable thing and fled. And now, two days later, she was in San Francisco and temporary safe. But she knew her future looked a dire picture. It was certainly not the future uncle Gilbert had in mind for her.

She shook her head. The hot water relaxed and calmed her. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she dried herself off and, wrapped in a Chinese robe, buried herself in the bed.

Thank you for reading.
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