by Carol Henry
“Good luck to you.” Emily smiled, at odds with her happiness between leaving with Marybelle and having to leave her new friends behind.
“My dear lady, ’tis been my pleasure, to be sure.”
The three of them took their leave, disappearing along with the others inside the station. Emily sighed, straightened up, and went in search of her baggage now stacked with the others on the platform.
“Emily, land sakes, lady, look at you?” Marybelle called. “Why, I’d recognize that family nose and high cheekbones anywhere. Pure Irish O’Malley’s to be sure. Turn around and let me look at you. Why, other than looking like you’re about to fall off your feet, and the fact you’re a little disheveled from riding the rails and the frightening ordeal you’ve suffered, you look to be able to mend. You are a sight for sore eyes, I can tell you. With the delay in Silver Springs and that confounded buffalo stampede, I about had a heart attack right then and there, I did. Glad to hear there were no serious injuries. Indians have been no problem the last few years, but you never know when one will go wild.”
Emily looked at the tall woman standing before her. She couldn’t believe her own eyes. If this was Marybelle, she’d eat her hat. For all she knew the darn hat could be back in Silver Springs laying in the desert somewhere, she didn’t know where it had gotten to.
“I’m glad to finally be here.”
Over the past ten years, Marybelle had grown into a stocky, solid, woman. Once dressed in city finery, and as small and petite as any young girl out east, this Marybelle wore men’s breeches and a flannel shirt stretched across her ample bosom. Her oversized hat hung down her back on a neck string. She had a bolero around her neck with a large turquoise stone the size of a twenty dollar gold piece. Her shoes, dusty, man’s work boots and just as worn, were laced up around her ankles. She wore her clothes with pride, and no one took exception to Marybelle’s dress. Her auburn hair, brushed back in a long thick braid shone squeaky clean in the late afternoon sun. A smile with full lips spread across a face full of freckles that ran into each other, and a set of deep green eyes sparkled with merriment. Emily couldn’t help respond to this woman’s infectious laugher.
“My gawd, Emily, it’s good to see you,” Marybelle hugged her so tight she was in danger of her own rib cage breaking. Emily caught the scent of pine and a hint of dust just before she was planted back on her feet.
“Let’s grab your satchels, and we’ll put them in the buckboard before we go find William. I’ve arranged a hearty meal, a wash, and a rest for the night before we head out in the morning. William and I have a room just down the hall from yours. Now don’t say a word, Em. Let’s get you settled, and then we can talk a blue streak and catch up on all the chatter what’s been happening back east. This strike isn’t going to help us out here any more than it’s helping people elsewhere. A lot of people are upset with the Chinese around here and are starting to stir up trouble. You’ve made it here in time. They’re just about to stop trains from going out. No matter. You’re here now. That’s all that counts.”
“I need to send a message to Charles to let him know I’ve arrived,” Emily said, finally able to get a word in.
“Now, don’t you fret. The telegraph office is going to be so busy for the next hour or two, we’d be standing in line forever and a day if we tried now. We’ll relax first, then send a message to Charley-boy. Here, now, watch your step, we have real nice boardwalks here, but the streets in between are positively dusty and even worse when the rains come. Might be a few puddles still, as we just had some rain the other day after a real long drought. Wouldn’t want you to get those fancy shoes of yours dirty. Might just have to be getting you some sturdy boots while we’re here. Why, where we’re going up in the hills into lumber country, it ain’t no place to be prancing about with thin, soft shoes, like yours. No, siree, Em, we’ll get you fixed up real nice before we head out tomorrow. There’s a few good shops in town, might just as well outfit you here, as to try to find what we want in Wolverine Pass. We stock up while we’re in town, so we’ll be taking some supplies back with us for our own camp store. We live about twenty miles out from the nearest town. We run a small shop at the camp and stock supplies and equipment for the men who work there. Sometimes other lumberjacks stop by to pick up a few things, too.”
Emily didn’t need to bother to answer. Marybelle was doing a fine job keeping the conversation going on her own. Besides, Emily was too tired to talk. Within minutes they were across the street at the Fleur-de-lis Hotel. The exterior was simple, but when they entered, Emily was surprised to find a unique, opaque blue ceiling, Fleur-de-lis wallpaper with gold stripes separating the pattern, thus the name of the establishment. On the left corner, mahogany wainscoting stood out, waxed and shinier than any she had ever seen back east. White damask tablecloths flowed over round tables, and fresh cut flowers decorated the center. Emily, for all she was dressed more appropriately than Marybelle, was still uncomfortable knowing they both looked out of place in such an elegant establishment.
“Don’t you fret, none, Em. Follow me. We’ll get you in the back and cleaned up real nice. I expect you have some clean clothes in your satchel.”
Marybelle led Emily to the back of the building down a narrow hallway to a room with fresh water for bathing. The room had a washstand, a few hooks to hang her clothes on, and a comfortable looking bed with a matching dresser. There was a settee too pristine to sit on. Emily was so tired she sat anyway, unlaced her shoes, and took them off.
“Now you take your time and do a nice slow wash down. I’ll wait for you in the dining room. I’ll order us up some grub while you get yourself taken care of. It’ll be waiting for us when you get done. Just leave everything and come on out. Poor, Em. You do look all done in. You’ll be real comfortable here tonight.”
“Thanks, Marybelle. I am weary beyond belief.”
“You can tell me all about your travels on the way to camp tomorrow. Wait ’til you see our homestead. It’s real comfy. Overlooks the ocean. You’ll have nothing to do there but put your feet up and relax and get well. Lord, Em, it’s good to have you here.”
Emily opened her bag and took out a simple, wrinkled, but clean frock Mrs. Shay had laundered before she left Silver Springs. She washed, changed, and then joined Marybelle and William for dinner minutes later.
****
Bright and early the following morning after a breakfast at the Fleur-de-lis befitting royalty, the trio climbed up on the wagon packed full of various provisions. William managed the loaded buckboard as it bumped along the rutted hillsides. The horses knew their way as they kept a steady pace and wound up the steep slopes and down into the low valleys. They had been traveling similarly for most of the morning, and Emily had lost track of time. Her head bobbed up and down and from side to side, having nodded on and off several times. The rocking motion kept her from falling asleep completely. Her bottom ached. She was sure she’d never be able to sit down again once she got to Marybelle’s. Even the train ride hadn’t been this bumpy and uncomfortable. She suspected her teeth were in danger of falling out from all the jarring before they arrived at Wolverine Pass. Thankfully, the Dover’s powder helped relieve the headache.
The scenery was more beautiful the closer they got to Marybelle and William’s homestead. They rode through thick wooded land covered with tall pristine pines and even taller redwoods. Emily breathed in the deep, pine scent and welcomed the shade they provided. They had traveled through valleys where homesteaders had planted vineyards, some of which were great expansions of fields with what looked to be hundreds of rows of grape vines. But none of this beauty prepared Emily for the sight as they dipped over the final hill. William and Marybelle’s home stood perched on the next hillside nestled between a grove of tall redwoods. A structure to rival a southern mansion stood out against the bluish-green shades of the majestic cedars high on a sheer cliff which dropped right down into the ocean far below.
Marybelle’s ‘shanty’ turne
d out to be a large rambling dwelling. Emily couldn’t help but wonder just how wealthy William was to be able to afford such an opulent home. Why, the veranda on the second floor wrapped clear around the side of the house with a wrought-iron staircase leading to the back and a sprawling lawn. Spanish grillwork decorated the outside porch on the first floor as well. The large windows were adorned with sturdy shutters the likes of which Emily had never seen. They were large, warm, and welcoming. The roof peaked in the center with smaller windows outlined with more ironwork. The lumber business must be very good at Wolverine Pass, indeed.
Emily didn’t have a chance to utter a word as William, a quiet man, yanked in the reins, and the horses stopped in front of a large portico entranceway on a drive patterned in red brick. Marybelle jumped down from the wagon and turned to help Emily down.
“Now, Em, you pay no never mind to the size of our shanty. You won’t have to lift a finger to help keep her clean.”
“It’s such a grand place,” Emily whispered in admiration when she finally was able to catch her breath. “Why, this place must take forever to keep up. There’s just no other way I can repay you for letting me recuperate here, Marybelle.”
“Gosh, Em. No need to thank me. We’re glad to have you. Margarita lives in and takes care of everything, so you needn’t fret ’bout a thing. I just haven’t the time to keep up with it all, and she does such a magnificent job. She’s a great cook, too. You won’t have to worry. We’ll keep you fed real good. Wait ’til you try her fresh grape pie. We’ll get you fattened up. You’re looking much too thin.”
“I’ll need something to occupy my time while I’m here. I can’t just sit around and let you wait on me day and night. I won’t have it. You’re kind enough to let me stay. I need to earn my keep.”
“Don’t fret. We’ll talk about it later. Right now, you need a wash, a rest, and a meal. As I do. Come. Let’s get you to your room.”
Marybelle led her through the wide entrance of thick, double pine doors. Stunned, Emily stopped in the middle of the foyer. A curved staircase dominated the area seeming to sweep clear up to the sky; the banister of polished honey oak. A deep, dusty, rose-flowered runner carpeted the stairs and the hallway leading to either side of the house and the upper floor’s wide hallway.
“I’ve given you the southwest wing so you can watch the ocean when the sun sets. It’s a beauty of a sight, Em. Real restful. You can sit at the desk by the window and write in the evenings. Just wait. You’ll see what I’m talking about this evening. You have your own indoor plumbing of sorts. A new-fangled contraption set up, but dang if it don’t work just fine. There’s some fresh water in the taps in the washroom, too. Just take your time and relax. I’ll send Margarita up to fetch you after a while. We’ll have our evening meal on the veranda next to the garden before the sun goes down. Fresh air will do us good.”
Marybelle shut the door on her way out. Emily walked to the window, and sure enough, the ocean pounded on the rocks below; a loud roar and a mighty spray of white foamy water the likes of which amazed her. The ocean stretched out to meet the sky and the late evening sun sparkled off the water in the distance.
It was as peaceful as Marybelle said it would be. The sight of it alone was worth the trouble she’d gone through to get here.
If only her children were by her side.
If only she could share all of this with Charles.
Chapter Sixteen
General Hancock arrived in Pittsburgh with little pomp and circumstance, unlike his men who had arrived the day before, swooping down in a thundering sea of blue and a cloud of dust from the clomping horses. General Hancock and his staff of four rode into town, tied up just outside the station, then entered the building and knocked on Aderley’s office door. Charley sat in one of the leather chairs next to the mahogany desk, where Aderley had slept, slumped in a drunken stupor the night before. He looked like hell this morning—still under the influence of the effects of the bottle. Charley raised his brows watching Aderley stand at attention on steady feet as the general entered. He had to hand it to him, the man never wavered.
“Come in, General. I’ve been expecting you.” Aderley offered his hand.
Charley detected a slight gravel in Aderley’s voice, muffled with a deep sigh. Charley stood and shook the general’s hand as well.
“Sir, it’s a pleasure.”
“We had an awful mess here yesterday and don’t want to see a repeat,” Aderley stated. “The whole town erupted into a frenzy. Thanks to your men, things are under control now. Have a seat.” With his hand, Aderley indicated a chair close to his desk.
The general’s aide pulled the heavy leather chair forward. General Hancock sat with purpose, his back ram-rod straight. He lifted his hat and set it on his lap.
“Glad we could be of help. Where’s Scott?” the general asked.
“He left for Pittsburgh to take care of some messy business. Sorry, I can’t go with you to see the damage in our yards right now. I’m running a bit behind, but my good man Charles Carmichael here will take you down and fill you in on what’s been going on.”
Aderley nodded to Charley, a pleading look in the man’s bloodshot eyes. Charley nodded in silent understanding.
“I’ll have my carriage brought round,” Aderley said. “I apologize. I do, however, have a meeting with the engineers later this afternoon I must prepare for. Perhaps you’d care to join us. See what we’re up against.”
“I’ll be there,” General Hancock confirmed. He stood and placed his hat on his head. “Perhaps my presence will help calm the men down, and we can put an end to things.”
“Let’s hope so.”
General Hancock turned to Charley, who quickly stood.
“Shall we proceed, then, and see what needs to be done?” Charley suggested.
He and General Hancock rode to the rail yard to view the damage caused by the oil car fire. Hancock’s staff followed behind on their horses. Never one to feel comfortable around horses, Charley was impressed with the way the men sat tall in their saddles. Hopefully, it would impress the workers as well.
A small contingent of militia had the area surrounded by the time they arrived. As General Hancock approached, the soldiers snapped to attention, saluted, and then stood aside to let him pass.
“We’ve ordered troops from the east and the north to stop here when they come through,” Hancock told Charley as they walked toward the charred train.
What a sorry sight. Oil smoldered, filling the air with a strong stench. It reminded Charley of Westmüller lying in the hospital, his skin blistered from head to foot. He could still detect the faint sickening stench of burnt flesh. The taste of creosol mixed with petroleum from the burning ties, and the smoking oil tinged his lips. Heat from the smoldering fire warmed the air.
“What the hell happened here?” the general boomed.
Charley thought the general’s eyes were going to pop out, they bulged so wide. He proceeded to relay the events leading up to the explosion.
“Your troops managed to turn the townspeople away, but they’ll be back to see for themselves what happened,” Charley replied. He hoped the strikers wouldn’t rally again quite so soon. But if things didn’t go well at the meeting this afternoon, they would be back in force.
“Mr. Aderley will be following Mr. Scott’s order at the meeting. He’s not about to give in to their demands. He’s going to need all the help you can give him come morning,” Charley advised.
“We’re not going anywhere. He can count on us.”
Charley was relieved to hear it. He left General Hancock talking to his men. He strode over to talk to the trainmen huddled together on the other side of the tracks next to the roundhouse.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We ain’t backing down.” Michael slammed his fist down on the side of a rail car. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. We have nothing to lose.”
“Michael’s right. If they cut our pa
y, we’ll have nothing a’t’all. They might just as well shoot us and get it over with.”
“But is it worth dying for?” Charley asked.
He was met with silence.
“What about your families? What’s going to happen to them?”
“We can’t feed them now,” Michael said.
The men all nodded.
Charley knew their dilemma. It was why he’d taken his family north. He patted his pockets for a smoke. Empty. He shook his head and gritted his teeth. He didn’t blame the men for not wanting to back down.
“I’ll talk to Aderley before the meeting. See what I can do. In the meantime, don’t do anything rash to blow this thing wide open.”
“No promises, Carmichael. We’re going to do what we have to do, no matter whose side you’re on.”
The men turned from Charley and walked away. He was on his own. He wished he were anywhere but in Philadelphia. He wished he’d gone west with Emily. He sorely needed her comforting arms around him.
Charley couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation with Aderley. Aderley had been distressed because he hadn’t been there to comfort his wife in her time of need. He had also confided in Charley that there’d been several kidnapping threats against his children, the main reason he’d sent them to San Francisco in the first place. Where they were supposed to be safe.
But their conversation had also centered on the strike. Mason Aderley and Tom Scott were adamant about enforcing the wage cut despite the events so far. They anticipated being able to replace every single one of those striking with others who needed work. They weren’t aware the community was supporting the strikers. No one was going to cross the line and fill those jobs.
With all the reinforcements coming to town, they were going to be outnumbered. God Almighty, they didn’t stand a chance.