The Railroad War

by Wesley Ellis

  One of the pair, a big man who towered half a head over his companion, nudged the other and said loudly, “Well, would you look there, Slip! Seems we got a new family come to town!”

  “Yep, sure seems like,” the man addressed as Slip replied. “I tell you, Jug, I wouldn’t give much for the runt in front and the skinny fellow behind, but the one in between, I’d take home myself!”

  Jessie gave no indication that she heard the exchange. The men were obviously drunk, and Jessie had learned that to pay any attention to drunken rowdies only encouraged them. For his part, Ki had long since learned to ignore such jibes. The man named Jug was not to be discouraged by being ignored, however.

  “I might not let you take her, Slip,” he said. “I think I could do better for her than you could.”

  “Well, either one of us’d be a step up from either of the two that’s walking with her,” Slip commented.

  “Now that’s the truth,” Jug guffawed. “Well, I’ll tell you what, Slip. I’ll toss you for her.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, Jug. You or me, either one, could chew him up and spit him out and never know we’d did it.”

  Jessie had seen Bobby’s back stiffen when the big man made his first remark. They had reached the corner of the veranda now, and Jessie put her hand on Bobby’s shoulder, hoping the boy would understand her gesture as a warning to pass on by without appearing to notice the rowdies.

  Jug said to his companion, “You know, now I see her closer, I got a good mind to see if she’d like to have a real man for a change. That little piddling fellow that acts like her husband sure don’t look to be man enough for a woman like her.”

  Bobby, Jessie, and Ki were in front of the men now. Slip pointed at Ki and said, “Well, by God! Look at him, Jug! He’s a damn chink!”

  “Now she’s way too good-lookin’ to be wasted on a piece of yellow-skin trash,” Jug replied. “Let’s just see if she don’t feel the same way.”

  Giving a hitch to his pistol belt, Jug stepped off the veranda to the sidewalk. He pushed Bobby into the street and planted himself in front of Jessie. Her head barely reached the big man’s shoulder. She looked at him with cold eyes, and for a moment the drunken rowdy hesitated.

  On the veranda, Slip guffawed, “What’s wrong, Jug? Cat got your tongue? Or is your belly yellow, too?”

  His companion’s words gave Jug the impetus he needed. He extended his hand, reaching for Jessie’s shoulder, and began, “Look here, little lady, you—”

  Jessie had not attained Ki’s skill in hand-to-hand combat, but her work with him had given her more than enough ability to handle a clumsy hulk like Jug. He was not prepared for the quickness with which Jessie acted. Her hands darted forward with the speed and accuracy of striking snakes. With her left hand she grasped Jug’s hamlike hand, her strong fingers digging into the base of his thumb, her thumb pressing hard on the back of his hand to spread his palm. At the same time she wrapped her fingers around Jug’s wrist, yanked his arm forward, then twisted his wrist down while she shoved his elbow into his bulging belly.

  When he saw that his companion was in trouble, Slip stepped off the veranda, his right hand moving by habit to the butt of his holstered revolver. At Jug’s first movement, Ki had dropped the suitcase he was carrying. Now he slid his left forearm into the crook of Slip’s elbow, and locked his right hand around the wrist of the hoodlum’s bent arm. Ki twisted Slip’s wrist to bring the rowdy’s hand palm-upward, then, using his own muscular forearm as a lever, he snapped the wrist down. Ki’s quick, expert pressure dislocated the man’s elbow. With the gargled scream of a wounded animal, Slip went to his knees, cradling his elbow in his left hand. Ki slid the thug’s revolver from its holster and tossed the weapon onto the shed roof that extended above the veranda.

  Jug grunted with surprise as Jessie’s fingertips bit into the senstive muscles bunched in the base of his thumb. The yipping turned into a yowl of pain as she pulled his forearm down, gaining leverage by pushing harder on the elbow pressing into his midsection. He tried to pull away, but his biceps were useless with his arm locked in the downward twist, and when he tried to wrest free, the tortured nerves in his hand sent shooting pains up his arm and shoulder.

  Jessie maintained the hold in a static position for only a few seconds. She yanked Jug’s wrist with a downward twist that sent fresh pain up his arm as both his elbow and the socket of his shoulder were strained into a position that hurt him past enduring. The hulking rowdy dropped to his knees on the sidewalk. Jessie released her hold, stepped around Jug, and moved past him to the street where Bobby stood, his mouth open, gaping at the kneeling, moaning rowdies.

  Ki took Jug’s pistol from its holster; the big man was too absorbed in his own pain to notice what was happening. Ki threw the gun on the roof where he’d already tossed Slip’s weapon. He picked up the suitcases and nodded to Jessie. She pressed her hand on Bobby’s shoulder, and the three resumed their interrupted walk to the center of town. The entire encounter had occurred so quickly that the other men on the veranda were still sitting on the benches where they’d been lounging, staring at the backs of Jessie, Ki, and Bobby as they walked leisurely along the street in the growing dusk.

  Chapter 5

  Bobby walked as silently as Jessie and Ki for a half-dozen yards, then his curiosity bubbled over. “How’d you and Ki do what you just did, Miss Jessie? Why, you took care of those two men before they knew what hit ‘em! And they both had guns!”

  “A gun is only as good as the reflexes of the man carrying it, Bobby,” Ki said. “Jessie and I just moved faster than they did.”

  “Well, it sure was something to see!” the youth exclaimed. “Could you show me those holds you used, Ki?”

  “Of course. But the holds are only good if your entire body is trained, and your mind prepared.”

  “Just the same, I’d like to know how to use them, Ki. They sure give a fellow an edge in a fight!”

  “There’ll be time for Ki to show you, Bobby,” Jessie said. She looked up the street. “Is your grandfather’s house very far from here?”

  “No, ma‘am. Just a little way. We’re almost to the town square, and grandpa’s house is just on the other side of it.”

  The town of Hidden Valley reminded her of some of the old villages in the New England states she’d visited. It was a neat town, but not a large one, and in the part of it Jessie and Ki saw as they followed Bobby, there were no signs that it was growing. None of the houses they passed were new. They were spaced widely apart from one another, surrounded by lawns and flowerbeds.

  When they reached the square, Jessie was again reminded of New England. An uncompromisingly rectangular two-story brick building stood isolated in an area of green lawn and bore a sign above its double doors that said it was the town courthouse. A brick walk led to the entrance, the walk circling around a low, grassy mound on which a small brass cannon stood, a pyramid of cannonballs beside it.

  Bobby pointed to the cannon. “I guess you’ve heard about General John C. Fremont, Miss Jessie? That’s his cannon.”

  “Of course I’ve heard of him. He was almost elected President once. But how did the cannon get to Hidden Valley? I don’t remember General Fremont fighting any battles near here.”

  “He wasn’t coming here at all, Miss Jessie. He was leading his men over the mountains in winter, and they left the cannon up there when a storm caught them. A miner found it, and—well, I don’t exactly know how it got here.”

  “That’s very interesting,” Jessie said absently. She was looking around the square. Four stores and a bank stood with vacant lots between them on two of four streets that bordered the courthouse. All of the stores were closed, and except for the loungers on the saloon veranda, she’d seen no one on the street.

  Puzzled by the absence of activity, Jessie asked Bobby, “Aren’t there any people in Hidden Valley except those loafers in front of the saloon?”

  “Why, it’s suppertime, Miss Jessie,” Bobby replie
d. “Folks will be coming out again after while.”

  “And they’ll stay up as late as eight or nine o‘clock, I’ll bet,” Ki said with a smile.

  “Some of them will. And there’ll be some men in the saloon until real late.” Bobby turned at the corner they’d reached while he was talking. He led them past two houses and up the brick walkway and onto the porch of the third. Without knocking, he opened the door and said, “Go on in, Miss Jessie.”

  Jessie started to enter the hallway beyond the door just as an aproned woman appeared at the other end of the passage. She saw Jessie and gave a small startled cry, then said sharply, “I was taught to knock at a stranger’s door before—”

  “Ma!” Bobby shouted.

  “Bobby? Is it—oh, yes! Yes, it is!” Turning aside, she called, “Father! Hurry, Father! Bobby’s come home!”

  Bobby had already raced past Jessie down the hall and into his mother’s embrace. A tall, white-haired man with a short, square-cut beard and brilliant eyes of startlingly deep sapphire blue limped into the hallway behind the pair. Bobby saw him and answered the old man’s shout of welcome with a loud yell, as he exchanged his mother’s embrace for the Captain’s. Jessie and Ki stayed outside the door, watching silently, hesitant to intrude on the Tinkers’ family reunion.

  Bobby’s mother left the boy with his grandfather and came to the door. “You’d be Miss Starbuck, and I’m Martha Tinker. Bobby forgot his manners, he’s so excited. Do come in, please.”

  “Thank you. This is Ki, Mrs. Tinker. Both of us feel we know you and the Captain, Bobby’s talked about you so much.”

  Seeing Jessie and Ki move into the hall, Bobby remembered them at last. “Grandpa,” he said, taking Captain Tinker’s hand and pulling him toward them, “this is Miss Jessie Starbuck and this is Ki. They came with me all the way from Texas.”

  Captain Tinker smiled and extended his hand to Jessie. “I can’t find the words to say how pleased I am to see you at last, Miss Starbuck, and I thank you for taking care of Bobby as you did. He shouldn’t have run away in the first place, but Martha and I are so glad to see him back that we’ve agreed to overlook that.”

  “I’m just glad we were at the ranch when he got there,” Jessie said. “There are times when we’re away for weeks.”

  “It’s all worked out well, I’d say,” Tinker replied. He was talking to Jessie, but she saw his eyes focused beyond her, on the front door. He went on, “Anyhow, I thank you as much as Martha does for bringing Bobby back to us, safe and sound.” Taking his eyes from the door at last, he asked Jessie with a worried frown, “I guess Alex couldn’t come with you?”

  Jessie replied softly, “Father’s dead, Captain Tinker. I should have mentioned that in the telegram I sent telling you that Bobby was safe and I’d see that he got home. It just didn’t occur to me that you might not know. But I’m sure he’d be here too, if he were still alive.”

  Her words seemed to stun the old man. He swallowed hard and his brilliant blue eyes grew misty. For a moment, Jessie could see him transported almost physically through years of memories to a past when he and a young Alex Starbuck had shared adventures of which she knew little or nothing. The moment passed, and Tinker looked at her and shook his head.

  “No. I didn’t know,” he said. His voice was a bit unsteady at first, but it grew stronger as he spoke. “Alex being so much younger than me, I thought I’d go first. But after I left the sea and settled here, with a lot of help from Alex, he got so busy with all his businesses and things that I didn’t see him as often as I did in the days when we—” He saw the effect his words were having on Jessie, and stopped short. “I’m sorry, Jessie. This isn’t the time for us to talk about your father.”

  “We’ll find time later,” Jessie promised.

  “Yes, of course. And I’m not a good host, or we’d be in the parlor now, or in the dining room, if you haven’t had supper.”

  “We haven‘t, Grandpa,” Bobby broke in. “And I’m hungry.”

  Belatedly, Jessie remembered Ki. She took his hand and pulled him up beside her and said, “Ki was Alex’s helper and friend for a long time, Captain Tinker. He’s now helping me and being the same kind of friend he was to Alex.”

  “Ki! Of course!” Tinker took Ki’s hand in both of his. “I know from Alex’s last letters how much he thought of you, Ki. And if—” He hesitated momentarily, then went on, “Well, I met your mother, and I knew your father well. We’ll have to talk, too.”

  Ki had listened to the brief exchange between Jessie and the Captain, and having seen the effect resurgent memories had on her, he was holding his own feelings in firm control. He returned the pressure of Tinker’s gnarled but strong hands and said, “We’ll talk, Captain. There will be time.”

  “Of course there will.”

  Martha Tinker said to Jessie, “I know you’re tired after such a trip. Now if you and Ki will come along with me, I’ll show you your rooms, and you can freshen up while I set places at the supper table for you. I’m sure you haven’t had a decent meal since you started up here on the stage. The Captain and I were just sitting down to supper when you got here, and there’s plenty for all of us.”

  Jessie and Ki had been happy enough to let Bobby monopolize the conversation at the table. They had put in an occasional word, but for the most part were listeners. With dinner behind them, Martha had shooed the others into the parlor, waving aside Jessie’s offer and another from Ki to help wash the dishes.

  “I’m never at home in a strange kitchen, and I know nobody else is,” she’d said. “Bobby usually helps me, but I’ll let him off tonight, because I know he’s tired, and he’s going to bed right now.” She gave Bobby a look that forestalled any protest and went on, “Captain, you and Jessie and Ki can do your talking in the parlor. Now. all of you clear out and don’t argue with me!”

  As they found chairs in the parlor, the Captain said, “You know, Jessie, when I was younger, I’d have been able to handle a thing like this, but a man slows down when he gets to be my age.”

  “Has there been trouble, then?” Jessie asked.

  “A bit. Not as much as I’d feared. But things have been happening that I don’t like.” Tinker was tamping tobacco into a stubby-stemmed briar pipe as he spoke. “I don’t need to tell you and Ki how the cartel does its dirty work, Jessie, and I’ve seen enough of that outfit at work to know its ways. I’ll tell you this to begin with: the cartel’s almost ready to start its dirty work right here in town. You and Ki got here just in time to give us the help we need.”

  “That’s what we came for,” Jessie said. “But we have to know the situation before we can make any plans.”

  “It’s bad and getting worse,” Tinker told her. “I’ll tell you why Bobby heard me say so many times that I wished your father was here, Jessie. I know that Alex had a lot of friends back east in Washington, and I hoped he could get some soldiers or militia or something sent here to protect us.”

  Jessie was silent for a moment while she tried to think of a way to explain to the old seaman why his hope was futile. She said, “I’m afraid nobody could do that, Captain. The Starbuck name still means a lot in Washington, but the cartel’s worked men into the government, too. If you play chess, you’ll know what ‘stalemate’ means.”

  Tinker grinned crookedly. “It’s what you’d call a Mexican standoff, I guess. Nobody loses, nobody wins.”

  Jessie nodded. “That’s close enough. The federal officials controlled by the cartel can stop us, the ones who owe us favors can stop the cartel, but neither of us has enough strength to win over the other. And the cartel’s good at keeping its activities hushed up, so we can’t even count on public indignation to help our cause.”

  Ki said thoughtfully. “You should have enough war veterans in the valley to form a pretty good fighting force, though.”

  Captain Tinker shook his head. “There’s not all that many, Ki. And it was a bitter war they fought in. The old grudges still hang on. Whether they wor
e a blue uniform or a gray one, no man wants to stand shoulder to shoulder with one who fought on the other side. Besides, they’ve all had a bellyful of fighting.”

  “And you can’t persuade them?” Jessie asked.

  “They don’t listen to me anymore, Jessie,” Tinker said sadly. “I try to tell ‘em the railroad bunch won’t wait for us to get organized. They’re already pushing us. I guess you saw how the railroad’s graded right up to the south pass now.”

  Ki nodded. “Yes, we saw that. But your guards should be able to keep them from taking the pass.”

  “We met the guard there when the stage stopped,” Jessie explained. “He told us what the ranchers are doing.”

  “That’s Blaine Abel’s idea,” Tinker said. “At least he’s doing something. But one man can’t do it all, Jessie.”

  “I understood all the ranchers are helping,” she frowned.

  “They are. And that makes five men.” The Capatin shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

  “We’ll help, of course,” Jessie said quickly. “But if the railroad’s going to be stopped, the people who live right here in Hidden Valley will have to do it.”

  “So far, the ranchers in the south end of the valley are the only ones who’ve done anything,” the Captain said. “All that the farmers and folks in town have done is talk.”

  “From what Bobby said, the grading work to the north hasn’t gotten as close to the valley as the grade to the south,” Jessie frowned. “Are they right at the pass there, too?”

  “No. On the north it’s still five or six miles away. But the railroad’s not waiting till their grade gets closer. They’ve got men working for them in the valley right now.”

  “Working?” Ki said. “How?”