Collis stepped inside. There was a small hall-way, hung with coats and hats, and a broken barometer. Then, through another door, a squarish living-room, with a wood fire burning to keep off the evening chill, and solid sawed-oak furniture of the kind that rented accommodations always used to sport in those days. There was yellowish wallpaper with sprays of roses, and a series of religious prints in dusty maple frames. In the far corner of the room there was a rolltop desk, where a bright oil lamp was burning, and this was strewn with maps and open books and bottles of ink. There were ten or twenty dog-eared copies of the American Railroad Journal scattered on the floor.
A door opened, and a young woman stepped into the room from the kitchen. She was flushed from cooking, and she had obviously just taken off her apron. She was not more than an inch taller than five feet, and she had a pretty, soft, oval face, and reddish-brown hair that was tied back in a knot. She looked as if she was practical, and straightforward, and not inclined to suffer any nonsense, because her face was freckled from the sun, and her hands were quite brown. Only women who worked to help their menfolk got suntanned. Collis, who was used to women shaded and sheltered by conservatories and parasols, found the sight of this speckly little girl quite intriguing, and when he bowed and took her hand, and kissed the back of her knuckles, he couldn’t help lowering his eyes and glancing at the white circle that had been left on her third finger where she had taken off a ring while cooking.
‘Annie, this is Collis Edmonds,’ said Theodore, sticking his thumbs in his grey tweed vest and leaning back against the mantelpiece. ‘Collis, this is my dear wife, Annie.’
‘I’m honoured to know you,’ said Collis.
Annie sat down on one of the grim armchairs and spread out her skirts. She was wearing a dark-brown cotton dress with an overlay of white lace. It was simple, but it was special; and Collis, as he sat down opposite, made the ready observation that this was the sort of woman Annie was. Simple, but special. She wore no cosmetics, no perfume, and her nails were plain and unpainted. The only jewellery he could see was a small gold locket on a gold chain, which he guessed would contain pictures of Theodore and of their daughter Kate.
‘I’ve been hearing all about you from my friends at the grocery store,’ said Annie, with a smile that was polite, but strangely lacking in warmth. ‘They say that you played Leland McCormick at his own game, and won, and still managed to stay friends.’
Collis crossed his legs. ‘Oh, I didn’t do anything. You know what gossip is. Leland and I have been the firmest of friends ever since I arrived in Sacramento.’
‘I find that hard to credit.’
‘Annie!’ put in Theodore. ‘You mustn’t say such things!’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Annie, without sounding the least bit apologetic. ‘It’s a terrible habit of mine, to speak without considering the feelings of others.’
‘It doesn’t hurt my feelings if you suspect my friendship with Leland,’ Collis said. ‘As a matter of fact, I think he’s a damned old fool. But Sacramento is a small community, and I’m a storekeeper here, and I have to behave myself according to the social rules.’
‘You’re either trying to play games with me, or else you’re very cynical,’ said Annie.
‘You’re making me sound that way,’ said Collis. ‘But I assure you that neither of those descriptions is accurate, or fair. I’m making my fortune, and to that extent I’m interested in my own welfare before the welfare of others. But I’m not cynical, and I’m certainly not playing games.’
Theodore took an old briar pipe down from the mantelpiece and blew down it to make sure it was clear. ‘What I think is so marvellous is that you’ve been inspired about a transcontinental railroad for so long.’
‘I suppose that’s true?’ asked Annie sharply. ‘I mean, you really are interested, aren’t you?’
Collis stared for a long time into her flecked hazel eyes. She didn’t flinch, didn’t blush, didn’t turn away. ‘You’re very good at protecting your husband, aren’t you?’ he said carefully.
‘Western women have to be. There isn’t always the time or the opportunity for the niceties of feminine life.’
‘You seem to have remained very feminine, in spite of that.’
Annie shrugged. ‘Your reputation for flattery has preceded you, I’m sorry to say. My neighbour Martha Malone said that was the way you got yourself into Jane McCormick’s good offices, by two hours of fluttering eyelashes and gushing compliments. I’m afraid flattery doesn’t really work with me. I like to be praised, but I know what I am and what I’m not.’
Theodore, filling his pipe with shag, couldn’t hold back a loud grunt of amusement. ‘You’ll find that Annie is her own woman, Collis.’
Collis sat back, regarding Annie with friendly interest. ‘I believe I’ve found that already,’ he said. ‘It’s remarkably refreshing.’
‘Would you care for a whisky, or a glass of steam?’ asked Annie.
‘I think the whisky, please,’ said Collis. ‘My effete Eastern tastebuds haven’t quite got themselves used to steam yet. But I’m persevering.’
‘I loathed steam to begin with,’ remarked Theodore. ‘But here’s an interesting thought: the San Francisco breweries are obliged to make beer by the krausening method – that is, by natural fermentation instead of added carbon dioxide – because they can’t get sufficient ice on the West Coast for normal brewing. But if we were to build a railroad across the continent, the ice could be brought in boxcars, and we could set ourselves up in the lager business as a sideline. Now, how’s that for foresight?’
Collis smiled at Annie as she handed him a glass of straight whisky. ‘I think we’d better build the railroad first,’ he said, in an even, steadfast tone. It was clear that Annie wasn’t going to be impressed by anything except level-headedness and sincerity.
‘That’s what I keep telling Ted,’ she said. ‘Track first, fantasies later.’
Theodore, puffing good-humouredly at his pipe, his hands in his pockets, did nothing but smile. His railroad was too dear to him for gentle gibes like that to put him off.
Over dinner, sitting around a red gingham cloth laid with white dishes of potroast and prunes, hominy pudding, stuffed cabbage, and corn, the Joneses told Collis about their early married life together, about days in upstate New York and peaceful vacations in the Catskills, and about Theodore’s work on the Niagara Gorge and the Erie railroads. Collis, in his turn, gave the young couple a rather romanticised version of his life in New York, and how the financial crash had ruined his father.
He thought about his mother, and his sister Maude, and wondered with an unexpected sense of guilt how they were.
Later still, by the fire, while Annie sat under the lamp and sewed, Collis and Theodore talked about railroads. Collis glanced over at Annie every now and then, and sometimes she returned his glances with a smile, but it was the look of a contented wife, a woman well cared for, and he knew that he could only treat her as a freind. Maybe it was time he made more friends, though, and fewer enemies.
Theodore said, ‘There are some excellent surveys being undertaken in the East, for a railroad to the foot of the Rockies. The real man there to watch for is Thomas Durant, who’s an executive for the Rock Island line. He’s always been strong on the notion of a transcontinental road, very strong, and he’s assigned one of his young engineers to survey the route from Council Bluffs westward, at least as far as Laramie.’
‘Do you know the engineer?’ asked Collis, holding his glass of whisky up to the firelight.
‘Not personally, but by reputation. His name’s Grenville Dodge, and he was trained under the Rock Island’s chief engineer, Peter Dey. Thomas Durant sent Dodge out to survey the Platte River Valley – that was almost four years ago, and from what I hear he’s been charting some pretty interesting maps.’
He relit his pipe and tossed the spent match into the fire.
‘The problem is, of course, which railroad route will Congress eventuall
y authorise? The Hannibal & St Joseph people have been pressing hard for a transcontinental line westward out of St Joe; and of course most of the Southern companies would like to see it come out of Memphis, or even New Orleans. The obvious choice to my mind is to take the track out of Council Bluffs, Nebraska, as an extension to the Rock Island line, because the route westwards from there is straight and flat, and I guess there must be two or three suitable railroad passes through the Rockies to Salt Lake City from Laramie. But it’s going to take hard work in the political lobbies, as you said the other day. Hard work, and a great many powerful friends.’
‘I have one friend in Washington,’ said Collis. ‘She’s the daughter of William Stride.’
‘Just how well do you know Stride?’
‘I’m acquainted with him. I wouldn’t count him as a friend. But then, I don’t think we need to. As long as we can get some introductions to Congressmen out of his daughter, then I think we’ll have made a good start.’
‘That sounds rather like hypocrisy to me,’ Annie said. ‘I wouldn’t like anybody to use my friendship that way.’
Collis turned to her and nodded his head in recognition of what she was saying. ‘In normal circumstances, Mrs Jones, I would agree with you. But this could be a small matter of personal revenge for me; and when I tell you one day what the good Senator Stride did to my family, then I’m sure that you’ll understand.’
‘Revenge is rather a low motivation for the building of a great transcontinental railroad, wouldn’t you say?’ asked Annie.
Collis remained expressionless. ‘Many great achievements had their beginnings in base desires,’ he remarked. ‘Although I don’t think this particular act of revenge is at all unworthy.’
‘Well,’ said Theodore, embarrassed, ‘let’s just say that we need to get to Washington as soon as we can, and start lobbying.’ He started unrolling a large hand-drawn map of the Sacramento Valley. ‘To begin with, we have to convince our investors, whoever they may be, that at every and any stage of its survey and construction, the railroad will return them profits. If they finance us to survey the Sacramento Valley and no further, then we will show them that we could use that short length of track to bring cordwood out of the forests into the city, and set up a thriving timber business. If they will finance us through to Nevada, then we will demonstrate that the line could economically be used to service the mines there. If they will pay us for survey alone, and not for construction, we will show them that our route can be used as a wagon road, if not a railroad.’
He sat back in his chair. ‘The public has had railroad fever for years,’ he said, ‘but neither Congress nor private investors have the stomach to set the building of a transcontinental railroad in motion. Congress is hesitant because it is corrupt, and because it is being pulled one way by the North, and another way by the South, and a third by the Army Corps of Engineers, which is the most scandalous outfit of profiteers and double-dealers you ever came across. As for private investors, they won’t put in a single dollar unless they believe they can have five dollars back by Friday, and they would rather put their money into land, or gold mines, or beef. Almost anything, rather than a railroad.’
‘Well,’ said Collis, ‘we must do what we can to inspire their generosity, as well as their support. It can be done, I think, if we can first show them that we can cross the Sierras.’
Theodore noisily rolled up the map. ‘I’ll find a way,’ he told Collis, his eyes bright in the firelight. ‘Now, would you like some more coffee?’
Over the next few days, Leland grudgingly began to accept that Collis was going to be an industrious and useful partner, and that his ambitions were not going to disturb the stability of Tucker & McCormick, nor shake the footing of its founder directors. He grumbled less to Jane about the way in which she had insisted on his transferring fifteen per cent of the store’s assets into Collis’s name, under the threat of not being spoken to for a month, and having to take his meals in the small study. And although he paced around the store as he always had, with a face as displeased as a horse with boils, he noticed with satisfaction that Collis was everywhere at once, checking through the selling and buying arrangements with Wang-Pu, ensuring that deliveries came on time from San Francisco, and training into the art of inventory a young pale-faced boy called Frederick Pugh, who wore a blue apron five sizes too large for him and always called Collis ‘chief’.
Charles was guardedly pleased to have Collis as a partner. He was pleased because it took hours of work off his own shoulders, and because Collis’s charming manners and nobby looks began to attract a noticeable number of new customers, particularly a certain type of blushing young lady who, once inside the store, seemed to forget altogether what it was she had come in there for. But he was guarded because his wife, Mary, disapproved of Collis, and the way in which Collis had hypnotised her friend Jane McCormick. ‘Whenever that young devil is about, poor Jane’s knees turn to water,’ she snapped.
By the last week of November, Collis had straightened out the store so well that he decided to return to San Francisco for a week or two and see to his store of blankets. There were other things on his mind, too, like talking to Andrew Hunt about the possibility of setting up a railroad company, and maybe persuading Lloyd Wintle to change his mind about an investment. He decided it probably wouldn’t be diplomatic to ask anything of Arthur Teach, but then Teach could eventually be compelled to invest in the railroad by the terms of his wager, which to Collis was a completely satisfactory twist altogether.
There was also Hannah. She must have reached San Francisco by now, and met up with her husband again, and he knew that he was going to have to see her again, and face up to what he felt about her. He had sat on the edge of his bed one evening and squeezed his eyes tight shut, trying to remember what she looked like. But all he could picture now was her blonde curls, and her delicate profile, and no matter how hard he tried to imagine her face, all he could see was a vague, haunting vision of the moment when he had first set eyes on her, on the windy deck of the steamship Virginia.
On a cool Thursday morning, he boarded the paddle steamer Yuba, of the California Steam Navigation Company, a fresh-painted vessel with shiny brass rails and holystoned decks, upon which a married lady might travel without upset or discomfort. He heard later that the Wallace S. Martin had gone aground on a mud bar and had been accidentally set ablaze, so that its complement of whores and gamblers had been obliged to wade to the Solano County shore with their dresses and their pants tucked up, carrying as many bottles of whisky as they could manage, while the ship crackled and exploded behind them.
He had booked himself a cabin, and he spent most of the journey on his bunk, reading the Sacramento Union, and staring at the white wooden ceiling above him and thinking about Hannah. He lunched in the ship’s dining-room on smoked fish and sweet white California wine, and then he went out on deck for a walk and a smoke. He spoke to nobody, and was reading in his cabin when the Yuba docked at the Jackson Street Wharf in San Francisco, and he heard the now-familiar clamour of longshoremen, hotel agents, and Embarcadero riffraff.
As he walked down the landing ramp into the late-afternoon wind, he saw, of all people, Arthur Teach. The financier was standing by a smart black barouche, talking to two portly middle-aged men whom Collis recognised as partners in a freight corporation on Washington Street. Collis hoped for a moment that the press of people around the steamer’s landing would block him from Teach’s view; but then he decided that what he had done was free enterprise, not piracy, and that Teach would just have to accept him for what he was, as Leland McCormick had been obliged to do, too.
He crossed the wharf and raised his hat.
‘Arthur. Gentlemen. My compliments.’
Arthur Teach stared at Collis in surprise. He was wearing a green suit which was too tight under the arms, and made him look bilious. He looked at his two friends from the freight business, as if to judge from the expressions on their faces if Collis was
really there at all, and then he stared back again.
‘You’ve got yourself a damned barefaced nerve,’ he said, in a throaty voice.
‘I thought all was fair in love and market-cornering,’ Collis smiled. ‘And I did, after all, have a hell of a row to get out there.’
One of the portly freight men suddenly raised a hand. ‘My word,’ he said, ‘you’re Collis Edmonds, aren’t you? The fellow who stole a march on poor Arthur here, over those blankets. Well now, let me shake your hand.’
They shook hands, and then the man led his partner forward, and they shook hands, too.
‘If you can steal a march on Arthur, you’re a good fellow,’ said the freight man. ‘Because Arthur’s the best of his kind, aren’t you, Arthur?’
‘I suppose a few people might say that,’ Arthur admitted, without very good grace.
‘Then I think you two ought to show that you’re still colleagues and friends,’ said the freight man. ‘Let’s take ourselves along to the Bank Exchange Saloon, and have a drink on it, and maybe something to eat, too. Did you just alight from that steamer, Mr Edmonds?’
‘Yes, sir, I did.’
‘Then I’ll have your trunk collected, and taken to wherever you’re staying.’
‘The International Hotel, sir.’
‘Excellent. Are you coming, then, Arthur?’
Arthur Teach pulled a face; but then, despite himself, he smiled. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘This town is too small for a man to bear grudges. But I warn you of one thing, Collis Edmonds. If I ever get the chance to pull the same kind of stunt on you, then by cracky I’ll do it, and have a good laugh out of it besides.’
‘That’s a fair warning,’ said Collis. ‘Now, tell me how the weather’s been here. Is it cold enough to start selling off those blankets yet?’
Arthur Teach laughed. ‘What do you think of him, Garrett?’ he asked the freight man. ‘Doesn’t he have the damnedest nerve?’
‘A fellow needs nerve just to survive in the West,’ remarked Garrett, as they climbed aboard Arthur Teach’s carriage. ‘To make money, he needs damned nerve. What the damnedest will bring him – well, only time can tell us that.’
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