“Yes, Governor. I’ll be right there, as soon as I say goodbye to my friend.”
Stanford disappeared into the rear of the coach. Will blew out his breath. “Wow! He has a temper.”
“From what I heard them discussing, can you blame him?” Jenny asked.
“I suppose not. It’s just that ‘Colonel’ Seymour keeps making decisions that nobody on the UP likes, except probably Mr. Durant.”
The engineer sounded two blasts on the whistle. The conductor stepped to the rear of the coach and shouted. “All aboard!”
“I have to hurry, Will. I’m going to Sacramento with Governor Stanford. He’s hired me to be his chef on the special train he’s bringing back with his guests to attend the ceremony he mentioned. I’ll be able to see Elspeth while I’m in Sacramento, and maybe I can make a decision about whether I want to work in her millinery shop after Wells Fargo shuts down cross-country operations.”
“I see. I’m glad you have the opportunity to be the governor’s chef. And, it’s also nice you’ll have the chance to consider what you will do with your future.”
“What about you, Will? Have you decided what you want to do after this is all over?”
“No.”
CHAPTER 37
Governor Stanford’s special coach glided to a stop in front of the Sacramento station. Out the left windows Jenny had a view of the waterfront business section of California’s capital city spread along the east bank of the Sacramento River. From the right-hand windows she saw dozens of paddle wheelers, barges, and sailing vessels plying the river or tied to the extensive docks.
“We’re here, Miss McNabb,” Governor Stanford said.
Stanford helped Jenny descend from the rear platform of the coach.
“Thank you, Governor.”
The two of them walked through a covered passageway separating the passenger depot from the freight warehouse.
“Miss McNabb, are you sure you want to go to your sister’s store rather than come home with me? Mrs. Stanford and I have plenty of room, and you are welcome to stay with us.”
“No thank you, Governor. I can see my sister’s millinery shop from here. It’s right there on Front Street.” Jenny pointed across a wide street separating the station from a row of business buildings facing her. She had identified the street from a sign visible on the corner.
“McNabb’s Fineries?”
“Yes, sir. That’s what she named her store. I am most anxious to see her. She wrote that she resides in an apartment above the store. I’m sure she will find room for me while I’m in Sacramento.”
“Well, all right. You can take the rest of today off, but I must insist you start work tomorrow. We need to prepare to make the journey back to Utah in a few days. You don’t have much time to make out your menus and place your orders for provisions.”
“I’ve already been making notes on my menus, Governor. It won’t take long to finish.”
“Good. Tomorrow you report to my office. If you’ll look to the left you can see the sign for the Central Pacific Railroad Company over there on K Street. It’s the white building right next to the yellow one that says Huntington & Hopkins Hardware. That’s the business owned by two of my partners.”
“Yes, I see it. Tomorrow, then. About nine o’clock?”
“Nine o’clock will be fine. Run along now. I’ll have your trunk sent over to your sister’s place.”
“Thank you, again, Governor.”
Jenny settled her traveling bonnet on her head, gathered up her reticule, and crossed the station’s wooden platform. Other departing passengers, who had joined the train at various stops along the route from Utah, jostled her as they vied to signal hacks and carriages jamming the wide cobblestone expanse of Front Street.
“Miss! You need a ride to a hotel?” A driver perched on the seat of a hack shouted the question at her.
“No, thank you, I’ll walk.”
She slipped between two parked omnibuses and headed to a row of white-painted, brick buildings stretching between I and J streets. Each of the structures abutting one another down the length of Front Street sported a covered portico above its boardwalk. In the evenings, residents who occupied the upper-floor apartments obviously enjoyed the rocking chairs Jenny could see on the porticos. Her sister’s store contained such a porch. Jenny thought it would make a pleasant place for her and her sister to reminisce about their past.
McNabb’s Fineries rose only two stories and sat squeezed between much larger, three-story structures. Jenny stepped from the cobblestones up onto the store’s boardwalk, crossed over it, and opened the glass-paned door. A bell tinkled. She entered the dimmer interior and saw that her sister was engaged in conversation with a customer.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, ma’am,” Elspeth said.
When she realized her sister hadn’t recognized her, Jenny whirled around and pulled her bonnet down around her ears. She grinned as she kept her back toward her sister and pretended to be engrossed in studying a hat displayed in the window.
“I shall call for the hat on Tuesday,” the customer said.
“It will be ready, Mrs. Forsythe. You can count on it.”
“Good day, Miss McNabb”
“Good day, Mrs. Forsythe.”
The tinkling sound accompanied the customer opening and closing the door behind her.
“And now, ma’am,” Elspeth said. “What can I do for you?”
Jenny turned slowly around and raised her head. She smiled broadly.
“Well, I declare,” Elspeth said. “Look who the cat dragged in.”
Elspeth held her arms wide and Jenny cuddled into her warm embrace.
“Hello, Elspeth. I’m impressed with your shop.”
“And I’m impressed with your appearance. If you’d shown up wearing your manure-stained coveralls, I’d have recognized you sooner.”
Both sisters dissolved into laughter.
“How’s business, sister?” Jenny asked.
“It’s not easy, what with the new competition. You alerted me awhile back about Madame Angelique Baudelaire coming to town. She opened her millinery over on the corner of K and 2nd Streets. It’s a much larger place than mine, and her French accent seems to appeal to the local residents more than my southern drawl. Plus, she has two assistants to help her. I do everything here myself.”
“I knew she’d be trouble. I didn’t like her when she said you wouldn’t know anything about artistic design. Look at that hat in the window. It’s gorgeous. Did you design it?”
“I did. And made it myself.”
“Well, I’m sure business will improve once you can afford to hire some help.”
“Perhaps you’re right. I do hope so. But I’m remiss. What are you doing in Sacramento? The newspapers haven’t reported the shutdown of Wells Fargo’s stage business yet, or did I miss something?”
“No. It’s only a matter of days, though. Then, Papa will be out of work.”
“How is Papa? And Duncan?”
“They are well. They’ll be coming on to California in a short while, I imagine. Although, Papa hasn’t said what he plans to do. He’s very quiet about the future. It’s so uncertain for all of us now that the railroads are joining.”
“The railroads joining isn’t a bad thing,” Elspeth said. “New residents arrive here every day, and when the railroad provides unbroken transport from the east, hundreds more will travel to California. But, we were sidetracked talking about Papa. You haven’t answered my question about why you’re here.”
Jenny explained about her position as a special chef for Governor Stanford. “That job will end almost as soon as it begins,” she said. “Then, like Papa, and so many others who have lived off the railroad construction, I’ll be looking for something to do myself.”
“Can you sew?”
“A little . . . and I’m a fast learner.”
“Then perhaps your earlier observation that I could use a helper is the solution to both our problems
. You can work here. Do you have any money saved?”
“Some.”
“If you care to invest it, I’ll make you a partner . . . a minor partner, of course.” Elspeth laughed. “But at least you won’t be only a worker. You interested?”
Jenny grinned broadly and hugged her sister. “Yes, Elspeth. I had hoped you would offer me a place. I accept. It will be perfect.”
The door to the shop opened again with a tinkling sound. A burly man entered carrying Jenny’s small trunk on his shoulder.
“Ye be Miss Jenny McNabb?” His Irish accent easily identified his origin.
“Yes.”
“The gov’nor said to bring this over to ye. Where do ye want it?”
“Set it down there,” Elspeth said. She reached into a pocket of the work apron she wore and handing the man a dime.
“Thank ye, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and left.
“It’s time to close up shop for the day,” said Elspeth. She locked the glass door and turned the sign hanging on it so CLOSED faced out. “You grab one handle and I’ll take the other. Let’s take your trunk upstairs. And since you’re the much better cook, you can prepare supper.”
Jenny whacked her sister on the shoulder. They grinned at one another.
CHAPTER 38
“There’s General Dodge’s private coach.” Will pointed at a single passenger car attached to the rear of a short freight train approaching the Corinne depot.
“And a welcome sight it is, too,” Will’s uncle said. The two of them, along with Sam Reed and Jack Casement, stood on the station’s platform to welcome the Union Pacific’s chief engineer back from his extended stay in the nation’s capital.
Two short chirps of the whistle signaled the locomotive was preparing to stop. The bell clanged a half-dozen times, and the engine slipped past the platform, its driving wheels screeching as they ceased rolling on the iron rails, its cylinders spraying the loading dock with warm steam, and its smokestack belching a black cloud. The only other cars in the train, two boxcars, rolled by, followed by Dodge’s passenger coach, which stopped directly in front of the depot building.
Standing on the rear platform of the coach, Dodge tipped his hat to the group who awaited his arrival. “Gentlemen,” he called out. “Nice to see you all.”
Conductor Hobart Johnson dropped off the rear platform and placed a stool beneath the lower step of the car’s exit stairs.
Dodge alighted from the coach. “Thank you, Conductor Johnson,” he said.
“My pleasure, General Dodge.”
Dodge exchanged handshakes with each of the men who greeted him on the platform.
“General Dodge,” Reed said, “if you would like to step inside, Lars Frederiksen, the new stationmaster and telegrapher here in Corinne, has put a fresh pot of coffee on the stove.”
A few minutes later, Frederiksen served Dodge a mug of steaming coffee, then poured one for each of the others in turn.
“Nice to meet you, Lars,” Dodge said. “Good coffee.”
“Thank you, sir,” Frederiksen said.
After each man had received his coffee, Reed handed a yellow sheet of paper to Dodge. “General, this telegram arrived this morning from Durant.”
Dodge took the paper and scanned it. He frowned when he looked up. “All of you aware of the contents?” He looked around at the gathering.
“Only Lars and I have seen it,” Reed said.
Dodge handed the telegram back to Reed. “You best read it to them.”
ACCEPT BET OF TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS THAT CP CAN LAY TEN MILES OF TRACK IN ONE DAY. STOP. DODGE AND SEYMOUR WILL WITNESS ATTEMPT AND CLAIM THE BET FROM YOU. STOP. NAME THE DAY. STOP. DURANT.
“Any of you aware of this before?” Dodge asked.
Each man shook his head except for Will, who lowered his chin slightly, breathed in deeply, and exhaled. He raised his head to face Dodge. “I was, sir.”
“You?” Will’s uncle said. “When? How? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think it was possible. I thought it was an idle boast.”
“How did you learn about it?” his uncle asked.
Will told them about his conversation with Chung Huang when he’d accompanied his uncle to visit the Central Pacific’s construction camp over a week ago.
“Do you think they can do it, General Jack?” Dodge asked.
“It’s possible. We’ve been receiving reports that their Chinese tracklayers are improving every day.”
“Can we beat them?” Dodge asked.
Jack Casement shook his head. “It’s not whether we could beat them, General. The problem is, we have less than ten miles of track to lay before we reach the meeting point at Promontory Summit.”
“Oh, my,” Dodge said. “That Charley Crocker is one sly fellow. He waited until he knew we wouldn’t have the chance to best him before he made the bet.”
The group stood silently, sipping coffee for a minute.
“Does Seymour know about this?” Dodge asked.
“I believe he should, General,” Reed said. “The message was addressed to Crocker, Seymour, and you. I’d bet Seymour has already received his copy in Ogden.”
From the table at the window overlooking the platform, the telegraph key clattered to life.
Frederiksen stepped over to the table and tapped out his call sign. In a moment the key chattered a few more clicks, then Frederiksen signed off. He scribbled the message on a sheet of yellow paper and hurried back to rejoin the group. “The date’s been set, sir.” He handed the telegram to Dodge.
Dodge read the telegram. “Tomorrow! Crocker’s set the date for tomorrow, April twenty-seventh.”
A collective sigh escaped the lips of all of the men.
“Sam,” Dodge said, “bring Seymour up here on the next train from Ogden. Gentlemen, we all have a trip to make this afternoon. Don’t want to be late for collecting Durant’s bet from Crocker.”
“This should be interesting,” General Jack said. “I wonder if they can do it.”
“Gather your gear together, fellows,” Reed said. “We’ll pick up a wagon and team from General Jack’s camp at end of track, but we also need horses to ride from our end of track to theirs. Can you get five saddle horses on board the general’s train, Will?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll need six,” Dodge said. “Braddock’s going with us. He’ll want to see if his Chinese friends can actually lay ten miles of track in a day.”
“I’m sorry, General.” Will spoke almost in a whisper. “I should have said something earlier.”
Dodge shook his head and smiled. “Let’s make this interesting, shall we, Mr. Braddock? I’ll wager you this month’s pay that the Central Pacific can’t do it.”
Will’s mouth dropped open. “That means I have to bet against the Union Pacific, sir.”
CHAPTER 39
In addition to the saddle horses, Will had loaded Ruby onto the boxcar before General Dodge’s train departed Corinne. Will’s uncle suggested they take along shelter and the ability to prepare meals. Homer joined the group, and in addition to cooking and eating implements, Homer packed two Army wall tents. The shelters turned out to be welcomed by Dodge’s party, since they wound up camping at the Central Pacific’s construction site for two nights.
Dodge’s party rode the train to the end of track on the Union Pacific line, where they mounted their horses for the fifteen-mile journey to where the ten-mile tracklaying feat was to occur on April 27.
“Colonel” Seymour refused to ride horseback, so Homer borrowed a wagon from the UP’s tracklaying crew and hitched Ruby and Seymour’s horse to the tailgate. He had to help Seymour climb up beside him on the front seat of the wagon.
They had not ridden far when Dodge pulled his horse over beside Will. “I see you still have Buck. He looks to be in good shape.”
“Yes, sir,” Will said. “Buck’s a fine horse. I’m lucky to have him. I have General Rawlins and you to thank for that, sir.”<
br />
“Did you hear that General Rawlins is now President Grant’s new Secretary of War?”
“No, sir.”
“Poor man still suffers from consumption. I hope the tuberculosis doesn’t kill him before he has a chance to prove himself. The Army is lucky to have Rawlins at its head.”
When Dodge’s party reached their destination, Charles Crocker met them and apologized for an unexpected delay. A locomotive hauling one of the trains loaded with the rails and ties needed for the performance had derailed. Crocker announced he would reschedule the project for Wednesday, April 28.
Homer procured food from the CP’s stores and prepared an evening meal for Dodge and his fellow travelers. The group sat around a campfire after eating and talked until late.
At sunrise on Wednesday, Will stood beside Homer in front of one of their two tents. Dodge, Reed, and Will’s uncle conversed with Crocker and Strobridge alongside the CP’s construction train about twenty yards away.
Homer laughed, his gravelly voice trailing off to an extended rumble.
“What’s so funny, Homer?” asked Will.
“ ‘Colonel’ Seymour.” Homer pointed to where Durant’s consulting engineer stood slightly away from the rest of the party, holding an umbrella above his head. “He was so comical on the ride from Promontory to here. I was reminded of them Pawnee scouts’ poking fun at him when he paraded around under his umbrella at the founding of Cheyenne.”
Will chuckled. “You’re right. But this time, at least, he rode in the wagon. You didn’t have to load all that gear he drags around onto his horse, like I did on the ride from Julesburg to Cheyenne. Whew! I had to wrestle that mountain of stuff on and off his horse twice a day back then.”
The snap of a whip caused Will to look to the side. Approaching the gathering of railroad managers, Kevin McNamara flicked his whip a couple more times. “Top of the morning to ye, Mr. Crocker,” he said. “And to ye, Mr. Strobridge. George Coley and his crew are ready, if ye are.”
Strobridge flipped open his pocket watch. “It’s seven o’clock. A good time to start.”
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