The two empty wagons waited forlornly in the rutted tracks of the trail while the hot sun blazed overhead. Sister swept at the path to the old mine with a large scrub brush branch. She kept at it until the ground looked as untrammeled as it had in ages. With a small satisfied nod, she threw the branch into the back of one of the wagons before she hopped onto the driver’s bench.
In her halting Mandarin, she had struggled to convince these sing-song girls that they needed to hide. They wanted to go back to the little town but that was the most dangerous place for them to go. She couldn’t leave them wandering the plains without a guide and this sister’s work was far from done.
But it wasn’t until she mentioned Fahn Quai that they finally listened. They followed her to the abandoned mine armed with the guns from the dead slavers. Fear was writ large on their faces before she left them but she promised she would get them back to San Francisco in safety.
With a flick of the whip, the horses leapt forward and dragged the wagons with them. Her eyes sparkled in the bright sun. The only thing left to do was to lay a false trail away from here to give her the time needed for the rest of the plan.