The Chapel Car Bride

by Judith Miller

  Luke’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he topped the hill and spotted the orange glow of his uncle’s pipe from his front porch.

  Frank waved the pipe in a welcoming arc. His brows dipped low as Luke approached. “You look like you just lost your best friend, boy.”

  Luke dropped onto the step and leaned against one of the porch posts while he related his encounter with Kirby. “I know the preacher and Hope both are thinking I’m not much of a witness for Jesus.” He sighed and shook his head. “And I guess I got only myself to blame, but every time a company man comes ’round here, it’s more lies and heartache.”

  “I can’t deny most of ’em have been a bad sort, but it ain’t fair to be faultin’ a man afore he has a chance to prove hisself.” He pointed the pipe in Luke’s direction. “’Course that don’t mean you shouldn’t watch him real close, neither. Right or wrong, everyone living on this hill has a grudge or two against the company. Thing is, we all got the choice to leave if’n we’re too unhappy.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it. How’s anyone gonna leave this place when we can’t ever get outta debt to the company store?”

  His uncle hiked a shoulder. “Now, that there’s not quite true, Luke. There’s a few of us that ain’t in debt, but we stay for other reasons. And then there’s those who sneak off still owing the company.”

  Luke nodded. “Yeah, but they can’t get a job at another mine, what with the owners refusing to hire without a reference. They got this whole thing figured out so they can keep the miners under their thumbs.”

  Frank leaned down and knocked the ashes from his pipe. “Are you looking for an excuse to keep feeling ornery about Kirby Finch, or are ya wantin’ to do the Lord’s bidding, Luke? That there’s your choice, too.”

  “You’re right, Uncle Frank. I think I best get on home and spend some time praying. Besides, Ma’s gonna begin to worry if I don’t get back.”

  Frank pushed up from his chair and patted Luke’s shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Luke. One day you’re gonna be a fine preacher and make us all proud. Ain’t easy turning loose of heartache. Sometimes we take a step forward and then fall back to our old ways. When that happens, you jest gotta admit it and try again.”

  As he closed the distance between his uncle’s house and his own, Luke considered his uncle’s words. Luke believed overcoming heartache and anger was a long process for most folks, and he’d been able to achieve both in most instances. But this was different. Accepting the Finches at face value would require heavenly intervention.

  The following morning, Kirby took his place at the breakfast table with three other boarders. The eggs were cold, the biscuits overbaked, and the oatmeal pasty. He ate only a few bites, but downed two cups of the strong coffee before he pushed away from the table.

  The landlady gestured to his plate and frowned. “There’s folks who’d give their eyeteeth for the food you’re leaving on that plate.”

  He merely shrugged and pushed the plate toward her. “Feel free to give it to them. I’m not fond of cold eggs or burned biscuits.”

  Kirby stood and left from the dining room while the landlady muttered her displeasure. He strode out the front door without a response. For years he’d ignored his father’s disapproval, so disregarding the landlady’s remarks had been quite simple. He bounded down the front steps. Instead of arguing over eggs and biscuits, he would use his powers of persuasion for more important matters.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Kirby entered the dilapidated brick edifice that contained the offices of Finch Mining and Company. Years ago his father had waged a battle with the surrounding landowners and succeeded in the purchase of the vast acreage that adjoined the mine. Those brutal proceedings had included the decrepit mansion that now made up the company offices. Loose bricks and crumbling mortar presented the appearance of a business in trouble. A look that might persuade employees the company couldn’t afford to give them raises or bargain with a union. Neither was correct, but his father was a shrewd businessman who used every means at his disposal to keep the company money in his own coffers. If it meant operating the company from a neglected structure, so be it.

  After inhaling a deep breath, Kirby pulled open the heavy front door and entered the once-elegant foyer. Inside, peeling wallpaper and a frayed carpet runner perpetuated the impoverished theme. These offices were a far cry from the towering structure that contained the Pittsburgh offices, which had been well-appointed with expensive furniture and amenities to meet the wants of every wealthy visitor.

  Kirby stepped to the doorway at his right and nodded to a bald man poring over a leather-bound ledger. He offered a nod before looking around the room. “Good morning. I need to speak to Mr. Daniels. Is he around?”

  The bookkeeper pushed his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose before he returned the nod, then glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t see him.”

  Kirby didn’t miss the look of disdain or the sarcasm that colored the man’s response. “Do you know who I am?” He moved forward two steps and pinned the man with a hard stare.

  “No.” The older man shrugged. “But no matter who you are, I think you can see that Mr. Daniels isn’t here.”

  Kirby cleared his throat. “I am Kirby Finch. My father owns this company.” His mouth curved in a condescending smile. “So if it isn’t too much trouble, can you tell me where I might find Mr. Daniels?”

  The older man blanched. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Finch. I didn’t know who—”

  Kirby waved him to silence. “No need for an apology. Just tell me where I can find Mr. Daniels.”

  “He’s over by the tipple. Some kind of problem earlier this morning. You can wait in the office across the hall if you like.” He pointed with the tip of his pen.

  “No thanks. I’ll go over to the mine.” Kirby turned on his heel and strode from the room. He didn’t relish the idea of meeting with Henry Daniels, and waiting in his office would only increase his uneasiness. Kirby would likely have trouble convincing Daniels to give him the money he wanted. There was little doubt Kirby would need to speak with authority. Otherwise, Daniels wouldn’t believe that Kirby’s father had given his son permission to speak on his behalf.

  He hadn’t gone far when he caught sight of the manager walking up the hill toward him. Kirby removed his hat and waved it overhead. The manager shaded his eyes with his hand and then waved in return. Kirby couldn’t be certain at this distance, but it appeared as if the manager’s face had tightened into a scowl.

  Kirby continued toward him and forced a smile. During his earlier visits to the mine, Kirby discovered the level of power entrusted to the manager. In addition, he observed Mr. Daniels’s loyalty to his employer. Both Kirby’s father and Mr. Daniels shared the same goal—to see Finch Mining and Company increase its profits by any means possible. Of course, Mr. Daniels’s paycheck was hefty. Large enough that he could easily overlook the poverty of the miners and their families. No doubt he even slept well at night.

  Kirby approached with his hand outstretched. “Good to see you, Mr. Daniels.”

  “I’d heard you were in town. Wondered if you were ever going to show up for work.”

  Kirby chuckled. “I haven’t been here but a few days. Just long enough to get settled and begin checking into a few projects.” He met the older man’s gaze. “Related to the mine, of course.”

  “I didn’t know we had any projects that needed checking into.” He pushed an overhanging tree limb out of his way and continued walking. “Guess you better fill me in since I haven’t had any word from your pa about these projects.”

  Kirby kept pace with the older man. “That’s why I’m here. I’m going to need . . .”

  Mr. Daniels pointed toward the house. “Let’s get inside before you start explaining. I want to give you my full attention while I hear about the important work you’re here to do.” He shot a wry grin in Kirby’s direction.

  Kirby stiffened at the man’s mocking
behavior. He had anticipated resistance from Daniels, but he hadn’t expected his condescending conduct. Well, Kirby had come prepared for this meeting, and when it was over, he doubted Henry Daniels would still have that smirk on his face.

  A short time later, Kirby followed Daniels into the foyer of the old house and waited as he halted in the doorway of the bookkeeper’s office. “I’ll be in my office with Kirby. We’re going to have a brief meeting. If you need me, don’t hesitate to interrupt.”

  Kirby clenched his jaw and bit back a scathing retort. He didn’t want to make their conversation more difficult than need be. He followed the manager into his shabbily furnished office and waited until Mr. Daniels indicated the empty chair opposite his worn desk. “Take a seat. Now, let’s hear about these projects of yours.”

  The wooden chair creaked and gave a slight shift when he sat down. After a quick downward glance, he sighed. “Hope I don’t land on the floor.”

  “You should be just fine. Besides, it’s not far to the floor.” Daniels leaned back and waited.

  “I need some cash so I can purchase supplies and paint. Or if you’d prefer, we could set up an account at the bank. Whichever’s easier for you, or I suppose I should say whichever’s easier for your bookkeeper.” He was careful to hold a steady eye on Daniels. If Kirby appeared nervous, the manager would spot his fear and go in for the kill.

  A slow smile spread across the manager’s face. He leaned forward and rested his arms atop the desk. “Is this your idea of a joke? You must know that the only allotment ordered by your father is payment to the boardinghouse and a small stipend for your expenses.”

  Kirby nodded. “Of course, but this isn’t for me. This is for the repair of houses up on the hill. The miners’ homes are owned by the company. Since you’ve been able to purchase a home on the edge of town, I’m sure you don’t realize the condition of those houses. I’ve been up there recently, and the places are in ruins. They need major repairs, although right now I’ll do my best to mollify the men with minor maintenance and a coat of paint.”

  “Mollify the men?” Daniels’s knuckles turned white as he clasped his hands together. “What are you talking about? I doubt there’s any unrest among the miners that’s gone undetected by me. There’s been no strife regarding unpainted houses or needed repairs. This is nonsense. I have work to do.” He waved a dismissive hand in Kirby’s direction.

  “You might be surprised to know that there’s talk of a strike in the near future, and even more talk about unionization.”

  Before he could make his point, Daniels guffawed. “I know your pa is worried about a strike and that he thinks you can gain information about that possibility, but I told him there’s no reason to worry.” He shook his head. “There’s been talk of strikes and unions for over a year now and nothing’s happened.” His brows dipped low. “To be frank, your request for paint isn’t making any sense. As I said—”

  “Why don’t you let me finish before you decide I don’t know what I’m talking about.” When the older man gave a nod, Kirby continued, “From what I’ve heard, paint and lumber would go a long way toward creating goodwill among the miners. A show of concern by the company that would help out their families and ease the unrest around here.”

  “Now who mighta told you that bit of nonsense?”

  Kirby cocked his head to the side. “If you really think it’s nonsense, why do you care who told me?” He leaned back in the chair. “Besides, if I told you how I was able to dig up the information, you wouldn’t need my help, now, would you?”

  “I didn’t ask you to come down here, and I don’t need your help to run this operation. I’ve been doing it for years.” Daniels picked up a stack of papers and shoved them aside. “Ain’t much that gets past me, so I think you’re blowing smoke where there ain’t no fire.”

  Kirby stiffened. He’d been annoyed when he was forced to listen to his father’s account of happenings at various mines in the region, but now he was thankful for the knowledge. Along with what Hope had told him, he’d let loose a few of his father’s remarks at Daniels. Maybe then the man would release his tightfisted hold on the company’s bank account.

  “You go ahead thinking you know it all,” Kirby said, “but we both know the UMWA is a lot stronger now. Word has it they’ve been able to get union men hired on to stir up trouble in a lot of the mines in these parts without management knowing a thing until it’s too late and there’s a walkout. But I suppose you know all about that, too.”

  “’Course I do, except we ain’t hired anybody in over six months. Fact is, we’re laying off, not hiring.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Anything else you feel you need to warn me about?”

  Kirby shrugged. “Guess not. You already told me you don’t need my help.”

  Daniels clenched his jaw and edged forward in his chair. “If you know something important, you need to tell me instead of playing these silly games. Having the union stir up the men means trouble for your pa and this company—and that means trouble for you, too.”

  “I am telling you. You’re not listening.” He lowered his voice a degree. “There’s trouble brewing. If you’re smart, you’ll head off the trouble before it starts. I already told you my plan.”

  “Painting houses? That’s a plan?”

  For the next hour, Kirby argued his idea with the manager. It had taken every trick in his arsenal to finally convince Daniels that a little lumber and paint would be a cheap way to ward off a possible strike.

  Daniels heaved a long sigh. “I don’t s’pose it would cost that much. I’ll send a telegram to your pa and get his approval.”

  Years ago, that remark would have sent a chill racing down Kirby’s spine. But not now. He was prepared. Truth be told, he would have been disappointed if Daniels hadn’t mentioned the need for his employer’s approval. Kirby reached into his jacket and removed the carefully folded note he’d written and forged with his father’s signature.

  “No need to send a telegram. This will take care of your worries. My father gave it to me at the train station before I left Pittsburgh.” Kirby pushed the message across the desktop.

  Daniels unfolded the handwritten note that had been penned on company stationery. He stared at the communication for a long moment, then reached for the stack of papers he’d moved aside during their earlier conversation. After placing Kirby’s note alongside another document signed by the company’s owner, the manager frowned. Milton Finch’s signature appeared identical.

  Kirby slouched and yawned. “You look troubled, Mr. Daniels.”

  “I’m a little surprised your pa would be so free with—”

  “As I said, my father’s deeply concerned about the threat of a strike or unionization. He believes I can be of help unearthing more information about those risks. Besides, my father realizes I’ve had a change of heart regarding the mining operation and that I’m eager to learn more. After all, one day this will all belong to me.”

  A hint of skepticism remained in the manager’s eyes. “I’m glad to know you want to learn more about the operation, but this goes against previous orders I’ve had from your pa. I’m feeling real uneasy about this.”

  “Then maybe you should send a telegraph to my father that you don’t believe he sent this note.”

  This was one of the few times when Kirby was glad the coal mining town had only limited telephone service. The infant service consisted of no more than local calls between a few business owners. Having the ability to make a long-distance call would have given Mr. Daniels an opportunity to immediately speak with Kirby’s father, but sending a telegram required more effort, as well as the waiting time for a reply.

  Still focused on the signatures, Mr. Daniels massaged his forehead. “I don’t s’pose your pa would have given you this note unless he meant for me to follow what it says. Still, it goes against everything he’s been tellin’ me about keeping costs down.” He blew out a breath. “He’s been so set against extra expenses, it’
s hard for me to—”

  “I understand. My father has always spoken of your loyalty and ability to keep this place running when he wasn’t around.” Kirby forced a chuckle. “Which has been most of the time. I mean, you’ve always been the one who’s kept this place going, and I know my father is grateful to you. He holds you in high esteem. In fact, right before I left Pittsburgh, he told me he hoped I would become as dependable as you have been.”

  Kirby’s words hit the mark. With each accolade, Mr. Daniels’s smile had grown wider and his shoulders squared. The man was more malleable than a child. A few syrupy words of praise and he’d likely agree to most anything.

  “That’s mighty nice to hear. I do work hard, but your pa has always been fair to me. I count it a real honor to work for him.” He folded the note and set it aside. “He’s a great man.”

  Kirby attempted to stifle a cough. “So . . .” The legs of the chair scraped on the wood floor as he rose to his feet. “How do you want to handle my purchases? Probably be easiest to give me cash or deposit money in a personal account at the bank.”

  If Daniels would simply instruct the bookkeeper to set him up with a bank account, he could use the money for gambling. In no time he’d end up with sufficient funds to get out of this town. Winning against these backwoods miners would be easy. All he needed was an invite to wherever they gathered to do their wagering and a little money to throw in the pot. He’d use every dirty trick he’d learned over the years and soon be on his way out of here. Success! He could feel it in his bones.

  When Daniels didn’t immediately respond, Kirby cleared his throat. “Either cash or the bank account would work fine for me.”

  Mr. Daniels shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of a separate bank account. It’s more work for Mr. Farragut and ties up extra cash.” The manager scratched his head. “I think it’s best if we set up credit accounts at the stores where you’ll be purchasing goods. You can get most everything you’ll need at the hardware store, but you might need a few things from the general store. I’ll go with you and speak to Ned Berry and Doug Woodbine. Ned owns the hardware and Doug runs the general store. I don’t want there to be any confusion about the accounts. I’ve got a little time. Why don’t we go right now?” He pushed back from the desk and stood.