“Seven or eight stitches will do the job,” Dr. Harkness said. “Jenny, you keep this towel pressed against the wound and slide it back along the cut enough for me to apply the next stitch.”
Jenny slipped in between Homer and the side of the tender so she could reach Homer’s wound.
The doctor inserted eight stitches, then covered the wound with a gauze bandage he took from his medical bag. With Stanford continuing to support Homer’s shoulders, Dr. Harkness wrapped the black man’s arm with the third towel and knotted cut ends together in the same fashion Jenny had used in making her temporary bandage.
“Leave that tied around your arm until you can get additional medical help.” Dr. Harkness removed the towel from between Homer’s teeth. “I assume the Union Pacific has a doctor who can check you over?”
“Yes, suh, they has a good doctor. And, suh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The doctor dipped his hands into the basin of water to rinse off the blood and dried them on the towel he’d taken from Homer’s mouth.
“Now, Jenny,” Governor Stanford said, “can we get some food down to the folks at the picnic?”
“Right away, Governor,” she said.
“I ’spects I can help,” Homer said.
“Only if Dr. Harkness says so,” Jenny said.
“As long as you’re careful,” the doctor said, “those stitches will hold the wound together, but not if you put too much stress on them. No heavy lifting.”
Stanford grasped Homer beneath his armpits and helped him stand.
Homer blew out his breath and took another deeper one. He winced. “I be fine soon.”
When they heard the approach of hooves, Jenny and the others looked down the side of the train. Will rode Ruby up the side of the Director’s car leading Buck. He held his rifle in one hand and the reins of both the mule and the horse in the other. Jenny spotted a pair of saddlebags draped across Buck’s back.
She glanced sideways at Governor Stanford and Dr. Harkness and confirmed their attention remained riveted on the approaching Will. She stepped back a pace to get behind the two gentlemen and signaled to Will with both hands to move closer to the side of the train. At least, that’s what she hoped she was signaling. When Will looked at her quizzically, she again motioned for him to move to his right.
Will nodded. He had understood. He eased the reins against Ruby’s neck and guided her to the right as he rode past the front platform of the Director’s car. The move forced the mule to push against Buck, causing the Morgan to step up against the side of the subsistence car. Will halted Ruby in front of Governor Stanford, the doctor, and Homer, effectively blocking their vision of Buck and the saddlebags.
“You obviously caught the horse thief, Mr. Braddock,” Governor Stanford said.
“Yes, sir.” Will stepped from Ruby’s saddle and stood in front of the governor and the doctor.
“Where would a horse thief come from out here?” Dr. Harkness asked.
“That passing wagon train, most likely,” Will answered.
“And, what did you do with the thief?” Stanford asked.
“I shot him.”
Jenny pursed her lips. “Oh, you shot him? Is he dead?”
Will nodded. “He’s dead.”
“Pad—” Jenny caught herself before she blurted out Paddy’s name.
“What did you say, Jenny?” Stanford asked.
“Sad . . . it’s sad,” she stammered. “It’s sad that Will had to kill a horse thief.”
“Horse thieves have it coming,” Stanford said. “What did you do with the body?”
“I left him where I shot him. I didn’t have a shovel to bury him.”
“I’ll have Strobridge send some men out there tomorrow to dig a grave. Where do I tell them to find the body?”
“It’s probably ten miles away, at the most. Have them follow the shoreline south from the north end of the lake. They’ll find him a few paces up from the water’s edge where a dry creek enters the lake.”
“What happened when you caught up to the thief?” Dr. Harkness asked.
While Will kept the others engaged in listening to his explanation of how he chased down the thief, Jenny slipped between the subsistence car and Buck and retrieved the saddlebags. She tossed them onto the floor of the car and scrambled up behind them. She removed the four boxes from the saddlebags and spread them out across the shelf above the chicken cages.
“What are you doing in there?” Governor Stanford asked.
Jenny whirled around to see the governor staring at her from the open door of the car.
“I’m a . . . I’m a . . . selecting some cheese to go with the champagne.” She reached out and grabbed a small wheel of cheese from a shelf and held it up.
“Something’s not right about those boxes of spikes,” the governor said.
“Sir?”
“That’s not the order I left them in.”
“Oh, it’s my fault if they’re not in order, sir. When I was gathering eggs this morning, one of the hens got out of the cage and flew up onto the shelf. I knocked the boxes off trying to catch her.”
“Hmm. Oh, well. Let’s get on with the picnic, shall we?” The governor turned away from the baggage car, grabbed Dr. Harkness by the elbow, and the two of them headed toward the lakefront. “We need some food down there right away, Jenny,” he called over his shoulder. “We’re starving.”
“Yes, sir, right away. I just need to change my dress.”
After Stanford and the doctor disappeared around the end of the train, Jenny plopped down in the open doorway of the subsistence car, her feet dangling outside. She let out a deep sigh. “Whew, that was close. Thanks for bringing the spikes back, Will. But, I’m sorry you had to kill Paddy. I don’t mean I’m sorry he’s dead. I mean, I’m sorry you had to be the one to do it.”
“I do feel sorry for him in a way,” Will said. “If only he hadn’t insisted on carrying out that stupid vendetta.”
“I should have killed him right here at the subsistence car before he rode away with them spikes,” Homer said.
“What’s done is done,” Jenny said. “We’re all better off with him dead. But, why do you say you feel sorry for him, Will?”
Will reached into his haversack and pulled out a battered envelope. “This is a letter from his sister asking Paddy to send money for their sick mother’s medicine. Kidnapping you, Jenny, and now trying to steal the golden spikes were his way of getting money to help his mother.”
“He was a deranged man,” Jenny said. “Sooner or later, someone was going to kill him.”
“I’ve been thinking I might send Paddy’s mother that extra month’s pay General Dodge owes me. There’s no return address on this envelope, though.”
“That would be admirable,” Jenny said. “Unnecessary, but admirable. I suppose if it would help ease your conscience for killing him, Mort Kavanagh can probably give you an address. As I recall, he was Paddy’s mother’s cousin.”
“Good suggestion,” Will said. “I’ll remember that.”
Will lifted the flap of his haversack again and took out a Bowie knife. He grasped it by the blade and held the handle out to Homer. “You gave me the arrowhead that wounded me two years ago. I still use it as the flint for lighting fires. Now, I think you should have the knife that caused your wound. Call it a souvenir.”
Homer took the knife and weighed the heft of it in his hand. “I ’spect I can use this where I’se going.”
Jenny looked first at Will, then Homer. “Where are you going, Homer?” she asked.
“Well, now. I ain’t said nothing to nobody, yet. Especially, I ain’t told Mr. Corcoran. I ain’t no quitter. So, I’se staying right here until this railroad is joined up proper like.”
“You didn’t answer Jenny’s question,” Will said.
“Texas,” Homer said.
“Texas?” Both Will and Jenny uttered the word at the same time.
“Like I said. I ain’t told nob
ody about it, yet. But . . . some days ago, I met a man headed to California after his enlistment was up. He been serving down to Fort Clark in Texas with the Twenty-fourth Infantry. Them’s buffalo soldiers . . . black soldiers. When I told him my history, he recollected as how there’s a laundress working there with the name of Mavis Garcon. And, she has a boy name of Billy.”
Will stared at Homer. His friend had decided what he was going to do, and Jenny had decided to return to Sacramento and join her sister. The time had come for him to decide.
CHAPTER 51
Will extended a hand to help Jenny descend from the front platform of the Director’s car. The early morning air at Promontory Summit imparted a chill. The rains that had fallen at the basin for the past two days had stopped, but the steps of the coach’s platform remained damp.
When she reached the bottom step, Jenny’s feet slipped, and she tumbled forward. Will grasped her around the waist as she collapsed against his chest.
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Will’s face was so close to hers he found himself mesmerized by staring into her blue eyes.
She shivered against him. “It’s cold out here, Will. But, you’re warm.”
Will eased her away, but kept his hands on her waist. He wasn’t sure what to do. He looked her up and down. “That’s a very pretty dress, Jenny. And a nice bonnet, too.”
“Thank you. I bought the dress in Sacramento to wear on this special occasion. My sister made the bonnet to match.”
She twirled out of his grasp, held her shawl away from her shoulders, spun completely around, and dipped into a curtsy.
“As I recall,” she said, “this day is special for another reason.”
“What’s that?”
“Your birthday.”
“Oh . . . yes. I’d forgotten.”
“Sixteen years old today. You’ll make quite a catch for some woman.”
“I—” he stammered. He felt the heat on his cheeks.
“You’re blushing, Will Braddock.” A smile creased her lips, then she shivered again.
“Do you want to wear my jacket?” he asked.
“No, thanks. That buckskin would wrinkle my dress. I’m fine with my shawl, and once we start walking I’ll be warm enough.”
Will reached for her hand. “Come on, then. We don’t want to miss the ceremony. I thought you’d never finish in there.”
“I had to clean the breakfast dishes and put things in order for after the ceremony. Governor Stanford plans to invite the Union Pacific dignitaries on board for champagne and fresh fruit. I couldn’t leave a mess.”
Will led Jenny up the length of Governor Stanford’s train past where the locomotive Jupiter huffed and wheezed at the end of the Central Pacific’s tracks at Promontory Summit. They paused in front of the engine’s cowcatcher to watch James Strobridge supervise a crew of half a dozen Chinese workers in placing railroad ties on the roadbed for a distance of thirty feet to where the rails of the Union Pacific ended in their reach eastward from the opposite direction. This space without rails had been left for the joining of the two halves of the Pacific Railroad. Strobridge directed his crew to remove the center tie in the thirty-foot run.
“That’s where the laurel wood tie will be placed,” Will said. “Let’s go across to the UP side, Jenny.”
He held Jenny’s hand and guided her around clusters of workers who crowded in closer to the ceremonial area.
“Doc Durant’s train is late,” Will said. “General Dodge was complaining about it to Uncle Sean earlier.”
“Durant’s been the cause of a lot of delays,” Jenny said. “Governor Stanford isn’t too pleased with him, either.”
After Will and Homer had helped Jenny serve the picnic food to Stanford’s guests the day before, he and his black companion had ridden back to Victory where they’d put Buck and Ruby on Strobridge’s work train. At dawn today, the train had carried a full load of the Central Pacific’s Chinese and Irish workers up to Promontory so they could participate in the ceremonies.
Will insisted Homer go to the Union Pacific’s doctor as soon as they had returned to Promontory. Homer’s makeshift bandage was changed for a regular one. Will could tell he was still in pain, but Homer refused to stay in the hospital tent. Homer did not want to miss out on the celebration.
Will guided Jenny through the crowd accumulating around the space between the two ends of track.
“I don’t see many women,” Jenny said.
“You’re one of the few. I know Sam Reed brought his wife and daughter. And Mrs. Strobridge is here with her daughter.
But, there aren’t many.”
“Then, this is a special day for me,” Jenny said.
“There’s Uncle Sean and Homer with General Dodge,” Will said. “Let’s join them.” He pulled on Jenny’s hand and led her through the growing throng.
Clean-shaven Chinese workers spread out along the CP’s tracks dressed in blue frocks, their pigtails extending from beneath woven straw hats. Bearded Irishmen, Germans, and assorted other nationalities wore suits and ties, which didn’t do much to enhance their appearance. Their heads covered with bowler and slouch hats, the Caucasians crowded in from the UP’s tracks. A battalion of the Twenty-first Infantry, on their way to the Presidio of San Francisco, adjusted their alignment along the west side of the ceremonial area. Their crisp, blue uniforms, and the gleam of their bayoneted rifles, added a semblance of order to the pending proceedings.
“Hello, Miss McNabb.” General Dodge doffed his hat and bowed slightly. “Nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you again, too, General.”
Will dropped Jenny’s hand, returning his own to his side. He saw her glance at her now abandoned hand. She looked back up at him and grinned. He felt himself blush, again.
“Ah,” Dodge said, “here comes Strobridge and Montague.”
The two Central Pacific supervisors approached from the CP’s construction train he and Homer had ridden earlier that day.
Jenny nudged Will with her elbow. “I recognize Mr. Strobridge. Who’s the other gentleman?”
“Samuel Montague,” he answered. “I met him last year in California. He’s General Dodge’s counterpart for the CP.”
“I thought Strobridge was.”
“No, he’s General Jack’s counterpart.”
Will, Jenny, and Homer stepped back a ways, but remained within hearing distance, while Strobridge and Montague shook hands and exchanged greetings with Dodge and Will’s uncle.
“Where’s Charlie?” Dodge asked.
“Crocker went back to Sacramento,” Montague answered. “He said he had his celebration when he finished laying the ten miles of track.”
Dodge laughed. “Yes, he got us on that one.”
“And where’s BrighamYoung?” Strobridge asked. “I expected to see the Mormon leader joining the festivities.”
“I think he’s still smarting over the railroad bypassing Salt Lake City,” Dodge said. “He claimed to have business elsewhere in the state and sent Bishop John Sharp and some others to represent the Mormons.”
“Interesting,” Strobridge said. “Sharp would probably have been here anyway. Doesn’t his company do grading for the UP?”
“Yes,” Dodge answered with a smile.
A long, wailing whistle from the east caused all heads to turn to observe the approach of Durant’s train. The military band accompanying the Twenty-first Infantry struck up a march. Will watched several Irish workers raise bottles to their lips. They sipped the liquor, then elevated the bottles in a salute to the arriving Union Pacific train. Will glanced in the direction of the Central Pacific’s gathering. The Chinese stood silently, isolated in their own group.
As soon as the march music ended, the Tenth Ward Band from Ogden broke into a lilting waltz. The shouting and cheering from the Union Pacific’s crowd drowned out the music as Engine No. 119 hissed to a stop at the end of the UP’s track. Doc Durant and his accompanying dignitaries
had arrived.
“Look, Will,” Jenny said. “That’s Mr. Russell stepping off the train, isn’t it?”
“Yes. He’ll be photographing the ceremonies for the UP, like Mr. Hart will be doing for the CP. Let’s go, Jenny. I can lend him a hand setting up his camera.” Will grabbed Jenny’s hand again and led her in the direction of Durant’s train.
Another whistle announced the arrival of a second Union Pacific train. General Jack Casement’s construction train eased to a halt behind Durant’s Pullman palace car. More workers streamed from the construction train’s cars and swelled the crowd to even greater numbers.
“There must be five or six hundred people here, Jenny. Hold on to me. We don’t want to become separated. I might not find you again.” Will gripped her hand tighter and pulled her along behind him. They fought their way against the surge of men who moved in the opposite direction intent on getting closer to the area separating the two ceremonial locomotives.
“Mr. Russell!” Will waved a hand and tried to shout over the cheering congregation of tracklayers and graders who flowed past Jenny and him. “Mr. Russell!”
Andrew Russell finally looked Will’s way from the rear platform of Durant’s special coach and raised a hand in greeting. “Ah, Mr. Braddock . . . and Miss McNabb.”
“I’m flattered you remember, sir,” Jenny said.
“I’ve been known to recall the names of pretty girls.” Russell touched the brim of his hat and gave Jenny a broad smile as he stepped down from the platform.
“Can we help you set up, sir?” Will asked.
“Why, that would be nice. Certainly.”
“Oh, look, Will.” Jenny tugged on his arm to attract his attention and pointed around the rear of the passenger car to the opposite side of the tracks. “There’s a Wells Fargo mud wagon. Duncan’s riding in the driver’s box, and Butch Cartwright’s driving. I’m glad she came. But, where’s Papa? Oh, there he is, inside the wagon. They’ve come to see the celebration.”
The mud wagon rocked to a stop next to a small tent bearing a sign for Wells, Fargo & Company. Jenny’s brother stood up in the box and waved frantically. Duncan had spotted her.
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