“I’ll send someone back down the line,” Charlie told her, then added, “Jordana you couldn’t have done anything more. You tried to help her even though she was trying to kill you.”
Jordana shook her head. “I just can’t believe it really happened.”
Charlie watched her for a moment. “I wish I could tell you to just go take it easy for a few days, but in truth, I don’t think that would be good for you. So, instead, I’m going to insist you come with me tomorrow. We’ve set up a little competition about fourteen miles west of Promontory Summit.”
“Competition?” Jordana asked, still unable to really focus her attention on Charlie’s words, but grateful nonetheless for the prospect of a distraction.
“That’s right. The UP boys believe they can lay more track than the CP crews. We’ve shown them once before that we could lay a fair piece of track, but then they turned around and bested it. Now we’re going to prove once and for all that the Central Pacific is clearly the superior railroad.”
“I don’t understand,” Jordana replied. She toyed with her felt hat, turning it over and over while she waited for Charlie to explain.
“We’re going to lay more track in a single day than has ever been laid before. The UP is sending their big brass out to watch us beat their record of laying eight miles in a day. Of course, their men had to start at three in the morning and work by lamplight to accomplish that much, but it has been done and they’ll not let us hear the end of it.”
“I see. And what do you propose to do in order to top it?”
Charlie grinned. “The UP has little more than twelve miles left to reach the summit. They’ve had to slow way down, however, because their graders aren’t as fast. Besides that, there are still some bridges and tunnels to finish out and their supplies are running thin. Still, I told our men we have to make a distance that will leave no room for challenge. We’re going to lay at least ten miles in a day, even if it kills us all.”
Jordana shook her head. “Men are the silliest of all God’s creatures.”
Charlie cocked a brow at this. “Those are fightin’ words, missy. You want to explain?” He spoke good-naturedly, but Jordana still frowned.
“The competition will push everyone to their limits and could very well kill several good men. And for what? A race? A competition between two bickering railroad companies?”
“But think of the good it will do the men’s morale. This line is nearly complete in spite of the eastern populace acting as though the Central Pacific was a no-account line that would have to be entirely reworked after the completion of the transcontinental line. They’ve pushed government inspectors on us and spies—”
“Yes, and you’ve always managed to come out smelling like lilacs and lavender,” Jordana replied drolly.
“I’ve never known you to back down from a challenge or wish to see anyone else back down either. Where’s your spirit of adventure, Jordana?”
“I think I lost it on the tracks between Wadsworth and Elko,” she replied flatly. After several moments of trying to pull her emotions together, Jordana nodded. “I’ll go with you, Charlie. I need the diversion. When do we leave?”
“We’ll take my private car and leave in a couple of hours. You can sleep on the way. There are several compartments for just that and no one will bother you.”
Jordana sighed. “Very well. I’m sure the Tribune would want the competition covered for their readership. I’ll meet you back here in an hour. I need some time alone, and I need to send Rich O’Brian a telegram.”
“Say, about that whole situation with O’Brian. I want to apologize,” Charlie said as Jordana got to her feet. “I jumped to all the wrong conclusions, when it was the Montegos who were giving me grief all along. I hope neither one of you will hold that against me.”
“I can’t see either of us as the type to hold a grudge, Charlie. If I ever see Rich again, I’ll tell him what you’ve said.”
——
The competition got off to a false start on the twenty-seventh of April. Charlie ducked his head in sheer embarrassment when a locomotive went off the track and forced the delay of the race. Even more embarrassing for him was the fact that Jordana wasn’t the only one to be reporting the event. There were other newspaper correspondents there and even a photographer or two.
But within moments, Charlie stuck a cigar in his mouth and challenged some of his guests to a shooting match. Soon they had set up the cigar box in the sand some one hundred yards away, and the men were quickly occupied with meeting Charlie’s dare. Jordana busied herself with gaining information. She heard from two other reporters that the delay was actually the best thing that could have happened, because the UP was bringing in Dodge, Durant, Reed, the Casement brothers, and many other officials for this impromptu time test of endurance and wills.
Jordana wondered if Rich would also be accompanying the Union Pacific visitors. She hoped he might, and even uttered a couple of prayers to that effect, but she tried not to dwell on it. She didn’t want to think too much about Rich, because it just made her more miserable than she already felt. There might well be a future for them one day—perhaps. After all, it was evident that Rich cared for her. But even so, could he understand her heart on the matter? Could he find a way to let her go on being herself, not expecting her to do the expected?
April twenty-eighth dawned bright and clear, and by seven o’clock that morning the officials from both sides had arrived on the scene and were ready to watch the competition. Charlie had challenged that not only could his men start at a reasonable time and complete their desired ten miles of track, but they would also end at a reasonable time as well. They would accomplish their goal in no more than twelve hours.
Jordana noted this, as well as the laughter and guffaws that followed from the Union Pacific officials. Thomas Durant was especially snide about the entire matter. There was no way he believed it possible for Crocker’s Pets and a score of Irishmen to accomplish such a feat.
Jordana, less dazed from her ordeal with Isabella, worked hard to get into the spirit of things. After a time, she put away her journal, which had come to her in the post while she had still been in Sacramento, and began to simply observe the setting. She paid close attention to the sights and sounds, the smells and feel of the day. A definite charge of energy ran through the crowd as she maneuvered down the line. This would truly be a day to remember.
The signal was given at exactly seven o’clock with a long, loud blast from the train engine. Charlie’s men went to work like a well-organized machine. They had long ago learned an effective pattern for laying track, and now that strategy went into play.
The first of five trains with sixteen flatcars was positioned at the front of the line. A group of horse-drawn wagons were moved alongside, while the other four trains waited farther down the main track on sidings. The idea was to distribute enough goods to construct the entire ten miles of track.
When the whistle sounded, Jordana watched with fascination as the Chinese rushed the cars, bounding quickly on top to throw down kegs of bolts and spikes, along with bundles of fish plates and the heavy iron rails to be used. Within eight minutes they had cleared sixteen cars of equipment. The noise was deafening and stirred the crowds into enthusiastic cheers.
Jordana watched raptly as the first train was moved down the track to the siding and another train was brought forward. Six-man teams lifted open flatcars onto the existing track and began to hoist each of these with sixteen rails. These little iron cars, as they were called, had rows of rollers along the edges that assisted the men in sliding the rails forward and off the car when they were needed. Atop the rails, the men added kegs of the hardware needed to join the rails together and spikes to fix them to the ties. These cars were then hitched by a rope to two horses, positioned single file with riders on their backs.
The next line of duty required a three-man team. These men carried shovels and formed a sort of advanced alignment guard. Nicknamed “
Pioneers” for the fact that they went ahead of the line of other workers, their job was to follow the grade and align the ties. This happened by butting the ties to a rope that had been stretched out parallel to a row of stakes the surveyors had previously marked down the center of the track. Jordana had seen this done a million and one times, but she never failed to be amazed at the great number of details that went into forming up the line.
Cheers of encouragement continued to be raised from the Central Pacific supporters, while the Union Pacific observers either remained silent or threw out discouraging comments of how they would call Crocker’s challenge “Crocker’s Bluff.”
After the pioneers did their work, eight strong men stood ready at the rails. As the Chinese unloaded the iron cars and distributed the rails, they would also crack open the kegs of spikes and pour them out atop the stack of rails. This way the spikes were ready at hand to use when the rails were affixed to the ties. As the team worked the rail into place, a portable track gauge ensured that the rails were laid exactly four feet, eight and a half inches apart. This gauge moved ahead of the track layers all day long, forever keeping the measurements precise.
“Well, they’re certainly going at it,” Charlie said, coming up beside Jordana. “Now, aren’t you glad you came?”
“I am, Charlie. I truly am!” Jordana replied. “I must admit, men and their competitions are a fascination for sure.”
“I thought we were all ninnies,” he commented in between puffs of his cigar.
Jordana smiled. “Oh, that you are, but your competitions are nevertheless of interest.” At this Charlie laughed heartily and moved off to be with his men.
The whistle blew for the midday meal, and Jordana overheard Charlie offer to bring in the second reserve team of workers. The men protested loudly. They were proud of their accomplishments. The teams had already advanced the rails six miles, and they weren’t about to let another group of men take over at this point.
Jordana helped to distribute water and boiled beef to the workers, while Charlie chided the UP officials for ever having doubted their abilities. After all, they’d already laid six miles of track. What possible trouble would it be to lay another four?
After lunch the progress slowed considerably, however. Rails needed to be bent, for the remaining miles consisted of a steady climb and a great many curves. Jordana jotted notes to herself as she watched the men very crudely place each rail between blocks and hammer a bend into it at the appropriate place. By the time the curved rails were ready, the teams of men were also better rested and eager to continue.
It soon became evident that unless something happened to interfere, Charlie’s challenge was going to be met and then some. Jordana listened to the comments of others and smiled.
“Crocker’s men are no fools. They’ve found themselves a style that works, and now they’ve proven themselves to the world,” one newspaper reporter said to another.
“The Central Pacific is a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure,” the man responded.
While the rails went in at roughly an average of a mile of track per hour, the telegraph lines followed right along behind. The telegraph already ran coast to coast, but it was easy to install them along the railroad and proved necessary as well. Often messages were sent out from the trains themselves and the telegraph had made easy work of passing information along the line. Jordana had heard it said that there were plans to have telegraphs crisscrossing to every single city in the country before the end of the century, and the wonder of it all fascinated her greatly.
As the sun set in the west and twilight painted the sky in soft shades of dusty blue and tinged the clouds in pink and purple, Jordana rubbed her tired shoulders. Taking out her handkerchief, she tried to wipe the grime and dust from her face. With evening coming on, the night air was growing chilly and she was grateful to have already put up her tent for the night. As soon as the competition finished at seven o’clock, she had only one plan and that was to get back to her tent and curl up in her blankets and go to sleep. Warmth and rest. That was truly all she desired.
A train engine had been continually backed along the new track, and when the appointed time was signaled, the engineer blew the whistle. The competition ended with a ring of dropped hammers and moaning men. The final measurement was taken and everyone seemed to collectively hold their breaths as the man walked to Charlie Crocker and whispered in his ear.
“Ten miles and fifty-six feet in twelve hours!” Charlie declared.
Cheers went up from all sides. The UP men knew a feat of wonder when they saw it. The workers lifted each other in the air and danced jigs in the firelight, as though they hadn’t just spent the day exhausting themselves on the track. Jordana laughed to see the celebration. No doubt they would party long into the night. There were barely another four miles to Promontory Summit.
“I’ve arranged for Jim Campbell,” Charlie announced as he tried to quiet the crowds, “to prove the craftsmanship of this track. Jim is going to take this engine now and run it over the new track at some forty miles per hour. I’ll not have any man here going back to their papers or their governors or the Congress of the United States of America to suggest this line is anything but sound.”
Jordana could hear a hint of amusement in Charlie’s tone, but there was also a clear and decided tone that suggested he’d brook no nonsense from the likes of Durant and Dodge on whether his line was faulty and haphazardly constructed.
The train and the track performed perfectly, and Jordana watched with great pride as the supervisor for the Central Pacific shook hands with Jack Casement.
“I suppose I should own up to be being beaten,” Casement told Crocker. “You’ve done a wondrous thing here.”
“Well, I’ll not own up to it,” said Dan Casement. “Mr. Durant, what say we have our own competition. My men can do twice this much.”
Durant shook his head. “There isn’t twice that much track left to be laid.”
This still did not deter Casement. “Then let me tear up several miles. I know we can vindicate ourselves.”
Durant actually appeared to be considering this for a moment, then shook his head. “No. They won fair and square. The point now is that we put the rest of this railroad together. Let us go back to Ogden and see to the work at hand.”
Jordana enjoyed the banter of the men, then decided she’d had enough. She paused long enough to congratulate Charlie, then made her way down the track to where the tents had been assembled for those who needed housing for the night. Most of the other newspapermen were interviewing the workers who had laid the track that day, but Jordana already had plenty of information on them. Most were old friends by now.
Yawning and giving a wide stretch of her arms, Jordana relished the growing silence. Moonlight glinted dimly on the iron rails, giving an illuminated path for Jordana to follow back to the tents. She found herself wishing that Rich could have been there to see the competition. She wished, too, that her mother and father might have seen it as well. Going over the details in her mind, she didn’t hear the man sneaking up beside her until he had already reached out to take hold of her arm.
With lightning-quick reflexes, she called upon her self-defense lessons and quickly flipped the man over her hip, dumping him on the ground in front of her.
31
“Good to see you again, Jordana,” Rich O’Brian called from where he’d landed. “Nice technique you have. You’re really going to have to teach it to me sometime.”
“Rich?” She looked down at him with such an expression of shock that Rich couldn’t help but laugh.
“When am I going to learn not to try to surprise you?” he asked wryly.
“At least you know I can take care of myself,” she said rather impishly.
Grinning, he extended his hand. “Help me up, old friend.”
She reached down and Rich took hold of her hand. Getting to his feet, he continued to hold on to her. “I wasn’t at all sure it was you
for nearly half the day. You were running from one end of the line to the other, and every time I tried to get close enough to talk to you, someone eyed me like I was there to thwart the competition.”
“I looked for you, too,” she said softly.
He rubbed her hand with his thumb. “You did?” He could feel her tremble and it made him smile. Reaching up, he pulled off her hat. “Oh, I’m so glad you didn’t cut it all off again.”
“You are?” she asked, seeming almost mesmerized. “I thought you liked it short.”
“Short like this is okay,” he replied, feeling less and less certain how to tell her why he’d really come.
They stood silent for several minutes until finally Jordana pointed toward the tents. “That’s where I’m sleeping . . . uh . . . we could . . . I mean,” she paused, seeming to realize what she’d implied. “We could sit outside and talk,” she added quickly. “That is . . . if you . . . if you want to.”
“All right, but you should know one thing.”
She looked up at him, her eyes wide in anticipation. “What?”
“I’m in a very serious mood.”
“Oh.” She looked at him oddly for a moment. “Serious good or serious bad?”
“That all depends,” he replied.
“On what?”
“You.”
She said nothing more, but turned and walked toward the tents. Rich had no other choice but to follow after her. He only hoped that he hadn’t frightened her too much with his words and tone of voice.
“Hey, Preacher,” a man called out from a nearby group of men, “looks like you need a haircut. You just come on over when you’re ready and I’ll do it up for ya.”
“Thanks,” Jordana replied. “I’ll think about it.”
“No, you won’t,” Rich muttered softly.
Jordana turned around and met his smiling face. “Rich, you’ll completely give away my cover.”
“Jordana Baldwin, if you don’t think that a good half of these men haven’t already figured out that you’re a woman, then you’ve got another think coming. They tolerate you because . . .” He fell silent because she was looking at him in such a way that his heart was near to overflowing with love for her. She seemed so small all of a sudden. So fragile and lovely, like a delicate desert flower, and yet only moments ago she’d landed him on his backside without any warning at all.
Judith Pella, Tracie Peterson - [Ribbons West 03] Page 27