“Don’t mind if I do. Then I will see what I can dig up on the Whitakers.”
Sigmund said, “We will be visiting the Seattle Saloon, we will stop by in an hour to retrieve the young lady.”
“Before we leave, what was that hopscotch game called the children played out front when we arrived?” Helena asked.
“We call it Tian Pi Jin, basically translate to jumping the cord.”
“I think it would be an excellent way to train for fencing,” Helena said.
Barbary Coast:
Helena and Lane made their way back to the city street without incident, stepping into the bright sunlight, she breathed deeply relieved to be back into her world. There were still signs everywhere written in Chinese, but the feeling down the alley was from another country if not another planet. Helena couldn’t understand how something so foreign existed in the middle of her city. The city she thought she knew, but only a day into searching for Missy Whitaker, Helena realized she was a baby. Lane and Sigmund had protected her from everything, she really didn’t know how anything accurately worked. When suddenly struck by a sinking feeling in her heart.
“Lane, do you have money?” Helena struck with the panic of being without the person who had paid for everything since she was old enough to remember.
“Miss, I never leave home without some spread around money. Besides, I always keep two fifty-dollar gold pieces in the heels my boots, just in case,” Lane glanced down his shoulder as she kept pace with him.
“Why in the heels of your boots?” Helena asked.
“I feel if I ever had to run, the first thing I’ll pull on is my boots. I always know I’ve got some emergency cash.”
Helena paced him quietly for a few steps as they strolled along Kearney Street.
“Lane, I want you to answer honestly, am I naïve?”
Without hesitation, he answered, “Of course you are. Everyone is wet behind the ears at some time in their lives. We all make mistakes and bad choices. Some of the best lessons are learned through failure.”
Lane finished the sentence and stood on a street corner looking at the variety of buildings surrounding him. “I’m happy it’s noon and not midnight, or you would become educated in some things too soon.”
For the first time, Helena glanced around and took note of both the walkers around her and the buildings lining the intersection. The buildings displayed a mixture of Saloons, Dance Halls, Bathhouses, and Whorehouses all selling vice in the open. Walking the street, a mixture of Cowboys, Sailors, and scantily clad women, some of which were men in women’s clothing most in various stages of inebriation.
“What’s the Nymphia?” Helena pointed across the street at a giant sign announcing a much larger three-story building.
“Never you mind, just over there,” before Lane led her to their destination two women, approached them from behind.
“So, gentleman, are you looking for a good time?” the taller of the two asked first. Helena couldn’t help but turn to check who addressed them.
The shorter woman commented, “Oh my, you’re a little thing I bet you it’s your first time, and this is your older brother bringing you out to take care of it. I charge virgins half-price.”
“No ladies we’re both just fine,” Lane tipped his hat, grabbing Helena by the elbow leading her across the street through traffic. Helena could’ve sworn she heard the little prostitute say, “Hey don’t I know you?” but they had crossed the street before she had a chance to really hear.
“Were those prostitutes?”
“No, they are selling Bibles. I should’ve went and hired the guards and left Sigmund for this job,” Lane stopped in front of The Seattle. Inspecting the posters on display he blurted, “Oh for the love of all that is holy, this can’t get any worse.”
“What’s wrong?” Helena asked with a puzzled look.
“Just stay close to me and don’t wander off,” if a person has a specific look when they pass a kidney stone, Lane had that expression.
The pair passed through the side-by-side swinging doors, like an Old West Saloon. Lane held Helena by the elbow, there was no way she could get lost in this establishment, they might never find her again. The player piano, ear-shattering played on a continuous loop, being early in the day there were not that many people in the joint.
Lane marched up to the rail of the bar. Helena kept busy inspecting some of the homeliest women she had ever seen in her life. Many of them had hairy chests and shadows on their faces in need of a shave. It didn’t seem to slow down the men paying them for dances. Unable to hear the conversation she became entranced by the interactions going on around her, she didn’t notice Lane speaking to her until he slapped her on the arm. She looked at his face and then looked at the outstretched hand in front of her. For a moment she didn’t understand what he wanted then he snapped his fingers three times and put his hand out flat again. That’s when she realized he wanted the cork. She dug into her jeans pocket and put it in his hand.
Lane held the cork up like a gem for the bartender to inspect. The bartender shook his head. Lane set the cork down on the bar and balanced a dime on top of it. The bartender shook his head again. Next Lane balanced a quarter on top of the dime on top of the cork. The bartender still indicated no. Working hard to hide his aggravation, he pulled out a fifty-cent piece, held it up in front of the bartender’s face. He finally nodded yes. With the hands of a pickpocket, the barkeep took the fifty-cent piece from Lane while scooping up the thirty-five cents on top of the cork, deftly leaving the
