McNamara returned Will’s stare and snapped his whip again.
“Come on, Buck.” Will clucked at his horse and caught up to his uncle and Homer.
“You’ll have to visit with your friend after tools down is sounded tonight,” Will’s uncle said. “You don’t want to create trouble for him.”
“I know. Chung Huang said he wanted to become a tracklayer, and he’s been successful achieving that position. I won’t mess it up for him.” Will looked back over his shoulder for another glimpse of the tracklaying crew, then urged the Morgan to keep up with the other two.
The three rode alongside the construction train, which resembled the one used by the UP. The locomotives pushed the cars loaded with rails and ties from the rear. Idling on the tracks a few yards behind the construction train, Will identified another train he knew belonged to James Strobridge, the Central Pacific’s construction superintendent. He remembered this train from his visit to Truckee, California, the preceding summer. Hanna Strobridge’s converted boxcar occupied the last position in this train, as it had in Truckee. Flowers bloomed in windows she had cut into the sides of the boxcar. A canary twittered from a cage suspended above a narrow balcony that stretched along one side of the car.
“Well, goodness, gracious, look who’s here.” Hanna Strobridge, who’d been feeding seed to the bird, leaned over the balcony’s railing and looked down at Will and his companions.
“Hello, Mrs. Strobridge.” Will’s uncle tipped his wide-brimmed hat. “Where might we find your husband this time of day?”
“I would imagine you would find him in the next train back.” She pointed down the tracks to where yet another locomotive emitted smoke from its stack and steam from its cylinders. “That’s Crocker’s train. Stro will most likely be huddled up with Charley and Monty in the last car.”
“Thanks,” Will’s uncle said.
“You going to be in our neighborhood for a spell?” she asked.
“Don’t know rightly. It depends on how our conversation goes with Stro and the other CP folks.”
“Would you join us for supper this evening?”
“That’s kind of you, Mrs. Strobridge. It depends on whether Mr. Crocker will permit us to stay that long.” Will’s uncle chuckled.
Hanna Strobridge laughed. “Charley may be a bit gruff, but he’s not inhospitable. I’ll invite him, too. That way you can’t refuse. When you see Stro, tell him I’ve extended the invitation.”
“Very well. And, thank you.” He tipped his hat again, and shaking his reins guided the horse down the length of Crocker’s train toward a passenger car coupled at the rear.
When they reached the last car of the train, his uncle dismounted and handed his reins to Will. “I’ll see if anybody’s home.”
Before his uncle could mount the steps at the rear of the passenger car, the door opened and James Strobridge stepped onto the platform. “Well, this is a surprise. Sean Corcoran and Will Braddock . . . welcome.”
“Stro,” his uncle said, “it’s nice to see you again. Sam Reed sent us on behalf of General Dodge to talk about arranging a meeting place for completing the Pacific Railroad.”
“Come on in. Crocker and Montague will have to discuss that with you, not me.”
“Homer and I will wait here, Uncle Sean.”
“Fine. Maybe Stro can recommend a place for us to pitch our tent for the evening.” Will’s uncle looked back up to Strobridge on the platform.
“Sure.” He pointed to a row of tents stretched out several yards from the tracks. “That’s our supervisors’ campsite yonder. Pitch your tent at the far end.”
“Homer,” Will’s uncle said, “you two set up camp while I
tend to business here.”
“Yas, suh. Come on, Will.”
An hour later, Will’s uncle rode up to the tent he and Homer had pitched at the location Strobridge had pointed out. Will stopped tightening the front guy rope on the wall tent as his uncle slid from the saddle. The despondent look on his uncle’s face told Will the meeting had not gone well. Will took the reins from his uncle. “I’ll unsaddle him for you,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Will stood holding the horse without moving and looked at his uncle. Finally, he raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question.
His uncle shook his head. “Crocker refuses to talk about a meeting place.”
Homer emerged from the tent and joined them. “He say why, Mr. Corcoran?”
“Seems Stanford is coming to Ogden in a few days to discuss the matter with Seymour.”
“Uh-oh,” Homer said.
“Leland Stanford, the president of the Central Pacific?” asked Will.
“The one and only Leland Stanford, former governor of California. The same one who’s been negotiating with Brigham Young and beating us to the punch in contracting with some of the best track graders.”
“General Dodge won’t like this,” Will said.
“You can bet on that. It’s discouraging, to say the least. If I hadn’t already accepted Hanna Strobridge’s invitation to supper, I’d say we’d strike camp and head back now. As it is, we’ll leave at first light tomorrow.”
“Uncle Sean, if you don’t mind, and if you think it would not be rude to Mrs. Strobridge, I’d prefer to not join you for supper.”
“Why’s that? You enjoyed the supper we had with the Strobridges in Truckee last year.”
“I know, but I want to find Chung Huang and talk with him. If we’re leaving in the morning, I won’t have another chance.”
“All right. I’ll explain to Hanna. Going to be an interesting evening if she did invite Crocker.”
“I’se gonna fry up a couple of steaks for Will and me, then,” Homer said. “After we eat, I can start packing up for our return ride.”
Will’s uncle nodded. It was understood by all three that Hanna Strobridge’s invitation did not include the black man.
After he and Homer had eaten, and his uncle had departed for his supper with the Strobridges, Will went in search of Chung Huang. He inquired about the location of the tracklayers’ campsite and soon found his Chinese friend.
Will and Chung Huang walked east from the end of track on the CP’s graded route. Their footprints would not damage the surface like hoofprints. They brought each other up-to-date on what had transpired since they’d last been together.
“So, you say Mr. Crocker intends to put on a special show on how fast your team can lay track?”
Chung Huang nodded, the rim of his straw hat bobbing in front of his face. “Cholly Clocka has big plan for how we do it. I overhear him discuss with Mr. McNamara.”
“You think the CP can really lay more track in a day than the UP?”
“I sure. We good at tracklaying. Even One-eye Bossy Man say that now.”
Will grinned at the Chinese’s name for Strobridge, who’d lost an eye in a blasting accident five years earlier.
The two youths stopped and turned to look back at the construction camp.
“I going to miss this,” said Chung Huang. “It be fun. Hard work, but fun.”
“What will you do when it’s over?”
“I go to China.”
“China!”
“I want to see the country of my ancestors. I want to tell them I worked on great American railroad. China will build railroads, too. I can help.”
“China. That’s a far-off place. I’ll never see China.”
“Why not? Come with me. Together we build great railroad in China.” He laughed. “What will you do when Pacific Railroad finished?”
Will shook his head. “Don’t know. At one time . . . long ago . . . I thought I’d make a lot of money working on the railroad. Then I’d return to Iowa and buy the family farm back. But . . . I didn’t make a lot of money. Besides, I might be arrested if I go back. Judge Sampson may still want to make me a blacksmith apprentice. I don’t want that.”
“You think about coming to China with me.”
Will s
miled. That was a possibility he hadn’t considered before.
CHAPTER 35
“Welcome to Ogden, folks.” Jenny held the Wells Fargo station door open and greeted a half-dozen passengers who had arrived earlier from Corinne on the train. “The stage to Salt Lake City will depart in an hour.”
Four male passengers and one female stepped single file into the interior of the station. A final man leaned down to pass through the open door, but he bumped his top hat against the upper sill of the doorway, knocking the hat off.
Jenny grabbed the hat before it hit the floor and returned it to the passenger.
“Thank you, young lady,” he said. The bearded, middle-aged man stood up straighter and his eyes widened when he looked into Jenny’s face. “Oh my, I know you. You’re Jenny McNabb.”
“Why, Governor Stanford. I’m flattered that you remember me.”
“I’ll never forget that meal you prepared in Green River last December. Collis Huntington and his wife had ridden with me on the UP as far as the tracks then extended from Omaha. We were on our way back to Sacramento and boarded the stagecoach in Green River for the journey on to Salt Lake City. The Huntingtons and I marveled at how you could prepare such a wonderful supper in that out-of-the-way place. Are you going to be serving a meal today? I would certainly enjoy it.”
“Yes, sir. Wells Fargo does not provide food service in Ogden. There are many fine restaurants available here.”
“So, if you’re not cooking, what do you do for Wells Fargo?”
“I help my father with the teams and the ticketing of passengers.”
“Wells Fargo will soon be out of the cross-country stage business . . . with the railroads about to join up. What are you going to do after that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking I might join my sister in Sacramento. She’s opened a millinery shop there.”
“Hmm. So you’re not essential to the operation of the Ogden station, then?”
“Well,” Jenny answered, “I guess if you put it that way, no. My father and brother could handle the teams and the passengers without me.”
“Great! I have an idea.”
Stanford smiled at her, but did not continue. To encourage him to speak, Jenny cocked her head slightly to the side and raised her eyebrows.
“I need a cook,” Stanford said. “A chef, actually. I had a Chinaman on board my train who prepared decent meals, but he jumped ship so to speak when we reached the tracklaying crew and joined up with them. I’m looking for someone with the talent to create special dishes. When it comes time for the celebration to commemorate the completion of the Pacific Railroad, I plan to bring a special train from California with several guests. I want to feed them well. You could do the job. How about it . . . do you want the position?”
Jenny’s father had finished hitching the teams to the coach and had entered the station in time to catch the tail end of her conversation with Stanford. “What’s this about a position?” he asked.
“Ah, Mr. McNabb,” Stanford said, “I’m offering your daughter a way to get to Sacramento faster than she might otherwise have thought possible. Of course, the job would require a brief return trip to Utah before she could permanently reside in California.”
“Tell me more,” Jenny’s father said.
Stanford and Jenny recounted their conversation for the benefit of her father. He nodded when they had finished.
“Well, I agree she’s a good cook,” her father said, “and she has plenty of spunk, as well as the ability to look after herself. Still, she’s not yet fifteen years old, and I would need assurances that she would be looked after and protected from any riffraff that might be encountered on the journey.”
“Oh, I quite agree. You need not worry about that. She will be protected from any sort of trouble. In Sacramento, she will have the company of my wife. Whom, incidentally, I call Jennie.” Stanford smiled at Jenny and bobbed his head. “Everybody else, however, calls her Jane, or Mrs. Stanford, as the case may be.”
“Well, Governor,” Jenny’s father said, “I’ll leave the decision up to her.”
“Miss McNabb,” Stanford asked, “what do you say?”
Jenny looked at her father, who closed his eyelids, smiled, and nodded. She felt a broad smile cross her lips. “Yes . . . yes, Governor Stanford, I’d be honored to be your chef.”
“Excellent! I have to make a quick trip down to Salt Lake City to confer with Brigham Young. After that I will return to Ogden to discuss some business with ‘Colonel’ Seymour. Probably be a couple of days before I’m ready to head back to California. Can you be ready by then?”
“Yes, Governor, I’ll get ready.” She whirled around and headed for the back room where the family members slept. She had to pack her little trunk.
“Not so fast, young lady,” Jenny’s father said.
She stopped and turned back to face her father and Governor Stanford.
“There will be time to pack later. Right now, you still work forWells Fargo, and we have a coachload of passengers to ticket.”
“Oh. Of course, Papa.” She felt her face flush, but she smiled anyway.
Her father and Governor Stanford laughed.
CHAPTER 36
Will stood on the platform of the Corinne depot with his uncle, Jacob Blickensderfer, and Samuel Reed. Reed had received a telegram from Dodge alerting him to the fact that Leland Stanford should be arriving from Ogden on the train.
“I don’t like doing this,” Sam Reed said.
“You don’t have any choice, Sam,” Will’s uncle said.
“General Dodge makes it pretty clear in his telegram,” Blickensderfer said, “that he expects you to put an end to this mischief right now.”
Reed shook the yellow sheet of paper in his clinched fist. “Why didn’t he send a telegram to the Central Pacific’s headquarters in Sacramento? Let them take care of it.”
“He probably doesn’t want Stanford blabbing about his agreement with Seymour all along the route,” Will’s uncle said. “It might be harder to kill the deal after everybody working on the CP hears word about the agreement. That could put General Dodge in an untenable position.”
“I agree, Sam,” Blickensderfer said. “Best to end this thing sooner than later.”
Reed sighed deeply. He looked at the yellow telegram once more. “All right. I suppose this is the best way. I wish I wasn’t the one that had to confront Governor Stanford.”
A long wail on an engine whistle signaled the arrival of the train from Ogden. The locomotive drifted past the platform, steam hissing from the driving cylinders, and a black cloud belching from the smokestack. The engineer clanged the bell a half-dozen times, and the wheels of the engine screeched on the iron rails as he brought the train to a halt with the single passenger coach aligned precisely in front of the station’s waiting room.
Will had been watching the windows of the passenger coach as it slid past. He gave a start when he saw a black-haired girl wave at him from one of the raised windows.
“Jenny? Jenny McNabb. What are you doing on the train? Where are you going?”
“If we’re going to be stopped at the station for a few minutes,” she said, “I’ll come out and tell you about it.”
Will glanced at his uncle and the other two men who were waiting for Stanford. “There’ll be time,” his uncle said.
As soon as the train stopped, the stationmaster climbed aboard the coach. He quickly returned, followed by a medium-set man with a graying beard and mustache. Governor Leland Stanford touched the brim of his top hat as he descended from the rear of the coach and stepped onto the station platform.
“Gentlemen,” Stanford said, “I don’t believe I have the privilege of your acquaintance, but the stationmaster tells me it’s imperative that you speak with me.”
“Governor Stanford, I’m Samuel Reed, the UP’s construction engineer. This is Jacob Blickensderfer, my assistant, and Sean Corcoran, my associate and advisor.”
Whi
le Reed made the introductions, Will helped Jenny step from the rear of the coach onto the platform. “Jenny, I want to hear your answer to my questions, but if you don’t mind I want to eavesdrop on this conversation first.” He nodded his head toward the four men who stood a couple of paces away.
“All right.” Jenny stepped closer to Will and slipped her hand into his.
“Sir,” Reed said, “I have received a telegram from General Grenville Dodge that he wants me to share with you.” Reed handed the wrinkled, yellow sheet of paper to Stanford.
Stanford scanned the paper, a scowl darkening his face as he read.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Stanford shouted and slammed a fist against the yellow paper. “I met with ‘Colonel’ Seymour yesterday in Ogden. I told him that I found the Union Pacific’s tracks and trestle between here and Promontory Summit inferior in quality. Seymour agreed with me and said he would wire Dodge, recommending the Union Pacific accept the Central Pacific’s line.”
“As you can read in his telegram,” Reed said, “General Dodge refuses to accept Seymour’s recommendation.”
“ ‘Colonel’ Seymour told me he represents Doc Durant, your vice president and general manager. Isn’t Durant senior to Dodge?”
“In operations,” Reed said, “that’s true. But in construction of the line, General Dodge is the Union Pacific’s chief engineer and he has been given full authority by the government to decide what line is best. I’m afraid General Dodge’s decision is the UP’s final answer on this matter.”
“Well I never! What do you propose I do now, Mr. Reed?”
“General Dodge sent this wire from Council Bluffs earlier today. He’s on his way out here and should arrive in a few days. You can wait and discuss it with him. But, I wouldn’t count on him changing his mind.”
“Humph! I don’t have time to wait around here for Dodge. I have to return to Sacramento and assemble my guests for the return trip to Promontory Summit for the ceremony linking the roads.”
Stanford handed the telegram back to Reed and stalked back to the rear of the train. He passed Jenny and Will as he did so. He paused before mounting the steps into the coach. “You coming, Miss McNabb?”
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