By the end of February, their new town was shaping up. Most of the buildings had been safely relocated, and only forty more needed to be moved. There had been no additional accidents after the disaster with the school, but without a steamroller, street construction had ground to a halt. It was something he would have to worry about once the town was entirely moved, for he could only fight one battle at a time.
On March 1, Alex and Eloise spent the entire day in Kingston, making arrangements to draw down bond money to keep paying for the relocation. It was past dark by the time their work was completed and they arrived back in Duval Springs.
“The town looks so sad and bewildered,” he said to Eloise as they rode down the main street toward the stables. As more buildings moved to Highpoint, the remnants of Duval Springs looked ever more dilapidated, littered with construction waste, vacant lots, and untended lawns.
“A town is an inanimate object which can be neither sad nor bewildered,” Eloise said primly.
He pointed to the buckled sidewalk that had taken a beating from months of heavy construction carts. “Sorry, Eloise, but that sidewalk is sad. So is the mud pit where the bandstand used to be. Even the oxen avoid it.”
Eloise nodded in concession. “I suppose you’re right, but I’d rather dream about what Highpoint will look like someday.”
He would too. Soon they’d be able to plant grass in the new village green. They’d add trees and fill the flower boxes and do their best to recreate a vibrant, healthy town square. Once the new town started greening up, it would look more like home.
Dinner was long over by the time they arrived at the hotel, and most people had already turned in for the night. With all the physical labor, few people indulged in late-night carousing anymore. Alex kissed Eloise on the forehead and prepared to wait in the lobby for a while after she disappeared upstairs. Only Kasper and a handful of men were still here, but Alex didn’t want rumors to take root by heading up with her.
Kasper was closing up the Western Union stand for the evening. Each night he set up a Morse inker to capture brief messages that might come in overnight until he was back on duty in the morning. Alex glanced at the men in the dining room, who were engrossed in a hand of cards but still within earshot. He needed to speak to Kasper confidentially.
“Follow me into the office as soon as you wrap up here,” Alex said.
Kasper looked curious but finished setting up the overnight Morse inker and appeared in Willard’s empty office a few minutes later. Alex closed the door. He didn’t like reading someone the riot act, but it was time. He cleared his throat and spoke calmly but directly.
“I know you take your duties manning the telegraph seriously, but I need you to contribute more hours to the move each day.”
Kasper drew himself up to his full height. “But I am contributing,” he sputtered. “I send and receive plenty of move-related telegrams every day.”
“At the beginning of the move, everyone agreed to contribute twelve hours of manual labor per week. Ever since your house was moved, you barely show up at all.” With so many homes now safely relocated, Alex feared that people whose homes had been moved might slack off. So far Kasper was the only one who had tried.
“Who will man the telegraph station if I’m not here?”
“Use the Morse inker. That’s what we bought it for.”
Kasper launched into a series of excuses for why he couldn’t work, but Alex refused to be drawn into the argument. He simply laid out the consequences. “Our new town is going to have water and electricity supplied by the state. People who didn’t contribute their fair share to the move will be excluded from the services.”
“You can’t do that,” Kasper snapped. “Those lines are coming from the state, not you.”
“The state is running lines from the reservoir and the power plant to our town, but service to individual homes is on us. And I won’t order our volunteers to lay utility lines to your house unless you continue contributing your fair share.”
Kasper was incensed. Whenever he got this angry, traces of his Finnish accent came to the fore. “I can afford to pay for my own service. I don’t need town charity.”
“It’s your decision, but I’m letting everyone know that getting added to the public utilities depends on contributing to the move all the way to the end.”
Kasper shot him a hostile glare and left without another word.
Lethargy weighed on Alex as he trudged upstairs. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
The clang of the town bell penetrated the fog of his sleep, but Alex punched his pillow, rolled over, and tried to ignore it. He dragged the pillow over his head—and then his brain kicked in.
The town bell! He bolted upright. If someone rang that bell in the middle of the night, it meant trouble. He stumbled to the door of his room and yanked it open. Other lodgers had straggled out into the hotel hallway as well. No one knew what was going on, so he raced downstairs in nothing but his skivvies, jerked open the front door, and ran across the frozen ground toward the bell. By the time he got there, he didn’t need to ask what the problem was, because he could see it.
A fire. Up near the new town. An orange glow illuminated the night sky, and smoke tinged the air. He raced back to the hotel and up the stairs.
“Fire!” he shouted. “Get everyone up,” he ordered one of the bewildered men, who obeyed without question and began banging on every closed door.
Alex ran to his room and pulled on his clothes, but fear gripped his heart. They had no way to fight a fire up at Highpoint, only a single well, and it looked like an inferno up there. This was going to be bad. Others stumbled out of their rooms, rubbing sleep from their eyes, but there was no time to waste.
Two minutes later he was on the street, glad to see others gathering with whatever equipment they could grab. This fire would be fought with axes, shovels, and dirt, and they needed every able-bodied person in the fight. Within a few minutes, he had a buckboard hitched and ready to go. He prodded the horse to move faster as they joined the line of other wagons heading up the road. Before he reached the end of Main Street, Hercules ran alongside the wagon and vaulted aboard.
“What’s happening?” Hercules panted.
“I don’t know, but this doesn’t look good.”
The reek of smoke worsened as they got closer to Highpoint. Specks of floating cinders sparked smaller fires in the brush along the road. For once Alex was grateful for the snow that blanketed the dead underbrush, but men still hopped off the wagons to beat at the glowing cinders. Alex didn’t slow his wagon. He needed to get up to Highpoint and see what was going on.
The strangest sight met his eyes as he rounded the bend. The people at the new town were already awake and beating at a line of fire, their silhouettes outlined against a low rim of flames. None of the buildings were on fire. The flames seemed confined to the brush along the roadside.
Alex leapt from the buckboard. “What’s happening?”
Dr. Lloyd straightened. Trails of sweat cut through the soot on his face. “The fire is in a straight line,” he said, still panting. “It’s burning between here and the Timberland camp. As soon as we get this end put out, we need to head up there. They’ve got it a lot worse than we do.”
The scene made no sense. The fire was no more than a yard wide, but it trailed all the way to the forest line, then up the mountainside, where acres of trees were fully engulfed. And right in the middle of those trees was the Timberland camp.
“I’m heading up there now,” he told Hercules. People could be trapped inside buildings, and that mattered more than whatever structural damage they might suffer down here.
He ran up the hillside, and Dr. Lloyd’s assessment was confirmed. The fire blazed along an inexplicably straight line, continuing to burn despite the absence of vegetation. There had to be some kind of fuel on the ground to feed this fire and connect Highpoint to the work camp.
Hot air choked his lungs as he drew ne
ar. A cluster of children huddled on the outskirts of the Timberland camp, but inside the camp were dozens of men beating at the flames and clearing brush away. A man worked the handle of their single water pump to fill buckets. The rudimentary canteen and supply shed were completely engulfed, but the other buildings were safe for now.
“Can I help?” Alex bellowed to the nearest man.
“Grab a shovel and start throwing dirt,” the man panted.
He obeyed. After an hour his back hurt, the blisters on his hands bled, and his throat was coated with soot, but the fire was partially contained. No one had been hurt.
The night watchman supplied by the state said the flames had come roaring toward the camp in a straight line. Whoever set this fire must have known that guards patrolled the Timberland camp, but that Highpoint wasn’t guarded. The culprit must have soaked the ground with an accelerant ahead of time, then lit it from the relative safety at Highpoint.
Hercules and a handful of other men from the new town arrived after an hour, carrying buckets and shovels.
“How are things at Highpoint?” Alex asked Hercules.
“The flames are out, but we’ve got men combing through the forest, looking for smoldering ash.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Just a dog that got hit by a falling branch.”
The biggest problem at Timberland were the burning trees. There was nothing to do but wait for them to burn themselves out. Men stood in a wide circle around the camp, everyone on the lookout for falling branches that could scatter more flames.
Alex was tired and demoralized as he shuffled back into Highpoint, too exhausted to continue down the road to Duval Springs. Once the sun was fully up, he’d need to inspect every inch of their railroad to be certain it was unharmed.
The stink of smoke hung in the air. Men patrolled the area in a line, inspecting the underbrush to stamp out cinders. Others stood in a cluster near the entrance to the town square, heads together and faces grim.
Eloise looked up from this group, and he couldn’t suppress a smile. No matter how bad the day began, she was still here and fighting alongside him.
But she looked awful. She broke away from the group, her face white with fear.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” she said in a shaking voice. “Marie Trudeau is missing.”
Eloise hated to bring him the terrible news, but he needed to know.
“What do you mean, missing?” Alex lashed out in his commander’s voice.
“She’s not here, and we’ve looked everywhere,” Eloise said. “Her sons said they had dinner at her house last night, but that was the last time anyone saw her. It doesn’t look like her bed was slept in.”
And her sons were frantic. Ever since discovering their mother was missing, Joseph and Jasper had been tramping through the forest, hollering her name.
Reverend Carmichael jogged over to join them. “No one saw her during the fire. The boys left her house at eight o’clock last night, and the fire woke us up around two. She’s been gone for at least five hours.”
Eloise hurried after Alex as he headed toward Marie’s house. Several people had already scoured the compact house for clues. There was no sign of foul play, but Alex might spot something they’d missed. She was about to follow him inside when a shout split the air.
“Here she comes!” Dr. Lloyd hollered, pointing toward the main road. Eloise gasped as she recognized Bruce Garrett riding on his chestnut mare, with Marie perched on the horse behind him. Both looked stunned to see the charred remnants left by the fire. Bruce sprang off his horse, then lifted Marie down.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded.
Eloise recognized that tone. Whenever Bruce felt backed into a corner, he lashed out. She stepped in front of Alex and explained as calmly as possible.
“There was a fire. No one could find Marie, and we panicked. Her sons are out searching for her.”
“Well, call them back in,” Bruce said. “As you can see, she’s fine.”
“But where were you?” Reverend Carmichael asked in a bewildered tone. “We’ve been searching everywhere.”
“I’m home now,” Marie said. Her face was tense, and she didn’t meet anyone’s gaze. “I see grimy footsteps all over my porch, so I’d like to take care of it.” She scurried toward her house and disappeared like a mouse running for cover.
Eloise stood beside Bruce, still appalled by what appeared to be going on. It didn’t seem possible, but it looked like Marie Trudeau had spent the night with Bruce.
Eloise shot him a questioning glare. “Because you could?” she asked pointedly.
Bruce’s face tightened at the reminder of how he’d blackened Alex’s intentions with the same phrase. “Mind your own business, Eloise.”
Others had seen Marie’s arrival and came running, asking questions it was obvious Bruce had no intention of answering, and he was growing angrier. She knew all the signs—the glower, the clenched fists. She had to defuse this.
“Everyone, go back to your jobs cleaning up,” she said. “There’s no problem here. I understand we’re moving the Gunderson house today. It would be best if some of you scrubbed the foundation so we don’t set a house atop a layer of soot.”
Her efforts were futile. A cluster of women whispered behind their hands, and when Oscar Ott approached Marie’s house, pressing his face against a window to peek inside, Bruce’s temper snapped.
“Get away from that window, you pervert.” He dragged Oscar back by the collar of his coat. Oscar slipped in the mud and went down.
Eloise glared at Alex. “Would you please help?” she whispered fiercely.
“What do you want me to do?” He sounded almost amused. “Part of me wishes I had a pack of Bulgarian bodyguards that could pay him a visit, but that’s been done before. It’s probably best handled by Marie’s sons. Speaking of which . . .”
She followed his gaze and spotted Jasper and Joseph, both of whom must have been alerted to their mother’s return. They came careening across the field, not looking at anyone as they made a beeline to Marie’s house and burst through the front door.
“Mom?” Jasper hollered. “What’s going on?”
The door slammed shut behind them, but people continued gathering before Marie’s house. Ten seconds later, Marie’s door flung open, and Joseph barreled straight at Bruce.
“Why was my mother at your house?” he demanded.
“That’s none of your business, sapling.”
Joseph drew back a fist, ready to punch, but Alex stepped between them before it could land. Bruce knocked Alex out of the way and cuffed Joseph on the shoulder.
“You want to throw a punch at me, whelp? Go ahead and take your best shot.” Bruce pointed at his jaw. “Right there. Go on, do it! But after that, I’ll be returning fire, and you’d better be man enough to stand up and take it.”
By then Jasper and Marie were running down the steps, Jasper looking ready to join the fight. Dozens of people gathered in a ring around the family.
“Stop it, all of you!” Marie ordered, her voice strong for so tiny a woman. She cast a furious glare at Bruce, imploring him to lower the tension. He didn’t.
When one of the thickset bystanders picked up a rock, Bruce turned on him.
“Do you want a job Monday morning?” he snapped at the man.
The thickset man froze, fingers still clenched around the rock. The state had completed its hiring for the reservoir, and any man who lost his job at the quarry would be in trouble.
Bruce dialed up the heat. “If you want a job, you will set that rock down. Not drop it—you will set it down.”
Murmurs of discontent rumbled through the crowd, and the thickset man looked ready to snap, but after a moment he bent his knees and set the rock on the sooty ground. The smirk on Bruce’s face was one of pure satisfaction.
Marie looked ready to weep. “Why must good people be so horrid to one another?”
Eloise had heard enough. She needed
to take over and get the teams back on schedule.
“Hercules, go get some water to refill the trough. Dick, I need you to head back to town and be sure the oxen are fed and watered. We’ve got a house to move today.”
“But did you hear what Mr. Garrett just said?” one of the young men sputtered in outrage.
Eloise gave him a frosty glare. “Did you know we have forty buildings still to move and we’re behind schedule? Now get to work over at the Gunderson plot. No arguing.”
Marie had already raced back into her home, and Bruce aimed a final scorching glare at the townspeople before mounting his horse and leaving.
Schedules, timetables, and budgets were sacred if they were going to get this town moved on time. They had enough real problems without letting tempers and gossip take root. They were six months into an eight-month project. They had come so far, but exhaustion was beginning to take its toll. As their deadline drew near, tempers were growing thin, room for failure had evaporated, and this morning’s events would only make things worse.
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Eloise still simmered with anger as she rode in a wagon with ten other people back to Duval Springs. Despite her efforts to use the time to discuss practical matters, all people wanted to talk about was this morning’s scandal.
“Did anyone notice if Marie was wearing the same clothes as she had on last night?” Oscar asked.
Mr. Gallagher opened his mouth to reply, but Eloise cut him off.
“Are you suddenly fascinated with women’s fashion, Oscar? Because if you are, I have an extensive wardrobe featuring the latest trends straight from New York, and you’re welcome to peruse them.”
“I just want to know if she took a change of clothes up with her,” Oscar said. “Because if she did, that’s pretty good evidence—”
“It’s evidence of nothing,” she said in her frostiest tone. Alex choked back a laugh, which angered her even more. Didn’t he understand how agonizing it was to have your most intimate secrets flaunted before the entire town? Was this how people talked about her and Alex behind their backs?
A Desperate Hope Page 21