No Less Than the Journey

by E. V. Thompson

  CHAPTER 26

  The following morning, Wes had finished his breakfast and was contemplating the map drawn for him by the travelling salesman, trying to make up his mind whether he should go to the sheriff’s office before visiting more mines, when he heard raised voices in the reception hall outside the restaurant.

  The owners of the voices sounded angry and he could also pick out the loud and excited sing-song voice of the hotel’s proprietor.

  Rising from his seat he had reached the doorway to the reception area when he was confronted by more than a dozen men he took to be miners, with a voluble and agitated ‘Nitty’ Joe berating them in an unintelligible mixture of English, Chinese and German.

  Among the miners Wes recognized the man who had made a half-hearted attempt to engage him in conversation on the train to Potosi.

  The miner recognized Wes at the same time and excitedly pointed him out to a squat, heavily-built man who appeared to be the leader of the group.

  The heavily-built man spoke to Wes in German but, well aware that the men had not come to the Eastern Promise to welcome him to Harmony, Wes said, ‘I’m sorry, but I only speak English and, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.’

  He made to pass through the group but the miner’s leader stepped into his path. Jabbing a finger towards Wes, he demanded, ‘What are you doing in Harmony, Englishman?’

  Wes’s inclination was to tell him to mind his own business but before he could reply ‘Nitty’ Joe intervened. Stepping between the two men, he spoke excitedly to the German, ‘Mister Curnow guest in hotel. He good man … no make trouble.’

  The glance the German miner’s leader gave to the hotel owner was brief and contemptuous. Returning his attention to Wes, he said, ‘I asked you a question. You have been to the mines asking about work. We will not have Englishmen come here for work when we have called a strike. You are not welcome.’

  ‘I came here looking for a relative,’ Wes retorted. ‘I am still looking for him. My asking what work is available was incidental, but I am a miner.’

  ‘You are not a miner here – and you will not be. We had trouble with Englishmen coming here to work when we called our last strike. It will not happen again. You will leave today.’

  ‘I will leave when I’ve found out what I want to know about my uncle,’ Wes retorted. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me….’

  He moved to bypass the Union leader but the German moved too, blocking his path and the other miners closed in around him.

  Once again the Chinese hotel proprietor tried to head off possible violence. Pushing in front of Wes, he pleaded with the German, ‘Please … no trouble. I want no trouble my hotel.’

  ‘Then you should be more particular about who you allow to stay here … now get out of the way.’

  With this, he reached out and, taking a grip of the front of the cotton jacket worn by the diminutive Chinese, he lifted him off his feet and flung him to one side, where he crashed heavily against the reception desk and fell to the ground.

  ‘There was no need for that,’ Wes protested, ‘He’s an old man.’

  ‘You are not,’ the German miner replied, ‘and you are next.’

  ‘I’m not looking for trouble,’ Wes said. Even as he was speaking he stepped back into the doorway of the restaurant so that none of the miners could come at him from behind, or from either side.

  ‘Then you should not have come to Harmony,’ the miner’s leader said, taking a pace towards him.

  Wes was deciding whether he should strike the first blow, or turn and make a dash for a window in the restaurant, when suddenly ‘Nitty’ Joe appeared from behind the reception counter – and in his hand he held a double-barrelled percussion sporting rifle.

  What he intended doing with it was never put to the test. One of the miners, more quick-witted than his companions, grabbed the barrel of the gun and forced it downwards, pointing at the floor.

  Suddenly, the contents of one barrel discharged, creating a hole in the floor that left no one doubt what it would have done to a man, or men, had it been fired in their direction.

  The miners’ union leader was furious. Wes was forgotten for a moment as he turned on ‘Nitty’ Joe. ‘You think you would shoot me, eh?’ he shouted.

  The miner who had caused the gun to discharge had now taken possession of it and another miner had pinioned the owner of the weapon from behind, holding him in a grip from which the puny Chinaman had no possibility of escaping.

  Taking the gun from the man who held it, the Union leader addressed ‘Nitty’ Joe, ‘Perhaps now I shoot you.’

  The miner who held the hotel owner, aware that if his prisoner was shot, he too would at least be wounded, hurriedly protested the situation to the union leader and, swinging the gun away from his frightened intended victim, the man pulled the trigger.

  The shot shattered a very large mirror decorating a wall of the reception area. Before the last of the glass had fallen to the ground the union leader was swinging the gun around to strike the helpless little Chinaman a savage blow across the face with the barrel. Before he had recovered from the pain of the blow, he had been struck on the other side of his face with a return swing of the gun.

  This was the moment when Wes should have taken the opportunity to run back through the restaurant and follow the example of the three guests who had been taking breakfast in the restaurant when trouble erupted. Opening a window, they scrambled outside as quickly as they could.

  Instead, Wes took a couple of paces into the reception hall as the miner holding the hotel proprietor released his hold, allowing his bloody-faced captive to fall to the floor.

  ‘That wasn’t necessary,’ Wes said angrily to the man who had struck the blows, ‘Joe’s an old man who was merely trying to prevent trouble in his hotel.’

  ‘If you had not been here there would have been no trouble,’ was the reply. Then, with a gesture to his companions, he barked an order in German.

  Wes was immediately seized and held by two of the miners. Swaggering up to him to stand with his face close to Wes’s, the union leader said, ‘Perhaps you are right, he is too old to have any sense … but you are not. You will leave Harmony – now!’

  ‘I’ve already told you why I am in Harmony. As soon as I’ve learned where my uncle is I’ll leave and go to a place where miners are happy to spend their time doing what they’re paid to do, and not go around beating up old men.’

  The German union leader smiled sadistically, ‘No, you will go today, as soon as I have shown you it is not only old men we beat.’

  Standing back from Wes he struck him hard across the face with the flat of his hand, then gave him an equally forceful back-handed blow.

  He repeated this four times and Wes tasted blood on his lips, but he remained defiant. ‘Perhaps you’d care to ask your friends to release my arms so I might return the compliment.’

  The union leader smiled again, ‘By the time your arms are released you will not feel like doing anything to anyone.’ He drew back his hand to strike once more, but before he could do so Wes kicked him hard in the groin.

  The German bully let out a grunt of pain, but the kick had failed to put him out of action and Wes was still held fast by the miners.

  Angry now, the union leader said, ‘You will suffer for that, Englishman. You will suffer very much….’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ The loud voice carried no trace of an accent. ‘You’ve had all the fun you’re going to have for today, Kauffmann.’

  The speaker was a tall, grey-haired man with a five-pointed star pinned to the left breast of his jacket. Stepping around the side of the group of miners, he spoke to the two men holding Wes.

  ‘Let him go.’

  Instead of obeying the order, they looked uncertainly at their leader.

  The new arrival reacted angrily, ‘Damn you! I said release him – now! Otherwise I’ll arrest you and take you back to the county gaol in Potosi to stand trial for assault and battery, unlawful de
tention … and anything else I think of along the way.’

  The two men holding Wes were in no doubt that the lawman meant what he said and they hurriedly released him.

  Wes put a hand to his mouth and his fingers came away bloody. He gave the man who had hit him an angry glance, but said nothing. Instead, he went to where ‘Nitty’ Joe was sitting up groggily, holding both hands to his face.

  Behind Wes, his rescuer said to the Union leader, ‘I see you are up to your old tricks again, Kauffmann. Didn’t you learn anything the last time you went on strike?’

  ‘Yes, County Sheriff Marlin,’ Kauffmann replied, ‘We learned not to allow any strike-breaking Englishmen in to Harmony – and to collect enough money from miners when they are working to carry them over the time they are on strike.’

  The proprietor of the Eastern Promise was sitting up now, his swollen face obviously painful, but he waved Wes away, repeating, ‘No trouble…. No trouble!’ when he tried to examine it.

  He was less dismissive about his shattered mirror. Pointing to it he was close to tears and unleashed a torrent of Chinese. Wes, who had overheard what Kauffmann had said to the county sheriff, said, ‘Since the union has no money problems I suggest they make a collection among the members who are, here to pay for a new mirror for Joe. It was his pride and joy.’

  ‘That sounds a good idea to me and, as county sheriff, I think you should volunteer the money, Kauffmann. Otherwise I am going to have you all lodged in gaol until we can organise a court to try you and order you to pay. Tell your members, Kauffmann, just in case there is anyone here who doesn’t understand American.’

  County Sheriff Marlin was aware that Harmony’s town sheriff was German himself – and also an ex-miner. If the union members were arrested and turned over to him they would remain in custody only until he left town.

  Kauffman was aware of it too and if the county sheriff was intent upon a showdown, he would eventually be the winner, yet the German was not ready to capitulate right away.

  ‘What happened was an accident.’

  Wes snorted scornfully. ‘Just as Joe’s face was an accident! You’re a bully and a coward, Kauffmann. You wouldn’t last five minutes if you were representing Cornish miners.’

  ‘You are Cornish?’ Kauffmann’s surprise was genuine. ‘Had I known I would not have wasted a shot on the mirror. In fact if anyone here is carrying a gun I’d be happy for him to use it on you anyway, county sheriff or no county sheriff.’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise anyone to take that seriously. This here’s a buffalo gun and one shot would put a bullet through as many as six men – even if they are as thick-skinned as some of you.’

  The voice was that of Charlie Quinnell. Standing up, away from ‘Nitty’ Joe, Wes could see the old mountain-man standing in the hotel doorway, holding his long-barrelled buffalo gun in a deceptively casual manner.

  The Chinese hotel proprietor, still seated on the floor, pleaded, ‘Please … no more trouble. Too much trouble already.’

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with Joe,’ Sheriff Marlin said to Kauffmann, ‘I suggest you set an example to your men by being the first to make a generous donation towards a new mirror for the Eastern Promise. Put the money on the counter, where we can all see what’s being given. That way nobody will want to appear mean.’

  After a brief discussion with his fellow miners, Kauffmann put a number of coins on the counter. When he looked up and saw the frown on Sheriff Marlin’s face he dug in his pocket to add more. The other miners followed suit, albeit with considerable reluctance.

  When the last man had contributed his donation, Kauffmann asked curtly, ‘We can go now?’

  ‘Yes … No! The sight of all that money has reminded me of the reason I came to Harmony this morning.’ Shaking his head in mock disbelief, Sheriff Marlin added, ‘I just can’t believe I forgot in the first place…! A bank was robbed in Potosi during the night and the gang which did it split up afterwards. My deputy’s heading a Potosi posse following some of ’em who were heading west. I came to Harmony to raise a posse to try to catch up with the others, who set off heading for the mountains up this way.’

  Believing he had a much needed opportunity to hit back at the county sheriff and regain some of his credibility as leader of his union, Kauffmann said, incredulously, ‘You came to Harmony to ask us to help you catch bank robbers? No, Sheriff Marlin, you have never tried to hide your contempt for miners – German miners. Now you will realize the contempt they have for you. You will not find one man in Harmony to join your posse. Not one. We all have other things to do.’

  Wes thought Sheriff Marlin seemed surprisingly unconcerned at Kauffmann’s almost gleeful statement but the reason soon became clear.

  Shrugging his shoulders, the tall sheriff said, ‘Oh well, I can’t go after them by myself. Go get your things together, Wesley. You won’t find your friend here, in Harmony, but he’ll no doubt have left a message for you in the post office. They’ve tried to keep a record there of where miners are heading when they leave Harmony. We’ll call in on the way back to Potosi. You can stay at my place for a while until you decide what you’re going to do with yourself.’

  While he was talking, Kauffmann and his fellow miners were making for the door, at least some of their self-esteem restored. As they were about to leave, the sheriff called out to their leader.

  ‘By the way, Kauffmann, I wouldn’t count on there being any money around to give to your men while they’re on strike. The bank that was robbed last night was the Union Bank – your bank. The robbers went to the manager’s home first and took him and his keys along with them. There were so many men involved they were able to take away every cent the bank held. It’s the biggest robbery we’ve ever had in these parts, probably the biggest in the whole of Missouri … but don’t let me hold you up. As you told me, you and your miners have things to do….’

  CHAPTER 27

  ‘Was there really a raid on the Union’s bank last night?’ Wes put the question to County Sheriff Howard Marlin as the three men made their way to the post office from the Eastern Promise.

  ‘There was a raid sure enough,’ Marlin replied. ‘They cleaned the bank right out.’

  The sheriff had already told Wes that Old Charlie had been staying at his home in Potosi for some days and had told him of Wes’s intention to go to Harmony looking for his uncle.

  Aware of the impending strike and knowing the German miners’ hatred of Cornishmen, Sheriff Marlin had telegraphed to the Harmony sheriff’s office, intending to ask him to warn Wes of the danger he faced. Unfortunately, the Harmony sheriff was out of town and the ageing deputy who took the message did not appreciate the seriousness of the situation.

  ‘Because of that, Charlie and I would have come to Harmony this morning anyway. The bank robbery meant that we started off earlier, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m glad you did,’ Wes said fervently, ‘You saved me from a bad beating, at the very least … but shouldn’t you be going after whoever robbed the bank? If I can hire a horse I’ll be happy to come along with you.’

  Sheriff Marlin shook his head, ‘I’m not too anxious to become involved in it – for a couple of reasons.’ Suddenly smiling, he added, ‘I’ve asked Kauffmann and his miners to provide me with a posse. If they’re not concerned about losing their money, I don’t think I should bother too much.’

  ‘You said there was more than one reason for not going after them,’ Wes prompted.

  ‘That’s right. The truth is, my term of office ends in a couple of month’s time. With the increased German influence in the county I’m not likely to be re-elected, so, if it’s an honest-to-God bank robbery I have no intention of risking my life for folk who don’t want me looking after the law for them anyway.’

  ‘What do you mean, “If it’s an honest-to-God bank robbery”?’ Wes was puzzled.

  ‘Well, I’ve heard that someone’s been hiring outlaws to come into Missouri from the Territories. Now, there’s no range w
ar brewing here and I couldn’t think why anyone would want to hire such men. I think last night’s raid on the Union bank gave me the answer. The mine owners know as well as I do that the last strike failed when the miners had no money left to feed their families. Kauffmann knows it too, that’s why he had his union open their own bank to hold the money he’s been docking from the men to form a strike fund. Without it, a strike is doomed before it begins.’

  ‘You mean … the mine owners would actually hire outlaws to rob a bank in order to stop men from striking? That’s unbelievable!’ Wes was incredulous.

  ‘You may find it hard to believe, Wes, but this is America and it’s a young country. Men – especially powerful men – make or break laws as it suits them and some mine owners are men with influence far beyond the State of Missouri. They wouldn’t allow small fry like Kauffman – or even a county sheriff to stand in their way.’

  Giving Wes a wry smile, Sheriff Marlin added, ‘Besides, to be perfectly honest, Kauffmann has been a pain to me and the Federal Marshals ever since he took over the Miners’ Union. He uses the law when it suits him and flouts it when it doesn’t. Anything likely to put him out of office is all right with me – lawful or not. If I learn the names of any of the men involved in the bank robbery I’ll have “wanted” notices put out for them, but I have no intention of risking my skin at this stage of my career just to get Kauffmann out of a hole he’s dug for himself.’

  Wes thought that Aaron might have taken a very different line had this been a case which involved him, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Sheriff Howard Marlin had rescued him from possible death. He would always be in his debt for that.

  The senior clerk at the Harmony post office was German but, unlike Kauffmann, he treated Sheriff Marlin with a deference that bordered upon obsequiousness. He produced a large, leather-bound ledger in which was entered in alphabetical order the names of hundreds of miners who had moved on from Harmony in the last couple of years, together with their intended destinations.