The Railroad War

by Wesley Ellis

  Raising his voice over the murmur of approval that swept the crowd, the Captain said, “Now before I go on and tell you what we’ve found out, and what all of us need to do to hold onto what we’ve got, I’m asking you to keep quiet until I finish. There’ll be plenty of time left for all of you to have a say when I get through.” Leaning on his cane, he waited for the men to grow quiet, and went on, “I guess by now you know who the lady in back of me is. If you don‘t, she’s Jessie Starbuck. It was her father gave me the land I sold you here in Hidden Valley.”

  “We know about Miss Starbuck and her daddy,” someone called from the rafters. “Get on with what you got to say!”

  “I will if you’ll just let me!” the old man snapped tartly. When the buzz of talk died, he said, “Jessie and I have been going through the courthouse records the last few days, and we found out that somebody’s done a lot of dirty work. All the land deeds you men filed are gone, and the record books have been cut up. Even the deed I got for all of Hidden Valley’s missing.”

  “Hell, that means we ain’t nothing but squatters on land we bought and paid for!” an angry voice called.

  The Captain’s voice cut through the buzz that followed. “That’s true! But even if the law calls you squatters, you’ve still got rights, and one of ‘em is to hold the land you claim until a court can pass judgment on what kind of title you have.”

  “What’ll we do when the railroad burns our houses and barns? Where are we gonna live while we try to hang on?” the man who’d suggested a lynching shouted above the hum of angry voices. “I say we go find that bastard Prosser and string him up!”

  When only a few scattered voices rose in support of the proposal, Captain Tinker said quietly, “If we got rid of Prosser, the railroad would just send somebody else to do the same thing he’s doing. Whatever we do has to be legal, or we’re worse than the railroad is.”

  “They started this fight,” one of the men said. “We didn’t ask them to come in here with their damned tracks!”

  “That’s right!” another angry voice seconded. “They begun it, but I say let’s us finish it!”

  This time the voices raised in support of fighting were more numerous than before. Jessie decided to take a hand. She stepped up beside the Captain.

  “Please!” she called. “Please listen to Captain Tinker! He has a plan to keep the railroad from robbing you without anybody getting hurt or killed!”

  Jessie couldn’t tell whether the men calmed down because of their interest in what she’d said, or because she was a woman. Listening to the mixture of rumbling voices die away, though, she was glad she’d refused to be the one to explain the plan they’d worked out and had insisted that the Captain do so.

  “Let’s go back to how all this got started,” the old seaman began. “But first I want to be sure everybody understands what’s been going on.”

  “We know what’s been going on, Cap’n Bob!” a man in the center of the group called out. “That damn railroad’s started burning our houses so we won’t be in shape to fight back when they take our land away from us, because we can’t prove we bought it!”

  “That’s just half of it,” Tinker said, raising his voice to be heard above the approving chorus that rose from the men. “The railroad’s at the bottom of it, but how about the men you elected to look after the courthouse for you? Zeke Carter and Ed Kinsell and the judge? Didn’t it ever occur to you that they sold you out?”

  “Sure, but what can we do about that?” someone asked.

  Another voice called, “We elected ‘em for four years, and they still got two years to go!”

  “If you can vote them into office, you can vote them out!” the Captain said loudly. “It’s what’s called a recall election.” He held up the slim book that he and Jessie had borrowed earlier from the erstwhile law student. “It’s right here in black and white, and I’ll guarantee it’ll be legal and binding. And while you’re voting them out, you can elect men the railroad can’t buy!”

  “I say it’s better to just string ‘em up!” the lynching advocate shouted. “It’s easier, and it’ll save a lot of time!”

  “Shut up!” a voice from the rafters commanded loudly. “If we’d wanted you to run things, we’d of asked you to! Listen to what Cap’n Bob says!”

  After the echoes of approving shouts had died away, Tinker said, “All right. Now we might have to do this all over again to make it legal, but how many of you vote to throw out the men who’re running the courthouse now?”

  A roar of assenting voices filled the barn.

  “Looks like we just voted ourselves a recall election,” the Captain announced when the din had died away. “Now, then. Since you folks voted to toss out all the county officials, anybody who wants to put his name up to run for county clerk and sheriff and judge can sing out.”

  “How about it if we don’t want to run ourselves, Cap’n Bob?” a man in the front of the crowd asked. “Is it all right if we put somebody else’s name in the hat?”

  “As long as you can guarantee he’ll take whatever job he’s elected to,” Tinker replied.

  “Then I’m nominating you to be the new county judge, and you better not say no!”

  Captain Tinker hesitated for only a moment, then said, “If I take the job, it wouldn’t be for long. I’d aim to resign from it as soon as this railroad mess is cleaned up.”

  “If you hogtie the railroad, that’s all we ask you to do,” replied the man who’d made the nomination.

  “How about Paul Rogers for county clerk?” Jed asked. “We know he can read and write, and he’ll keep things honest.”

  “Anybody got another name to put up?” Tinker asked. When no one spoke, he went on, “All right, now we need a sheriff.”

  Jethro Garvey spoke almost before the Captain had finished. “I say we can’t do better’n Jed Clemson! He seen what happened to me, and the same thing almost happened to his folks! If he can’t stop the fire-setting, nobody can!”

  “Wait a minute!” a man from the haymow called. “Jed’s got his hands full helping his folks on the farm and working for me on the ranch!”

  “Then you take the job, Blaine Abel! You got enough hands on your place so you can spare the time!” Garvey shot back.

  A few cries of approval and some applause followed the nomination. Tinker asked, “Well, Blaine, how about it?”

  “If you men want me, I’ll take it on,” the rancher agreed.

  His answer was a roar of approval from the crowd.

  “Anybody got anything else to say?” Captain Tinker asked.

  “Just tell us what we do now!” someone suggested.

  “Before we can do anything else, we’ll have to send somebody to Carson City and get the governor to sign some papers that’ll make what we’ve done legal,” Tinker replied. “And since you’ve elected me judge, I guess that’s my job. But I don’t look for any trouble. I’ve known Governor Kinkead for a long time. He’s a good man, and he doesn’t like crooks.”

  “You reckon we’ve done enough for tonight, then, Cap’n Bob?” a man in the crowd called.

  “I’d say we’ve done a right good job,” Tinker answered. “But we’re still a ways from finishing it. The big job’s going to be when we finish cleaning house and tackle the railroad.”

  “If we’re through, I’m going home to bed,” another of the men announced. “I got a day’s work ahead of me tomorrow!”

  In a surprisingly short time, the crowd broke up. Captain Tinker waited until it had thinned out before he hobbled to the wall to extinguish the nearest of the lanterns that had provided light for the meeting. Ki saw that the old seaman was moving slowly, leaning heavily on his cane, and hurried to help.

  “Let me finish taking care of the lanterns, Captain,” he said. “You’re tired. Go on in the house and sit down.”

  “Thanks, Ki. This damn dickety leg of mine kicks up when I use it as much as I’ve had to lately,” Tinker replied.

  Just outside t
he barn door, Paul Rogers and Blaine Abel had stopped to talk with three or four of the men who’d remained behind. Jessie, waiting for Ki and the Captain, stood a few feet away, talking to Jed Clemson and his father.

  “If you’ve got a minute, Captain, maybe you’d like to hear what these fellows have to say,” Abel called.

  Captain Tinker started walking toward the group just as the sharp crack of a rifle shot shattered the night’s quiet.

  Jessie was turning to join the Captain, when out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the red spurt of a muzzle blast, high above the ground. Her hand moved by instinct toward her hip before she remembered she hadn’t thought it necessary to wear her pistol to the meeting.

  While the old seaman’s body was still jerking and whirling from the impact of the rifle slug, Jessie saw Jed Clemson and Blaine Abel drawing their revolvers, their heads swiveling as they searched for the source of the shot.

  “On the roof of the barn next door!” she called to them, pointing. “There!”

  Jed and Abel, unable to pierce the night’s blackness with their eyes, started running toward the spot Jessie had indicated.

  Jessie hurried on to Captain Tinker, who by this time had crumpled to the ground. Jessie dropped on her knees beside him.

  Boot heels scrabbled harshly on the barn’s shingles. Jed and Abel had not yet reached the fence that divided the Tinker yard from the barn where the rifleman had stationed himself. Before they could scale the fence, the thudding of hoofbeats told them the sniper was escaping.

  Captain Tinker groaned and stirred and tried to raise himself, but fell back heavily. He said to Jessie through clenched teeth, “I forgot how a bullet hurts a man! Damn painful, Jessie!”

  Supporting the old seaman with her arm, Jessie asked, “Where were you hit?”

  “Leg. It’s my good leg, too! If the son of a bitch had to shoot me, why in hell didn’t he pick the one that’s bad already?”

  Holstering their weapons, knowing that pursuit was useless, Jed and Abel came up to Jessie and the captain. The back door of the house slammed as Martha came running out and knelt next to the Captain and Jessie.

  “Oh, Captain!” she moaned. “How bad is it?”

  “Don’t fret, Martha,” Tinker replied. “I’ve been hurt a lot worse. It’s just my leg.”

  “We’ll get him inside,” Abel said.

  Carrying the Captain between them, the two men started for the house. Martha went ahead to open the door, and Jessie followed, carrying the old man’s cane. Jed and Abel edged through the kitchen with the Captain and headed toward the door leading to the bedrooms.

  “Haul in!” Captain Tinker commanded. “Put me down in that chair over there. Martha won’t like it if I go dripping blood on her nice clean carpets!”

  “You’d better do what he says,” Martha told them. “I’ve got hot water and everything else I need right at hand in here, anyhow. And the way he’s cutting up, he’s not bad hurt.”

  “Mind your language, Martha,” the Captain chided. “I’m hurt bad enough, but I’ve been shot before, a lot worse than this.”

  Martha and Jessie tended to Tinker, slitting his trouser leg and the clinging, bloodstained leg of his balbriggans to expose the wound. The bullet had passed through his upper thigh, missing the bone, making two neat holes that were seeping a trickle of blood.

  “Humph!” the captain grunted, craning his neck to inspect the wound. “I guess I’m lucky. Prosser or Breyer or whoever sent that fellow picked a damned bad shot.”

  “Oscar Breyer?” Abel asked, his voice rising in surprise. “What’s he got to do with it?”

  “Looks like he’s in with the railroad rascals too,” Tinker said. “There’s some things Jessie and I found out today that we haven’t had time to tell anybody.”

  “If Oscar’s in with the railroad gang, I don’t want my money in his damned bank!” the rancher said angrily.

  “Just reef your sails, Blaine,” the Captain told him. “All we’ve got now is suspicions. But Jessie’s going to find out. She says she can get one of the banks in San Francisco to look into what Breyer’s doing.”

  Martha knelt beside the chair and began washing the Captain’s thigh with hot water. He winced as the washcloth rubbed over the muscle, and winced more when Martha took a smaller pan containing a reddish liquid and began trickling it slowly over the wound.

  Through gritted teeth, he said, “That hurts worse than the bullet did, Martha. You sure you didn’t use too much permanganate in the water?”

  “I’m sure,” she answered. “Now keep still. And talk to somebody else while I finish cleaning up your leg and get a bandage on it.”

  Blaine Abel said to the Captain, “I might not be the legal sheriff yet, but I’m going to get the ranchers together, and all of us will put some of our hands out patrolling, just to let everybody know we’re starting to fight back.”

  “That’s a fine idea, Blaine,” Tinker nodded. He looked at Jessie. “I guess you’re going to have to talk to the governor for me, but I’ll write him a letter that’ll tell him what’s been happening here. I was looking forward to seeing John, too. We just had one visit after he got back from Alaska a few years ago, then he got all wound up in politics and didn’t have time.”

  “Don’t worry, Captain,” Jessie replied. “Even though I’ve never met him, if Governor Kinkead and Alex were as close friends as you say, I don’t think Ki and I will have any trouble.”

  Ki came in, carrying a lantern. He arrived in time to hear Jessie mention his name, and stopped inside the door. “Am I missing something?” he asked. “Are we going somewhere, Jessie?”

  “You and Bobby got back so late that I didn’t have time to talk with you before the meeting, Ki,” she answered. “But while you were gone, Captain Tinker and I decided that the three of us need to go to Carson City and talk to Governor Kinkead.”

  “Have you thought how close Virginia City is to Carson City, Jessie?” Ki asked. “It’s only a half-day’s ride. And we’d be foolish not to go and follow the lead I uncovered.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be going there too.”

  “I’m going to give you some advice now, Jessie,” Tinker said. “I know you and Ki travel together a lot, and taking a strange trail won’t bother you. But the shortest way to Carson City goes through the mountains, and it’s not safe for anybody who doesn’t know it.”

  “We’ll take the marked trail, then,” Jessie said.

  Tinker shook his head. “That’s a four-day ride, Jessie, up the old Bidwell Trail north, and back south over the Pony Express road. The short way through the mountains is rough, but it cuts your trip down by two days. Since I can’t go with you, my advice is to take along somebody else who knows that back trail.”

  Jessie said, “Your advice sounds good, Captain. Who do you think should go with us?”

  “I had Jed in mind.” The captain looked at Blaine Abel. “Can you spare him for a few days, Blaine? And let us have horses for Jessie and Ki?”

  “Looks like I’d better, if you think they’ll need him,” the rancher replied. “And I’ve got saddle horses on the spread that don’t get enough riding, this time of year.” Turning to Jed, he asked, “Any reason why you wouldn’t want to go?”

  “Not a one, as long as it’s all right with you.”

  “The Captain and I were planning to leave the day after tomorrow, about daybreak,” Jessie told Jed. “Can you be ready in time?”

  “Sure thing. That’ll give me time to ride down to the ranch and get my rifle and saddlebags, and cut out a couple of horses for you and Ki.”

  “It’s all settled, then,” the Captain said. “And when you get back here, we’ll be set to get rid of the railroad outlaws once and for all!”

  Chapter 13

  When they set out with Jed for Carson City, Jessie and Ki discovered before the end of the first day of their trip that Captain Tinker had not exaggerated when he warned them the trail was unsafe for strangers.


  After leaving Hidden Valley by the north pass, an hour’s ride brought them to the rough grade that had been cut for the railroad, but they had ridden beside it for less than a mile when Jed turned his horse westward. Through the clear morning air, which made it seem only a few miles away, the eastern face of the Sierra Nevadas reared like a massive wall, towering in one abrupt thrust above the lesser mountains through which the three would travel.

  Jessie and Ki followed Jed over a well-marked trail through a wide, shallow valley. They made fast progress, and soon after the sun slid down to afternoon, they passed through what was left of the little town of Ludwig, the result and quickly the victim of a short-lived mining boom. The unpaved street along which they rode was bordered on both sides with abandoned buildings and houses. Though here and there they saw one that still looked occupied, they saw neither human nor animal as they made their way through the remains of the town.

  With more than half of the first day of their two-day ride now behind them, Jessie and Ki began to wonder why Captain Tinker had told them their trip would be a hard one. They soon received an answer to their unspoken question. After leaving Ludwig, the trail grew progressively worse. Time after time, Jed led them into canyons along trails that were no more than a few scratches made by prospectors, trails that both Jessie and Ki knew they’d have ignored, if they had been alone.

  Often now, the trails dwindled and almost vanished as they wove through narrow, serpentine canyons on ledges very little wider than the horses’ hooves. At times the ledges along which they squeezed were so narrow that their legs brushed the canyon wall. From some of these, a rider could have touched the rocky canyon wall with one hand and dropped a stone straight down for a half-mile with the other, without extending either arm full length.

  “I see now why the Captain didn’t want us to try this trail without you, Jed,” Jessie said as they dismounted for the night at a spot Jed had picked, where the ground was almost level and the slope less precipitous than most.

  Prompted by Jessie’s question, Ki asked, “Is it like this all the rest of the way to Carson City?”