Golden Spike

by Robert Lee Murphy

  “Can I return to my coach?” Durant asked. “I have a terrible headache.”

  “Not yet. Sure, and ye may have a bigger headache iffen we don’t get a positive reply soon.”

  “This is robbery, you know,” Durant said.

  “Robbery? Now, how do ye think that? We’re only asking to be paid what we’re owed. We ain’t asking for nothing that don’t belong to us.”

  “The Union Pacific is short of funds,” Durant said, “what with President Grant refusing to issue any more bonds until the railroads join. You would have better luck holding up the CP’s train coming out of Sacramento. Word is Governor Stanford’s bringing golden spikes to Promontory to drive into the last tie to commemorate the completion of the Pacific Railroad.”

  Paddy’s head jerked up. Golden spikes? He’d heard how rich the Big Four owners of the Central Pacific would become from building their part of the railroad. Were they that rich they could throw money away in the form of golden spikes? Paddy wasn’t going to receive anything out of the ransom being demanded here by the tie cutters and tracklayers. He was no longer an employee of the railroad. The UP didn’t owe him any back wages. But golden spikes—now there’s something that could make him rich. If he could lay his hands on those spikes before the ceremony, the Central Pacific would have to pay him a handsome ransom to get them back.

  The telegraph jumped to life, and a minute later the telegrapher handed MacBride the message. After reading it, he handed it to Durant.

  Durant read the telegram and handed it back to MacBride. “Fifty thousand,” Durant said. “There’s not two hundred thousand dollars available. So . . . that’s all for now. But, you have my word you’ll have the rest later if you let me get on my way, now. That’s the condition the company demands for paying the fifty thousand.”

  “Fifty thousand as a down payment!” MacBride crumpled the telegram and threw it over the counter at the telegrapher. “Send back an answer that the fifty thousand better be here by tomorrow. Then, and only then, will we let Doc Durant go.”

  Paddy saw Durant’s shoulders slump farther.

  “At least let me return to my coach. My headache is killing me.”

  MacBride grabbed Durant by the arm and pulled him off the bench. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll all relax on yer plush upholstery ’til morning. I’ll bet ye’ve even got good whiskey on board.”

  Paddy jumped off the cargo box and opened the door again for MacBride, who led the way as his two associates dragged Durant and Duff out of the depot.

  MacBride called back over his shoulder to Paddy. “Join us, O’Hannigan. Not sure why I’m inviting ye. Maybe I like yer gumption. Aye, that must be it. Come have a stiff drink with me.”

  Paddy followed the group across the platform and into the Pullman palace car. His mind churned over how he could proceed to Promontory Summit and find the Central Pacific train carrying Governor Stanford and the golden spikes.

  CHAPTER 44

  Will had helped his uncle and Homer finish the surveying of the railyard at Echo City in the rain, then the three of them caught a supply train headed to Ogden. General Dodge and Sidney Dillon had departed in Dodge’s special train the evening before, after word arrived over the telegraph that the ransom for Doc Durant had been arranged.

  The heavy rains that were falling in Weber Canyon dissipated as the work train approached the flatter land around Ogden.

  “Hey!” Will said. “There’s Jenny.” He waved to her from the window of the passenger car as it eased into the Ogden station. “I thought she was with Governor Stanford. What’s she doing here?”

  “There’s your answer,” Will’s uncle said. “That’s Governor Stanford coming out of the depot with Sam Reed. But how did Stanford get here? The tracks aren’t connected yet.”

  After the conductor opened the rear door of their car, Will and his two companions stepped down onto the station’s platform. Will hurried over to Jenny.

  “I’m surprised to see you,” he said. “What brings you to Ogden?”

  “When we heard the kidnapping of Doc Durant would delay the ceremonies, Sam Reed brought the governor and some of his guests to Ogden on a work train. They’re here to see the sights. I’m here to buy provisions. We’re running out of food because of the extended stay.”

  Will studied a pile of cartons and boxes surrounding Jenny. “All this?”

  “I’m feeding two dozen people three meals a day, Will. But, I’m not sure how I’m going to haul all of this to Governor Stanford’s train. I hate to ask his visitors to lug groceries.”

  Jenny cocked her head to the side, causing strands of her black hair to escape from beneath her bonnet and shimmer on her shoulders. She straightened her head, tucked her hair back under the bonnet, raised her eyebrows, and smiled at him.

  “Me?” Will gazed mesmerized into her unblinking blue eyes.

  “I assume you’re going to Promontory for the ceremony. If you’re not busy here, perhaps you could go a little early and lend me a hand?”

  Will felt a flush creep up his face. When she smiled at him, like she was doing now, he didn’t know how to respond.

  “I . . . ah—” he stammered. He blew out his breath. “How did you get all these packages here?”

  “Father and Duncan helped me, but they have to stay here to run the Wells Fargo station. I could really use your help, Will.”

  “Let me ask Uncle Sean if he’ll be needing me.”

  Will went over to his uncle who stood talking with Sam Reed and Governor Stanford. Homer remained silently beside Jenny. Will waited until his uncle completed his conversation and Reed and Stanford moved away.

  “Excuse me, Uncle Sean,” Will said. “May I speak to you a minute?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Are you going to be needing me before the ceremony on Monday?”

  “No, General Dodge said we’ve done all he had for us to do. Why?”

  “You remember Jenny is cooking for Governor Stanford and his guests. She’s in Ogden to buy food, and she’s asked me to help her take it back to the governor’s train.”

  Will’s uncle studied the pile of cartons where Jenny stood. “That’s a lot of boxes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t suppose the governor or any of those dignitaries are going to volunteer to tote them. All right. Take Homer along. He has a strong back.”

  Will returned to Jenny and Homer. “Homer, you want to join us and carry some boxes?”

  “Sure thing. I’se happy to help Miss Jenny.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” said Jenny. “Homer, you can help me with the cooking, too.” She smiled at the black man and wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Yes, ma’am. I reckon I can do that.”

  Will and Homer loaded Jenny’s supplies onto the work train preparing to return to Promontory. After the dignitaries had boarded and taken their places on the wooden benches, Jenny introduced Will and Homer to Governor Stanford.

  “Pleasure to meet Miss McNabb’s friends,” the governor said. “Thank you for helping.”

  “You’re welcome, Governor,” Will said. “Sir, when we pass through Corinne, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to bring my horse and Homer’s mule on board. We’ll be needing them at Promontory.”

  “We’ll be making a refueling stop in Corinne, I suppose. Getting your mounts on board won’t delay us. Is one of the cars in this train a stable car?”

  “No, sir,” Will said. “We’ll load them onto one of the regular boxcars. That’ll be fine for the short trip up to Promontory.”

  A couple of hours later, the work train stopped at the Union Pacific’s end of track a hundred yards short of Promontory Summit. In addition to the UP’s construction tents scattered alongside the tracks, several false-fronted structures had been erected at the site since Will had last been here.

  Sitting on the Central Pacific’s mainline, across the open space to the west, Will saw what had to be Governor Stanford’s train. The locomotive named Jupiter
had its steam up in readiness to depart. Parked on a siding beside Stanford’s special, Will recognized Strobridge’s work train. Stretching down the CP’s tracks, on either side of the two trains, another tent camp provided living quarters for the Central Pacific’s Chinese and Irish laborers.

  General Jack Casement approached, tapping his riding crop against his boot. He greeted the Central Pacific dignitaries as they alighted from the workers’ coach. “Governor Stanford,” he said, “I hope the ride into Ogden and back was satisfactory.”

  “It was, General. Thank you for arranging it. Now, if we could borrow a wagon again to take us the short distance to my train.”

  “Certainly. I’ll send one right over.”

  General Jack took a step away, paused, and looked back. “Will Braddock, what are you doing with the Central Pacific folks?”

  “Helping Jenny McNabb. She has boxes of groceries to take to Governor Stanford’s train. The wagon will certainly help.”

  General Jack laughed and walked away waving his crop in the air. “It’ll be here shortly.”

  A few minutes later, Will and Homer stacked Jenny’s boxes of provisions down the center of the wagon bed. Then, Will and Homer helped the members of Governor Stanford’s party climb into the wagon where they found seats atop the boxes or on the wagon’s sideboards.

  Governor Stanford stood at the rear of the wagon with Jenny, Will, and Homer.

  “I’ve decided to take our train back to Monument, Jenny,” Stanford said. “It’s thirty miles to the west. There’s a nice view of the Great Salt Lake from there. I want to have a picnic along the shore for my guests tomorrow. It will be more pleasant than sitting around this barren place.” He waved a hand to take in the ramshackle structures forming the beginnings of a station town at Promontory Summit.

  “Governor,” Jenny said. “I’d like to have Will and Homer come with me. Homer’s a great cook, and he can help me prepare a first-rate picnic.”

  “That sounds fine, Jenny. And Will Braddock? What will he do?” Stanford smiled.

  “Oh, I have something in mind for him.” Jenny grinned.

  “But we have Buck and Ruby to take care of,” Will said.

  “I don’t have any way for you to take your mounts on my train,” Stanford said. “But, James Strobridge will be taking his work train to Camp Victory later this evening to pick up more workers to bring them here for the celebration. You can probably put your animals on his train. It’s only a two mile ride from Camp Victory to Monument.”

  “Great!” Jenny said. “That’s settled.”

  Will lifted Jenny onto the tailgate, where she sat with her feet dangling off the rear. “Thank you. I’ll see you both in the morning, then?”

  Will nodded. “I guess so.”

  The governor climbed onto the wagon’s front seat beside the driver. “Let’s go,” he said.

  The driver snapped the reins and the wagon moved away. Will watched for a couple of minutes and waved one final time to Jenny before returning to the boxcar to unload Buck and Ruby.

  What did she mean she had something he could do?

  CHAPTER 45

  Paddy sat by the aisle next to Brenden MacBride on the last wooden bench seat in the coach. Collin Fitzgerald and Liam Gallagher sat opposite on a rear-facing seat. Rain drummed on the roof and streaked down the windows. Keeping the windows closed because of the downpour intensified the humidity in the car from the passengers’ breaths, clouding the inside of the panes and making it even more difficult to see out.

  The fifty-thousand-dollar down payment of the ransom money had been received at Piedmont earlier that morning, and MacBride had divided the amount among the workers who’d helped with the kidnapping. MacBride then decided to stay close to Durant in hopes of keeping pressure on him for the rest of the men’s back pay. Doc Durant’s Pullman palace car was reconnected to the train, which had been brought back to Piedmont from Evanston, where the engineer had held his train awaiting instructions from the Union Pacific.

  Paddy grabbed this opportunity to transport himself closer to Promontory Summit and the golden spikes. Claiming he worked for Mort Kavanagh, Paddy said he could arrange special prices for whiskey for MacBride at the Lucky Dollar Saloon in Corinne. MacBride, his henchmen, and Paddy had transferred to seats in one of the regular coaches and left Durant and John Duff alone in the comfort of the doctor’s special car.

  After a brief refueling stop in Echo City a half-hour earlier, the train had proceeded at a moderate speed toward Ogden. Now it slowed. Paddy heard a long blast from the engine’s whistle, and the train glided to a stop.

  The door to the front platform of the coach opened, and a broad-shouldered man wearing a poncho stepped inside. Water poured from his gutta-percha rain gear and the brim of his hat, puddling on the floor of the car. He quickly surveyed the passengers.

  “Folks,” he said, “my name’s Grady Shaughnessy. I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is that the trestle here at Devil’s Gate is partially washed out. It’s not safe to take a heavy locomotive across.”

  A collective groan escaped the passengers. Paddy glanced sideways at MacBride who shook his head and sighed, expressing his frustration.

  “Ordinarily,” Shaughnessy continued, “the UP would back this train up to Echo City and ask you folks to rest there until repairs could be finished on the bridge. However, as you know, Dr. Durant and Mr. Duff are on this train, and they’re already late getting to Promontory Summit for the celebration originally planned for today. I assume many of you are also heading there. So . . . here’s the good news. We’re going to push the passenger cars by hand across the bridge one at a time and couple them to another locomotive on the other side. Engine No. 119 is standing by over there to take you the rest of the way.”

  “That the best ye can do, Grady?” MacBride stood and called over the grumbling conversation of the other passengers.

  “Morning, Brenden,” Shaughnessy said. “I thought you fellows in Piedmont had been paid your ransom money and would be celebrating. What are you doing on this train?”

  “Going to Promontory, that’s what.”

  “That looks like Paddy O’Hannigan sitting beside you . . . if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Yer not. He be going with us as far as Corinne.” MacBride sat down.

  “I’d keep my hands on my wallet, if I were you,” Shaughnessy said. “The UP fired that sorry rascal two years ago for stealing from the company.”

  Shaughnessy removed his hat and shook more water from it. “Now, folks, this train is going to back up about a mile to a siding where this locomotive will swap ends with the cars and push you back to the trestle. When you return, I want everybody to get off. You can leave your bags on board, but you passengers have to help push the cars one by one over the bridge.”

  “What?” “How?” “Why?” Questions flew at Shaughnessy from several passengers at once.

  “Sorry, you’ll have to get wet folks, but that’s the way it’s going to be.” Shaughnessy put his hat on and left the front of the coach.

  Paddy didn’t plan to wait around for this foolishness to play itself out. He needed to head to Promontory Summit now.

  “Sure, and I’m going to take a piss, MacBride,” Paddy said. “Can’t wait ’til we reach a siding.” Because he sat on the aisle in the last row, he only had to spin off the seat to grab the door handle and leave the coach.

  He jumped from the platform steps. When he hit the wet ballast alongside the track, his feet slipped out from under him, and he wound up sliding into the ditch on his butt. The blow of his feet striking the ground aggravated the bullet wounds in his leg. He rubbed the sore area, mentally cursing Will Braddock. Before he could stand back on his feet, the rain soaked him thoroughly. Mud coated his bruised and scratched hands where he’d used them to brake his slide. He winced from the pain when he wiped them on his vest. His bowler hat had stayed on his head, but it did little to keep his eyes free of water.

  He s
tayed in the ditch below the tracks and headed toward the front of the train. He’d only taken a couple of steps when the engine whistle sounded two short blasts, and the train lurched rearward.

  “O’Hannigan, ye better get back on board, we’re leaving.”

  MacBride leaned off the rear platform of the coach motioning to him. Paddy kept moving up past the cars toward the trestle abutment, which he could see ahead. The train moved farther away down the tracks behind him.

  When he reached the abutment, he looked down into the raging waters of a tributary creek that flowed into Weber River. The trestle allowed the tracks to pass from a narrow ledge the UP had blasted into the canyon’s wall on one side of the creek across to a ledge that continued on the other side. A crew of bridge builders worked below in the rain wrestling heavy timbers down the side to where several bents in the structure had been broken by the force of the flood waters.

  Paddy swiped a hand across his face to clear his eyes of water. Staring through sheets of rain, he surveyed the wooden trestle, which stretched almost a hundred yards ahead of him. He would have to walk across.

  He stepped from the last tie embedded in solid ground onto the first tie that lay across the trestle. If he slipped off one of the trestle ties, his foot would descend into open space. He knew he had to take his time and ensure he had a firm grip on the next slippery tie before shifting his weight from his back foot to his front. The rushing water pounding against the trestle’s bents anchored in the stream bed shook the flimsy bridge beneath him.

  It took ten minutes to thread his way the length of the Devil’s Gate bridge. He blew out his breath when he reached the abutment at the other end. Only now, he realized how soaked his clothing had become. When he took a normal step along the right-of-way after leaving the bridge behind, his groin chaffed from the wet material that grabbed at his crotch.

  Now, how was he going to get on to Ogden? Ahead of him, Engine No. 119 idled on the mainline. He could force the engineer to take him to Ogden, but that would attract too much attention. Grady Shaughnessy had announced No. 119 had been selected to take Durant to Promontory Summit. If this locomotive unexpectedly departed the scene, Shaughnessy would notify the officials in Ogden, and Paddy would be stopped. He had to find another way.