“Well, I do wish ya’d stay on with us for a spell. I miss conversin’ with ya,” Caitlan said with a smile. “Oh, and Jordana, I had a letter from Victoria. Seems she’s doing quite well. She says the baby is kickin’ up a storm, and Kiernan is forcing the issue of a job in Sacramento.”
“I wondered if I might see him,” Jordana said thoughtfully. “I fully expected to find him at the front of the tracks.”
“Not anymore,” Brenton told his sister. “Kiernan is ever the concerned husband and father-to-be. I think he knows exactly what this baby means to both of them, and he doesn’t want to risk anything happening to Victoria.”
A knock at the door sent Caitlan to admit Charlie Crocker. Jordana had thought to question him about his Chinese problem just then, but his mood was quite black.
“Jordana, I want to talk to you,” he said ominously, then glanced at O’Brian and added, “alone.”
Jordana thought his reaction rather strange but nodded. “Why don’t we take a walk on the line? You can tell me about your Chinese problem, and I can tell you about my plans.”
She followed Crocker outside, feeling Rich’s narrow gaze follow her the entire way. But why should he care if she talked with Charlie? Why should he scowl so at the idea of her speaking to Charlie in private?
“Jordana, we have troubles aplenty,” Charlie said when they were well away from the house. “I hate to say this, but since your Mr. O’Brian has come among us, things have gone wrong. I had someone trail after him these last couple of days since you’ve come to town and it doesn’t look good. He’s met with those Montego folks a couple of times, and he’s always snooping around where he shouldn’t be. I’m more certain than ever that he’s spying for the Union Pacific. And not only that, but sabotaging us as well.”
“That’s not fair!” Jordana countered in quick defense of her friend. “Of course he’s working for the Union Pacific, probably keeping his eyes open for the details of our progress, but Rich wouldn’t see us harmed. He isn’t like that, Charlie. You don’t know him like I do.”
“Well, one of my supervisors saw him down on the line in the middle of the night last night. They said it was O’Brian sure as anything. He was messing around one of the supply sheds. My man confronted him, spoke to him for a few moments, then saw him head back here. This morning, however, that same supervisor found the shed broken into, along with six others along the line.”
“Rich would never—”
“I’m telling you, Jordana, my man saw him there,” Charlie replied, his face reddening in anger. “It’s bad enough my workers are running from dangers both imagined and real. What have you told O’Brian? Does he know what you were sent to do for us?”
“No,” Jordana admitted.
“Why not?” Charlie asked pointedly. “I thought you trusted him.”
“I do,” Jordana protested. “I just don’t think he would understand.”
“Perhaps he would understand only too well.”
Just then a man came racing down the track from the depot. “Charlie! Charlie! There’s been an explosion! Some of that old nitro went unnoticed, and when one of the men disturbed it, it went up just like that!” The man snapped his fingers for emphasis.
Charlie looked at Jordana with a grave expression. “Get him out of here. Whatever you have to do. He’s not going to be allowed to keep this line from progressing.”
Jordana felt consumed with guilt and pain as she watched Charlie walk away. She’d had no idea that Rich had gone to spend time with the Montegos, and neither did she realize he’d been out on midnight forages along the CP’s supply lines. Biting her lip, she searched in her mind how she could deal with this matter without completely accusing Rich of what Charlie suggested.
Sitting down on an upturned crate by the construction site of the new depot, Jordana tried to think. The sounds of hammering and the shouts of workers, along with the smell of sawdust and sweat, should have been distracting, but instead, they were rather soothing in their mundane way. Jordana’s thoughts soon turned to prayer. She had sorely neglected her prayers of late, and while she had read her Bible religiously on the line, she had fallen away from the practice since coming back to Crocker.
God, I just can’t believe Rich would do this thing. He knows you and claims to care about your Word. Surely he wouldn’t jeopardize the lives of people on the Central Pacific just because he works for the Union Pacific. With a heavy heart she contemplated the issue, realizing that there was a great deal she didn’t know about Rich O’Brian. Perhaps he wasn’t the man she thought he was. After all, letters written over time and distance did not prove a man’s character. Perhaps he was a consummate actor and he had her fooled along with everybody else.
“I thought you were meeting with Crocker,” Rich said, drawing Jordana out of her prayer rather quickly.
“What are you doing here?” she asked more sharply than she’d intended.
Rich looked at her oddly. “What’s wrong?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” Jordana replied.
“Nothing’s wrong with me. I just came out to see when you intend to head up the line.”
“Why?” She got up and watched his expression change at her sudden coolness.
“Jordana, you want to tell me what’s going on here?”
“Charlie saw you conferring with the Montegos.”
Rich laughed. “Is that what this is about? You jealous that Isabella is more interested in me than you?” he taunted.
Jordana took out a handkerchief and wiped her brow. Even though it was nearly September, the hot desert sun was enough to make a man or woman wish for the cooler air of the mountains. Trying hard to think of a congenial way to accuse Rich of spying, Jordana gave up at the sheer futility of it.
“Charlie wants you off the line. He thinks you’re spying for the Union Pacific.”
“And what do you think?” Rich asked seriously.
The question struck through to her heart. “What I think doesn’t matter,” Jordana replied, turning away. “You have to go.”
“No one can make me leave if I don’t want to.”
Jordana turned back to face him. “You were at the supply sheds last night, and now they’ve been vandalized and robbed. Eyewitnesses placed you there. Are you going to deny it?”
“No. I’m not denying that I was there last night,” Rich replied. “I went for a walk. Nothing more.”
“That’s easy enough to say.”
“So you do think I’m spying. You think I’m collecting information to create problems for the Central Pacific. Is that it?”
“Your actions are suspicious.”
“And yours aren’t?” Rich retorted. “I mean, it’s rather convenient that you run about the country on the pretense of writing stories. You may collect all the details and information you desire, and no one is to question your work.”
“How dare you!” Jordana exclaimed indignantly, momentarily forgetting she was doing just that. “My stories speak for themselves.”
“I don’t remember you writing an article telling how Leland Stanford met up with you in North Platte. Or how shortly after that, the UP suffered two derailments and several other attacks. One of which included burning a bridge down and forcing the work to be redone.”
Jordana felt light-headed. How did he know about Stanford? She met Rich’s eyes and knew that she couldn’t defend herself on that issue. “I was on one of those derailed trains, as you well know. I would never do anything to risk human life.”
“But you don’t deny that your Mr. Addison was none other than one of the Central Pacific’s Big Four.”
“No,” she said softly. “I don’t deny that. Mr. Stanford asked to keep his identity unknown. He didn’t want to be answering a lot of questions as to why he was in North Platte.”
“And why was he there?”
Jordana balled her fists and hit them against her legs. “None of your business. I don’t know why you should care. You know ver
y well that I want this railroad completed. My parents stand to benefit from it. Frankly, I stand to benefit from it as my father has invested in both sides. So don’t you dare stand there and accuse me. I thought you were my friend.”
“I thought you were my friend,” Rich countered, “but instead you talk for ten minutes to Charlie Crocker and suddenly I’m the enemy.”
“Things have gone wrong since you’ve been here. Charlie’s suspicious.”
“Charlie doesn’t appear to be the only one,” he growled and stomped off in the direction of the depot.
Jordana wanted to call after him but held her tongue. Instead, she turned to walk away in the opposite direction, knowing that Rich had every right in the world to accuse her. She was a spy for the Central Pacific. But not for the reasons he believed. Now she had insulted him and left him without a feeling of trust between them. What had she done? How could she possibly hope to make this right?
When Jordana returned to Brenton and Caitlan’s, the sun had already set and heavy storm clouds were threatening on the horizon, turning the twilight ominous in shades of gray and green. She walked into the place where her brother and sister-in-law had taken up residence, only to find them quite animated. Their excitement was clearly in contrast to her own black mood.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“We’re off to Utah to photograph some of the territory for Charlie,” Brenton told her. “He wants some pictures before cold weather sets into the mountains and makes the work too difficult to continue.”
“We’re leavin’ in the mornin’,” Caitlan announced. “Charlie’s provided us a wagon and supplies. Isn’t that excitin’?”
“Yes, it is,” Jordana replied, casting a glance around for Rich.
“He’s gone, if you’re looking for Rich,” Brenton said, sobering considerably. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he came back here muttering and fussing. I could hear your name from time to time, but other than that, he packed his bags, thanked us for the hospitality, and left.”
“Did he say where he was going?” Jordana was not at all certain what she would do even if she knew.
“No,” Brenton said, shaking his head. “He didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. He didn’t seem to be in the mood for questions.”
“No, I don’t imagine.” Jordana sat down despondently.
“So since yar at odds with the good captain,” Caitlan suddenly said, “why don’t ya come with us? Ya can get yar stories about the railroad legends, and we can have a good visit.”
Jordana considered it for a moment. “I don’t know if that would work out for Charlie or not.”
“I can’t see why not,” Brenton replied. “It’s not like he owns you.”
Jordana thought of what Charlie’s accusations had cost her. “No, it certainly isn’t.”
“We should be back before it gets too cold,” Brenton offered. “We hope to be back in Sacramento before Victoria has the baby.”
“Well there’s plenty of time for that. She’s not even due until February,” Jordana said, contemplating the situation. “Utah, eh?”
“Utah and maybe more. Charlie said, if the mood strikes us and the weather is good, he’d like to see what the land looks like around the border. He’s thinking that if he gets enough workers, he just might push out fast and furious and meet the UP before they can even build their line that far.”
Rich would no doubt go back and tell General Dodge all about the accusations and problems he’d endured in Wadsworth. She hated him believing her capable of spying for the benefit of hurting other people. If she had to confess what she’d been doing, then she would, but she didn’t want Rich to go on believing the worst of her. Perhaps if she let some time pass, she might be able to talk some sense into him and get to the bottom of their loyalties.
“I’ll do it,” she finally told her brother. “I’d like to spend time with the two of you.”
——
Two weeks later Jordana found herself on the sandy alkali landscape of the front tracks. They had passed Carson Sink and Humboldt Lake and were headed up the Humboldt River past the Trinity Mountains. Here she met with Charlie’s supervisors and men and discussed the building of the line. Again she followed Charlie’s orders and played down their success when she wrote her stories for the paper, but in fact the line was progressing quite nicely. It was even believed they could possibly be to the Utah border by the end of the year. Of course, it was Charlie who believed it, but that man had a way of making things happen. Jordana marveled that not long ago estimations of completion of the line had run to years, as many as ten. Now it looked quite possible the lines could meet in less than a year.
Discipline was good among the workers, and morale was not too bad either. The liquor had been cut off from the Irish workers, and without a nearby town of any real means, they were forced to spend their evenings sitting around camp, telling stories and playing cards.
The Chinese had caused quite a stir, Jordana learned, when it was found that an opium den had been improvised along the track grading. Forty or more Chinese workers had turned to the pleasures of that particular vice, and like Jesus clearing out the temple of the money changers, the supervisor for the line had gone into the den and cleaned it out. Firsthand witnesses told Jordana of how the “bossy man” had taken the pipes and opium, scattering the occupants and owners of the materials from the site in a matter of moments.
“What do you suppose the effects of opium are?” Jordana asked one evening while Brenton considered his latest photographs.
“I’ve seen the effects firsthand,” he replied. “The men are good for nothing but lying about. Their minds see things that are not there, and they appear to suffer from severe vertigo. They have no real sense of balance or the ability to steady themselves. The opium somehow works against their equilibrium. It’s worse than alcohol.”
Jordana found it quite fascinating to be back where the real progress of the line was being made. The workers no longer minded her appearance or her questions. She was discreet in her observations, as was her brother, and the men appreciated her interest. Her stories made them out to be American heroes, and who wouldn’t want to be thought of in that manner? Those who could read passed her copies of the stories along to those who couldn’t by sharing the tales around their campfires late into the evening. Jordana almost felt that she could reveal herself to be a woman at this point, and they still would have accepted her presence in their lives. But that feeling wasn’t strong enough to make her change from her facade of Joe Baldwin. She couldn’t risk the possibility that they would reject her and thus put an end to her livelihood.
The next morning, Joe, or Preacher, as many now called her, was up and moving along the line before dawn. There was a sense of the sacred that came right before the workers set out on their various duties. As the men ate their morning meal and grumbled about the work ahead of them, Jordana walked along the graded ground and contemplated the road to come. The future was right here. Everything about her world would change once this line was complete.
Then her thoughts went to Rich and his anger at her. She had written to him twice but had received no word back. Not that she really expected an answer. She had disappointed him with her accusations, and she had been unable to give him the answers he needed to relieve his own worries.
Gazing off across the valley, Jordana shivered at the chill breeze that cut across the river. Perhaps it was better this way, she told herself. She couldn’t very well expect Rich to understand her feelings toward him when she didn’t understand them herself. The constant worry that she’d fallen in love with the man gave her enough heartache without having to consider what he might think of her once he knew the truth about her work for Crocker.
The train’s whistle blasted in a long signal that the workday was about to commence. Jordana looked toward the pale pink horizon and wondered what the day might bring. Silently, she prayed for guidance and understanding, and then
she added a prayer for Rich. She couldn’t bear not knowing if he were dead or alive. She couldn’t stand the thought of him having come to harm, or worse, to have chosen the company of Isabella Montego, in light of his separation from Jordana’s company.
“Let’s get to work!” the supervisor called out. “You men get over here and help unload these rails. Put your backs to it, lads. We’ve a railroad to build.”
Jordana glanced toward the front of the track where twenty some men worked together to lay the next set of rails. No one man could boast the building of this railroad and neither could just one company. Perhaps that was the next story she would cover in her articles for the Tribune. Perhaps she would chide both sides for their childish games of intrigue and destruction.
Shaking her head, Jordana made her way back to the front. She ignored the curses of the workers and smiled at the good-natured teasing they gave one another.
“My mother could lift that rail better than you boys,” one yelled.
“Maybe your mother could come to work for the Central Pacific!”
“She’s already got a job with the Union Pacific, and that’s why they’re beatin’ the pants off of us!”
Laughter filled the morning air as the men continued unloading and arranging their supplies. Charlie had long ago worked them into a routine, and now it was second nature. The supply train came, and within a matter of minutes the men had swarmed the cars and cleared them of materials. The train then backed away and down the track and soon another would come and another, until there were enough supplies at the head of the track to progress for several miles. They were averaging as much as six miles of track a day, and at this rate, Jordana knew it would be no time at all until they reached Charlie’s predicted goal of Utah by the new year.
18
“Joe Baldwin has to go,” Baxter Montego said to the gathering of men in his home. “There has been nothing but trouble for me since his appearance on the line. With him out there snooping around and keeping company with O’Brian, I’ve had trouble getting things done. That fool’s story about the Indians’ attack on the UP caused Congress to agree to more troops on the line. That in turn is causing me considerable complications.”
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