Surrender A Dream

by Jill Barnett

  Montana and Will had ridden back to the farm early that morning. Both of them were covered with dust, unshaven, and broodingly quiet. Montana had gone inside, grabbed some clothes, and in passing, the only thing he'd said to her was a cold, "I'm back." He left her standing in the farmyard as he headed for the barn. Less than an hour later he emerged all cleaned up. Then Custus had returned with their wagon filled with supplies, and John Latimer had come over right afterward. There had been no chance for Montana and Addie to talk or be alone.

  But it hadn't mattered that they couldn't talk because she had decided not to talk to him. Gripping the handle on a cast-iron pan a bit harder than necessary, she lifted it off the stove and went to the sinkboard, filling it with water from the hand pump. If he was bent on closing her out of his life, then nothing she could say or do would change his mind. The pump handle whipped up and down, water gushing like a flash flood from the spigot. He was the one who had to learn to open up. He had to let her into his life and his thoughts, even his pain, otherwise they'd never have a good relationship, and she'd never break through his hard-headed, close-mouthed barrier. The sound of the pan overflowing stilled her rapid pumping. She stared at the full sink basin a bit sheepishly, then glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had noticed.

  No one had. Montana still sat there hardly saying a word, but listening to John and Custus talk. There was to be another grange meeting. Wade had come back from Sacramento and there was news. Addie scrubbed the pot with a brush, but not too vigorously because then she couldn't hear them. The sinkboard was a distance from the table, and the kitchen window was open to let in a wisp of a breeze. Outside, John's team moved, shifted, and the harness jangled, and that—combined with the slop of a water-filled basin, the cackle of her chickens, and a distant bawl from Mabel or Maud—made her eavesdropping harder.

  "Well, I've got to get back to the farm. The Blues are harvesting the last of the west field today. I wanted to let you know about the meeting tonight." John stood and picked up his hat.

  "We'll be there," Montana told him. Addie wondered if she was included in that "we."

  Then she got her answer.

  "Hettie said she'll see you tonight, Addie," John said, and then he and the men went outside.

  They stood talking, then John Latimer said something and clapped Montana on the back. Custus jabbered away and threw some mock punches, as if he were fighting with the air. She should have followed them outside and listened out there. John and Custus probably knew more about Montana's problems-than she did. And that hurtful thought just reminded her of where she stood in her relationship with her husband. She stood locked outside, until he wanted to let her in.

  The grange hall was packed; every person in Alameda County appeared to be there. Montana had gone outside a few minutes before with Wade, Levi, and Will. As Addie sat on a hard, creaky wooden folding chair, she looked around the room. Every chair except the one next to hers was occupied. Smoke and sweat and kerosene filled the hot, tight air and floated along the ceiling of the room like early morning fog. She pulled out a lace hankie from its hiding place beneath her tight cuff and fanned her damp face, absentmindedly listening to the surrounding chatter.

  The chair next to her clattered and groaned as Montana sat down. Anticipation silenced the room as the tall, dark figure of the grange lawyer, Wade Parker, and the shorter figure of Levi Hamilton, moved toward the front. They threaded their way down the narrow, overflowing aisle, heading for the platform where the band had played the night of the dance. Now a wooden podium, slightly orange with varnish, stood alone, awaiting its speaker. There was none of the sense of merriment that had been present that night a few months ago. The only thing in the air tonight, other than sweat, lamp oil and smoke, was tension—straining, vibrating tension—and everyone there felt it.

  Levi stood back a bit while Wade stepped up to the podium, clearing his throat before he spoke. "As you all know, at the last meeting we decided to try to raise more funds to build a people's railroad. It's a big job, but there's been support from all over the state. The ranchers in the valley are having the same problems with the railroad that we are. The freight rates go up daily and they're getting no more for their cattle than you are for your grain."

  The room grumbled and Wade held up his hand to quiet them. "The farmers need grange-operated elevators so we can stop the practice of downgrading the grain. We have to have the People's Railroad to ship because the railroad won't ship for granary operations that they don't own. Right now the grain operators are in cahoots with the railroad, but they know that they're our only means of getting the grain to the eastern market. They'll use it to make as much money as they can. Although I understand in Stockton that that weasel, Charles Avery, is sporting a broken nose, about five less teeth, and a shiner swole up the size of a Pasadena orange. That might make him less likely to downgrade any wheat for a while."

  There was laughter and a few men turned and looked at Montana. Addie glanced at his mangled fist, and now she understood.

  "The plans are in motion. There will be five elevators operated by the Association of Farmers in Modesto, the Fresno Brotherhood of the Land, the two grange associations in Alameda and Costra Costa Counties; and the Northern and Central California Cattlemen's Associations have started the funding for the People's Railroad, which still needs more major funding. It will ship the grain and cattle to the eastern markets. Both the farmers and the ranchers will be assured of fair treatment." Again everyone started talking, so Wade banged a meeting gavel on the podium. "You haven't heard the best news, yet. Today the People's Railroad Fund received an anonymous donation of fifty thousand dollars."

  Cheers erupted in the room and Addie could hear Custus's whooping above all the others.

  "I think we'll have something to say about that money." A voice shouted from the back of the room and the place suddenly quieted. A wave of heads turned like wheat in the wind toward the voice. Addie tried to crane over the people behind her to see who had spoken. Bootsteps pounded from the back and then five men in dark coats and white shirts walked toward Wade Parker.

  Immediately, Montana stood, stepping over Addie to the side aisle. Frowning, she followed his movements with her worried eyes and saw him nod at Will and Custus. They mimicked his movement. The three men lounged against the window walls, watching. She caught Hettie's worried look and was sure it mirrored her own, then she noticed that John and some other men were in the same positions as Montana. The men looked itching for a fight, so she closed her eyes and silently prayed.

  The short, swarthy leader of the suited men confronted Wade. "Where'd you get that money?"

  "As I said before, it was an anonymous donation." Wade stood a bit taller and his shoulders arched back, straighter. He looked pleased, not the least bit intimidated. "And what business is it of yours?"

  "We're agents for the S.P., except for Mr. Howell here, who's a federal marshal." The man nodded at a tall, ordinary-looking man who stood on his right.

  Montana stepped up on the left side of the platform and slowly walked to stand behind Wade. John did the same. The room was silent except for the hollow thud of boots stepping on the platform, which matched the insistent pounding of Addie's heart. Will and the others followed Montana from the left and John's side filed up from the right. Then a wall of fifteen men, three times that of the railroad, was standing behind Levi Hamilton and Wade Parker.

  Finally the railroad agent spoke, "Hand over that money."

  With a knowing smile, Wade gestured to Levi. "Ask my colleague, here."

  "First of all, it's been deposited in the grange association's account. Isn't that right, Collins?" Levi called out.

  The banker stood. "Sure is, all nice and tight in the vault."

  Titters of laughter ran through the audience.

  "What makes you think it's the railroad's?" Wade asked with a suppressed smile. It looked to Addie as if he was enjoying this.

  "You damn well know that fifty
thousand was stolen from the S.P. number seven, just after midnight last night. The train was only five miles outside of town when it was hit."

  "That's too bad." Wade leaned casually against the podium and he smiled, making it obvious that he wasn't the least bit sorry. Then he said, "But I don't see that your loss has anything to do with our donation. Do you, Levi?"

  "No," Levi answered to chuckles from the room.

  The marshal stepped forward. "How was the donation paid?"

  "Just appeared on my office desk this morning," Wade said with a straight face. "There was a note that said, 'For the People's Railroad Fund.' ''

  "Was the money in paper or gold?" the marshal asked.

  "Gold." Wade didn't flinch. The whole room was well-aware that the money was the S.P.'s, but no one gave a hoot, because the railroad had, in some way, put the screws to almost every person in that room.

  "The stolen money was gold." The marshal just stared at Wade.

  "It's the railroad gold, Parker, and we want it," the agent said.

  "Prove it." Wade smiled.

  "We don't have to prove it!" the agent shouted. "It's obvious that's our money!"

  "Just prove it and we'll be happy to give it back. Right, Levi?" Wade continued egging the railroad men on.

  "Sure," Levi agreed. "Unlike the railroad, we don't want money that doesn't belong to us."

  "Fifty thousand in gold was stolen last night, and suddenly fifty thousand in gold appears in your office? Anyone with a lick of sense can tell that's the same money!" The agent was shouting mad.

  "Circumstantial," both lawyers said in unison.

  There were snickers from some of the people in the room.

  "You bastard! You know gold coin can't be traced. Where else would you farmers get that kind of money?" The agent started to step onto the platform, and the line of men behind the lawyers moved forward. The marshal grabbed the man's arm and pulled him back, shaking his head while he quietly spoke to him.

  Custus spit out his cigar stub. "Ya know what? I bet all them there farmers and ranchers that ya've been a-screwin' for fifteen years has been savin' up their gold, jus' a-pilin' it up. Can't ya picture all them there broken-down men and widows savin' and scrimpin'? I reckon over that many years it'd be about fifty thousand." He looked at Wade.

  "Sounds logical to me," he agreed, and the room erupted with laughter.

  "We'll get that money! The courts will see it our way," the agent threatened, then he turned to the others and said, "Let's get the hell outta here." And they filed out.

  "Tell the S.P. that maybe they ought to ship paper bills from now on. They have serial numbers!" Wade called out after them.

  The back door slammed shut and the room became silent, then someone started clapping and the whole grange filled with applause. Wade smiled, but then his face grew serious and he held up his hands in a quieting gesture. "We'll have to fight them in court, but I'm not too concerned. If we can get those bastards in court, we can win."

  "What about the railroad-bought judges?" someone yelled out.

  "The mood in Sacramento is changing, for the good," Wade answered. "The state legislature has followed Congress, and they've formed a regulatory commission to try to control the railroad. It's still pretty green, though, and their power is limited. The courts are where we need to get support, and I was assured that there is progressive movement in that area. And I'll not let them get their hands on that money. Levi's deposited it in the fund's account, and they can't touch it without a court order."

  "Then we got 'em," someone yelled from the audience.

  "With the money, yes, but they can cause other problems. They could do what they've done in the past," Levi warned. "They could hire thugs to start harassing the women, burn people out. When they tried to fight back in Tulare County, two of the men in charge had their homes burned and some others were beaten pretty badly. If tonight was an example of the railroad's plans, I don't think it'll stop with just a court threat, especially if they hear that we're trying to get the case tried by Judge Higgins. The railroad doesn't own him."

  Montana stepped forward. "We won't let them threaten us. I'm willing to fight back." Addie cringed when he held up his bruised fists.

  "We can't afford to back down now, we all have to fight," John Latimer agreed.

  The other men shouted their agreement. It appeared to Addie that every man there was ready to stand up to the railroad, no matter what it took. But she wondered how many of their wives were scared, like she was. She looked at Montana, standing with the other men, his eyes glimmering with a need that she couldn't understand, and it scared her. There was no fear in any of the men's eyes; in fact there was a sense of challenge and excitement. But Addie didn't feel it; there was no thrill in this for her. When she looked at Montana and saw that he was just edging for a fight, her stomach tightened with fear. She didn't want him hurt, and she was dam scared he would be.

  After a few minutes the room began to clear and she went up to the platform, standing back from the men with Hettie and Lizzie.

  "You think this is a good idea?" she asked Hettie.

  "We have no choice," Hettie answered. "I'll back my John in whatever he decides. He said Wade thinks we'll be able to beat them."

  "I'm scared, Hettie," she admitted in a whisper.

  "It'll be all right, Addie," Lizzie said brightly, slipping an arm around her shoulder. "Will won't let anything happen. He's ready for them, and so is Montana. I know they'll beat them."

  She looked at Lizzie. Her green, adoration-filled eyes were on Will Murdoch. The girl thought Will could single-handedly turn the world. Addie wasn't that blinded by love. She'd heard about the railroad thugs, the beatings and the burning out of those who'd tried to make a stand against them, and she didn't want Montana to be one of the victims.

  The men joined them, and Lizzie linked her arm through Will's. "You were wonderful," she heard the girl whisper, and Will grew a foot with pride.

  Will turned to Montana. "I was worried for a bit. It was too much like Mussel Slough."

  Montana nodded, but Addie was completely lost. She didn't understand what they spoke of.

  "I thought they'd start shooting any minute," Will admitted.

  "I wish they would have," Montana said, his voice as hard and cold as the wind off Lake Michigan. It bit right through Addie. He meant it. He really wanted a shoot-out with those men. Lord, what had happened to him? He was harder now than when they'd first met.

  "Let's go," he told her, and she gave mechanical responses to the good-nights they received from their friends. Montana led her down the steps, and soon she was on the wagon seat, listening to Custus retell the whole horrible night in his excited male manner.

  The entire way home she was silent, praying that her sense of impending doom was wrong. When they reached the farm, Montana helped her down and she went straight to bed. She could hear the men talking in the kitchen after they'd taken care of the team and the wagon. She covered her ears, not wanting to hear any more.

  Sometime later, she felt Montana crawl into bed. He didn't hold her, didn't put his ever-cold feet against her legs, didn't even touch her. He just stayed on his side of the bed until his breathing was slow and even. But she couldn't go back to sleep. Instead she hugged her pillow and prayed over and over that God would make everything okay.

  It was dawn when someone pounded on the door and woke Addie. Montana was still asleep, then the pounding got louder. He sat up.

  "What time is it?" he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

  "About five, I think." Addie started to get out of bed.

  "I'll get it." He placed his hand on her arm to stop her and climbed out of bed, then he slipped into his pants. He crossed to the door but turned back and reached out to grab his gun belt, buckling it on as he walked through the hall.

  That got her out of bed fast. She shoved her arms into her dressing gown as she ran after him. At the end of the short hallway she stopped and peered around
the corner. Montana drew his gun and looked out the parlor window. Then he frowned, drew a hand through his hair and opened the front door.

  "Montana Creed?" came a man's voice.

  "Yes?" Montana held the gun poised in front of him.

  Another gun clicked from outside, and Addie held her breath.

  "I'm the U.S. marshal, and you're under arrest."

  She gasped and stepped into the room.

  "What for?" Montana asked.

  "The robberies of the S.P.," the man said. Addie moved to stand next to her husband. Five more men stood outside, and the railroad agent was with them. "Put the gun away. We don't want any trouble. We've already got your friend."

  Both Addie and Montana looked out into the dark drive, where a group of horses stood. A man had his gun pointed at Will Murdoch, who sat atop a horse, his hands tied in front of him.

  "You okay, Will?" Montana called out.

  "Yeah."

  "Oh my God…'' she whispered, looking into Montana's hard face. He turned his gun over to the men, and she grabbed his arm. "No!"

  "It's okay, Addie," he told her, but the men pulled him away and wrapped a rope around his wrists.

  "You come too, Mrs. Creed. We need to ask you some questions," the marshal said, poking Montana in the back with his gun, indicating he should go down the steps.

  "Leave her out of this," Montana said, spinning around and standing threateningly tall above the smaller marshal. He acted like he didn't care about the rope that held his hands immobile.

  "Get on the horse, Creed. You have nothing to say in this," the marshal told him. "Take him away."

  She watched them pull Montana down the steps and across to a horse. Three men held guns on him. A movement behind her caught her attention, and she turned away from the marshal. Custus stood inside with a rifle pointed at the open doorway. He dropped its barrel and said, "I'll drive ya ta town. Get dressed."