by J. T. Edson
‘Comes morning,’ the small Texan replied, conscious of having everybody in the room listening to his words. He was also confident that the incident had impressed even those of the gandy dancers who had seen him in action at Mulrooney, when a breach of the peace called for him to act against some of their number. He believed what had happened would make them more willing to go along with the measures he intended to instigate. ‘And, while I can’t say’s how I’ve ever done any railroad building like you-all have, we’ll be doing things my way.’
‘Howdy, Ray,’ Dusty Fog said, descending from the flat car of the train near where the New Englander was standing, obviously awaiting its arrival. He and the work force had returned to the base camp on it at the end of the fifth day since he had taken over as gang boss. ‘We’re still moving along pretty well, wouldn’t you say, Bert?’
‘Very well indeed,’ Herbert Brill confirmed, showing satisfaction both at the use of the abbreviated version of his Christian name and at being asked for an opinion by a man he had come greatly to admire.
As the small Texan had envisaged, the way he had dealt with the Russians gave him a moral ascendancy which enabled him to put in hand the changes in routine he had planned more easily than might otherwise have been the case. Even before the two unconscious would-be assailants were removed by their companions, the rest of the railroad workers were showing they approved of his actions and they listened with interest to what he had to say about his intentions. Such was the impact he had made that, when it was learned Ivan Krushchev and Rudolph Gorbachov were so badly injured Doctor Brian Farnsworth had ordered them sent back to Mulrooney on the supply train, the general consensus of opinion had been they had asked for all they received.
The fact that Krushchev had only pretended to be drunk and was holding the glass beer mug, which must have been broken earlier ready for use as a weapon, suggested to the small Texan it had been planned for use at the first opportunity. What was more, the rest of the Russians must have known at least something of his intentions. The supposition had been given strength by Waco, who possessed a flair for deductive reasoning which he had found useful as a peace officer, and who examined the broken bottle. Although most of its contents had been sprayed over the floor when it was shattered, there was just sufficient remaining in the bottom for him to be able to tell it had held water and not the potent vodka they usually drank. Being told of this, Finnegan questioned his employees and discovered none of them had sold the bottle to the party. However, the other four had given no further trouble and the pressure of his duties had prevented Dusty from looking deeper into the reason for the attack. Nor, wanting to avoid possible friction, would be allow the blond youngster to do so. Not that the quartet were around long enough for him to feel any particular concern over their presence.
Although Brill had become a willing assistant, Richard Reiser had refused to even go out to the work site. In fact, he had left the base camp on the morning after the incident and, claiming he had learned of family problems, sent his resignation by telegraph from Mulrooney. Next day, when the news was circulated, the Russians had asked for their pay and quit. Despite the departures arousing speculation amongst the Texans, neither the quartet nor the surveyor were missed. This was especially true of Reiser, who had sexual proclivities the vast majority of the dandy dancers considered abhorrent. In fact, according to rumor, the six Russians were the only ones who did not share the general disgust. [29]
First and most important of the small Texan’s changes to the method of laying the track was that the teams carrying the pieces of rail returned to the flat car to collect their next rail by walking parallel and a few feet clear of either the left or right side of the line, depending upon which they were working, instead of returning close along it and getting in the way of those who were coming with the next portion to be laid. On putting this into practice, with control of the teams delegated to the men who he had estimated were best capable of exerting it, they had found the whole process went more smoothly. He had also instigated having all the equipment checked before leaving the base camp in the morning and, by doing so, ended the delays he was told by Frenchy Rastignac had often occurred because it was discovered on arrival at the work area that items required for use had been forgotten.
However, the most important change wrought by Dusty arose from the way he handled the construction crew. Possessed of an inborn flair for leadership, which had been improved by his years in command of Company ‘C’ of the Texas Light Cavalry during the War Between The States and as segundo of the OD Connected ranch—one of the largest in Texas—he had the ability to inspire confidence and produce a willingness to carry out his wishes which were never achieved by Reiser. Therefore, by leading rather than driving—as some men would have tried to do—he caused more track to be laid each day than had previously been the case.
‘It will have to be even better,’ Raymond Sangster asserted, waving the buff colored telegraph message form he was carrying. ‘Mr. Todhunter is bringing those Englishmen from the Railroad Commission in three days, so they can see how well we are doing. You’ll have to make the men work even faster, Dusty. How much track can you have them laying from tomorrow?’
‘They won’t be laying any track tomorrow,’ the small Texan replied, thinking of something he had been considering since he took over as gang boss. ‘Nor the next day at least, comes to that.’
‘Y—You can’t be serious,’ the New Englander gasped, staring in consternation and Brill showed an equal surprise.
‘I’ve never been more serious in my life,’ Dusty declared and there was a timbre of refusing to brook any objections in his voice as he continued, ‘There’ll be no more track laid for two days!’
Fourteen – Slow-Elking’s the Same As Stealing Cattle
‘Well, Sir John, gents,’ Harland Todhunter said, watching the work being carried out on the spur-line in the company of three other members of the Railroad Commission. ‘What do you think about the way things are going?’
‘It’s most impressive!’ Sir John Uglow Ramage replied.
‘They are working much faster than I’ve seen it being done on the railroad in Canada,’ Jean Pierre Radisson commented.
‘Are those chaps of yours always moving at this speed, Dusty?’ Lord James Roxton inquired, as the small Texan came up the slope upon which the party was standing. [30]
‘I’d have to say “no” to that,’ Dusty Fog admitted. ‘Fact being, the boys’ve been known to slow down a mite on occasion.’
Overhearing the comments while approaching, Dusty was pleased by the proof that his insistence upon doing no construction for the two preceding days was justified!
Waiting until Raymond Sangster had spluttered into indignant silence, the small Texan had explained his decision. Although he had been satisfied with the way in which the construction crews were working, he had noticed there were often delays where one very important task was concerned. They were only brief individually, but added up to time lost in the aggregate. Because of the—deliberately it was proved later—insufficient precautions taken by the Russians who Richard Reiser had assigned to the duty, many of the fish bolts had been left uncovered out of doors and regardless of the weather, and had become so rusty they could only be forced through the holes in the equally neglected fish-plates and rails with difficulty. Securing them with the nuts was no easier.
Instead of taking the construction hands to where they had ceased laying track the previous day, Dusty had put them to work cleaning and greasing the nuts, bolts and holes in the rails and fish-plates. Because of his knowledge of how to handle men he had explained why he wanted the tedious and dirty work carrying out, although this would not have occurred to either Sangster or his predecessor as gang boss. Learning what he had in mind and finding it amusing, as well as seeing the point, the gandy dancers had set about the task with a willingness and cheerfulness which would have been absent if they had been ordered to do it without the explanation. What was
more, he had prevailed upon the New Englander to ensure there were sufficient barrels of beer obtained—including a couple supplied free by Patrick Finnegan—to quench the men’s thirsts over the two days required to complete the work without leading to skimping of the cleaning due to intoxication.
How effective the precaution had been was proved when Todhunter arrived with the two Englishmen and the French-Canadian to carry out the inspection. They had reached the construction area about two hours after work was commenced. Taking in the sight, even the American member of the Railroad Commission—with his much greater knowledge of how the laying of rails was performed—was impressed by what was to be seen. Such was the determination displayed by the gandy dancers to put on a good show for the visitors, they threw themselves into the task with vim and vigor in excess of anything previously exhibited. In fact, Dusty had had to curb some of their enthusiasm when it threatened to disrupt the smooth and rapid flow of the various inter-connected activities from their correct sequence. Despite this, they had laid close to a mile of track at a rate of progress which Todhunter considered must have been a record time. Before asking the others if they were satisfied with what they could see he had signaled for the small Texan to join them.
‘Have you run into any difficulties?’ Ramage inquired. ‘None worth mentioning,’ Dusty claimed, considering the incident with the Russians to be a personal matter which had not delayed construction.
‘How about when you get to the Platte River?’ Radisson wanted to know. ‘Will crossing it create problems?’
‘Not according to the report I’ve been told one of the surveyors turned in,’ the small Texan replied.
‘Which one?’ Todhunter asked.
‘Mr. Reiser, afore he had to quit because of some trouble in his family.’ Dusty supplied, successfully concealing his disenchantment with the man in question. ‘He allowed’s how he’d found a bridge the Army’s Corps of Engineers’ve put across and it’ll stand up to letting work trains go over until something even stronger’s built. I haven’t seen it yet, mind, so I can’t say more than that until I have, and heard what Bert Brill reckons.’
‘Young Reiser’s a good surveyor, gents,’ Todhunter claimed. ‘If he’s satisfied, everything’ll be all right.’ He glanced apologetically at the small Texan and went on, ‘Not that I blame you for wanting a second opinion, Captain Fog.’
‘Gracias,’ Dusty drawled noncommittally. ‘Are you satisfied with the way things are going, Mr. Todhunter?’
‘You bet your life I am,’ the railroad magnate confirmed and the suggestion that he was impressed by what he had seen was genuine. ‘I’m real grateful to you for coming and helping Raymond Sangster out.’
‘I owe him a favor,’ Dusty said quietly.
‘Will you be coming all the way to Canada, Captain Fog?’ Radisson wanted to know.
‘Nope,’ Dusty denied. ‘I’m just giving Ray a hand until he can get another gang boss.’
‘Will finding one cause any difficulties, Harland?’ Ramage queried.
‘None that can’t be got over,’ Todhunter asserted with confidence. ‘There’re a few around who’ve worked for me before and, knowing how things stand with Captain Fog, I’ve already sent for one of them to come and take over from him. Anyways, if you’ve seen enough, we might’s well be headed back to the base camp.’
‘I’d like to see the work at close hand,’ Ramage hinted and the other two non-American visitors added their support.
‘Come on down then,’ Todhunter assented, being just as interested in discovering how the high rate of progress was achieved. After the examination at close range was concluded, without the secret having been detected by the other delegates as far as he could determine and when they had stated their willingness to return to the base camp, he said, ‘If you reckon the work crews can manage without you, I’d like you to come along with us, Captain Fog. There’s some champagne and a better meal than you’ve likely had for a spell waiting for you to share with us.’
‘I reckon they can manage just fine,’ the small Texan claimed with confidence. ‘I’ve got some good men handling things and they’ll keep the track moving just as well whether I’m here or not.’
‘Then we’ll leave them to it and head back,’ Todhunter stated. Raising his voice, he addressed the men who were continuing with their various tasks. ‘There’ll be free drinks for all of you in Finnegan’s tonight, boys. By god, you’ve earned them.’
‘This here’s a no-account way of spending time,’ Waco complained in something close to petulance, throwing away the handful of straw with which he had been massaging the back of his big paint stallion and looking around the base camp with disfavor. ‘I’ve done so much grooming, I’ll be wearing my ole Dusty hoss down to a nubbin.’
‘I seem to mind you reckoning you was having to work too hard when we was running the law back to Mulrooney,’ Mark Counter commented dryly, despite sharing the sentiment, from where he was performing a similar task with his bloodbay stallion. ‘Now you don’t like having nothing to do all day.’
‘Walk too hard, not work,’ the blond youngster corrected. ‘That’s the whole damned trouble with hereabouts. There isn’t nothing for us to do.’
Apart from Dusty Fog, none of the OD Connected’s floating outfit was involved' in any way with the construction of the spur-line. Nor, aware it was still necessary for him to be seen as having no need for their backing in anything he did, could the other three take a more active interest. They had been out to the area where the tracks were being laid on a couple of occasions. However, except for the blond giant having entertained the rest of the gandy dancers during a rest period by just he and Shamus O’Sullivan carrying three rails in succession from the flat car to the unoccupied sleepers, they had been there solely in the capacity of visitors.
Being vigorous by nature, Waco was finding time hanging heavily on his hands and had become bored with the inactivity even more quickly than the other two. Nor had the period since he had joined the floating outfit been any inducement for him to accept the present situation. He had never felt such tedium while working as a deputy town marshal. Each day had brought something new to demand his attention. Even what leisure he had had was spent in an interesting fashion, learning a variety of things he would put to good use later in life.
‘Why don’t we go hunting for a spell?’ the Ysabel Kid inquired, being in accord with his two amigos over the boring state of affairs. ‘I’m getting tired of eating nothing but beef.’
‘Hey, that’s right,’ Waco ejaculated, the instincts acquired while a peace officer stirring. They presented a suggestion he felt worth acting upon, but more from a sense of justice than out of boredom. ‘Those four jasper’s’re hired for hunting haven’t brought in no elk, deer, pronghorn, nor even bear since we got here, only beef.’
‘Which folks raise beef hereabouts,’ Mark pointed out, although he guessed what the youngster was thinking.
‘They can’t have very good roundups, happen they let so many go uncaught for branding,’ Waco countered, thinking of the number of cattle which must have been delivered to the cook even since their arrival at the base camp. ‘What say we sort of drift over and take a look at those meat-hunting yahoos’ camp?’
‘It’ll be something to do,’ Mark admitted, his tone giving no indication of how seriously he regarded the possibilities which prompted the suggestion.
‘Hell, yes,’ the Kid drawled, so laconically he too might have been doing no more than seeking something to break the monotony. ‘It should do that.’
‘Could drop by the cookshack on the way there,’ Waco hinted.
‘You know,’ Emanuel ‘Manny’ Bone said, when the three Texans arrived at the kitchen and Waco asked about the supplying of meat. ‘I never give it a thought, but they’ve never brought in anything ’cepting beef.’
‘How’d they bring it?’ the youngster inquired. ‘I mean, who does the butchering?’
‘That’s something else I hadn
’t thought on ’til now,’ the big and jovial featured cook admitted, losing his usual cheerful expression. ‘Every other bunch I’ve had bringing meat left me to get it skinned and butchered. This bunch’ve always hauled it in already dressed.’
‘Let’s go take a look at their camp,’ Mark said grimly.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Bone announced.
‘There’s some might say’s how we wouldn’t have no legal juris—whatever the god-damned word is—up here, even was we still wearing badges in Mulrooney,’ the Kid remarked as the party set off to conduct the investigation.
‘We can allus make a citizen’s arrest,’ Waco pointed out mildly. ‘Should it be needed.’
The meat hunters had set up their camp a short distance away from the rest of the structures. It was not a salubrious sight. There were a couple of grubby looking tents and, its team and their saddle horses being tethered nearby, the covered wagon they used for their work served as something of a windbreak. None of them were in view, so the Texans and the cook went towards half a dozen barrels and a pile of hides alongside the smaller tent.
‘They take the tallow ’n’ skins for themselves,’ Bone remarked. ‘And, seeing’s how the railroad don’t have no need for either, there’s been no arguments.’
‘You bunch want something?’ inquired a harsh and hostile voice, before anything more could be said.
Followed by the other three and Raymond Sangster—who looked as if he found their company as repugnant as he did that of anybody else he considered beneath his social station— Michael Buerk, the lanky leader of the meat hunters emerged from the larger tent before the Texans and Bone could reach the other.
‘How come you fellers’re bringing in beef all the time instead of wild critters?’ Waco asked, without giving a direct answer.