Whispers Along the Rails

by Judith Miller

  ‘‘They make a good couple. Martha will help your cousin achieve his full potential.’’

  Mr. Howard’s observation made their marriage seem more a business arrangement than a mutual commitment of love. Olivia realized that those of noble birth, as well as those of wealth, were often forced into arranged marriages. Personally, she abhorred the idea of a loveless marriage. ‘‘This wasn’t a business contract. They are simply two people in love who want to spend their lives together.’’

  ‘‘Of course, of course. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise, but a good wife can certainly have a stabilizing influence on a man seeking to make his way in the world.’’ He lightly touched her arm. ‘‘May I escort you home so you may change out of your gown before meeting Miss Ashton?’’

  She jerked to attention. He couldn’t possibly have overheard her discussion with Martha. Only one of the scullery maids had been close enough to hear. He must have slipped the girl a few coins for the information. How dare he! ‘‘And how would you know of my plans to return home before meeting Miss Ashton?’’

  He didn’t flinch. Nor did he lie. ‘‘I paid the scullery maid. Highly improper, but surely my unacceptable behavior proves how much I desire some time with you—even if only a few minutes.’’

  She stared at him, speechless, longing to think of some offhand rejoinder, but nothing came to mind. His honesty had completely disarmed her.

  He crooked his arm. ‘‘May I take your silence as agreement? We do live next door to each other.’’

  Mr. Howard appeared quite smug, as though he’d decided she couldn’t possibly find a reason to refuse him. Unfortunately, he was correct. She took his arm and, with only a slight limp, descended the stairs. What difference could it make? They were two people walking in the same direction. If the town gossips wanted to link them romantically, she couldn’t stop their idle chatter. And there was little doubt several of the women doing their shopping were scrutinizing more than the fresh produce as they passed by. Olivia could feel their stares even after they’d left the building.

  Once outdoors, she savored a sense of relief and inhaled the sweet scent of the budding flowers and trees that lined the walkways of the town. The lovely prelude to spring quickly erased thoughts of the formidable looks they’d received from the shoppers inside the market. If only she could now free herself of Mr. Howard’s company and join Ellen at the Arcade restaurant.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  While they walked toward the Arcade, Fred and Ellen continued to chat. He had been pleased when she agreed there was a need for further unionization among workers. It was when he’d mentioned his concerns over his mother’s well-being that Ellen had been quick to warn him about what he already knew: his involvement in the labor movement could spell disaster for him as well as for his mother.

  Fred squared his shoulders. ‘‘When the time comes, I’ll need to take a stand alongside the other men. Such choices are difficult, but unless we’re committed to the cause of creating better conditions for everyone, I fear change will not happen within the company. No doubt there will be families who suffer.’’

  Miss Ashton quickened her step to keep pace. ‘‘Unfortunately, the fear of retribution is a strong weapon of the capitalist. I don’t believe the common workingman is a coward. Instead, he feels compelled to shy away from the labor movement for the sake of his family. One can’t fault a man for honoring his personal obligations.’’

  The ostrich plumes that trimmed the crown of Miss Ashton’s scallop-edged hat waved in the light spring breeze. Fred thought the hat somewhat fanciful, but he was no expert on women’s apparel. And given the number of flower- and ribbon-bedecked hats he’d observed at the wedding reception, he didn’t suppose Miss Ashton’s was any more extreme than most. It did seem a bizarre contradiction to her astute remarks, though.

  He hastily forced aside his thoughts of Miss Ashton’s attire. ‘‘There’s truth in what you say, but if we’re to succeed, we must lay down our fears and learn to use every advantage to promote our position.’’ He glanced around. ‘‘We’ll be forced to change opinions about this town. Outsiders come here and think we’ve been given a virtual utopia, although nothing could be further from the truth.’’

  ‘‘Do you find strong support for the labor movement here? My father believed that few were willing to rally behind the Knights of Labor. He would be surprised to discover otherwise.’’

  Fred’s excitement mounted as Ellen explained her father’s zeal for offering his legal expertise to the labor movement. Like Fred, Mr. Ashton desired to see every worker gain a decent wage and tolerable employment conditions. ‘‘There are many who want to see conditions improve. How far the workers are willing to go is another matter altogether. Since everything must be cloaked in a veil of secrecy, it’s difficult to speak in terms of numbers or degrees of commitment.’’ They came to a halt outside the Arcade entrance. ‘‘Be assured there are others like me—especially the single men. Eventually I believe the discontent will become intolerable and fears will be pushed aside in favor of justice.’’

  Two women carrying shopping baskets on their arms drew near, and Ellen instantly redirected their conversation to a more neutral topic. ‘‘You say the restaurant is down the hall and to the right?’’

  ‘‘Yes, but you needn’t go in just now. Olivia won’t be arriving for a while yet.’’ He motioned toward a bench across the street. ‘‘Your friendship with Olivia surprises me.’’

  She walked alongside and joined him on one of the benches near a neatly trimmed cluster of rosebushes. ‘‘We’re quite different yet similar in many ways, too. We both have deep concern for the downtrodden. While Olivia shies away from such concepts as labor movements, she offers help in other ways. She offers a helping hand when and where she can. She’s even gone with me to Hull House and met with Jane Addams.’’

  ‘‘Exactly what brought Olivia to your father’s office, Miss Ashton? For the life of me, I can’t imagine why she would visit a Chicago lawyer. You know, I thought Olivia believed Chicago a formidable place. I’m amazed to hear she’s ventured into the city so frequently.’’

  A gentle breeze off Lake Calumet tugged at Ellen’s silk jacket. ‘‘I’m not at liberty to discuss Olivia’s personal business affairs, but if you’re genuinely interested, I suggest you ask her.’’

  Fred adroitly caught a misdirected rubber ball and tossed it back to one of the young boys playing nearby. ‘‘If you don’t want to discuss Olivia, what about Jane Addams? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve heard that Miss Addams is a staunch supporter of George Pullman and is one of those admirers I spoke of earlier. She’s been quoted as saying others should emulate his generosity toward the workingman. Obviously, Miss Addams has misinterpreted Mr. Pullman’s motives and actions.’’

  ‘‘Jane and I don’t concur on everything, but we do agree there are a multitude of people flocking into Chicago who need assistance. And she’s reaching out to them in an effort to help. To be honest, Jane doesn’t discriminate. She seeks financial assistance for her projects wherever she can find it.’’ Ellen glanced toward the young boys tossing their ball. ‘‘Quite frankly, I agree that there are some good things to be said for this town. Whether the good outweighs the bad is a matter of opinion. I can tell you that Jane prefers to believe this town is the altruistic endeavor of a benevolent man, and neither of us will ever convince her otherwise.’’

  Fred leaned forward and rested his forearms across his thighs. ‘‘If she worked for the company and lived in this town, she might decide otherwise. Perhaps if she’d talk to a few of the residents who have departed Pullman to live elsewhere, Miss Addams would have a more accurate idea of what it is like to live in a repressive environment.’’

  ‘‘Is that how you feel about Pullman?’’

  He noted her surprised tone. ‘‘There’s no denying the architecture in Pullman is pleasing to the eye, but this community doesn’t warm the heart. The people who live here have no ownership i
n the town. We’re simply pawns who bring it to life in order to fulfill George Pullman’s dream. It’s rather sad when you think about it.’’

  Ellen raised her parasol against the bright afternoon sun. ‘‘I don’t doubt there are many who would concur with your assessment, but Olivia hasn’t conveyed that idea to me. On the contrary, her views seem to align more with those of Miss Addams—at least regarding the benefits of the living conditions and amenities provided to the citizens.’’

  Fred straightened and leaned his weight against the back of the wooden-slatted bench. ‘‘We all have diverse expectations, and Olivia has experienced a somewhat different circumstance than most. From the day she arrived, Mr. Howard has been her advocate. Even her current living quarters go beyond what any other employee of her class enjoys. But enough about that.’’ He shifted on the bench. ‘‘Do you think your father would consider meeting with some of us who are interested in supporting a labor movement?’’

  ‘‘I’m sure he would, but I’d urge you to be very careful. The last Pullman employee who met with my father was greeted with his termination papers when he returned home. I’d venture a guess that it was Mr. Howard who handed him his papers.’’

  Fred gave her a lopsided grin. ‘‘And I’d likely agree with you. There’s very little that gets past him.’’

  ‘‘Then I suggest you postpone any plans to meet my father. Mr. Howard is aware we’ve spoken at length today. He saw us talking at the reception, and there’s little doubt he observed us leave the building together. If there are those who are willing to gain favor by reporting the activities of their fellow residents, Mr. Howard will surely have someone watching your every move for weeks—perhaps months—to come.’’ She lowered her parasol and withdrew a card from her purse. ‘‘If you should decide you want to meet with my father in the future, he can be contacted at this address. In the meantime, I suggest you use caution in choosing those you draw into your confidence. Sometimes those we suspect the least can do us the most harm. And now I should go to the restaurant and await Olivia.’’

  Ellen stood and Fred offered his arm. She shook her head. ‘‘No need to accompany me inside. I’m sure you’d like to return to the reception and bid Albert and Martha farewell. I can find the restaurant on my own.’’

  He slipped the card into his jacket. ‘‘It’s been a genuine pleasure, Miss Ashton.’’ He patted his pocket. The stiffness of the card beneath his fingers provided a sense of hope. ‘‘I look forward to meeting with your father one day in the future.’’

  ‘‘I’ll inform him of our visit today, Mr. DeVault.’’

  Fred remained beside the bench for a moment and watched as she crossed the street and passed by two men outside the Arcade. They looked in his direction, and he considered Ellen’s earlier warning. Had she been speaking of Olivia when she mentioned caution about drawing others into his confidence? If so, Miss Ashton need not worry on that account. The few words that passed between them nowadays could be numbered on one hand. He had thought to rectify that strained situation today, but Olivia’s earlier preoccupation with Mr. Howard and her current plans to meet with Miss Ashton had prevented any opportunity for that.

  He strolled down the tree-lined avenue, his thoughts returning to Olivia and her association with Ellen Ashton. Did Miss Ashton suspect Olivia of some covert behavior? Surely not. Yet the reason for their association remained a mystery to him. Perhaps Olivia had confided in his mother. He knew the two women visited frequently in the evenings when he was at work—at least on those evenings when she wasn’t keeping company with Mr. Howard. His jaw tightened at the thought of Olivia sharing her time with Samuel Howard.

  He turned the corner and hurried down the street just in time to escort Martha and Albert to the train station in their rented carriage. After bidding them a safe journey and sending them on their way to Chicago, he turned the horses toward the large Pullman barns. The barns reflected yet another of the many rules and regulations to keep the town of Pullman flawless for the frequent visitors. All horses and carriages were to be housed within the confines of the Pullman barns rather than maintained at the home of a resident. What a silly rule! People living in other communities parked their carriages in the front or rear of their homes, but Mr. Pullman considered any such conveyance a distortion of the aesthetics of the town. Therefore, no horses or buggies lined the streets of Pullman.

  Fred jumped down from the carriage, turned the reins over to the stable boy, and watched as the manager added several figures and handed him a cost sheet made out in Albert’s name. The amount would be deducted from Albert’s next paycheck. One thing was always certain in Pullman: one’s pay wasn’t deposited in the bank until all obligations to the company had been paid in full. Fred surmised Albert’s paycheck wouldn’t amount to much next week, what with rent for the couple’s apartment, fees for the reception hall, and the cost of renting the horse and carriage. A heavy burden for such a young couple.

  He’d walked only a short distance when he noticed one of the men who’d been standing outside the Arcade a short time ago. Now the man was seated on a bench across the street and held an open newspaper on his lap. Fred’s spine stiffened and his hands clenched at the sighting. Was the man following him? The remainder of the way home, Fred listened for the sound of footsteps. When he finally arrived at the front door, he glanced over his shoulder. There was no sign of the man, but he still wasn’t sure he hadn’t been followed.

  He attempted to forget his worries about the man when he entered the house. Any sign of distress and his mother would question him for the remainder of the evening. He could blame his preoccupation on Albert’s departure, for it was going to be strange having his friend living elsewhere. He’d enjoyed having someone his own age rooming with them, and the extra money had certainly helped with expenses. Perhaps he and his mother should seek another boarder. Recalling Malcolm Overby’s mention of layoffs earlier today, Fred wondered if they would have any success finding another renter. Or, if his mother would agree to the risk, they could offer accommodations to one of the small families that might be left homeless by the layoffs.

  The clanking of pans signaled his mother was at work in the kitchen, and Fred continued down the hallway. She glanced up from the worktable. ‘‘You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.’’

  ‘‘Not quite.’’ He pulled a chair away from the table. ‘‘Mind if I ask a few questions?’’

  She swiped her hands down her apron front. ‘‘Not if I can keep on working while we talk.’’ Without waiting for a response, his mother began sorting through a basket of snap beans. When the wedding festivities had ended, she’d obviously stopped in Market Hall to purchase some of the produce raised in the Pullman greenhouses during the winter and early spring—another reason she enjoyed living in the town.

  ‘‘Far be it from me to keep you from preparing food.’’ He settled on the chair, hoping to gather his thoughts for a moment.

  ‘‘I thought you were going to have a chat with Olivia today. Instead, you were busy conversing with that Ashton woman every time I looked your way.’’

  He straightened his shoulders. ‘‘And did you notice that Olivia was busy talking to Mr. Howard? How was I supposed to get a word in edgewise?’’

  ‘‘Humph! That sounds like an excuse to me.’’

  He didn’t want to argue with his mother. ‘‘Samuel Howard isn’t someone I care to offend. You’ll recall that he wields a good deal of power in town?’’

  ‘‘I know that! But you could have tried a little harder.’’

  Fred did his best to assume a soulful look. ‘‘I decided it would be better to wait until she wasn’t in Mr. Howard’s company. I’ll talk to her after church next Sunday.’’ His response appeared to appease her. ‘‘By the way, has Olivia ever indicated why she visited Mr. Ashton’s offices?’’

  His mother dropped her knife on the worktable and studied him. He clenched his jaw, hoping that he could
remain steady under her close scrutiny. Still maintaining her fixed gaze, his mother sat down opposite him, her dinner preparations seemingly forgotten for the moment.

  ‘‘Did you ask Miss Ashton that same question?’’

  He sucked in a breath. Her piercing stare wouldn’t permit him to look away. ‘‘I did.’’

  ‘‘And? What did she tell you?’’

  ‘‘She suggested I ask Olivia if I really wanted to know.’’

  His mother gave an approving nod. ‘‘Good for her. I wasn’t so sure I liked Miss Ashton, but there’s obviously more to her than meets the eye. She seems to know how to hold a confidence.’’

  Fred rested his forearms on the table. ‘‘So there is something secretive in nature about Olivia’s visit to Mr. Ashton. I thought so. Otherwise, she’d have told Martha or Albert, and I’d already know what was going on. There’s no need to keep me in the dark. You know I can keep a secret.’’

  His mother chuckled. ‘‘I suppose you learned that from me, didn’t you? Thing is, I don’t know any more about Olivia’s visits to Mr. Ashton than you do. And even if she had confided in me, you know I wouldn’t break my word.’’

  ‘‘You think maybe Mr. Howard’s got her doing some kind of underhanded dealings for Mr. Pullman? Olivia would be a perfect pawn. I doubt she even knows Mr. Ashton offers legal help to the unions, but you can bet both Mr. Howard and Mr. Pullman keep a close eye on what he’s up to.’’ He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. ‘‘You think maybe they’re using Olivia to gain information about the men involved in unionization? I mean, what earthly reason could Olivia have for needing a lawyer? I hope she hasn’t agreed to get involved in something that could prove dangerous for her.’’