When Jennifer came limping out of her sleeping compartment, Chane told her the bad news.
“So how do we stop them?”
“I don’t know. Most of the men quit last night. We missed payday, remember?”
“Men can be rehired,” she said. “I can’t believe you’d just give up.”
“Just give up? I’m only one man, two if you count Lance. But I don’t see what right I have to get him killed.”
“Well,” Jennifer said hesitantly, “it seems to me that if you had a crew up there and they were grading the roadbed when Laurey’s men arrived…”
Chane scowled. He might be able to round up a couple hundred men and get them up there before morning. Except he had no idea how Uncle Dick Wootton would react. Uncle Dick was friendly enough on the surface, but he might just be pleased that Chane was going to be stopped from replacing his toll road with a railroad track.
“It’s worth a try,” he finally admitted.
“I can help,” Jennifer said.
“No, you’ve been in enough danger for a lifetime. I order you to stay out of it,” he said grimly. Jennifer took some hope from the fact that he didn’t relish her being in danger.
Chane left for Morley to recruit as many men as he could, and Jennifer went looking for Kim Wong.
At three o’clock in the morning Chane led his crew up the mountainside. The sky was darker now than it had been all night. The moon had slipped over the horizon, leaving the mountainside darker than the inside of a tomb. The tall trees added to the darkness. One of the men following Chane stepped in a hole and cursed. Except for that, only the sounds of their footsteps on the cold ground broke the stillness.
The cold up here was biting. Chane carried a shotgun. Every man with him had some sort of weapon, even if it was only a road-grading tool. Lance wore two guns and carried a shotgun as well.
Fewer than a hundred men had agreed to come with him. The rest of the men were too hungover from the festivities in Morley to walk, much less scare away armed, determined men. The Denver and Mexico line couldn’t have picked a better time for a confrontation.
Chane had promised his men an extra week’s pay and a chance to keep their jobs, which had been the deciding factor. If Laurey’s crew took the pass, the Texas and Pacific was as finished as it would get.
They passed a Conestoga wagon that had pulled to one side of the trail for the night. A pale face parted the canvas and peered out at this small army of men trudging up the hill.
Near the top, the wind blew even harder and colder. Men grumbled about the icy winds. The little settlement Wootton had named after himself finally came into sight. A light burned in the window of the toll shed. Chane motioned his men to wait. He and Lance walked toward the light. Before they reached the shed, a white-haired man stepped outside, lantern in hand.
“Well, so it’s to be you, is it?” His white hair was frizzed out around his head as if he’d just gotten out of bed.
Chane stopped. “’Morning, Mr. Wootton.”
“I tell everyone to call me Uncle Dick.”
“Chantry Kincaid,” Chane said, extending his hand.
“’Mornin’ t’all of you,” Wootton said, turning and picking up a shovel from the side of the cabin. “Brought my shovel with me.”
Chane scowled. He couldn’t imagine what the old man was going to do to him with a shovel. If the stories were true, he was richer than Midas. He could easily afford a gun.
“Well, where do we start?” Wootton asked.
“Start what?”
“Why, gradin’ the roadbed for your railroad. I’ve brought my shovel.”
“You mean…you’re going to help us?” Chane asked, startled.
“Help you put me out of business? Why, yes, I am. I’ve worked here long enough. It was so lucrative that I’da been crazy to just walk off and give it up. But with progress comes change, and I’m ready for it. I think I’ll take me to San Francisco and see what all’s new since the last time I was by that way. There’s a whole world out there I haven’t seen in years.”
Chane stuck out his hand. “That sure makes my job easier and more pleasant.”
Wootton shook his hand, then Lance’s. “I wouldn’t get too excited about winning yet. I ’spect we’re in for a fight when the Denver and Mexico crews reach here. I got no use for them varmits. Especially that Beaver Targle who come up here to bribe me into signing that Denver and Mexico right-of-way agreement. If they’re all like him, they’re crooked as sidewinders, and I think they’ll fight like ’em, too. I reckon you ought to know that.”
“Shovels weren’t the only things we brought.”
Wootton looked from man to man. “I see that. Well, it’s a straggly crew at best, but I’m sure you brought all that would come. Let’s get to work. We wouldn’t want those Denver and Mexico crews to think we’re lollygaggers. I’ve heard there are some hard cases amongst them. I hope you’ve brought plenty of bullets.”
Lance grinned at Chane. The old man had spirit.
Chane spread the crew across the mouth of the pass. The men raked at the cold, hard ground to keep warm. They looked pretty puny spread out like that. Chane looked at Lance, who shrugged. “Maybe they won’t come today. By tomorrow we could get enough men rounded up and sobered up…”
The eastern sky turned gray in the gathering dawn. Before many minutes had passed, sounds of men approaching could be heard over the sighing of the wind in the pines.
Chane walked to the front of the crew and took his place. Lance followed and stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother and Wootton. The men behind Chane pretended to work at grading the roadway.
Jennifer watched Chane and the small band leave, and wished she’d gone with him. She was a nervous wreck from waiting to hear from Kim Wong. She’d sent him into town hours before to try to get the Chinese to come back, but he hadn’t returned. They should be here by now—if they were coming.
The night was a cold one, even for the Colorado mountains. She turned out the lamps and sat in one of the upholstered chairs, gazing at the stars and being glad she was alive. She’d been closer to dying today than ever before in her life. Knowing that made life more precious—and Chane more precious. He’d made tremendous sacrifices to save her. And he’d killed the men who took her. That must mean something.
The camp was deserted, except for her. She may have dozed. She woke with a feeling of falling. Something had startled her. Panicked, she looked around, searching for the cause.
In the distance she saw moonlight flash against something shiny. She stood up and walked to the window. In the Santa Fe Trail next to the freshly laid rails she saw hundreds of men walking up the hill toward the pass. It had to be the Denver and Mexico crews.
Chane had left with fewer than a hundred men. This looked like five or six hundred. They walked by as quietly as they could, but the sound of so many feet hitting the hard earth made an ominous, unsettling sound.
The sky was pale gray when the Denver and Mexico crew saw the Texas and Pacific crew and stopped. A few curses were followed by silence as men waited to see what their leaders were going to do. Finally, Beaver Targle and a man Chane recognized as Frank Edgerly, Laurey’s construction superintendent, stepped forward.
“You aren’t fooling anyone with this charade, Kincaid. You haven’t laid a piece of track within a mile of here.”
“Neither have you, Edgerly. Close don’t count in poker or railroading. Either you’ve got an ace or you don’t. As you can see, we beat you to the pass.”
“Had a little trouble getting your boys out of bed, did you?” Edgerly asked, looking at the scant force opposing him. “I reckon we can take this pass.”
“Nothing wrong with your ability to count, but you might be overlooking important details. The men in the back might live to tell about this clash, but I suspect anyone standing this close to the front is going to get ventilated by this shotgun, if trouble starts. Does Laurey pay you enough to get killed for him, Edgerl
y?”
Edgerly glared at Kincaid and then Wootton. “Have you chosen up sides against us as well?” he asked Wootton.
“Yup. I didn’t appreciate your man Targle coming here to try to bribe me into signing that right-of-way agreement.”
Beaver Targle looked belligerent and ready to fight. “We’ll let you boys get on back to your work site. I expect you’ll want to start packing things now that you’ve finished your railroad,” he said.
“We’re claiming this pass,” Chane said, raising the shotgun into position.
“You’re a fool, Kincaid. This isn’t even your railroad. You’ll be dying for something your grandfather didn’t even live to see.”
Chane knew it was true, but somehow he’d gotten attached to the idea of finishing this railroad the way his grandfather had planned it. He wasn’t willing to give that up, even if he was outnumbered five to one.
Beaver Targle raised his shotgun and pointed it at Chane. Other men on the Denver and Mexico crews did likewise. Chane had second thoughts about getting his men killed for what might be nothing. Many could die, and he could still lose. The Denver crew had more guns and more men to hold them.
“I’ll give you another chance to clear out, Kincaid.”
Before Chane could respond, a murmuring started at the back of the Denver crew.
“Hold it!” a familiar female voice yelled from behind the Denver crew.
Frowning, Edgerly and Targle looked over their shoulders to see what was happening. Startled men murmured and turned.
Chane watched in amazement as Jennie, with the help of two Chinese men, clambered up and stood on a rock beside the trail looking out over the opposing factions. In a white coat, with her pale blond hair fanned out around her, she seemed to sparkle with ethereal brightness in the predawn air. Facing the east, her clear skin picked up the light and magnified it. She looked for a moment like an avenging angel. From around her and behind her, hundreds of Chinese bearing spears advanced on the Denver crew.
Chane grinned. Somehow Jennie had gotten the Chinese back and armed them with the spears she’d bought months ago. With their shaven crowns, and their spears drawn back, poised to let fly, and their faces set in belligerent frowns, the Chinese looked ferocious.
Instinctively, the Denver crew backed away from them.
“They aren’t fighters!” Edgerly yelled to reassure his men. “Stand up to them.”
“Like hell!” Chane yelled. “These Chinese are some of the most savage fighters I’ve ever seen. They’re worse than Indians. And they’d rather gut a man than shoot him,” he said, making it up as he went. “They’ve been a problem ever since we started this railroad. Trying to keep them from fighting…it almost can’t be done. They’d rather fight than eat.”
“You’re bluffing, Kincaid,” Edgerly said, sounding less confident. And Targle knew Chane was right. The Chinese looked small, but they were fierce.
Jennifer’s troops hissed and spat and shook their poised spears. The Denver crewmen nearest them edged back.
“Hope you can still count, Edgerly. It’d be a shame to get caught between us with our shotguns and a thousand angry Chinese armed with spears and knives. Like you said, this isn’t even your railroad. You can’t ask these men to give up their lives for nothing, as badly outnumbered as you are.”
Edgerly flashed Chane a look to see if he was lying. Chane faced him down. Edgerly shook his head. A look of disgust replaced the disbelief. He walked back to his crew. “Let’s go, boys. We’ve got here too late.”
Grateful, the men turned and started down the mountain. Men behind Chane laughed and slapped one another on the back. Beaver Targle was hanging back.
Chane ignored him and walked over to help Jennie down from the rock. He reached up, and Jennie stepped forward to meet him. Just as she did, Targle reached into his jacket and something shiny flashed through the air.
Jennie saw it and flung herself at Chane, knocking him off balance. She could see the knife coming at her, but she couldn’t do anything else after she’d used all her strength to push Chane out of the way. There was no time. She saw it arcing end over end and then straightening out at the very last moment. It seemed to wait for a split second until Chane’s body fell past, and then it embedded itself in her side.
Chane hit the ground, and Jennie followed. Lance raised the shotgun, but he was too late. One of the Chinese dashed forward and ran a spear through Beaver Targle’s chest. Targle staggered backward, clutching at the spear, and fell.
Other Chinese crowded around to form a shield between the enemies and their fallen leader. Lance ran over and knelt beside Chane, who was holding Jennie. She was conscious and alert in spite of the knife in her left side.
“Jesus!” Chane said, feeling more helpless than he’d ever felt in his life.
The look of distress on his face warmed her against the cold seeping into her bones. “Don’t be upset. I think I did this all by myself,” she said, smiling that she finally had his attention. “We beat them, didn’t we? We beat the Denver and Mexico line to the New Mexico border. It’s all going to work out just fine.”
Blood was spreading out around the knife. Her eyes blinked and closed. She lay so still, so pale, that his breath caught in his throat. Fear almost swamped him. In a panic, he turned to his brother. “I think my wife is dead.”
Chapter Thirty
They fashioned a stretcher from two-by-fours and a bolt of fabric from Wootton’s store. Chane was too stricken to think. Wootton sent a runner to find Dr. Campbell, while two men carried Jennie down the mountain. Chane strode alongside her, mute with terror that she might die.
Dr. Campbell met them on the run and had them set her down right there so he could examine her, then he just shook his head and asked them not to jar her too much.
“Aren’t you going to take the knife out?” Chane croaked.
“Hmmm.” Campbell walked him a short distance away from her and said, “I don’t think I’ll take that knife out just yet. Sometimes the shock of removing it suddenlike—” He paused and frowned as if he wished he hadn’t started on that line of reasoning. “—well, it’s a jolt to the system. She’s a healthy young woman, but I just don’t want to take any chances until I get her back to the hospital car.”
Chane had never felt more terrified in his life. Rage almost overwhelmed him. It was illogical, but he was furious at her for getting hurt.
They reached the work site in an hour. The longest hour Chane had ever survived. At the camp hospital, Campbell spent what seemed like forever preparing his surgical tools. Lance sat in a chair a few feet from where Jennie lay on the operating table. Chane paced from Jennie’s side to the end of the car and back again, each time hoping for some change in her condition. She remained asleep or unconscious, her face pale, her lips blue. They had piled on blankets to try to keep her warm, but her skin felt cold to the touch.
Dammit, Jennifer! If you die, I’ll never forgive you. Please, God, don’t let her die. His mind swirled with promises, but they defied articulation. At last Campbell seemed ready. He reached for the knife protruding from Jennie’s side. Chane stepped close to watch. Campbell straightened and shook his head. “This is going to be nerve-racking enough without you standing there breathing down my neck. Why don’t you wait outside?”
Lance took Chane by the arm and led him away. Chane wanted to protest, but he felt too weak to do anything except trudge along beside his brother.
“I killed her,” he whispered.
“She’s not dead, and she’d be real upset to hear you talking like that,” Lance said, leading him away.
A lifetime passed. Chane could almost feel his hair turning white. He’d never known such agony before. If Beaver Targle were still alive, he’d have roasted him over an open fire. Suddenly, he realized how Lance must have felt when Lucinda was murdered. She had died in Lance’s arms, and he had gone out and killed two of the men with his bare hands. Now, in the face of Jennie’s injury and possible
death, he understood how Lance could have taken the law into his own hands.
At last Campbell opened the door and stepped out.
“How is she?” Chane asked, dread almost choking off his ability to talk.
“Got the knife out without killing her. It’s not as bad as I feared. It was stuck pretty tight in that rib, but that’s probably what saved her. I broke the rib getting it out, or it was already shattered. But it only took a few stitches to close the wound. She’s going to hurt for a while, but I don’t think she’s got any internal damage. Still, infection’s always a possibility when you break the skin. Only time will tell.”
Lance staggered to a bed and fell asleep. It had been almost two weeks since he’d had any real rest. Chane pulled up a chair and sat wanly by Jennie’s side.
She woke a few hours later, and Chane was holding her hand. Her eyes blinked open and slowly focused on his face.
“Is everyone okay? I had a terrible dream…”
“Everyone is fine. Except you.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?”
“No. You saved the day by bringing Kim Wong’s men, and then you saved me.” Part of him wanted to tell her that he loved her and had been devastated by her injury, but he couldn’t. Part of him was beginning to understand how she could have been unfaithful, because he’d made the same mistake himself, but he still couldn’t get the words out.
He truly wanted to forgive her, but to do it, he’d have to trust her completely—or he’d have to love her at his own risk, without regard for his own safety and well-being. That would be like lying on a railroad track and trusting her not to run the train over him. He wanted to, except she’d already run the train over him once.
Or he’d have to find a way to feel that his mistake cancelled out her mistake. That didn’t sit well with him, either. If she hadn’t made the first one, he’d never have been in such a state that Latitia could have gotten to him the way she had.
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