by Janet Dawson
Jill left the Silver Crane, thinking about her talk with Mr. Doolin. Of all the crazy things she had encountered riding the rails during the past two years, a ghost—if the flickering light was indeed such a thing—was not among them. Did the young man’s spirit haunt the roomette where he had traveled during his final journey? Did Steve’s ghost haunt the slopes of Hell Fire Valley in Korea? Jill wondered about that as she walked through the dining car, dodging one of the waiters who was setting a table in preparation for the diner’s lunch service. Then she discarded the thought.
———
The train wound through twenty-five-mile-long Ruby Canyon, which took its name from the spectacular red sandstone cliffs on either side of the river, where spires and arches had been carved by thousands of years of erosion. At the yellow brick station in Grand Junction, Jill mailed letters and postcards, said good-bye to departing passengers and greeted new ones. Then the train headed east through the fruit-growing town of Palisade. Jill went to the conductor’s office in the second chair car, to check in with the new Denver & Rio Grande Western conductor who would stay on the train until it reached Denver. He was a gray-haired man named Ed Weatherbee, and Jill had traveled with him before.
Jill had lunch in the dining car and was finished by the time the California Zephyr pulled into Glenwood Springs at 1:35 p.m., crossing the Frying Pan River and coming to a stop at the station on the south side of the swift Colorado River. Clouds of steam rose from the hot springs on the north side of the river. Above this, on a bluff, was the Hotel Colorado, an imposing brick-and-sandstone building constructed in the 1890s. Among its notable patrons over the years were President Theodore Roosevelt, the movie actor Tom Mix, who’d shot a picture in the canyon, and the Chicago gangster Al Capone. And the hotel was reputed to be haunted. Jill recalled hearing stories of a child in Victorian dress playing in the halls and elevators that moved of their own volition.
Glenwood Canyon was fifteen miles long, carved by the Colorado River, through limestone, sandstone, shale and granite. The caves near the town held many hot springs. The train’s Vista-Domes were packed with passengers as this eastbound train went through the canyon, passing the westbound CZ at Grizzly Creek. The train had several more spectacular canyons on its route—Dotsero, Byers and Gore.
Jill walked back to the dome-observation car and began making dinner reservations, part of her Zephyrette duties. She carried a binder with colored cards for different seating times. Jill kept track of the reservations in her binder as she handed out cards, covering the sleeper cars first, then moving to the chair cars.
The California Zephyr and the Colorado River parted company at the town of Granby. The train headed through Fraser Canyon, President Dwight Eisenhower’s favorite fishing spot, and then to the town of Fraser, which was near the ski resort called Winter Park, the slopes bare now in July. The train plunged into Moffat Tunnel, its bore more than nine thousand feet long as it went under the Continental Divide. Then it wound down the eastern slope of the Rockies, with Denver finally visible in the distance as the train came out of the mountains and made its slow descent down the curve called the Big Ten, where the tracks looped in a big S with a tight ten-degree radius of curve. Once the tracks straightened, the CZ picked up speed as it went through the town of Arvada and the outskirts of the Mile High City, finally arriving on time in Denver at 7 p.m.
The platform of the big Beaux-Arts station near the Platte River bustled. Passengers got off the train, greeting relatives and friends with hugs and handshakes, handing bags and bundles to waiting Red Caps, then walked toward the building to collect their checked luggage. Other passengers lined the platform, waiting to board. Denver was another crew and equipment change stop, with the Denver & Rio Grande Western locomotives decoupled and replaced by Chicago, Burlington & Quincy engines. The conductor and other onboard personnel were CB&Q employees as well. Jill got off the train and walked along the platform, enjoying the balmy summer evening as she assisted passengers in locating their cars. Soon the conductor gave his familiar call. “Now boarding, the California Zephyr. Destination Chicago…”
Jill boarded the train, climbing the steps to the vestibule of the Silver Crane, where Mr. Doolin waited to pull up the steps and close the door. The engineer blew the whistle, and the California Zephyr pulled out of the Denver station, moving slowly through the train yards and the neighborhoods north of downtown. Once the CZ left the outskirts of the city, it gained speed, heading northeast across the high plains of Colorado.
Jill headed back to the dome-observation car, the Silver Horizon. Two “specials” had boarded the train in Denver. These were special-attention passengers, prominent people who had come to the attention of the railroad when booking their accommodations. They were singled out for extra attention from the onboard crew, especially the Zephyrette. In this case, the specials were an Illinois congressman and his demanding wife. They were traveling in the drawing room on the Silver Horizon, the largest and most expensive accommodation on the train.
The congressman’s wife regaled her with tales of their Washington connections and their friendship with President and Mrs. Eisenhower. “You know, Mamie’s from Denver,” she said. “And Ike loves to fish up at Fraser.”
Jill smiled. “Yes, ma’am, I do know that. I grew up in Denver.” The Doud home on Lafayette Street in Denver, where the First Lady’s family lived, was not far from the home of Jill’s grandmother, near Cheesman Park.
She finally took her leave of the congressman and his wife and peeked into the lounge area of the Silver Horizon, where she saw Mrs. Callendar playing bridge again with three other passengers. Then she went up to the Vista-Dome and watched the sun set over the now distant Rockies.
The stairs leading down from the Vista-Dome were edged with Lucite that glowed with muted light now that it was night. The observation car had a rounded back end, called a fish tail, and all the chairs in the lower-level section were full. Jill made her way back through the car, doing a walk-through of the train. After indulging in apple pie and coffee in the coffee shop, Jill talked with passengers in the Silver Roundup lounge, then went to her compartment just before ten o’clock. She worked on her trip report, read a few chapters of A Murder Is Announced and finally turned out the light.
She slept undisturbed until early the next morning. She woke briefly as the train left Omaha, Nebraska at 5 a.m., then again half an hour later as the CZ crossed the Missouri River, the sound of wheels on rails different on the bridge than it was on the ground. Jill dozed off again and woke again just after six. She was dressed and in the dining car as the train made its brief stop in Creston, Iowa. Just to be different, she ordered bacon and eggs instead of her usual French toast.
As the food was delivered, she was joined by two passengers who had boarded the first chair car in Denver. Mr. and Mrs. Wells, who appeared to be in their forties, were traveling to Aurora, Illinois, the next-to-last stop before the train arrived in Chicago at 1:30 p.m. “A family reunion,” Mrs. Wells added as she took a fork to her omelet. “I’m from Aurora, my husband is from Brighton, Colorado.”
“My family farmed there.” Mr. Wells deployed the pepper shaker over his scrambled eggs. “We still own the farm, but I have a feed store in town.”
“I’ve been to Brighton,” Jill told them. “I was born in Denver, and grew up there.”
As they ate breakfast, Jill told them about her early years in the Mile High City, where her father was a doctor. When he volunteered for the Navy, right after Pearl Harbor, the McLeods had sold their house. Jill, her mother and her two siblings had moved in with Jill’s maternal grandmother, while Dr. McLeod shipped out for the war in the Pacific. When he returned at the end of the war, they had moved to Alameda, California, where they lived now.
After finishing her breakfast, Jill said good-bye to her companions and began her morning walk through the train. She started in the chair cars, chatting with passengers in each car. Then she strolled through the dining car, which ha
d filled up. After making her way through the coffee shop and the lounge in the Silver Roundup, she stopped briefly in her own compartment. Then she headed into the Silver Crane. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was a quarter to nine. The train would be in Ottumwa, Iowa, at 8:53 a.m., about ten minutes from now. Already Jill could see the outskirts of the town from the windows on her left. She said hello to Mr. Doolin, then passed through the vestibule to the next car.
In the Silver Gorge, Mrs. Lombard was coming out of bedroom A. Today she wore a polka-dotted dress with a full skirt that swirled around her. “Good morning, Miss McLeod. It looks like another lovely summer day. Is the dining car still open?”
“Yes, it is,” Jill assured her. “For another half hour or so.”
Mrs. Lombard headed for the front of the car as Jill turned to her right, then left again, walking down the corridor between the roomettes. Mr. Webster, the porter, was at the rear of the car, heading toward her. Then Mrs. Callendar stepped out of roomette four, wearing another stylish suit, this one gray with black trim. As Jill recalled, the passenger was leaving the train in Burlington, Iowa, the stop scheduled for 10:07 a.m. She looked tired and out of sorts.
“Good morning, Mrs. Callendar,” Jill said. “I hope you had a good night.”
The older woman fiddled with the latch on her handbag and frowned. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t. I had the devil of a time getting any sleep at all. The roomette was quite chilly. I had to ring the porter to bring me extra blankets. That seemed to help, but right after I dropped off, I woke up again. Two men were arguing and they went at it for quite a while. It was extremely rude of them to carry on with their conversation at such a late hour.”
Jill and Mr. Webster exchanged looks. She knew the porter was thinking the same thing that she was. The passengers traveling in the roomettes on either side of number four, and the roomette across the corridor, were all women. She supposed it was possible that two men had been arguing in the corridor, but Mrs. Callendar said the argument went on for some time. She wondered if anyone else, including the porter, heard the voices.
“I’m sorry your sleep was disturbed,” Jill said. “Were you able to make out what the two men were saying?”
Mrs. Callendar shrugged. “Not entirely. I just got the impression it had something to do with numbers. Very odd. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must have coffee and breakfast before the dining car closes.”
She stepped past Jill and headed forward, in the direction of the diner. When she had disappeared from view, Jill turned to the porter. “Did you hear anything, Mr. Webster?”
He shook his head. “Nothing like that. And I’m a light sleeper. If there was two men arguing in the corridor, I surely would have heard them. My compartment is at the end of the car, not that far from roomette four.” He paused. “I know what you’re thinking, Miss McLeod. The ghost.”
“You, too?”
The porter smiled. “Yes. Me, too.”
“Did you see something?”
He looked over his shoulder before he spoke, reluctant to be overheard. “Once before, when I was working on this car. Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed. I saw a light. It went into roomette four. Which was empty at the time, no one traveling there. Heard some noises, too. Like someone knocking on the bulkhead.”
Jill sighed. “I saw a light last night, before Mrs. Callendar got on the train at Salt Lake City. I went inside the roomette. It was chilly, just as she said. And I heard a noise, like tapping. But no voices. Have you ever heard voices coming from the roomette?”
Mr. Webster shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Just the light and that knocking sound. But no voices.”
“Mrs. Callendar heard two voices,” Jill said. “Two voices, two men.”
“Two ghosts?” Mr. Webster asked.
Jill shook her head. “I hope not. I should think one would be enough.”
Chapter Five
Jill woke up in her own bed on Wednesday morning, her calico cat, Sophie, curled into a ball next to her. She stroked the cat’s head and was rewarded with a purr. Then she stretched her arms above her head.
It was good to be home. She had been gone for six days. It took two and a half days for the eastbound California Zephyr, train number 18, to make the journey from Oakland to Chicago. After a two-night layover in the Windy City, Jill had boarded the westbound CZ, designated train number 17. Another two and a half days passed and the train had arrived late Tuesday afternoon, at Oakland’s Middle Harbor. Passengers who lived in the East Bay got off the train, collected their luggage and headed for private cars, taxis and buses. Those going to San Francisco boarded the ferry that would take them across the bay.
When Jill had finished with her end-of-run duties, she called home and her brother, Drew, came to pick her up. She caught sight of him, waiting near the platform in the family’s Ford, and walked over, carrying her suitcase. They drove home, through Oakland streets and the tunnel called the Tube, that ran under the estuary to Alameda. After six days away, Jill welcomed the sight of Alameda, often called the Island City, with its canopy of trees over the streets. The houses that lined the streets were large and small and in-between, some made of stucco, others built of wood, like the McLeod family home on Union Street, just a few blocks from the bay. Alameda was home to many houses built in the Victorian era, and Jill’s family lived in one of these. It was a two-story house in the Queen Anne style, painted blue with bright yellow trim. A dogwood tree, which in springtime was covered with masses of white flowers, shaded one side of the front yard. On one side of the house, a Cécile Brünner rose had outgrown a tall trellis and now climbed toward the second-story windows, its green foliage loaded with small, soft pink blooms. The wide front porch wrapped around two sides of the house, with a porch swing and a comfortable glider for outdoor seating. Above the front door was a fan-shaped window made of stained glass, its panes ruby red, blue and gold. Inside, there was a bay window in the living room and a wide staircase leading to the second floor.
Drew carried his sister’s suitcase into the house and Jill greeted her parents with hugs. Then she went upstairs. Her cat demanded to be picked up and cuddled, so Jill did this first. Then she stripped off her uniform and took the shower she had longed for during the trip from Chicago. When she came downstairs, dressed in dungarees, a checked cotton blouse and a pair of ballet flats, dinner was nearly ready. Her father had fired up the barbecue grill in the backyard, planning to put on hamburgers as soon as the coals had burned down. Her mother had potato salad and baked beans on the table. Jill’s sister, Lucy, had made shortcakes, round sweetened biscuits, which they ate piled with strawberries and whipped cream.
Now Jill looked at the clock on her bedside table. It was nearly eight, and morning sun poured through the white eyelet cotton curtains. A dust mote floated through the air and settled on the leaves of the purple African violet on her nightstand.
She pushed back the covers and got out of bed, putting on her striped seersucker robe. Down the hall, in the upstairs bathroom, she took a hot shower. She washed her short, curly hair and toweled it dry. Then she returned to her bedroom. It was furnished with a single bed, white-painted wrought iron decorated with brass fittings, covered with a rose-colored chenille bedspread. She dressed, wearing the same clothes she’d worn last night. Then she made the bed, dislodging Sophie, who meowed with indignation as she repaired to the nightstand. Jill pulled up the spread and arranged the colorful pillows at the head. “There,” she told the cat. Sophie meowed again and flicked her tail. Then she stepped daintily onto the bed, circled and snuggled up in the pillows.
Jill went downstairs and headed for the kitchen. Her sister was at the kitchen table, an empty plate and a cup of coffee, and the morning newspapers in front of her. Lucy wore her blond hair with loose pin curls framing her face. It was the latest style, known as the Italian cut. Jill kept her own light brown hair short in what was called a poodle cut. The style was easy to care for, and went with Jill’s fair c
oloring and blue eyes.
Lucy looked up and grinned. “About time you got up, lazybones. Even your cat has been down for breakfast.”
“Did you leave any coffee for me?” Jill crossed the kitchen, to the counter where a stainless steel GE percolator sat on the counter, next to a can of Maxwell House ground coffee. She lifted the pot, which felt as though it had liquid in it. She opened the cupboard above her and pulled out a cup. Once she’d filled the cup with hot coffee, she opened the refrigerator door and took out a small bottle of cream, pulled off the cap, and poured a generous dollop into her coffee. She took a sip. Ah, nothing like that first cup of coffee.
Jill’s mother bustled into the kitchen from the back porch, where the washer and dryer were located. Lora McLeod wore a red-and-yellow cotton print wrap dress and carried a wicker laundry basket full of folded towels. “You’re up. Do you want me to fix you some breakfast?”
“I’ll make some toast. I don’t want a big breakfast, since I’m having lunch with Tidsy. You did say I could use the car today. Is that still all right?”
“Certainly,” Lora said. “You know where the keys are.” She left the kitchen, heading for the stairs, the laundry basket balanced on her hip.
Lucy got up from the table and washed her breakfast dishes in the sink, leaving them to dry in the drainer. “If you’re using the car today, could you drop me off at the library? I have some books to return. I’ll walk back.”
“Sure. Let’s leave early. I want to drop off my uniform to be cleaned. And I’ll go to the library with you. I have books to take back and there’s one I want to look for.”