by Carol Henry
“A darn shame.” Dillard shook his head as if he were concerned Catherine didn’t want any part of farming. Seth figured Dillard’s hopes just jumped a notch, and the kid would appear at their doorstep with some lame excuse before long. He wanted to tell Dillard he didn’t have a chance in hell, but the young man would find out soon enough.
Dillard followed him up the steps to the mill.
“Hi, ya, boys. How ’bout that strike. A whopper, huh?” Stanley Frost grinned, a sack of feed slung over his shoulder. “Best get your milk and feed on the next train while you can. No telling how long before they stop these trains dead on their tracks.”
“Sure hope we aren’t affected,” Dillard said.
Seth had to agree. He vowed he’d never work the rails. Never.
“The other day I was talking to Buck Tanner who works the rails in Hoboken. He says the number of men getting killed from train accidents was hard to be believed. He told me the wages were already so low half the families were dying from hunger.”
What could Seth say? Accidents were almost as common these days as marking a sow’s ear before the town set down an ordinance to keep them from running loose in the neighbors’ yards.
“I hear tell some poor soul was crushed coupling the rail cars together,” Dillard said, shaking his head.
“Buck told me ’bout a fella who lost his legs when the train wheels caught him off-guard and knocked him to the tracks. Train rolled over him before he could get out of the way. He almost got left for dead and might just as well have died. They say he couldn’t work no more. His missus is having a hard time trying to scrape enough money to keep them fed. For certain the trunk line ain’t handing out any benefits or recompense.” Stanley hefted his sack to the other shoulder. “Gotta get Mr. Strang’s wagon loaded, boys, or I’d stand and chat a bit longer. Go on in and give my son your order. I’ll be right back.”
Yes sir, moving to the country had been the best thing Pa could have done for them. At least in the country they could farm, hunt, and grow food to put on the table. No need to starve here.
Dillard opened the door for Seth. They headed for the counter where Stanley’s son Harold was writing in his ledger. He was a pimple-faced kid who was good with numbers and keeping the mill organized after school and during summer. He was the town’s intellect, but not much common sense. Seth figured he’d be off to one of those highfalutin colleges or universities somewhere, but the family needed him at home to help with finances. Too bad, because Harold would probably make more money elsewhere.
“You two here for the usual?” Harold smiled up at them.
“Sure am,” Dillard said.
Seth nodded.
Harold wrote in his ledger and walked toward the back of the building and out the door without a word.
“He don’t talk much, does he?” Seth turned to Dillard who was propped up against the counter.
“Nope. Quiet kid. Surprised they let him work here at all.”
“His uncle owns the place. Amos was telling me Randall Weston and Stanley Frost are half-brothers. Randall’s father died in a haying accident when Randall was six. His mother remarried old Stanley Frost.”
Before they could expound further on the Weston and Frost connection, Harold returned. His father followed closely behind.
“Got your order sitting outside for you, gentlemen. I’ll help load in a minute.”
Seth signed his receipt, then headed outside with a quick goodbye to everyone. He loaded the wagon in record time and was ready to visit Anna Louise Mitchell.
Miss Mitchell’s father was president of the Candor National Bank. They lived in the big two-story turreted Victorian home on the outskirts of the village, just around the corner from the bank. Miss Anna Louise Mitchell was a lovely girl, very proper, and Seth had had a hard time catching her eye. He’d seen her a couple of times at the dry goods store in Candor when he had stopped by to place his mother’s orders when they’d first come to town. Anna Louise had been there with her mother. Mrs. Mitchell was a very becoming woman, and Seth figured Anna Louise’s looks were going to be as good as her mother’s in later years. He considered he had picked well.
The first time they had struck up a friendship was during last year’s Fourth of July’s Old Home Day Celebration. Everyone from miles around attended the big picnic at McCarty’s Field across from the Mitchell’s home. Anna Louise had told him Mr. McCarty had given the site to the village as an athletic field for the town’s ball players and a place to hold special events.
The event had been a day to remember, too. The train carried people in to attend the celebration from the surrounding areas, and the Federated Church next to the bank held a ham dinner. Anna Louise served everyone at the tables. He rallied the nerve to ask her to accompany him to the fireworks later that evening, and she had consented once she learned his entire family would be in attendance. Just being with her that day was like magic.
And it had nothing to do with the star-filled evening sky or the exploding fireworks display. Anna Louise glowed like an angel in the moonlight. He hoped having known her for a full year would open her eyes to his feelings.
Seth made a quick stop at McCarty and Payne’s general store on the corner of Mill and Spencer Street to drop off Catherine’s list for Miss Hyatt to fill while he stepped next door to the tonsorial. He wanted to look his best when he proposed to Miss Anna Louise Mitchell.
Seth felt like a million bucks when he finally knocked on the Mitchell’s front door half an hour later. Their housekeeper, Macey Woodlow, greeted him at the door wearing a long black dress and a white apron with her springy black hair tied back with a red and black bandana. Macey was middle-aged and stout. She and her husband had earned their freedom from a southern plantation some years back, before many of the slaves were given their freedom. Many had funneled through the area coming from Montrose in Pennsylvania to various towns and villages throughout New York on their way to Canada where their southern masters had no jurisdiction over them.
Macey and her husband, Wilson, had long ago stopped carrying their cards. In fact, they were so well liked in Candor they were given jobs and had stayed on. Wilson was a blacksmith over at Brown’s Livery. Seth had taken his horses there for shoeing a couple of times.
“I’ll tell Miss Mitchell you’ve come, sir. Please, have a seat in the parlor.”
He had just sat when the entrance way was filled with the presence of Anna Louise. Good Lord, her light blonde hair and blue eyes were unmistakably heavenly. Dressed in a sky-blue frock, her black shoes peeked out from under her skirt’s folds as she walked toward him. Seth stood to meet her; his heart raced wildly. He took her hands, his eyes raised to meet hers. He swallowed.
“You look very lovely today, Anna Louise.”
“Thank you, Seth. It’s a surprise to see you. Come, let’s sit by the window, and you can tell me why you’ve come.”
She sauntered toward the wide bay overlooking the backyard. The alcove seat cushions were inviting. His smile deepened and his confidence rose as he contemplated sitting next to Anna Louise.
But she directed him instead to the two twin high-back cushioned chairs. A small mahogany coffee table was centered between them. Seth waited for her to be seated before he sat. He looked across at Anna Louise. She just couldn’t get any lovelier.
No man should be so lucky.
“I will get to the point,” Seth said. “I don’t know any other way to say this. I’ve come to declare my love for you, Anna Louise. I’ve come to ask for your hand in marriage. There. I’ve said it. I know this is sudden, so I’ll give you some thinking time. Please don’t take too long. You see, come September, Catherine will be leaving the farm to start her studies at the Academy. I need to have everything worked out by then. She shouldn’t be missing out on her education. She’s dreamed of being a teacher for years now, and this is her only opportunity.”
Seth wrung his hands in anticipation of Anna Louise’s answer. She was being awfully
quiet. She nibbled her lips and brushed her hands down the front of her dress, then fluffed the folds out and around her ankles. Her sparkling eyes grew rounder, and the rouge on her cheeks rosier, just like those China dolls he’d seen in the novelty shops in Philadelphia. Lord, she was more than lovely; she was beautiful.
Seth rubbed his palms down the side of his pant legs to wipe the moisture from his shaking, sweaty hands. He didn’t understand why she was being so hesitant. After all, he’d made her a fair offer. And he did love her as much as any man could love a beautiful lady.
Anna Louise stood, then stepped behind her chair where she rested her slim, smooth, delicate hands. She stood tall, her chin rose. She took a deep breath.
“I too have a dream, Seth. Just like Catherine. Should I give up my dream so Catherine can seek hers?”
Seth had no idea Anna Louise was interested in teaching. She was involved in many community organizations, but they’d never talked about teaching. What could he say?
“I’m not willing to become a farmer’s wife, Seth. I don’t want to slop hogs, milk cattle, and throw seed to the hens. I can cook, but I’m not ready to have children of my own, let alone raise someone else’s.”
Seth jumped to his feet and stepped forward only to run his shin into the hard table blocking his way. “You don’t love me as I love you?” He couldn’t believe her. He was sure she reciprocated his feelings.
“I do like you Seth. Very much. Please believe me. I’d give up almost anything but this. I have to think of my future. I’m not ready to make the kind of commitment you seek, or to a way of life you want your wife to succumb. I’m not ready to live in the wilderness and give birth to one child after another. Why, the world is full of so much imbibing radicals already. Until we’ve rid this town of such dredges of society, I prefer not to have any children. And I want to be able to teach my own children to be better educated about such things. There is so much I want to learn and do. Taking care of a ready-made family would be detrimental to my own dreams. You just have to look at your mother’s health to understand what I’m talking about.”
Stunned was too mild a word. He loved Anna Louise, and he wanted to see her loveliness every single day for the rest of his life. He wanted to be able to hold her and kiss her and know she was his and would always be near.
Seth circled the table and took a step closer to Anna Louise. Her delicate fingers played with a dainty, white-lace hanky. She had misunderstood him. She must have.
“I don’t drink, Anna Louise. And drink isn’t what sent my mother away. My father never drank when he was at home. I might not get to church every Sunday, after all I have a farm to tend. I think the good Lord would forgive me.”
Seth took another step closer to Anna Louise. Anna Louise took a step backwards.
“Oh, Seth. I know you’re a good man. I just want more for myself.”
How could he convince her he loved her and didn’t want to lose her? Didn’t she know she was made for him?
“It’s that women’s group, isn’t it? That…that… Women’s Christian Temperance Union,” Seth sputtered. “Those unions are breaking up the continent. Good Lord, men are fighting at work over unions, and women are fighting in homes because of them. What’s to become of our nation?”
Seth was surprised when Anna Louise took his hands. They were soft and warm and made his hands feel huge.
“I’m sorry, Seth. I really am.”
Her eyes implored him to understand. Her touch had his heart racing. The doorbell pealed long and loud. They jumped apart. Anna Louise’s touch disappeared, leaving a cold hard lump in Seth’s throat.
She’d withdrawn right before his eyes.
The door opened, and Mr. Linsky stood there, as if he’d been expected and was on time.
Mr. Linsky, a tall, prominent Polish immigrant, had made it big in the Catatonk area in lumbering. He was in his late twenties and worth a fortune. And obviously the man was sweet on Anna Louise, if the glare in his eyes at seeing the two of them together was anything to go by. Anna Louise turned a bright pink.
Was Anna Louise smitten with Mr. Linsky?
Seth drew Anna Louise into his arms and covered her lips with his in a kiss he hoped left nothing to chance. The deep, passionate kiss took Seth by surprise.
He set Anna Louise aside and walked past Mr. Linsky, almost knocking the burly man over on his way to the front door.
He climbed into his wagon and clicked the horses into motion, urging them toward home. His smile broadened. At least he had given Anna Louise something to think about.
Not to mention Mr. Linsky.
Chapter Seven
“The engineers refuse to sign a no-strike pledge. Scott wants to halt all westbound freights, and it’s my job to put his plan into motion,” Aderley told Charley. “Between the two of us, we have no choice but to follow Scott’s directive.”
Thankfully, the longshoremen at the New York harbor had returned to work. The strike scheduled for June twenty-seventh had been canceled, and the newly formed trainmen’s union was in trouble. Still, dissention existed in the ranks.
Charley stood next to Aderley at the open window overlooking the entire rail yard, and several blocks of homes and businesses. The rumbling from the crowd down below was like a droning fan, masking the angry words filling the air. Even the loud clatter of the telegraph keys coming from Donahue’s desk in the hallway office didn’t hide the cries of outrage rising in anguish.
Charley lowered his head, heavy hearted, and turned to sit in the chair on the other side of Aderley’s desk. Aderley sat in his massive leather chair, thumbs looped inside his vest pockets, his gold pocket-watch dangling loose. He drew in a hearty puff on his cigar, then exhaled a spiral of smoke toward the ceiling. The man looked exhausted, and the strike wasn’t even in full swing.
“Pittsburgh’s a workingman’s town, Charles. They’re blaming the trunk lines for their hard luck. Hell, with seventy-three glass factories alone, not to mention all the mills and oil refineries and coal mines in the area, those stern-wheelers are towing coal barges along the Allegheny and the Monongahela to the shores, daily. What do they have to complain about? Coal is still rolling in. They ought to be able to run their own operations regardless of the trains running or not.”
“Pittsburgh is a noisy place for sure,” Charley agreed. “You should be there when the gears, rollers, flywheels, steam hammers, and blast furnaces are in full bore. Smoke and steam billowing into the air.” Charley shook his head. “There’s constant noise with everything in motion. I’m glad to be well away from there, I can tell ya.”
“Yes, those mill men are a burly, hardworking lot, and they know the success of winning a strike. They won’t be easily taken down or stopped this time.”
“Still, there won’t be enough fuel coming in to operate their mills nor their homes for very long, if the trains don’t run. Their allegiance is with the railroad workers,” Charley reminded him.
“I hear the Pittsburgh division ordered all through freights to be run as double-headers on July sixteenth.”
“As superintendent of the Pittsburgh division, Pitcairn has the final say. Just like Scott does here,” Charley said. He puffed on his thin, half-smoked cigarette; the tip burned red, then a dark, charred tinge appeared.
“Double-heading two engines cuts labor costs and saves time,” Aderley said as if Charley didn’t know.
“It may be good for the engineers and firemen,” Charley replied. “You need the same number of men to keep things going. The conductors and brakemen are the ones who lose their jobs.”
Charley wasn’t lost on the numbers. He wasn’t Aderley’s right-hand man for nothing. The ones left would have more work to do. They would have to tend to twice as many cars, which would make their job more dangerous with longer hours, not to mention less pay. More accidents were bound to happen when the workers were overtired.
“Hell, Charles, everyone understood the Trainmen’s Union was dead. Even Pitcairn d
idn’t expect this strike. It’s sad, I tell you. Real sad. Damn if they haven’t already called for our own militia to troop on over there and take care of business in Pittsburgh.” Aderley paused, in deep thought. He leaned over the desk and pointed his finger at Charley. “I want you to go there right away. Find out what you can. If we can figure out what caused all the problems there, maybe we can stop things before they get out of hand here.”
Charley took a moment to think about what Aderley was asking. He was right. Pittsburgh was ready to blow. If he didn’t report back, he’d lose his own job. He took a puff on his cigarette and tamped the ashes against the large, black onyx ashtray on Aderley’s desk. A half dozen smoke stubs lined the dish, a sure sign nerves were fraught with worry over the strike.
“I’ve been told the union has a number of Pinkerton agents as members,” Charley mentioned. He’d been surprised the Pinkerton’s would side with the strikers instead of the militia.
“Yeah. Hard to believe.” Aderley shook his head. “Yet, the strike started on the Baltimore, and Ohio didn’t stop the tramps from pouring into Pittsburgh in sympathy for the workers, too. They’re out there now just drifting like sewer rats waiting for something to happen. I hear gangs of vagrants are wandering the streets anticipating the calm will erupt into pandemonium. Let me tell you, Charles, from what I hear, they’ll be here before long, just to stir things up.” He took another deep drag on his cigar and exhaled.
Aderley was right. Charley lit another cigarette, and the two of them paused to reflect on the possibilities of what was to come in Pittsburgh and how it would affect their situation in Philadelphia.
“Sam Muscle’s president of the Pittsburgh division of the Trainmen’s Union. Wasn’t he aware of the build up?” Charley broke the silence. “What about Robert Ammon?”
“That’s the sad part, I tell you. Everything was supposed to be under control. Hell, Muscle left town to take a job in the oil regions someplace. Even Pitcairn took his family to the Jersey seashore for a vacation. Who wanders off on vacation during a time of crisis, I ask you?” Aderley shook his head. “Well, Pittsburgh is in deep debt. They can’t even borrow money from the state. They’re all out of funds. Half the police force got fired due to lack of money to pay them. How can you control a strike with only eight men left on the force? People are flocking into town like locusts. The sooner you get over there and report back to me, the better. We don’t want any tramps coming here and causing trouble.”