I awoke to commotion. Took me a spell for my eyes to adjust. I lifted my head and saw a group of men near the burned-out buildings. Some of them were beginning to clear away the debris. I glanced beside me; Lao Jian was gone.

I sat up, my head pounding. My throat was bone dry. Something pressed into my back.

“I brought you something.”

I turned.

Lao Jian held out a cup and a chipped plate. Steam rose from the cup. The plate had pieces of dark meat on it. “Here,” he offered.

I took the cup from Lao Jian.

“Tea,” he said. “And dried duck.”

I thanked him, and took a sip of the tea. I was more thirsty than hungry. It then occurred to that I’d missed my breakfast at the boarding house. I wondered if Mrs. Hayes would be irked. So far I didn’t think I’d win any prizes as her ideal guest.

“Never had dried duck before.” I picked it up and examined it. Then I felt bad. Though Lao Jian had no outward reaction, I knew that scrutinizing food that had been offered you was rude behavior. Ma would be lecturing me at this point. I took a cautious nibble. The taste was appealing.

Another train chugged into the depot.

“Many trains,” Lao Jian said. “That makes seven so far today.”

“What time is it?”

Lao Jian shrugged. “I have no timepiece.”

The sun wasn’t yet overhead, so I figured it was late morning, noon not being all that far off.

“Do you have a plan for today?” Lao Jian asked.

I swallowed a bite of duck. “Probably the first thing I should do is decide if I’ll stay a second night at the boarding house.” I needed to figure things out today. I was fairly well over the fence already about the fact that my only real option was a return journey to home. Last night’s shenanigans shoved me all the way over the fence; it didn’t seem Truckee was a welcoming place, and any opportunity for employment seemed dried up. There was only one problem. It seemed there was no easy way for me to make a journey home. “What will you do?”

Lao Jian shook his head. “I can’t stay here.”

“Well, neither can I. Not much longer, anyway.”

We both started to say something, jumping on the other’s words. I smiled. “You go first.”

“No, you. Please.”

“I only have once choice left now. I have to get back to my Ma. But, listen, I’m not so terribly far from Sacramento. If you could ever consider trying your hand there, I…I just think you’d have an easier time than a place like this. Sacramento has more Chinese, and some prosperous ones at that.”

“I might consider this.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I think you’d like it there. And I’d more than happy to…” I trailed off. Here I was getting excited at the prospect while the truth was that neither of us had the means to travel.

“Todd, I—”

Before he could say it, I knew what the next words out of his mouth would be. I opted to bring up the subject first. “I don’t have much money left,” I said. “Not even enough for me to get back there by any means of transportation.”

He lowered his head. “So it seems we are both stuck.”

I took another bite of the duck, and a sip of tea. “Tell you what. Let me first go gather my things from the boarding house, and I’ll meet you back here in a bit. And then, well, let’s put our heads together.”

Lao Jian thought on it. Almost so long I thought he was about to change his mind. “Okay then. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.”

I gobbled up the rest of the duck, and gulped down the tea. I could see Ma scowling over my barbaric manners.

*   *   *

“Mr. Morgan!”

Mrs. Hayes stood in the parlor, with a whisk broom clutched in her hand.

“I apologize, ma’am, for not being at the table this morning, and—”

“Are you well?”

“Uh…yes, as far as I know.”

She stepped into the entry hall and scanned me up and down. “I heard tell you were one of the few who helped put the fire out this morning.”

Word did travel fast in this town. “I did, ma’am, yes.”

“That’s a right noble thing you did. Now, although my kitchen is closed, I feel I should rustle you up a meal, and—”

“Thanks all the same, but I’m fed.”

“You sure now?”

“Yes.”

“Well then at least let me refund you the price of the morning meal.”

As desperate as I was, I didn’t feel it right to be refunded, since it was my own choice to act as noble as Mrs. Hayes claimed I had. I politely refused her offer, and excused myself to go retrieve my articles.

Both beds in the room had been made, and there was no sign at all that Mr. Krozen had ever bunked with me. I spotted my vest on the chair. That was all fine and dandy, but my gun and holster weren’t sitting on top of the cedar chest as I’d left it the night before. I checked in vain under the bed and the bureau. Then a further panic struck me. I rifled through my vest pockets to check their contents. Both my knife and my remaining funds were gone. I turned and thundered back down the stairs.

“I’ve been robbed!” I shouted out to Mrs. Hayes.

“I beg your pardon? Mr. Morgan, if you’re under the impression—”

“Are those three men still about?”

“You mean—”

“Yes! Ahearn, Krozen, and Simms!”

“All the three of them left shortly after the morning meal. Not together, but—”

“Damn it!”

“Mr. Morgan, you’re still in my home!”

I wasn’t sure what it was with women folk and their aversion to cussing, as if they had some other technique for releasing their frustration, but had I not uttered a swear word, I’d likely have punched a hole in the plaster. “Do you know where they went?”

“I don’t keep such records on my guests.”

I threw up my arms. I knew it was useless. The deed was done. “Good day, Mrs. Hayes. And thanks for your…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence. I didn’t give a damn about correct behavior at this point, since I’d been stomped and spit on by one or all three of those bastards. I was panicked and furious. I had precious little in my possession before this, but now I had absolutely nothing. No money, no way to defend myself. Nothing!

*   *   *

As I marched back toward Chinatown, I scanned the streets, wondering if I’d catch a glimpse of those robbers. I couldn’t say if the crime had been committed by one of them alone, or if they’d been in cahoots. For that matter, I wasn’t prepared to declare Mrs. Hayes innocent in the whole affair. I was certain of one thing, though: my possessions were gone for good. There was no chance they’d be recovered.

A Chinese man stepped in front of me. He bowed and said something I didn’t understand. Maybe he was thanking me for my help in putting out the fire. I awkwardly returned his bow, and continued on my way to meet back up with Lao Jian.

“We’re on equal feet now,” Lao Jian said after I’d explained my predicament to him. We sat under the same poplar as we had the day before.

I said nothing in response as I watched a passenger train pull in to the depot.

He touched my arm, and I looked up.

“I didn’t mean any insult,” he said.

“What? No, I didn’t…I heard what you said, but my mind was…I wasn’t insulted. I’m just trying to figure things out.”

Lao Jian moved closer to me, so close that our shoulders touched. “When we arrived here in America, my uncle and me, we went first to Oregon, to join my oldest uncle. For some time we lived with him, until he died from…his heart. It wasn’t strong. We worked picking fruit, but one day the landowner said we were finished. He told us we had to leave. He wasn’t a bad man. He taught me most of my English. But others from the town demanded that all the Chinese shouldn’t be allowed to work. Time went by with no opportunity for us, when my younger uncle and some others heard about all the gold people had been finding in California and…another of the states the name I don’t recall. They decided…we put together enough money for a…um…for the land that that you buy for gold—”

“A claim?”

“A claim. But that meant we couldn’t pay our way to travel from Oregon.” Lao Jian paused a moment, and pushed around a stone with his foot. “So we traveled by train. By…waiting for the right time, and…climbing on.”

I pictured all this in my mind. I had often wondered what Lao Jian’s time in America had been like, and how he and his uncle had ended up on the mountain.

Lao Jian pointed to the depot. “The men here say almost forty trains come through Truckee in one day.”

“That’s a lot of opportunity,” I said.

“A lot.”

It was dangerous. Risky. Foolish. But not uncommon. I heard tales of many men train hopping. If Lao Jian and I didn’t consider this, we had only one other way of leaving town—on foot. Unfathomable.

At once my brain went to mulling over the possibilities. First thing was that it would be idiotic to sneak on while a train was parked at the depot. There was too great a risk of someone spotting us. Second, we’d have to choose a train that was headed in the right direction. Well, no…actually maybe the train’s direction might be the first thing to consider…ah, hell, now I was confounding myself. Anyhow, once we’d chosen a correct train, we’d surely have to be far away enough from the depot to not be spotted. But we would have to be at a point where the train was still traveling slowly enough so that we could grab hold of a ladder. At that time…we’d need the right car. An open box car. Or empty coal car.

I felt suddenly like slapping my forehead, forgetting that Lao Jian had gone through the entire process already.

“You can guide us,” I said. “You’ve done this all before.”

“It’s a great risk,” he said. “If we are caught, I’ll be treated more harshly. This I know.”

That fact hadn’t even entered my mind. It was a fair point, though. I could see the law laying down a heavier hand toward a Chinese man. “You’re surely right. But, Lao Jian, you have to figure out if you want to take the risk again. The way I see it, we either walk, which I believe will kill us, or we stay here and starve and watch buildings burn. These are our only choices if we don’t hop a train.”

We sat silently for a long time. Lao Jian studied the men who were busy tearing and clearing away the charred wood.

“I don’t know any of them,” he said, “but I feel I would be abandoning them.”

I could see Lao Jian’s point. That’s how I felt leaving Ma behind. I even felt I’d forsaken Uncle Ned, as angry as he made me. He was a near invalid, after all, and I left him with only Ma to come to his aid in any emergency.

“There are a lot of them here,” I said. “They’ll stay together. They’ve survived this long.”

Lao Jian turned to me, his brow furrowed. “Is that all they deserve?” he said, his voice quaking with anger. “Survival? Too keep rebuilding only to have it all burned down again? To be killed like my uncle and…” His eyes welled with tears and he turned away from me.

My heart pinched in my chest. “I didn’t mean it to sound so harshly. I’m sorry, Lao Jian. I just…I don’t know. I don’t know what I meant. That was stupid of me.”

He brushed his eyes. He took a deep breath, and turned to face me again, his eyes all reddened. He reached up and put his hand on my forearm. He squeezed it. It was a gentle caress, something that…I wasn’t prepared for. It was a tender act. It made me feel nervous yet impassioned at the same time.

“No, I’m sorry, Todd. I wasn’t angry at you. Just at…our struggle.” His throat caught. “Our people’s struggle.”

As I looked out over Chinatown, at these men who seemed to conjure up such irrational anger and hatred in people. I imagined that they experienced extra layers of hardship I would never know.

I lifted my free hand and gently touched Lao Jian’s bandaged hand and arm. “Is it feeling better?”

“It hurts still. I’m hoping the paste will help it heal.”

“I know you cautioned me not to, but I spread some of that paste on a piece of bread earlier. It wasn’t bad.”

He smiled. I realized he was still caressing my arm.

My fingers gently stroked his.

“Our jokes…aren’t…”

“Aren’t all as witty as they’re cracked up to be.” I took his hand in mine. “But…it takes practice.”

“Practice,” he said.

We held hands as we watched the train pull away from the depot. I waited, and I feared that Lao Jian would draw away from me. Instead, he gripped my hand tighter. It was a most amazing, wonderful sensation.

*   *   *

I waited outside the confines of Chinatown while Lao Jian bid adieu to those who’d shared food and sleeping space with him. Well, that is, whatever sleep he’d managed to get before the fire.

I planted myself on a rock, and gave the Lord a nod for designing it so that my behind fit comfortably enough inside a crevice direct on top of the rock’s smooth surface. It was more comfortable than the rickety rocker that sat in the corner of our parlor at home.

Sunset would arrive soon. Lao Jian and I concluded that it would be to our advantage to aim for a train in a lesser amount of light in order to decrease our chances of being spotted. The disadvantage was that it would make scanning the cars trickier. Worse, we’d have less daylight to spend if we had to wait for other trains should the first one or two not work out.

Soon Lao Jian approached me, with two small cloth sacks and an animal-skin canteen clutched in his unbandaged hand.

“You said your goodbyes then?” I asked him.

“I wished them well, luck rebuilding the damages. And I wished them luck with their harvest.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Their gardens…I admired them.” He held up the sacks as he faced me again. “They prepared food for our journey.”

“That was sure kind.”

“They’re good people. Like you.”

I smirked. “Are you just fishing for compliments?”

His face took on an expression of confusion and calculation that transformed his usual seriousness into something childlike. It was a look I was coming to find most endearing.

“It’s just a saying,” I explained.

“There’s still so much I don’t understand.”

I shook my head. “You speak English better than some native-borns. Plus, you speak Chinese! You could call me a saphead in your language and I wouldn’t even know it.”

“Perhaps I have. Except I don’t know that word.”

“You’re making my face muscles hurt with all this smiling you force me to do.”

“Impose,” he said.

“How’s that?” Now he had me stumped.

“The word you used earlier. Impose. It has the meaning of force. I’m imposing you to smile.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sort of. There are different… Well, yes, you can twist it to make it sound right.”

Then, like the far-off cry of some strange creature, a train whistle echoed up the mountainside.

“Here we go,” I said. “Are you ready for this?”

Lao Jian handed me one of the cloth sacks. “I’m ready.”

“Give me both bags, and the canteen.”

“But—”

“Your hand.” I pointed to his bandage. “It’ll be easier for you to have both hands at your disposal.”

“It’s not that painful to—”

“No argument.”

“But Todd—”

“I said no argument!”

“I wonder what is the English word for gwat,” he said as he handed me the other bag. He then took off his hat. He wrapped his queue up tight, and put his hat back on.

We hiked a good two hours west of town, up the mountainside a spell to a point where any train would be starting out its climb. We no more than plunked ourselves down to catch our breath when the chugging of the locomotive grew in volume.

“I can’t yet see if it’s a freight train coming,” Lao Jian said. “But we should be ready to move close to the tracks.”

I thought us in a good strategic spot. The train had to climb here, so it would be moving not too much beyond a crawl. That would allow us to scan the cars. Brush, poplar, and pine were around us; a perfect position to crouch out of sight until it was time to sprint.

We had our first stroke of luck; the train was freight, not passenger. And it was a string of boxcars, not a logging train.

Soot churned from the train’s smoke stack, piling on more of the blackened ash that already blanketed the ground. It played an awful game with my eyes and breathing as the mountain wind swept it toward us.

“There!” Lao Jian shouted. “Seventh car!”

I rubbed my watery eyes on my sleeve. I glanced up and counted back seven cars from the locomotive. I saw it; a door opened about a quarter of the way.

“Come!” Lao Jian said. “Come!”

He moved like an animal hunting prey. Keeping apace with the train, he straight-lined for the ladder, but almost as though he had an extra pair of eyes, he seemed aware of obstacles and avoided them without once taking his eyes off his target. I, however, wasn’t so skilled. I stumbled over a stump, landing on my side, the cloth sacks and the canteen flying from my hand.

I hastened to my knees. I reached out and clutched the sacks and canteen in my left hand as I used my right to leverage me up to my feet. I head Uncle Ned’s voice in that instant: Don’t over-think your actions! He drummed this into me when I was a boy, when he was a more patient man, trying to teach me sports. I called upon this advice now and ignored the torn flesh of my knee, and in one fluid motion leapt over an amass of rocks, keeping enough of my balance when I landed to run full tilt toward Lao Jian, who was square beside the boxcar’s ladder.

Lao Jian sprinted faster, past the turning train wheels. The contrast in their motion—his straight line against their sweeping circles—made him look like a hand-drawn figure blurring across the pages of a flip book.

The iron horse belched a grand puff of steam and smoke as Lao Jian took hold of the ladder and hoisted himself up. He swayed to the right, but caught his balance.

I glanced down as I felt sodden ground beneath me. When I looked back up, Lao Jian was squeezing through the door.

Paramount to my joining him was agility I feared I’d not been blessed with. My knee ailed me now from my tumble, like a hammer thumping my cap and shin bones with each step.

Lao Jian motioned me forward. “Throw the sacks in here!” he shouted when I was near enough to start plotting my leap.

Don’t over-think it!

It wasn’t as though the train was traveling fast as lightning; there was still plenty of hill to climb. My head just kept telling me I’d not make it. That I’d slip off, slide under the train, and be sliced in half.

Grab and pull up. That’s what I had to chant. How tempting and irrational the thought that I could just skip the acrobatics and be up in the boxcar next to Lao Jian. A useless daydream.

The time was now. I made a mad dash. I veered close to the train in a path that resembled a half-moon arc. I tossed the two sacks and the canteen up to where Lao Jian stood. The throw was good and they landed inside the car. I then side-stepped while I faced the ladder. My gaze fixed on the fourth rung. I leaned in and took hold. There was no time to second-guess as the train pulled me with it. I lifted my left foot and plunked it down on the bottom-most rung. The hum of the wheels and the rhythmic click-clack of each rail joint vibrated through my entire body.

Lao Jian braced himself against the door frame. He shouted instruction at me. The words simply flew by me in a jumble as I concentrated on bringing up my right foot, climbing two rungs, and stepping into the boxcar. My damn sweaty palms were working against me.

Lao Jian reached out. “I can help!” he shouted.

I admit to over-eagerness as I brought my right foot up one more rung while at the same time taking hold of Lao Jian’s hand. I lost my balance and pulled him forward.

I wailed as Lao Jian slipped from my grip and tumbled to the ground. His voice carried over mine, a sound more horrific than my panicked shriek. I imagined the worst—that he’d fallen beneath the train.

But the cries grew closer, and changed in nature. “Get in, Todd! Go inside! I’m all right!”

I couldn’t turn to see him. Yet to my amazement, it sounded as though he was running alongside the train again.

It was shameful that I was letting irrational fear paralyze me—especially since Lao Jian had just persevered through a brutal fall.

I garnered my resolve and inched my way up the ladder. I found my landing spot on the boxcar floor. I focused on that single spot as I launched off with my right foot, swinging my left leg into the car. I crashed inside, landing with a bone-cracking somersault. I rolled right into the opposite wall. I’d win no blue ribbons for grace, but I’d done it.

Just as I’d righted myself, Lao Jian leapt onto the ladder. Within mere seconds he planted his foot inside the car, swung around, and landed in a crouched a position. He was winded. He bled from his forehead.

“You’ve not broken any bones, have you?” I asked, hurrying over to him.

He was still too winded to answer. I knelt down and placed my hand on his shoulder and leaned in to examine the gash. Though a good tear of the flesh, the bleeding was already beginning to clot.

“Lie down and catch your breath.”

The boxcar stood empty, save about ten burlap sacks of coffee beans. I stood up and walked over to the door. I slid it closed, but didn’t latch it, out of concern that should we need to make a fast escape, fiddling with a latch would only slow us down.

Lao Jian rolled over onto his back. His breathing finally slowed.

“Blood and bruises,” he whispered, “but no broken bones. I don’t think.” He moved his arms legs. “Wô hái huózhe…”

“Oh, Lao Jian, I’m so awful sorry.”

“It wasn’t on purpose, I know.”

The train jerked twice. It was clear we were still on the ascent.

Lao Jian put his hand on his chest. He studied the ceiling. The last rays of sunlight streaming through the gaps in the wall boards fell across his face.

“I don’t know how long our ride will be,” he said.

I tried to calculate the distance from Truckee to Sacramento by rail. I had no earthly idea since my journey had been nine days by way of my poor horse Paul Revere.

“You will know when to jump off?” Lao Jian asked.

“Well, no, not rightly.”

“Maybe you’ll recognize land nearby Sacramento. We must jump before reaching the depot. To avoid agents.”

“I’m sure I’ll recognize Sacramento environs well enough.”

“And then—”

I squeezed his arm. “You should just rest for now. I wonder first if we shouldn’t look you over for serious injury, though.”

He moved his arms and legs again, like someone was yanking on the string of a pull-toy. I couldn’t help but laugh.

I feared I might I have offended him, but he waylaid my concern by joining in the laughter.

“My uncle told me he dropped me down steps when I was baby, and that I bounced. I guess I can’t be broken.”

“Did he drop you on purpose?”

“I…never asked.”

We both laughed again.

*   *   *

My eyes opened. They took their time waking up. The floor beneath me rumbled. The train moved at a great clip now.

The car was dark. Lao Jian lay next to me. I studied him, straining to see his face in the absence of light. It was a safe bet he was fast asleep, since I detected no stirring, not even when I tapped his arm.

Apparently we’d both fallen asleep soon after we’d cut and scraped our way onto the train. We’d not even eaten the food that the folks in Chinatown had prepared for us. In the blackness I wouldn’t be able to figure out where the sacks ended up unless I crawled on all fours and felt my way around the entire confines.

I was starved and I was freezing. And I had to empty myself. Seemed crawling was unavoidable, since walking to the door might involve tripping and stumbling. Last thing I wanted to do was disturb Lao Jian.

A waxing moon greeted me when I slid open the train door. As I went about my business, I studied the sky. I remembered a song Ma used to sing around the house when I was a boy that had the lyrics, A full moon high up in the sky, a gift of Artemis, surrounded by stars, painted by Asteria, can’t match my love for you, a truth known beyond Daeira. Though the moon wasn’t full, it was sure was a beauteous scene before me—all those stars, and the snow caps lit up by moonbeams.

When I was sufficiently relieved, I buttoned myself back up. I stood for a few moments, looking for the Little Dipper. “Howdy, Breandan,” I whispered. “Look at me now. Can you believe my predicament?”

I closed the door. I dropped to animal position again, and made my way back to Lao Jian. The train swayed just as I was making myself prone. I knocked into Lao Jian.

He mumbled as he turned over. “M̀h’hóu gáau ngóh.” He lifted his head. “Todd? What is—?”

“Sh. Sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m so cold.”

“Me too. I’m tempted to empty two of these coffee bean sacks and use them as blankets.”

In an instant Lao Jian moved right up next to me. He turned to face the opposite direction, then reached behind to grasp my arm. He tugged on it to make it clear I was to wrap it around him. I slid up to him, and pulled him close to me.

Neither of us spoke. I simply felt his steady breathing as I listened to the drone of train.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how different he made me feel. I had so many questions for him, so many things I wanted to know about him. I’d never met anyone like him before.

“Tell me about China,” I said, breaking our silence.

He didn’t answer straight away.

“I don’t mean to pry,” I said, “if it’s a topic that’s of a personal—”

“No, no. It’s just that I was very young when we left there, my uncle and me. There isn’t much good that I remember. Except working in the fields with my uncle and other men. Long, hard days. But I liked growing things. I like gardens very much. But it was never enough. We were so poor, yet we were still expected to give so much in honor of the Emperor.”

He rolled over so that we were face to face.

“It was supposed to be better in America,” he said.

His breath was warm. He was so close to me. It happened in no time. Our lips met. I reached up and stroked his cheek as our lips stayed pressed together. We gradually lessened the distance between our bodies and became intertwined. I was stirring below my waist, my hardness growing fast. I felt the same from Lao Jian as we moved up against the other in gentle, repeated motions.

Lao Jian whispered in my ear, “Have you done this…before?”

“Not…not ever with…not like…” I swallowed hard. “No.” I paused. “Have you?”

He undid one of buttons of my shirt, and traced my skin. “Once.”

“With…a man?”

“Yes.”

“A Chinese man?”

“No.”

“What…What was it like?” I asked him.

He kissed my cheek, then my neck. I moaned softly.

“Like this,” he said.

Our lips met again. Our hands moved along each other’s bodies. I then rolled atop of him. He undid another of my shirt buttons as I ran my finger across his forehead, down his cheek, under his chin. I started to undo his shirt buttons as well. His skin was so soft. So smooth. I felt his heartbeat as I placed my hand on his chest.

“I’ve never been entirely disrobed with another person,” I admitted.

“Is…it something you want now?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in my answer. But I did feel hesitation in the circumstances. “I don’t rightly know, though, about…if there’s an unnaturalness that—”

Lao Jian put his finger on my lips. “Ngor ho chung yi nei,” he said softly. “And in that, there is no wrong.”

“What do the Chinese words mean?”

He took my hand. He placed it on his heart. Then he moved my hand along the length of his body. I felt him throbbing when he’d guided my touch to the intended spot. He sighed as I caressed it.

I guess maybe you get used to the same feeling when it’s you over and over again. I figure that explains the intense pleasure that enraptured me when Lao Jian took it in his hands. He fondled it so endearingly. He kissed it. He took it into his mouth. It was all so new, so unexpected, so intense. I let loose with my entire being. I gasped, I moaned as I released, the white drops landing all over my half-open shirt. Lao Jian leaned over and licked up the drops as I stroked his cheek. He straddled me. He leaned over. I took him inside my mouth. I loved hearing his breathy passion as he thrust inside me. I tasted his saltiness as he arched back, his muscles contracting, his whispered words of ecstasy needing no translation.

As he lay on top of me, and I wrapped my arms around him, the train began to slow down.

“Sacramento?” he whispered.

It was still dark out. “Can’t be yet. Too soon. Must be the first stop on the route.”

“We must be careful. Careful that this car won’t be loaded or unloaded.”

“Not much to hide behind.”

“We should be ready to jump and run if the car door slides open,” Lao Jian said.

“Would they load or unload freight in the dead of night?”

“Yes. I have seen it.”

“Guess they have to keep on schedule.”

“Yes. They try, at least.” Lao Jian leaned down and kissed me. “This felt very good.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I’m not averse to doing it again…soon.” I leaned up and kissed him. “Sooner than later.”

The train squealed to a stop, lurching forward a couple times before coming to a complete rest.

“First stop,” Lao Jian said.

“First stop,” I repeated.

I didn’t want him to, but Lao Jian pulled himself away. I sat up and buttoned my pants, and my shirt, and prepared myself in case we had the need to bolt.

“Probably won’t do much good,” I said, “but maybe we should sneak over behind those coffee bean sacks, in case anyone peeks in. Of course, if they’re here for the coffee…well, guess we’ll see.”

We crouched down in the dark silence. We waited. There was no movement. No voices. Maybe we’d been fortunate that the open door was on this old coffee bean car. Maybe there would be no need for it until we reached Sacramento.

The train whistle blew. The train surged forward.

“We are lucky, this time,” Lao Jian.

I was relieved. I wanted to believe the ultimate relief would be reaching Sacramento. Then I realized that once there, were we to make it, I’d have to face Ma and Uncle Ned. And what would become of Lao Jian?

The train whistled again.