Judith Pella, Tracie Peterson - [Ribbons West 03]

by Ties That Bind

  “Here, here!” Charlie declared, starting to put the glass to his lips.

  “And,” Victoria said, before anyone could drink, “to my own family, which is about to add another member.”

  They all looked at her in stunned silence.

  “What do you mean?” Jordana asked, glancing from Victoria to Caitlan. Surely Brenton and Caitlan weren’t expecting a child. But if not them . . .

  “I’m going to have a baby,” Victoria announced.

  Jordana gasped. “Oh, Victoria, are you sure?”

  But Victoria was hardly listening, for Kiernan had caught her in his arms, spilling tea and ice all over the parlor rug. He swung her in a circle, his face nearly as radiant with joy as Victoria’s.

  “I guess she’s sure enough,” Brenton said, lifting his glass again. “To the new arrival.”

  Jordana lifted her glass as well. “To the next generation of Baldwins and O’Connors!” Sipping her tea, she felt nothing but pure joy for her older sister. After waiting a lifetime to make this announcement, Victoria was finally going to have the baby she’d dreamed of.

  5

  Jordana thought the front of the track should more appropriately be called the “end of the line,” for it was here that the supplies were stacked and waiting and the track ended amidst a stretch of graded wilderness. Writing her thoughts on the scene, she paced along the area where men were arranging gravel and ties for the acceptance of rails.

  Trying to ignore the whistles and catcalls from the Irish and Welsh workers, Jordana moved among the men with a straight back and professional demeanor. Many of the men knew her, and she realized their rather ribald attention was good-natured, but still it irked her. She wore a simple skirt of navy serge and a sleek navy-and-gold vest that lay snug over a crisp white blouse. Her hair had been bound up and pinned securely to keep it from interfering in her tasks, and atop this she had secured a functional straw bonnet.

  Leaving Brenton behind to photograph the snow sheds near Donner Pass, Jordana had accompanied Charlie Crocker to the front near the Truckee River in Nevada. Her purpose and mission was to arrange an in-depth story of what it was like to build the Central Pacific Railroad. Brenton had wanted her to remain with him and had argued with her long and hard about risking her reputation and well-being. Charlie saved the day by suggesting he would be responsible for Jordana and keep the men in line. He also promised to accompany Jordana as she gathered her interviews with the men. With this settled, Brenton surrendered.

  But even with Charlie’s help, Jordana found her task quite frustrating. The men were far more interested in asking her to dine with them or join them for a drink in town than to tell her their thoughts on building the transcontinental railroad. She persisted, however, probing first one and then another. Her pencil and paper were ever ready to jot down an interesting aspect of the taxing physical labor.

  Little by little, Jordana managed to ascertain a bit of information. It was never exactly what she wanted or hoped for, but it was a start. After that it became her creative job to turn her bits and pieces of news into a story worthy of reading. She knew it would be gobbled up with great enthusiasm back east, but frustration edged this victory. There was so much more to be told. The intricate lives of the railroad workers held many mysteries. But she was only a woman, and in most cases, she was simply not welcome to pry into such secrets.

  But Jordana continued in a relentless manner and from time to time found herself rewarded. Just the day before she’d managed to get some of the tunnel workers farther back on the line to talk to her about their native homes. Some of the men were originally from mining towns in Wales. Collis Huntington had managed to bring them away from their homes and families to work for the Central Pacific Railroad, attracting them with the promise of good pay and better conditions. The men were good at their jobs, as Jordana soon learned. Rather than playing blindly at the use of explosive materials, they were well trained in the dangers. Many were missing fingers or bore some other scar from their mishaps, but all seemed devoted to their tasks, and to Jordana’s great surprise, many of them were musically talented. Often in the evenings, these burly Welshmen would entertain the other men with a mixture of songs that included everything from bawdy tales of feisty women to church hymns taught them by Methodist missionaries. It was a wonder to be sure.

  Many of the Irish and Welsh complained because of Crocker’s rule against liquor. No alcoholic beverages were allowed on the building site, and while that didn’t stop the men from riding or walking into the nearest town after work concluded on Saturday, it did manage to keep the work area freed up from the problems associated with drinking. Of course, Blue Mondays had to be dealt with and often slowed production considerably as the men battled hangovers. It was enough to make Charlie consider forbidding the men to drink at all while under his employ, but Jordana doubted he’d go through with the thought. There were precious few laborers as it was. If he forbade the Saturday and Sunday excursions into town, the men would riot or simply walk off the job never to return.

  At one point, Charlie took Jordana to the place where her brother-in-law was supervising the building of a particularly tricky trestle bridge. Here Jordana actually felt welcome.

  When the Irishmen learned that she was kin to Kiernan, they treated her as one of the family. It was here that she finally managed to get some of the more intimate details she desired for her newspaper stories. She listened to them talk about their lives, noting a hint of sorrow and longing in their voices as they spoke of the green hills of home. Some, like Kiernan, had been in America since the 1840s when the potato crops had failed, leaving them destitute and starving. Others had come at the appeal and call of those who had gone before them. All of the men seemed to hold a deep respect for Kiernan O’Connor, who, while brooking no nonsense or fighting from his men, also understood that differences were bound to occur.

  Jordana studied her notes from the encounter with Kiernan’s men and wished she could have as much luck with the other railroad workers. Especially the Chinese.

  The Chinese, or “Crocker’s Pets” as they were often called, were a most unusual people to be sure. Jordana had experienced working with Chinese women back in Sacramento. Victoria hired them almost exclusively to help in her laundry business. Victoria had a deep concern for their welfare and despised the prejudicial manner in which they were generally treated by others.

  Charlie Crocker, seeing that it was impossible to keep the size of the workforce he needed for the Central Pacific’s ever growing line, decided to bring in Chinese to help. At first he brought only a few, less than one hundred. They were to do only the simplest and most menial tasks. This usually involved hauling basket loads of rock and debris from tunnel sites. Later, however, once they’d proven themselves to be more durable than originally believed, Charlie put them to work doing just about everything. Now the Central Pacific simply would not be making progress without this massive force of thousands.

  Jordana had tried many times to speak with these workers, but they would have nothing to do with her. Hindered by the language barrier, there was also a type of gender stigma that was worse than any Jordana had experienced with men of her own race. The Chinese men seemed to feel it most inappropriate for a female to address them with questions about their positions, families, or homeland. Jordana did her best to include them in her stories anyway. After all, they had rapidly outnumbered the other men working for the Central Pacific.

  Charlie tried to help her as best he could. He told her about their peculiar diet and how he had to bring in specialized foods for them—rice, bamboo shoots, seaweed, oysters, cuttlefish, and exotic finned fish. Jordana paid close attention to the Chinese men as they worked to prepare their meals, amazed that their food almost always came dry, requiring the addition of water. They cooked most everything in peanut oil and drank tea almost exclusively.

  To Jordana’s quick eye, she noted that the Chinese were rarely ill and wondered if it had more to do with
their diet or the fact that they were wont to taking warm baths on a daily basis. Not only this, but they kept their clothes and sleeping quarters regularly washed. They were a remarkable people as far as Jordana was concerned. She only wished that she could influence some or all to talk to her through their translator. But even the translator wanted little to do with her.

  “Having any luck?” Charlie asked.

  He had startled Jordana out of her deep thought, nearly causing her to jump down from the rock on which she’d taken up residence. It was quite evident that she was once again studying the Chinese workers, for all of the Irish and Welsh were farther down the line. “No, I’m afraid not. I do wish they weren’t so difficult.”

  “Well, I can’t say they’re difficult,” Charlie said, leaning back against the rock. “They are hard workers. I never have to call them twice to work. They labor steadily and work until the job is done or the hours are over. They don’t sit around fussing and feuding over imagined wrongs, and they aren’t given to drinking whiskey. A man could hardly ask for better than that in a worker. A few would run off for the goldfields now and then, but nowhere near the numbers of white workers. They are a very intelligent people who realize a steady paycheck is more valuable than the promise of a gold vein they might never find.”

  Jordana smiled and nodded. “I wanted to thank you for getting me that sample of food. I’ve never tasted anything quite so good. Pork has never been one of my favorites, but the way they fixed that together with the salted cabbage and vegetables was quite delicious. If only I could get some of the recipes for my stories.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe if I approach them and request it for you—”

  “Maybe if I dress in dungarees and cut my hair they’ll talk to me themselves,” Jordana interjected wryly. Then a smile crossed her face. “Why not?” she murmured.

  “I don’t like what I think you’re thinking,” Charlie said, eyeing her suspiciously.

  “I’ve cut my hair before, and frankly, if I plan to venture off on my own, dressing as a man just might suit my needs better than traveling as a woman. I mean, think about it. You’ve seen the attention I’ve received from the men on the line.”

  “Exactly! You go putting on breeches and you’re sure to cause a riot.”

  “Well, I didn’t mean to do it here, where everyone knows me. But maybe I could go back to where they’re working on the sheds or anywhere else where the Chinese are working on the line. Didn’t you say you were going to start grading in Utah just to get a jump on things?”

  “Oh, no you don’t! Your brother would boil me in oil for going along with such a plan. If you’re so all-fired interested in snooping around, why not do it for me in a proper manner and keep your fancy dresses?”

  “What do you mean?” Jordana leaned forward, her curiosity and interest evident.

  “I mean, there’s a lot of strange things going on along the line. We’ve suffered minor bouts of sabotage, but something tells me we’re just seeing the beginning of a trend. The government is paying by the mile, and the Union Pacific doesn’t want to see us accomplish any more than what they deem to be our fair share. Which isn’t much. I need someone to go nose around the Union Pacific folks and see what plans are afoot. If someone is thinking to waylay us, I’d like to know it.”

  “What makes you think I could do anything to help your plan?” Jordana was hardly able to contain the excitement she felt at the idea of such an adventure.

  Charlie grinned. “You made good friends back in Omaha. Many of those men are now out there on the line itself. They’re plotting and planning just like me. I’m going to return to Sacramento shortly, and your brother-in-law, as well as other men I trust, will be left here along the line to supervise the building. Getting some firsthand knowledge of what’s being discussed along the UP might very well mean the difference between keeping my men alive or seeing them buried.”

  Jordana bit at her lip and considered his words for a moment. “Do you honestly think you’re up against something so monumental and deadly? I mean, I thought both sides wanted to see this railroad completed. Even the political arenas back east see this as a factor to knit our wartorn nation together again. My father said that men of power are constantly considering the benefits and how they might play a part once the line is in place.”

  “Yes, but there are equally powerful men along the line who wish to see one or the other side set back or stopped altogether. You have no idea the rumors I’ve heard. We’ve had enough trouble without anyone stirring up problems or spying out our weaknesses, but now I think the whole scheme of things may well turn ugly. Collis Huntington thinks so too. He wrote to me with reason to believe that the Union Pacific had plans for sending someone out here to spy on our accomplishments. I’m afraid that when they see our progress, they might well strive to put an end to it.”

  “Do you have proof of that?” Jordana probed. “I mean, I could write about this entire issue and bring it to the foreground.”

  “No,” Charlie said quickly. “I don’t want to expose this, at least not just yet. If there are spies afoot and trouble is planned, I’d like to get to the folks in charge. In the meanwhile, I’d simply like to keep everyone alive and the railroad prospering.”

  “I’m still not sure I understand how I could help.” Jordana tucked her pencil and paper into her skirt pocket and looked to Charlie for an explanation.

  “My thought is that you could go back to Omaha to start. Mingle with some of the folks you were friends with before coming out here. Talk to them about what’s happening along the line. See if you can’t weasel out any information on plans to slow down the Central Pacific.”

  “What makes you think they’d talk to me—a mere woman?”

  Charlie took off his hat and scratched his head. “Well, they might not at that. I’d consider asking your brother, but it was hard enough just to convince him to photograph the snow sheds. Maybe once you got involved, he would jump in too. Then I could have pictures as well as words.”

  “I don’t know,” Jordana began. She leaned back against the warm rock and lifted her face to the sun. “I mean, I’ve worked at this for a while. I know how difficult it is to get anyone to take me seriously. I think I’d probably have better luck if I posed as a man. I could cut my hair, buy me a suit, even some fake whiskers, and then move about the line. I could tell them I was a reporter for the New York Tribune, maybe even pass myself off as Brenton’s younger brother.”

  “Wouldn’t they recognize you?” Charlie asked.

  Jordana shrugged. “I have no way of knowing. It has been three years, almost four. I’ve changed quite a bit.”

  “Well, we could think on it a bit. Maybe talk to Brenton and Kiernan and get their thoughts on it.”

  “Neither one is going to want me to go,” Jordana replied, jumping up off the rock. She dusted off her skirts and said, “They expect me to be a prim-and-proper lady. Brenton would love nothing more than for me to go back to New York and bide my time with our parents until I found some decent man to settle down with.” At the mention of a decent man, Jordana stopped. Rich O’Brian was just such a man, and he was mustering out of the army, in fact should already be rid of their authority. He knew a great deal about the Union Pacific as he had acted as guard and companion to many of the survey teams and board members. Perhaps he could tell her if something was going on.

  “. . . but otherwise I’d feel kind of funny about it,” Charlie concluded.

  Jordana shook her head, realizing she’d been lost in her thoughts of Rich. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Charlie looked at her rather curiously. “I said it would only be right to talk to Brenton and Kiernan about it. I’m not saying I’d rescind the offer if they disapprove, but I would feel kind of funny about sending you out there without even discussing it with them. They’d need to know what you were up to and where you were.”

  “Why?” Jordana replied angrily, her hands on her hips. “I’m a g
rown woman. They aren’t my bosses. Just because I’ve stayed on with Kiernan and Victoria doesn’t mean I take my orders from Kiernan. I’m tired of being told what to do and where to go. If you want me to work for you, I will. But I’d rather it stay between the two of us unless it honestly requires someone else knowing about it. Besides, if someone is involved with planning sabotage, the fewer people involved the better. You don’t know but what you have a traitor amidst your current workers.”

  “That’s true enough,” Charlie replied. “Well, how do you propose to explain it to your family?”

  “I’ll simply tell them the truth. I’m gathering materials for my newspaper stories, and I’m going to meet up with an old friend.”

  “An old friend?”

  Jordana nodded. “Yes. They’ll know all about him.”

  “Him? You mean you have a male acquaintance waiting for you in Nebraska?”

  Laughing, Jordana replied, “Not in the sense that you probably imagine. Captain O’Brian is a good friend, nothing more. He’s due to leave the army and then his plans are uncertain. He might very well be able to help me obtain the very information you’re seeking.”

  “Or he could be a part of the problem,” Charlie said. “You have to be careful who you trust, Jordana.”

  “I trust Captain O’Brian implicitly. He’s saved me from trouble more than once, and I know he’d do nothing to harm me.” The thought of Rich caused her cheeks to grow warm. “My,” Jordana said, touching her hand to her cheek, “it’s grown rather warm out here.”

  6

  Rich O’Brian rolled over in bed and noted the strong shaft of light coming into the room from beneath the heavy green shades. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept past sunrise. Stretching his arms above his head, Rich forced himself to get out of bed. Taking up the pocket watch from his dresser, he nearly yelled out loud.