Although not part of the current railroad depot, the museum stood not far away. Because of the train tracks extending from behind the building, Paige suspected it was the original town station and that the route had been diverted onto newer tracks.
After she studied the outside of the museum, Paige climbed the steps and pulled on the door’s heavy iron handle. The door was a mass of solid walnut with a rounded upper edge. It was as if the thick wood contained knowledge and secrets it didn’t share with the town residents. Her curiosity piqued, Paige couldn’t wait to get inside.
The museum’s interior reminded Paige of the inside of a train depot: plenty of room for seats and waiting areas. A sales counter had been fashioned around a small section that served as a gift shop. Other counters and racks displayed books and novelty items. A cash register sat in the sales area, looking like a modern outcast amidst the nostalgic contents of the old building. Historical or not, modern businesses needed to embrace technology to survive the economy. Paige had used a combination of technology via the internet plus old-fashioned research methods to gather enough information to give her an inkling of Hutchins Creek’s history.
Jesse Hutchins was not hard to spot. He bore a striking resemblance to Rose, though he was a good decade younger. He stood behind the counter in a light blue shirt and darker blue striped overalls. A red bandana and requisite matching striped hat topped off the traditional engineer outfit. One hand cradled a model train engine, the other, a tiny screwdriver. He appeared not to hear Paige enter despite a train whistle that sounded as she passed through the doorway. She admired his concentration and took advantage of it to look around before introducing herself.
Starting to her right, she followed a wall displaying old black and white photos of the early town. The first photograph confirmed her assumption that the museum building had once been the train station. Although the doorway to the station would have been on the opposite side of the building, there was no doubt it was the same structure. The roofline and windows were the same. The tracks Paige had seen from outside fit that theory, as well. The front and back of the building were simply reversed now, in keeping with the unused tracks and Main Street being the access point.
A second picture showed a proud group standing in front of the same building. An elderly man stood in the middle, hands in his overall pockets. A second man stood to his right with a hand on the first man’s shoulder. And a tiny boy posed to the left, one foot resting on a small barrel. A gold plaque below the photo identified the three men of various ages as Jasper Hutchins, Jerome Hutchins and Jesse Hutchins. Engraved along with the three names were the words “Three generations” and the date “1968.”
“Now, if Great-grandfather Jed had still been around, we could have had four generations in that photo.”
Paige spun around at the sound of the deep voice to find Jesse Hutchins only a few feet away. He still held the model engine and pointed at the picture with the screwdriver as he spoke.
“He would have been one hundred six years old when that picture was taken, though. That’s why he’s not in it. Born in 1862 and died in 1944. Never met him, obviously. Just heard stories, like everyone else.”
“He must have been a fascinating man,” Paige said. “Establishing a town like this, back in those days.” Paige paused, automatically ready to shake Jesse’s hand, but she realized both hands were full. She settled for a verbal greeting. “I’m Paige MacKenzie, by the way.”
“Oh, I know who you are, ma’am,” Jesse laughed. His smile seemed to lighten his dark brown eyes and matching hair, making him look even younger. “You’re the reporter from New York. Rose told me all about you coming out here to learn about the railroad.”
“Yes, I’m researching an article on old steam trains, along with some history on the development of the railroad system out West.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Jesse said. “There’s plenty of history in Hutchins Creek. And we can teach you all about those steam trains. Did you ride in on the one from Durango?”
“I did,” Paige said. “It was quite the adventure. I’d never been on a steam train before.”
“You don’t say. Well, you do have a few back East, you know.”
“Yes, that’s true, Paige said. “But yours represents the Old West and the development of the railway system out here. Plus, I’ve never visited this area, so that made this all the more appealing.”
“It’s your first time out West?” Jesse raised his eyebrows.
“Oh no,” Paige said quickly. “I’ve been to Wyoming, Montana and New Mexico this past year to research other articles. But this is the first time I’ve been to Colorado.”
“Well, you’ll enjoy it here. The Rocky Mountains are mighty beautiful, and the railroad history is filled with all sorts of interesting facts, as well as some legends. This is a great town, too, if I do say so myself. Of course, our family founded it. But it would be great even if they hadn’t. Excuse me…”
Jesse walked away to greet a new visitor, so Paige took advantage of the time to look at the other framed photographs. Some recorded town events and highlighted social gatherings involving important guests who had arrived by train, senators and celebrities among them. Others were specific to the trains themselves, detailing improvements in railway cars and equipment over the years. A few documented the construction of the new station – hardly new anymore, some fifty years later – and the addition of train tracks in front of the new building. Images of a ribbon-cutting ceremony, the christening of a new engine, and several interior shots of elegant Victorian passenger cars filled the rest of the wall.
Paige moved on to a glass display case filled with railway parts. The wide variety of spikes, switches, braces, cross ties, fastenings, beams, girders and stringers made Paige feel glad she was only there to write about the railway, not to build it. Mechanics and electronics had never been her strong suit.
Paige then came across a detailed model of an old train car. Enclosed in glass, the miniature version of an elegant railway car was as exquisite as it was precise. Each tiny window, doorway and step was intricately formed and painted. It looked like a toy, yet much too refined.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jesse said.
“Yes, it’s remarkable.” Paige turned her head sideways to get a better look inside. Tiny rows of seats filled the car, each bench-type structure in line with a window. Impossible though it would be, the urge to climb inside almost overwhelmed her.
“That’s The Morning Star,” Jesse said. “A fine local artist made that model. But you can see the real thing out back.”
“Really?” Paige straightened up, hoping she hadn’t misunderstood. “Out back?”
Jesse nodded. “We have a few of the older cars outside. The Morning Star is on the center tracks. It’s not as shiny as that model, though. That car was used for a good fifty years, first on the section of the San Juan Extension that ran from Antonito to Durango, and then on the Durango-Silverton line. The museum acquired it in the 1980s, but it’s been sitting out there weathering since then. We’re working on raising money to restore it, but we’ve got a ways to go. There’s a fundraiser coming up. Hopefully it’ll draw in some donations.”
“You said it’s on tracks? Does that mean it runs?”
“No,” Jesse said. “I mean, it could. There’s nothing wrong with it mechanically, and the tracks still connect with the main rails. But it’s a museum exhibit now. We take it down the tracks a bit now and then, when we move cars around. But I don’t think it’s moved more than that in a good thirty years, maybe longer. It was a beauty in its heyday, though. I rode in it when I was a youngster.”
“You did?”
“Yes, indeed. It was my grandfather’s favorite car. My dad’s, too. He was so proud of it. Kept it spiffed up all the time. Never quite knew why he was so fond of that one in particular, but he was.”
“Well, if it looked anything like this model in those days, I can understand it. I’
d want to ride in it, too.” Paige took one more look at the model and then turned and searched for the back door.
“Right there,” Jesse said, pointing to an “exit” sign on a far wall. “I’ve got to start closing up the register, but feel free to look around.”
“Thank you, I will. Do you have any printed information on the museum? Something with more history and photos than the brochure at the inn? I’d like to look it over tonight.”
Jesse circled back to the counter and pulled a small book from a standing rack, handing it to Paige. “This will give you more background information than the brochure. You should have it, anyway, for your article.” Jesse waved away Paige’s attempt to pay him for the book. “Come back tomorrow and I’ll be glad to show you around and answer any other questions you have.”
“That sounds great,” Paige said. Promising to stop by the next day, she exited through the back door.
CHAPTER THREE
The museum’s back yard was neither formally arranged nor exactly haphazard. A “work in progress” would best describe it, Paige decided. Several train cars sat in different sections of the yard, each in varying states of restoration. Smaller items filled spaces between the large cars, most mechanical or technical – probably important to a functioning railroad, yet unfamiliar to Paige. An impressive collection of old signage covered the back, outside wall of the museum. Some represented Hutchins Creek, but a few named other towns along the route.
The Morning Star rested on tracks in the center of the yard, obviously the main attraction of the outdoor area. It barely resembled the miniature model inside. It not only lacked the elegance of new paint, shiny metal and polished details, but its exterior was faded and cracked, with peeling paint and numerous scratches. A chain stretched across the open steps, clearly intended to discourage visitors from stepping inside. A sign politely requesting donations for the restoration fund hung from the chain. Paige made a mental note to contribute to the fund before leaving Hutchins Creek. The more she visited historic towns, the more drawn she was to their stories. She liked the idea of being even a small part of restoring structures and landmarks to help preserve history for future visitors.
Paige fought the urge to unhook the chain and enter the car. Jesse was still inside closing up, and she knew she could pop back in to ask permission. Not that a little detail like permission tended to stop her, anyway. But she’d just arrived and had no pressing reason to look inside, other than curiosity.
Moving on to other parts of the yard, she took note of cars that had served different purposes. All had chains across the entrances, but either had windows low enough to see inside, or steps to enable visitors to look in. Some had signs explaining the particular car’s function. A dining car, freight car and caboose offered variety to the yard’s display. In addition, an old engine in relatively good condition sat on the same central tracks as The Morning Star, though they weren’t attached to each other.
One of the outdoor exhibits impressed Paige most. A sizable portion of the yard contained a miniature railroad, complete with scenery and buildings. The structures were smaller than life-sized, but larger than mere toys. Although Paige suspected the area was intended for children to explore, it also provided adults with an opportunity to understand the inner-workings of the railroad. Brass placards explained the functions of coaling and switch stations. A hands-on display allowed visitors to pull switch levers. A detailed diagram explained the process of creating steam, illustrating the internal engine function of the firebox, boiler and pistons.
“Password, please.”
Paige looked around for the source of the young, sweet voice, finding it easily. A young child leaned on a fence post at the far corner of the miniature railroad yard. Dressed in a white T-shirt, denim overalls and a striped engineer’s cap that was a touch too big, it was clear the youngster felt personal pride in supervising that particular area.
“Railroad?” Paige ventured.
“Yep.” The child stepped forward. “This is my favorite place of everywhere on earth.”
“Well, I can see why it would be,” Paige said. “It’s a pretty cool area. I think I could learn a lot about trains here.”
“I can teach you,” the petite figure said. “I know all about trains.”
“I bet you do,” Paige said. “And I know very little about them, so you can be my instructor. I’ll call you Professor…” Paige waited for a name to connect to the child.
“Hutchins. You can call me Professor Hutchins.” A sound closely resembling a giggle escaped from the child’s mouth. “Or else just call me ‘Sam,’ like everyone else. That’s my real name.”
“Ah, I see.” Paige nodded. “Well, nice to meet you, Sam. My name is Paige. I’m visiting here for a few days, hoping to learn about the railroad.”
Sam Hutchins, Paige mused. The family finally broke away from the “J” tradition of naming sons. As soon as this thought ran through Paige’s mind, Jesse dispelled it when he leaned out the back door of the museum.
“Samantha, don’t go bothering visitors, now, you hear me? I’m about done closing up. You need to be ready to go.”
“That’s my dad,” Sam said, pulling off the engineer cap to allow long blonde tresses to tumble down. With a swift wave of one hand, she pushed some strands behind her shoulder.
“So I guessed,” Paige said. “This must be a fun place to have your dad work, especially if you get to come to work with him.”
“I don’t come to work with him. I’d get bored if I stayed here all day. That’s what he says, anyway. We live in that big house right there.” Sam pointed to a two-story structure a few yards beyond the back fence. Paige noticed an open gate between the connecting yards. “I can walk here by myself, now that I’m five.”
Paige smiled. “That must be great, getting to walk over here on your own.”
“It’s super great,” Sam said. “I just call my dad on the phone, and then I stand in our back door. When he comes out and waves, I get to walk down.”
“I can see that’s a good plan. Did you make that up yourself?”
“Yep.” Sam shrugged her shoulders. “Well, Lily helped me. That’s who takes care of me. She helps me call him, too, because I’m not supposed to use the phone. I tried to call him myself once, but I called Mrs. Murphy by accident. She got really crabby just because I woke her up from a nap. I even said I was sorry and she still acted crabby.”
Jesse’s voice called out from the museum’s back door again, telling Sam to get her things together. The young girl gathered up a backpack and sweater, and started for the museum, but stopped to say goodbye to Paige.
“Come back tomorrow and I’ll show you around,” Sam said. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “My secret treasure is here, but don’t tell!” With that, she ran off, disappearing into the museum.
Amused at the youngster’s antics, Paige surveyed the back yard once more and decided to call it a day. She passed through the building briefly to bid goodbye to Jesse and Sam. Turning down an offer for a ride, she pulled her sweater closer to guard against a late afternoon breeze and walked back to the inn.
* * *
Paige relaxed into the thick velvet cushions of the plush booth. The Iron Horse had been the perfect restaurant choice, just as Rose had suggested it would be. The popular train-themed eatery had beaten out the other options they considered after perusing the menus Rose kept for guests at the hotel.
Now, looking around at the classy yet casual décor, Paige was sure they’d dine at this place more than once during their stay in Hutchins Creek. Elegantly framed sketches of railroad scenes surrounded their comfortable booth. Whimsical touches on the linen-covered tabletop, such as miniature caboose salt and pepper shakers and lantern-shaped votive candle holders, picked up the train theme. Best of all, the lighting was subdued, perfect for a romantic evening.
“Can I get you folks something to drink?” The twenty-something server, identified as Abby by her name tag, set two cocktai
l napkins down and waited for an answer.
“I’m guessing white wine for both of us,” Jake said, “but I know better than to make that decision on my own.” He slid a hand across the table, encircling Paige’s fingers with his own.
“He’s a good guesser,” Paige said, her hand and heart both warming at Jake’s touch. “I’ll have a glass of house chardonnay.”
“And a smart man,” Abby pointed out. Jake laughed and ordered the same thing.
Paige leaned forward and smiled at Jake as the server left to fill the drink order. “I can’t believe you’re here. I mean, I know you are, but it still doesn’t feel real, even though it should after all that planning.” She pinched herself. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”
Jake let go of Paige’s hand and placed his fingertips on top of her wrists, running them up her forearms gently and back down again. His gaze never left hers.
“Your eyes are still so blue…” Paige whispered. She almost laughed at her schoolgirl tone.
“And yours are still so green,” Jake countered, not bothering to hide a grin as he matched her intonation perfectly.
Both pulled back to allow Abby to set wine glasses on the table. After they toasted their Colorado time together, they sipped the chilled chardonnay and studied the menu.
“Looks like my cowboy roots are going to be showing,” Jake said. “That T-bone steak is mighty appealing with a baked potato and all the trimmings. Sautéed mushrooms and fresh cornbread, too? I think that’ll hit the spot.”
Paige almost choked on a second sip of wine. Her nerves were so fired up at seeing Jake in person, she wasn’t sure she could even get through a salad, much less a full meal. Still, it had been a long day. Under her excitement, she knew rationally she was hungry, or at least in need of nourishment. She scanned the menu, forcing herself to concentrate until she made a decision.
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