“I bet I know how the goods were transported,” Ted said. “By those screeching old Red River carts.”
Mr. Hill threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve described the carts well. And you are correct. Goods traveled by Red River carts and by steamships. I wanted to find a better way. So in the middle of winter, I took a dogsled and traveled across country. Only Indians, fur traders, and missionaries lived in that part of Minnesota then.”
“Dogsled!” Ted leaned forward. “That sounds exciting!”
“Don’t interrupt, Ted,” his father reminded him quietly.
Mr. Hill smiled at him. “It was exciting, but mostly it was cold.”
Ted laughed. He decided he quite liked this man.
“I and some friends bought a small, struggling railroad,” Mr. Hill continued, “and laid lines across Minnesota from St. Paul to the Red River. It took us ten years. That was the beginning of my transportation business. Later I had bigger dreams.”
“Like the Great Northern line from St. Paul to Puget Sound—Hill’s Folly,” Ted said.
“Ted!” Father roared.
Ted clasped a hand over his mouth. How could he have repeated that awful name for Mr. Hill’s railroad? He slipped the hand from his face. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—to …”
“I’ve heard others call my plan a folly,” Mr. Hill said calmly. “Although other railroads had been built across the country to the West Coast, no one had ever built one without the government giving them the land. People thought that was the only way a railroad could be built, because it takes so much land.”
“But you did it,” Ted said. “And you had to cross the mountains, too.”
Mr. Hill smiled. “Yes. I see you know a bit about my railroad.”
Ted shrugged his shoulders, feeling embarrassed and pleased at the same time. “My father has told me a lot about it.”
Mr. Hill folded his hands over his chest. “Let me tell you about crossing the mountains. It’s difficult to build a railroad over a tall mountain, you know.”
Ted and Erik nodded.
Mr. Hill brushed dirt from the iron step leading to the engine’s cab. Mr. Thomas jumped forward, whisking a large red handkerchief from his back pocket. “Let me do that for ya, sir. You’ll be gettin’ yer hands dirty.”
“I’ve been dirty lots of times before,” Hill said, but he let Mr. Thomas wipe the step. “Thank you, sir,” he said, sitting down.
“You were going to tell us about the mountains,” Ted reminded him.
“Well, when the Great Northern’s line neared the Rocky
Mountains, I remembered a lost pass I’d heard about years ago.” “Lost pass?” Erik repeated breathlessly.
Mr. Hill nodded, his long, trim beard rubbing the front of his shirt and jacket. “Indians had told of a low point between the mountains that their people used. No one had used the pass in over forty years, so no one knew for sure where it was.”
“What did you do?” Erik asked.
“I sent my chief engineer, John Stevens, to find it. It took him weeks and weeks, but at last he succeeded. He crossed the Divide on snowshoes. Then he started back. It was very cold. He couldn’t sleep that night because he was afraid he’d go to sleep in the cold and never wake up.”
“Why didn’t he build a fire?” Erik asked. “Weren’t there any trees? Didn’t he have any matches?”
“There were trees and he had matches. But the snow was too deep to build a fire.”
Ted and Erik stared at each other. They both knew what very cold weather felt like. The temperature was often below zero in Minneapolis. But Ted couldn’t imagine there being too much snow to build a fire. “What did Mr. Stevens do?” he asked.
“He walked all night to keep from falling asleep. He went back and forth on the same path so he wouldn’t get lost in the dark. In the morning, he went down the mountain to his camp. The pass is called the Marais Pass because the Marais River runs through it. Mr. Stevens’s brave work shortened the Great Northern route by one hundred miles.”
“Wow!” Ted shook his head.
“We weren’t done with the mountains yet,” Hill continued. “We still had to get over the Cascades.”
“Aren’t they the mountains near Puget Sound?” Ted asked. “Very good!” Hill congratulated. “They are indeed.”
“Did you have to find another lost pass through them?” Erik asked.
“No, but it was hard work. Stevens looked for the best way over the Cascades. I wanted to be sure I agreed with his plan, so I took the Northern Pacific Railroad as close as I could.”
Ted and Erik and the railway men laughed at the thought of Mr. Hill using his competitor’s train.
Mr. Hill smiled. “Then I took a buckboard and went to look over Stevens’s planned route. I took my own bedding and slept out under the stars or stopped at the engineers’ camps. Had to give up the wagon when I came to the Cascades. Went through them on horseback.”
Erik shifted his feet. “I guess you meant it when you said luck is hard work.”
Hill winked at him.
“Are the trees in Washington as large as the one in the parade yesterday?” Erik asked.
Ted remembered the log Seattle had sent to the parade. It was only a piece of a pine tree, but he’d never seen one so big around. It was on a large wooden flat wagon pulled by four strong horses. A man sat on the top—a logger, Ted guessed. He’d looked like an ant on top of that big log.
“The trees are truly that big,” Hill told him.
“Why did you want to build the Great Northern all the way to Seattle,” Erik asked, “when there were other railroads already at the Pacific?”
“Because of the trees you asked about,” Hill said. “The trees have been sent by ships to other parts of the country. But people between Minnesota and the Rocky Mountains need trees to build houses and farms and towns. A railroad is the quickest way to get the trees to the people. Many people haven’t moved to these lands because they don’t have lumber.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Ted said.
“And there’s the farmers’ crops. They have to get them to market. The flour mills in Minneapolis wouldn’t employ so many men if farmers couldn’t get their wheat to the mills to be ground into flour.”
Mr. Hill took a deep breath and let it out. “The Great Northern. Hill’s Folly. People have laughed at a lot of things I wanted to do—said they couldn’t be done. But I’ve done them. Never let people tell you that you can’t do the things you dream. Do you have a dream, Ted?”
Ted shook his head. “I don’t know what I want to be yet. There’re so many things to choose from.”
“What about you, Erik?” the man asked.
Erik looked at the worn toes of his shoes. “I want to be … I want to be a newspaper reporter, but I guess that’ll never happen. Not when I had to quit school.”
Ted glanced at his friend in surprise. Erik hadn’t mentioned his dream before. He wondered if Erik had ever told anyone about it.
“Believe in your dreams and a way will open,” Mr. Hill told him. He bounced a thick index finger in front of Erik’s face. “But don’t think they will happen without lots of hard work. Do you read the newspapers you sell?”
“Every day,” Erik answered promptly.
“That’s good. Do you know what makes a news story good?” “I … I’m not sure. I think so.”
“I’m interviewed by lots of reporters,” Mr. Hill told him. “You asked good questions when I told you about building the Great Northern line.”
Erik smiled.
“Ask some of the reporters at the newspaper you work for how to write a good story,” Mr. Hill suggested.
“Yes, sir,” Erik said. Ted thought Erik didn’t look like he believed there was any chance he’d ever be a reporter.
“What is your father’s name, and what railroad did he work for?”
Mr. Hill asked Erik.
Erik told him. Mr. Hill nodded then turned his attent
ion to Ted’s father. The two men spent a few minutes talking about the Great Northern, and then Mr. Hill went on his way.
When the important man had gone, Ted asked his father, “Do you believe what he said about dreams?”
“Well, the Bible says that God gives us the desires of our hearts. I believe God can put desires in our hearts to show us what He wants us to do with our lives. I certainly believe that making our dreams come true takes hard work.”
Ted looked at him thoughtfully. “When you were a boy, you had a dream of working on the railroad, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Your dream came true.”
“Yes, with a lot of hard work. It wouldn’t have come true if I had gone into some other kind of work.” Father stepped into the engine for a last look around then jumped to the ground. “Ready to go home?”
Ted walked alongside his father and Erik. His father had had a dream when he was Ted’s age. Erik had a dream, too. Will I ever have a dream? he wondered.
CHAPTER 6
The Adventure Begins
Ted entered the huge station house with his parents. His ears filled with the rumble of waiting trains, the calls of conductors hurrying passengers aboard, and the clattering of wheels as porters dashed about with luggage.
Ted and his parents tried to locate Emily’s family in the crowd. Ted noticed a girl jumping up and down. Brown curls flowed over her shoulders beneath a straw hat. She was helping the hat pins keep the hat in place with one gloved hand as she bounced. With the other hand, she waved furiously.
Ted laughed as he recognized his cousin. “There they are,” he told his parents. He hurried across the large room.
Emily grabbed his hands, squeezing them. “Isn’t it wonderful? I thought the end of July would never come! We’re going to the fair! We’re going to the fair!” She started jumping up and down again. Ted laughed. “Your eyes are as big as your hat!” “Emily Marie Allerton,” her mother said in a prim voice. “Stop leaping around like a … a toad and behave yourself.” Emily whirled about. “But it’s so exciting, Mother!” “Try to be excited in a more ladylike manner.” Emily’s mother folded her gloved hands in front of her waist.
“Yes, Mother,” Emily murmured. She glanced at Ted and rolled her eyes.
“That dark green dress brings out your pretty green eyes,” Ted’s mother said to Emily. “Is it new?”
“Yes.” Emily beamed a smile and turned all the way around to show off her outfit. “I love the leg-o’-mutton sleeves with the huge puffs at the shoulders, don’t you, Aunt Alison?”
“They’re lovely,” she agreed. “I like the huge lace collar, too.”
“I wanted new shoes,” Emily told her, lowering her voice and glancing over at her mother to be sure she wasn’t overheard. “But Mother said new shoes would only give me blisters at the fair.”
“I’m sure she’s right,” her aunt replied. “The newspaper articles say that a person would have to walk 150 miles to see everything at the fair.”
Ted laughed. “I guess your mother was right, Emily.”
Emily joined in his laughter. “I have another new dress, too,” she said, “and so does Anna.”
Ted ran a finger beneath the stiff starched collar of his white linen shirt. “Mother insisted on buying me new clothes, too. Wish she hadn’t.”
His mother and Emily laughed together at him, but he was serious. “Old clothes are always more comfortable,” he said, yanking at the too-tight buttons below the knees on his navy blue knickers.
“Do you have a new traveling satchel, too?” Emily asked. “Mother bought me this red one.” She pointed to the bag at her feet.
Ted shrugged one shoulder, scratching at his neck where the new collar bothered him. “I’m using one of Father’s old ones.”
Emily’s father turned from the porter who was loading their larger bags onto his cart. “Anything else that goes in the baggage car?”
Her mother shook her head. “I believe we’ll need all the smaller bags on the sleeper car tonight.”
Uncle Enoch and Aunt Tina walked up while Emily’s father tipped the porter.
“How nice of you to see us off!” her mother said to them. “I only wish you and Ted’s parents were coming with us.”
Ted’s father shook his head. “Train tickets are $16.30 each. Then there’s the cost of the hotel and food and tickets to the fair and the special exhibits. The tickets to enter the fair are fifty cents per person! Too much in these hard times for a poor railroad engineer.”
A sliver of fear slipped up Ted’s spine. There was a teasing grin on his father’s face, but his voice sounded serious. “I thought the Great Northern wasn’t in any danger of going bankrupt,” Ted said. “I mean, with Mr. Hill so rich and everything …” His voice trailed off.
Father squeezed his shoulder and smiled. “Mr. Hill is a good businessman. The railroad is in fine shape.”
Ted wanted to believe him. He hadn’t thought to wonder before this why his parents weren’t going to the fair. Was his father afraid of losing his job?
Uncle Enoch leaned on his cane to take the pressure off his one good leg. “The Northern Pacific Railroad has gone bankrupt.”
Ted darted a scared glance at Uncle Enoch. The Northern Pacific had reached the Pacific Ocean at Portland about ten years before James Hill’s railroad reached Seattle. If that huge railroad couldn’t make money, how could the Great Northern?
“James Hill is planning to buy the Northern Pacific,” Uncle Enoch continued, “and join it with his Great Northern Railroad.”
Father laughed. “And you thought Hill was foolish to build the Great Northern across the continent.”
Uncle Enoch didn’t join in Father’s laughter. “Hill hasn’t paid for the Northern Pacific yet, and the panic isn’t over. A lot of railroads have gone under. Hill’s roads may, too.”
Emily grinned up at him. “At least you were right about your bank, Uncle Enoch. Our fathers’ money is safe, and we’re going to the fair!”
“That you are.” Uncle Enoch winked at her. “But the other bank you told us about closed,” Ted added. “Its depositors lost their money, didn’t they?” Uncle Enoch nodded.
“Boarding for Chicago! Boarding for Chicago!” A uniformed boy a little older than Richard passed by.
Excitement pushed away Ted’s fears. Emily grabbed one of his arms. “I can’t believe it! It’s finally time to go!”
Ted shook hands with his father and Uncle Enoch. He let his mother kiss his cheek without even making a face. He didn’t care to have her kiss him in public, but he knew she was going to whether he liked it or not.
He and the Allertons went through the gates and into the train house. His uncle Daniel handed their tickets to a porter, who told them where to find their seats.
Ted’s heart raced as he entered the car. Since his father was an engineer, he’d been on many trains. He’d even taken short train trips, sometimes riding in the engine with his father. But he’d never ridden in a fancy Pullman car with velvet-covered seats and beds that folded down from the walls.
He and Emily shared a seat. Across the aisle, Richard and Anna took a seat that faced their parents.
“It’s as pretty as a parlor in here,” Emily said. “I didn’t know there would be carpeting on the floors or wood paneling on the walls. And the seats are as comfortable as a chair at home.”
Ted knew his uncle Daniel had paid more money so they could ride in the comfortable car. Passengers in other cars would be sitting up all night on hard seats.
The porter made a last call for passengers. Finally, the car doors were closed, and the train chugged out of the huge train house. Ted and Emily watched as they rode past other trains then past business houses.
Soon they were on the large, curving stone bridge that crossed the Mississippi River just above the Falls of St. Anthony. James Hill had built that bridge for his railroad, Ted remembered.
“Isn’t it great to ride in one of Mr. Hill
’s trains across Mr. Hill’s bridge?” Emily asked, her eyes shining.
Ted nodded.
“It was fun watching his parade,” she went on.
Ted shifted uncomfortably on his seat. “Seattle planned a big parade and celebration for him, too. It was supposed to be held a month after the St. Paul parade.”
Her green-eyed gaze darted to his face. “Supposed to be? What happened? Wasn’t Seattle excited about the railroad?”
“The city had invited lots of important businessmen from across the country to take part in the celebration. Too many businessmen were too broke to come because of the panic, so the city canceled it.”
Emily heaved a sigh that lifted the shoulders of her new traveling outfit. “I’m glad we’re going to the fair. I’m tired of hearing adults talk about money and bank runs.”
“And bankrupt railroads,” Ted continued her list, “and stock market trouble.”
“I don’t even know what a lot of the words mean,” Emily said, “except that adults are afraid of losing their money and their jobs.”
Ted nodded. “Seems all the adults are going about with long, worried faces and whispering about money problems.”
“Fairs are fun places. At least there no one should be sad and worried.”
Ted hoped Emily was right. He tried to forget about James Hill and the country’s money troubles. Instead, he watched out the window with Emily as the train left the city and traveled along the river through countryside and small towns.
“I’m glad it’s summer and the days are long,” Emily said. “I want to see as much as I can before it gets dark.”
“We’ll be in Wisconsin before long,” he told her. “We have to cross the entire state before we reach Illinois.”
“How long will it take us to get there?”
“Let’s see. We left at 5:15 this evening. We get there at 7:45 tomorrow morning. But it’s really 6:45 our time. So I guess that’s—”
“Thirteen and a half hours,” Emily said promptly.
“Right. I read in the newspaper that it takes four days to get to Seattle from St. Paul.”
“That must be an awfully long ways away, but I think it would be fun to go someday. Ted, why isn’t the time in Chicago the same as in Minneapolis?”
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