Boyle lay back in his chair incredulous. “You’re offering me a job?”
“As soon as you sober up.”
“I can do that,” replied Boyle, falling to the side.
“I need twenty good workers. I’m promising good wages. Can you make it happen?”
“Sure as St. Francis made the snakes flee from Ireland.”
“It was St. Patrick,” O’Reilly corrected.
Zachary yelled to the bartender. “Coffee, and lots of it.”
Zachary left O’Reilly with Boyle and met up with Chen, heading to another address. The Chinese were a small population in New York City compared to the huge numbers of German,Irish and Italian. Curious looks were cast their way entering a small neighborhood where several men with long black braids, traditional loose fitting blue cotton trousers and matching shirts swept walkways with strange brooms, bowing as the two men passed.
Zachary walked down a dark, dank stairway and knocked at a basement apartment. The door swung open, and a slender Chinese man appeared. His eyes alight, every muscle in his body needing to move, dance or jump. Qing-Nan Li dropped to his knees and placed his forehead on Zachary’s feet, spouting thousands of exalting exclamations.
“Rourke Xian Sheng. Rourke Xian Sheng. How is it you are here?”
Several other Chinese with familial resemblance and of various ages fell to their knees. Zachary had learned a good bit of Mandarin from Chen while working the railroads. Handy to know when directing Chinese workers, but he could not keep up with the rapid flow of conversation. He colored from the adulation, leaned over, picked up the little Chinaman and set him on his feet. “There’s no need–”
He was interrupted by another round of eager cries and adoration when their gazes clapped on Chen.
Qing-Nan Li sprang into action, introducing his smiling wife, Lian Li, his daughter, Anhe and five adult sons, Lei, Ming, Wen, Sun, and Xin in what Zachary presumed to be their birth order.
“This is the man who saved your father’s life.” Qing-Nan Li announced as if Zachary were the second coming.
They were ushered into the tiny, immaculate room with bedrolls neatly stacked on one side. Curved pots and utensils were hanging from the ceiling, and all the family’s belongings packed in an impossible space. To Zachary, it looked like hard times had fallen to his old friend. They were seated on the floor around a table while his wife served cups of tea and food.Zachary wagered the food that Qing-Nan Li was sharing was the food allotment for the week.
“Tell us the magnificent story again,” begged the youngest, Xin.
Qing-Nan Li clapped his palms on his thin thighs. “When you were small, my children, I left your mother and you to work on the railroads in the west. We built a very deep tunnel through a mountain so big that it blotted out the sun. There was a big explosion. Buried in rock and choking on dust, we faced darkness and death, believing the earth had eaten us. Facing doom, we lost all hope.”
Xin’s eyes were as big as dinner plates and he was eager for the rest of the story that without question, had been recounted many times.
“Then Rourke Xian Sheng mystically emerged like a dragon god roaring and commanding the powerful elements of earth, wind, fire, and water. We were saved.”
Qing-Nan Li’s family remained spellbound, bowing, and gawking at Zachary except for Anhe who was staring at Chen. The feeling was mutual. The normally passive and undeterred Chen sat mesmerized with Qing-Nan Li’s daughter, oblivious to anyone else in the room or the universe. Cupid’s arrow had been fired from the bow with unparalleled speed and with merciless ferocity had struck its target.
Zachary folded his arms in front of him, amused for it looked like a whole quiver of arrows had been launched into the celibate monk.
“We are so proud to have you visit our humble home, Rourke Xian Sheng. What brings you to New York?” asked Qing-Nan Li.
Zachary took a drink of his tea. Jasmine. Qing-Nan Li served his best for his guests. Zachary felt guilty drinking the expensive tea when the family appeared to have nothing. On closer inspection, the family appeared gaunt and on the vergeof starvation. “I’m here for business reasons. I’ve started a company to build a new and efficient engine. I need workers and hard workers. Would you and your sons be willing to work for me?”
Lian Li dropped to the floor, crying, and bowing. “My unfortunate husband has been unable to find work after he lost his luckless job. No one will hire Chinese. I thank you, Rourke Xian Sheng. For my family. Please know that the grace of dripping water brings the report of a gushing stream. This great favor you bestow on us will be returned with great interest and deep appreciation for your kindness.”
Zachary shifted his weight from foot to foot, the adulation physically unsettling him. He flipped a ten-dollar Liberty head gold piece on the table. “This is an advance. I’ll need eight other men. Be at this address by eight o’clock Monday morning.”
“If I were to thank you for all the blessings you have bestowed on us, there would not be a tree left standing on earth,” said Qing-Nan Li.
Zachary darted a glance to Chen. The Chinaman was unable to take his eyes off Anhe. Without saying a word, Chen deeply bowed his head and placed another ten-dollar gold piece on the table.
As light from the sun, Anhe’s emotions bloomed as warm as the touches of those gentle rays and completely focused on Chen.
With nothing else left to say, they headed out through a narrow passage to Mott Street. A coolness and dampness from moss-covered brick drifted up, even now in the June heat, when the setting sun was a fiery ball in the sky.
Zachary clapped his hand on Chen’s shoulder. “Something tells me your charity came with strings.”
