“He was the best cap’n, ’n as fine a man as I ever knowed,” Elmer concluded.
“Then I’m certain you will get a satisfactory response to your problem,” Andrew suggested.
“Aye, that is our hope,” Duff said.
* * *
“How are you goin’ to do it?” Dixon asked. “You can’t just go into Delmonico’s ’n shoot ’em. And there’s too many people out on the street, so you can’t do it here, either.”
“That ain’t your problem,” Al Todaro replied.
“Maybe how you handle ’em ain’t my problem, but stoppin’ ’em a-fore they get a chance to talk to Poindexter is.”
“It’ll be took care of,” Todaro promised.
* * *
It was just after one o’clock in the morning when Todaro entered the lobby of the Fifth Avenue Hotel. It was illuminated by electric lamps, but only three were on. Despite the dim lighting, he could see that none of the sofas or chairs were occupied. When he stepped up to the front desk, the night clerk had his chair tipped back against the wall, and he was snoring loudly.
Todaro examined the guest book and, locating the room for Duff MacCallister, took the 502 spare key from the board. He started toward the elevator then stopped. Because of what he intended to do, it would be best if nobody saw him. He took the stairs.
On the fifth floor he walked down the dimly lit hall, checking the room numbers. When he reached room 502, he let himself in with the key he had taken and closed the door behind him. With knife in hand, he started toward the bed. In the darkness, he stumbled against a chair and it made a sound as it scooted no more than an inch or two across the floor.
Grabbing the chair quickly to prevent it from falling over, he stood there for a long moment to ascertain whether or not MacCallister had heard him.
There was no response from the bed, and Todaro breathed a sigh of relief. He had not been heard.
* * *
When Duff had checked into the hotel earlier in the day, he had booked three adjacent rooms. Connected by a door, two of the rooms were to be occupied by Duff and Meagan. However, booking three rooms was only for propriety’s sake. In actuality, Duff was spending the night in room 504 with Meagan, and that left 502 empty.
At the moment Duff was sound asleep, but Meagan was not. The Fifth Avenue Hotel had all the modern conveniences, including, for the higher-priced rooms, bathrooms. And it was to take advantage of this facility that caused Meagan to be awake, out of bed, and adjacent to the wall that separated 504 from 502.
She heard a thump and a scrape.
She hurried back to the bed and shaking Duff awake, whispered to him. “Duff! Duff! Someone is in your room!”
He got out of bed. Though he had not been carrying a pistol while in New York, he had brought one with him. Reaching for it he walked over to the door that separated the two rooms, opened it quietly, and flipped on the light switch just beside the door.
A man was standing over the bed with a raised knife.
“No, no, don’t shoot!” the man called in alarm, dropping the knife.
Chapter Twenty-two
Corporate headquarters of P R and M
“So you turned the robber over to the police, did you?” Norman Jamison asked later that morning when Duff, Meagan, and Elmer arrived in his office.
“Aye, but I’m nae so sure that the brigand was a thief. ’Tis more likely he was in my room for to kill me.”
“Why on earth would he do that? Last night was your first night in New York, wasn’t it?”
“Aye.”
“Did he know you?”
“I cannae say that he did. I dinnae know him.”
“Then why do you think he wanted to kill you?”
“He had a knife.”
“And sometimes robbers have guns. I’m sure he meant to use it into frightening you so you would give him the money.”
“Aye, that could be. But ’tis all water under the bridge now. When can we be for seeing Mr. Poindexter?”
“I’m afraid he isn’t in today, he—”
At that moment the door to Poindexter’s office opened, and he stepped out into the reception area.
“Norman, have we received a reply from Jake for the telegram I sent yesterday? We should have—” Poindexter stopped in midsentence and looked at Elmer.
“Do I know you, sir?”
Elmer smiled. “Yeah, Cap’n, you know me.”
“Bosun Gleason?”
“That’s me.”
With a huge smile, Poindexter stuck out his hand and grabbed Elmer’s hand. “What are you doing in New York, Elmer? Have you come to look for a job? If that’s why you are here, I’ll be more than happy to hire you. Why, I’ll even give you your own ship to command.”
“I appreciate that, Cap’n, but that ain’t why I’m here. Me ’n my friends have been tryin’ to get in to see you for the past two days, but this feller keeps tellin’ us you ain’t here. Only, it turns out that you are.”
“Norman?” Poindexter asked with a questioning expression on his face.
“I confess, Mr. Poindexter, I did tell them you weren’t here, but I did it to protect you. I do it quite often, actually. You don’t have any idea how many people want to get in to see you, either to beg money from you, or to try and get you to invest in some ridiculous scheme they have planned.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure that is true, and I appreciate your efforts in protecting my time. But in this case I know this gentleman, and I will always find the time for him.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but he said nothing about knowing you, and of course, I had no way of knowing.”
“Come into my office, Elmer, and bring your friends with you. All of you, come in. Norman, please have Barkley bring coffee for us.”
“Yes, sir,” Jamison said.
Poindexter’s rather commodious office was decorated with model ships, both wind and steam, as well as several intricately scale-modeled trains. The reception area was large enough to give everyone a seat without feeling crowded.
“I don’t know if this man has ever spoken of it,” Poindexter said once all were seated, “but he saved my life, and not my life alone, but the entire crew of the Appalachia. We were stranded on a waterless, deserted island, and many, if not all of us, would have died if Elmer hadn’t designed a still to produce not whiskey, but clear drinking water.”
“I tell you the truth, Cap’n, if we had been there for another month I think maybe I woulda found me a way to make some actual whiskey.”
Poindexter laughed. “I’ve no doubt but that you would have, and I would have imbibed right along with the men. Now, if you didn’t come seeking employment, what does bring you here?”
“I’m goin’ to let Duff tell you, seein’ as how he’s a lot more smarter than I am, ’n he can talk a lot better, even if he is a foreigner ’n talks with one o’ them foreign accents.”
“Duff . . . ?” Poindexter phrased the word so that it was a question, asking that the last name be supplied.
“The name is MacCallister, Captain Poindexter. Duff MacCallister. ’N this fair lass is Miss Meagan Parker. The three of us live in Chugwater, Wyoming. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Chugwater? Oh, indeed it does,” Poindexter replied with a proud smile. “My son Jake is there now and he’s building a railroad, but of course if you live there you know that. Tell me, how is he doing?”
“He’s the reason we are here, sir,” Duff said. “That is, he and the railroad. We want it stopped.”
“What?” Poindexter was so surprised by Duff’s request for the building to be stopped that the word literally exploded from his mouth. “My word, I have communities all over America begging me to build a railroad for them, and never has any community been sorry for having made the request. Why would you not want the railroad?”
“The price is too high.”
“I don’t know what you mean. You aren’t being charged for the railroad, so how can the price be so
high?”
“Duff, let me tell him,” Meagan said. At Duff’s nod, she turned toward Poindexter. “Mr. Poindexter, I own a business in town, and nearly every business owner and resident of the town is for the railroad. I, myself, want the railroad. But Mr. MacCallister and Mr. Gleason are ranchers, and nearly every rancher and farmer is opposed to the railroad. No, let me change that. They aren’t opposed to the arrival of the railroad but they, and many of the citizens of the town are opposed to the tactics being used to deprive the ranchers of their grassland and water.”
“I know that can sometimes work a temporary hardship, but it is necessary to obtain land to build the railroad.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that. But in this case the land is being taken, either by government grant or eminent domain, then it is immediately offered for sale back to the person from which it was taken. And the asking price is quite exorbitant.”
“Wait a minute. We would never sell land that we acquired back to the original owner like that. If, as the building progresses, we see that we don’t need the land we have acquired, we would return it for the same price we paid for it.”
“Yeah, knowin’ you, I wouldn’t think you would do such a thing,” Elmer said. “That’s why we come here to see you, to tell you about what’s goin’ on.”
“Elmer, Mr. MacCallister, Miss Parker, I assure you I will look into this and I will return any land that we have acquired in such a way, and aren’t using. But as to stopping the building of the railroad, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it? It has already been built beyond Chugwater.”
Duff and the other two looked at each other.
“Mr. Poindexter, are you for thinking that the railroad has reached Chugwater?” Duff asked.
“Yes, and beyond, according to the latest report we have received.”
“Cap’n, there ain’t been so much as one mile of track that’s been laid yet,” Elmer said.
“What?” Poindexter’s response was so quiet as to barely be heard. He looked up at two portraits that were on the wall, one of him, and the other of a young man. “But this is impossible. I just can’t believe that Jake would tell me the railroad had advanced that far if it had not.”
“Is that a portrait of Jake?” Meagan asked.
“Yes, by the artist William Merritt Chase. Chase is a most accomplished artist, and this is a very good likeness. He’s quite the handsome young man, isn’t he?” Poindexter asked proudly.
Elmer shook his head. “That ain’t him.”
“What do you mean, that isn’t him?”
“What he means is, the man who has come to Chugwater and is passing himself off as Jake Poindexter is someone other than the man in this picture,” Meagan added.
“My God!” Poindexter said in a tone of voice that reflected fear and uncertainty. “If the man claiming to be my son isn’t Jake, where is Jake?”
“We don’t know,” Elmer said. “And to tell you the truth, I ain’t, for some time, thought the feller out there was the actual Jake. I mean, he don’t look nothin’ like you, ’n he sure as hell don’t act like you.”
“What are you goin’ to do now?” Poindexter asked.
“Now that we know that the man claiming to be your son is nae your son, we also know that the buildin’ o’ the railroad is nae real,” Duff said. “Whoever is passing himself off as your son is robbing you and us. So when we get back to Chugwater, I intend to confront that bogus gentlemen with the truth.”
Poindexter moved quickly to the door of his office and jerked it open. “Norman!” he called. “Norman!”
“Yes, Mr. Poindexter?”
“How much money have we transferred to the C and FL operation?”
“To date we have transferred one hundred and ten thousand dollars, but that doesn’t count the twenty-five thousand dollars that we previously transferred for Jake.”
“How much of the railroad has been built?”
“Jake’s last report was that fifty-three miles have been constructed, and that puts it just beyond Chugwater.”
“These people say that not one mile has been built.”
“Oh, Mr. Poindexter, that can’t possibly be true!” Jamison said. “The construction reports have been submitted daily and are quite detailed.”
“Whoever is making out those reports is lying to you,” Elmer said. “We just come from there, ’n I’m tellin’ you, there ain’t been so much as a hunnert yards that’s been built.”
“Oh, my, I’m afraid I don’t quite know what to say,” Jamison replied.
“Norman, make arrangements for my private car to be attached to the next available train going toward Wyoming. I am going to Chugwater to personally check on this.”
“Oh, Mr. Poindexter, do you think that’s wise? I mean if there is some chicanery going on out there, it might be better for me to check on it.”
“Bosun Gleason, Mr. MacCallister, and Miss Parker have just informed me that the man who is passing himself off as my son isn’t Jake,” Poindexter said resolutely. “I am going.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll call the railroad and make arrangements for your passage,” Jamison said.
San Francisco
As soon as Jalen Nichols arrived in San Francisco, he began his search for Zack Clark. Because of Clark’s reputation, it wasn’t that hard to find him. He found him in the Bilge Water Saloon, an establishment that catered primarily to sailors and dockworkers.
“Yeah, that’s him down there,” the bartender said. “What do you want with ’im?”
“It ain’t none of your business what I want with ’im,” Nichols said.
“I reckon you’re right about that,” the bartender agreed. “But I wouldn’t go pickin’ no fights with ’im, iffen I was you.”
Nichols walked down to the far end of the bar where Clark stood, staring into his glass.”
“Clark?” Nichols said.
Clark neither responded, nor looked up at him.
“Are you Mr. Clark?”
Clark looked at him and the expression of total disdain in his eyes frightened Nichols to the degree that, for a moment, he considered just walking away.
“I am Clark. Who are you?”
“My name is Nichols. Are you the same man who they say can fight so good?”
“I am skilled in the Chinese martial art form of Wushu.”
“Wushu? Does that mean you can fight good?”
“Shi,” Clark replied. When he saw that Nichols was totally confused, he translated. “Yes.”
“Mr. Clark, my boss sent me to find you. He wants to pay you a lot of money to do a job for us.”
“How much money is a lot of money?” Zack Clark asked.
Nichols showed him a bound bundle of twenty-dollar bills. “There’s a thousand dollars here, and much more if you will come with me to meet my boss.”
“I do not fight for the enjoyment of others,” Clark said.
Nichols chuckled. “Believe me, the only enjoyin’ will be when Wang Chow is took care of.”
The expression of boredom on Clark’s face was suddenly transformed into one of intense interest. “Wang Chow, did you say?”
“Yeah, he’s a Chinaman that lives there in Chugwater, ’n he’s been givin’ us some trouble. So we was wonderin’ if—”
Before Nichols could finish his explanation, Clark reached for the bound packet of twenty-dollar bills. “I will come with you.”
Chapter Twenty-three
New York City
“It’ll be as easy as takin’ candy from a baby,” Dixon explained. “The private car is the last car on the train. As soon as it is separated they’ll be all alone in the car, and the car will be out on the track, a long way from ever’one else. That’s when we’ll do it.”
“Where’s it goin’ to be separated?” Kluge asked.
He, O’Malley, and Quinn were the three men who had been provided to Clete Dixon to “take care” of the problem with MacCallister, Gleason, and Meagan Parker.
“We�
�ll be stopping for water halfway between White Horse Station and Lebanon. It’ll be good ’n dark then, ’n that’s where the four of us will get off. When the train leaves, it’ll leave Poindexter’s private car behind.”
“How’s that goin’ to happen?” O’Malley asked.
“One of the porters is bein’ paid fifty dollars to disconnect it,” Dixon said with a grin.
The four men were standing on the depot platform waiting for the departure of the Cannon Ball Express. The train had been delayed by a few minutes to connect Preston Poindexter’s private car.
* * *
“Oh my,” Meagan said as she examined the private car they would be traveling in. The name of the private car—Emma Marie—was painted in red script and outlined in gold right by the front door. Poindexter had named his private car after his wife.
At the moment, the car was parked on a side track under the great cover of the Grand Central Depot and, as before, the complex resonated with sounds of trains rolling in and out.
“The attachment orders say that we will be connected at fifteen minutes until nine,” Poindexter said. “So we may as well board now, so I can give you a quick tour.”
Duff, Meagan, Elmer, and Poindexter boarded the car, and as they waited for the connection, Poindexter was pointing out all the features of the private car.
“There are four bedrooms, as you can see. There is a galley and a dining area, as well as a sofa and two overstuffed chairs. There is also a ‘necessary,’ and it is back there, out of the way and allowing for total privacy. Uh, if you have to use it, don’t use it while the train is standing in a station.”
“How far will it be to the dining car?” Elmer asked.
Poindexter chuckled. “I don’t know, and it won’t matter.”
“What do you mean, it won’t matter?”
“I have arranged for a porter to serve us our meals and clean up afterward. He will also make our beds in the morning, so that our trip should be quite pleasant.”
“My oh my, Mr. Poindexter, you seem to have thought of everything,” Meagan said.
“Please, call me Pete. All of you.”
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