Read Sarah Canary for Free Online Page B

his eyes, and the back of his hand scraped against a lump on the side of his head. In one painful stab he remembered everything. He turned to look for Tom, who was seated again, the way he had been when Chin first saw him, back against the wall, feet on the floor. The green, pasty light of pre-sunrise illuminated the cell.
     
    ‘Good morning,’ said Tom. His voice was even. His face was drawn and taut. ‘I hope you slept well.’
     
    ‘I’m surprised you slept at all,’ Jeb said. Perhaps there was admiration in his voice. ‘You Chinese don’t care about dying, do you? You think you’re just coming back, only as a cow or something.’
     
    Chin did not answer. He could not imagine where Jeb had gotten this information or why anyone would think the prospect of returning as a cow could resign one to one’s own death, more than going to heaven would.
     
    The cell door was unlocked and Jeb pushed it open. Chin followed him through and it swung shut heavily, metal hitting metal. The shutting rang like a gong, revealing the ceremonial nature of Chin’s temporary release. Jeb locked the door behind them.
     
    A very clean man sat in Jeb’s chair in the little anteroom and scraped the undersides of his fingernails with a tiny blade. His head was a globe on the globe of his body. His hair was thin and his skin was pale. ‘Thank you, Jeb,’ he said. ‘Well’ - he directed these words to Chin - ‘you look like you had quite a night.’ A smile, and his teeth were all white except for one dead incisor on the left side. ‘I’m Hank Webber,’ he said. ‘And your name is?’
     
    ‘Chin Ah Kin.’
     
    ‘Now, does that mean I call you Chin or Kin? I can never remember. Calling you kin would be a good joke, wouldn’t it? Do I call you Kin?’
     
    ‘Call me Chin,’ Chin told him.
     
    ‘All right, Mr Chin. I’m going to come right to the point. We want you to do something for us. And you’ll get something in return. But before I get too specific, I want to remind you that your bargaining position is not good. We found you in the graveyard last night with a helpless, witless white woman. Now, I don’t know what your intentions were. I just know an unsavory picture when I see one. There are places where they wouldn’t even have bothered bringing you in to jail. I’m sure you know this is true. Do you know this is true?’
     
    ‘I know this,’ said Chin.
     
    ‘You’re a hell of a lucky man even to be alive this morning.’
     
    ‘I am lucky.’
     
    ‘You’re even luckier than you know. Because I’m prepared to let you walk right out of this jail today a free man. I have the authority to do that. And all I want is a favor from you first.’
     
    Chin stood silently. Hank Webber had a mole much like his uncle’s, only Webber’s was closer to his ear and had hair growing out of it. Chin imagined that he was dealing with a forceful man who had powerful friends, and Chin expected to do whatever was asked of him. But he didn’t expect to be happy about it. Hank waited for Chin to ask what the favor was. Chin remained in that innocent, blissful state of not-knowing for as long as he could.
     
    ‘All we want,’ Hank said (he was whispering now; Chin had to lean forward from the waist, bowing, to hear him), ‘is for you to put the rope around Tom Mays’s neck. You should be pleased to do it. We’re only hanging him because he killed a Chinaman.’
     
    Chin said nothing. He stood upright again, moving his face away from Hank Webber’s mouth.
     
    Jeb cleared his throat. ‘Cook over’t the asylum,’ he added. He was whispering, too. ‘Popular man. Always smiling. Always had a piece of candy, a little story for the children. One of Tom’s own, little Indian girl, turned Tom in, stood witness against him. She saw the whole thing. There’s really no doubt about his guilt. Not that he ever denied it.’
     
    Chin said nothing.
     
    Jeb lowered his voice even further. ‘The Indians aren’t