“You said something about us signing a statement?” John asked.
“Yes, let me get a paper and the two of you can say what happened. You don’t have to be too specific, just enough so the judge is convinced that the killing was justified.”
Sheriff Goodbody sat at his desk taking down the statement that John dictated. When he was finished, he stood and picked up the paper.
“We’ll take this over to the bank. Mr. Montgomery is a notary public, and you can sign it in front of him.”
“All right,” John said.
The sheriff took some keys from the middle drawer of his desk and tossed them over to his prisoner.
“Let yourself out, Stu, then leave the keys layin’ on my desk.”
“Sheriff, can I wait until Maggie brings over the lunch? Kirby is havin’ fried chicken for lunch today, and I wouldn’t want to miss it,” the prisoner replied.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
As the four walked from the jailhouse to the bank, the sheriff pointed out some new buildings.
“Ever’one of these here businesses was built since you bought out the mine,” he said. “Yes, sir, you buyin’ that mine is the best thing that ever happened to Assumption.”
“What does Ray think about it?” John asked.
“Are you kiddin’? Why, ever’body is treatin’ him like he’s a hero, ’n him runnin’ the mine so well now, I reckon he is.”
Matt, John, and Mary Beth signed the statement in front of the banker, Bob Montgomery, who then notarized it for them. He was as profuse in his appreciation of John buying the mine and his praise of Ray Morris as had been the sheriff.
“Papa, the way everyone is talking about all the good the mine is doing and how happy all the miners are, do you think this man, Sullivan, might be the one who has been trying to kill us?” Mary Beth asked. “I mean if he’s the union leader, and the miners don’t really need him, maybe he’s blaming you.”
“I don’t know,” John replied. “I do know that after I bought the mine and broke the strike, he was quite upset with me.”
“How did you break the strike?” Matt asked. “Did you bring in new workers?”
“No, I didn’t have to do that to keep the mine working. I paid Morris and the supervisors their salaries and informed Sullivan that I was ready to negotiate, but if we couldn’t come to a mutually agreed-upon contract, I was prepared to wait it out indefinitely.
“It was the miners themselves who finally put enough pressure on Sullivan to force him into a settlement. I suppose it could be him.”
“But do you think a union boss for a coal mine here in Assumption would have enough reach to be behind all the previous attacks?” Matt asked.
John shook his head. “No, I don’t think he would. And now that you mention it, those two did say that they thought someone else was paying Sullivan. That shifts the suspicion back to Raymond Morris, doesn’t it?”
Chapter Thirty-two
The Assumption Coal Mining Company
The mine was a busy place. Small cars pulled by mules were rolling back and forth across the network of rails that crisscrossed the area. Some of the cars filled with coal were heading for the huge piles of coal; others were empty, returning to the mine. Smoke spewed from the towering stacks over the steam-operated crushing mill, and men, their faces so blackened with coal dust that their eyes stood out, hustled busily about.
John Gillespie, along with his daughter and Matt, stepped into the coal office unannounced.
“That’s him,” John said quietly, pointing to a man who was standing at a drafting table talking to the man who was standing alongside. “That’s Raymond Morris.”
“The new shaft looks like it’s going to be pretty productive,” Morris was saying to the man.
“That’ll mean hiring more miners,” the man replied.
“Do it, the increase in production will more than pay for it.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Morris. What with the good wages that you’re payin’, that’s goin’ to make a lot of folks pretty happy.”
“But before we start pulling coal out of there and putting pressure on the seam, I want you to make another check of all the shoring. I want this shaft to be strong and well-constructed.”
“Good for you, Ray,” John said. “Safety first, that’s always been my motto.”
Startled, Morris looked around. For just a moment there was a look of total surprise on his face, but the surprise was quickly replaced by a smile.
“Mr. Gillespie!” he said, coming toward him, with his hand extended. “What a surprise! It’s a pleasant surprise, but it is a surprise! What are you doing here?”
“I have to go to Chicago, so I figured why not come down here for a visit.”
“Well, I’m very glad you did. Come, let me show you around the place. As you can see, business is booming, and we’ve opened up a new shaft. Well, it’s open, but we aren’t mining it yet. I plan to start tomorrow.” He paused for a second. “That is, if it is all right with you. Before I actually started anything, I was going to send you a telegram telling you about it and getting your permission.”
“Of course it’s all right with me,” John said. “I told you when I bought the mine and left you in charge that you would have a free hand to make any decision you thought might be necessary.”
“I know you did, but still, I like to keep you informed on what’s going on.” Morris glanced toward Mary Beth and Matt.
“Oh, this is my daughter, Mary Beth, and a friend who is going to Chicago with me, Matt Jensen.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Morris said, extending his hand to each of them.
“Mr. Morris,” Matt replied.
“How long are you going to be here?” Morris asked.
“We’ll be here until sometime tomorrow,” John said.
“Good, good! I was going down into the shaft tomorrow morning for one final inspection before we started mining. Why don’t you come with me? It’s a beaut!”
“I’d be glad to,” John said.
They ate at the same French restaurant where Gillespie, Mary Beth, and Matt had eaten the night before, but that was not a surprise, John said, since the only reason he knew about it, was this was where he and Morris had eaten the first time John was in Assumption.
“I’ve been wanting to write to you, anyway,” Morris said over their meal.
“Oh? Why? Is something wrong?”
“Wrong? No, nothing is wrong,” Morris replied. “Everything is right. Why with the money you’ve invested, we are now operating the biggest coal mine in Illinois and one of the biggest mines in the entire country.
“Our workers are all satisfied, and the mine is making so much money that the entire town is benefiting from it. Why, did you know I’ve been asked to run for mayor?” Morris added with a proud smile.
“No, I didn’t know. I hope you turned them down, but I have to admit, that’s selfish of me. I want you to turn them down, because I don’t want to lose you as manager of the mine,” John said.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to run. Besides, as I pointed out to the people who asked, I’m able to do a lot more for this town where I am right now as manager of the Assumption Mining Company than I could as mayor. It was an honor to be asked, but I’m making too much money where I am. And I’ll stay right here in this position for as long as you are willing to keep me on. That’s what I was going to say to you in the letter.”
John smiled, then stuck his hand across the table. “And I’ll keep you on for as long as you are willing to stay,” he said. John laughed. “That reminds me of a contract between Harry and Clem Studebacker. Harry said, ‘I will build as many wagons as you can sell,’ and Clem said, ‘I will sell as many wagons as you can build.’ It was a good contract, since you see Studebaker wagons all over the country.”
They continued with their conversation until Matt brought up the subject of Martin Sullivan.
“Mr. Morris, what can you tell me about Martin Su
llivan?”
“Muley Sullivan,” Morris said, twisting his mouth into a sneer. “He is one of the dregs of the earth. Why did you ask about him? Have you had trouble with him?”
“You might say that,” Matt replied. “We were accosted by two men named Ned Stone and Rubin Harrell. They said they were sent by Sullivan.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Stone and Harrell used to work in the mine, but I fired them. Sullivan tried to organize the rest of the miners to strike to save Stone and Harrell’s jobs, but it didn’t work. Now they do Sullivan’s dirty work for him. What did they want?”
“They wanted to kill us,” Matt said.
“What?”
“More specifically, they wanted to kill me,” John said.
“Why on earth would they want to kill you?”
“Apparently, Sullivan was paying them. I was hoping you might be able to tell us why,” Matt said.
Morris shook his head. “I have no idea why he would want such a thing. What did Stone and Harrell say? Where are they now? Are they in jail?”
“They are in the morgue,” Matt said.
“The morgue?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I can’t say that I’m sorry. I suppose, if I had to guess, it would be that Sullivan blames you for his loss of power. Before you bought the mine, the union was strong, and because Sullivan is the head of it, he wielded a lot of power. But now that things are going well, all of the miners are satisfied, and the union has practically no power at all.”
“Yes, I suppose that could be the reason,” John said.
They didn’t take a hotel room, but spent the night in the private car.
“I’m absolutely convinced that Morris isn’t the one who has been trying to kill me,” John said that evening. “And I am equally sure that it isn’t Keaton or Mitchell either. We’re going to have to start all over.”
“There’s not another name you can come up with?” Matt asked.
John shook his head. “I don’t have another name, but maybe Drew does. I’ll ask. He probably needs to know that I’ve altered my travel plans anyway. If he contacts the hotel in Chicago and learns that I’m not there, he’s likely to get worried.” John chuckled. “I swear, he looks over me like an old mother hen.”
“Well, can you blame him, Papa? He works for you,” Mary Beth said. “You might say that gives him a very good reason for keeping you alive.”
“I suppose so, but nobody has a stronger incentive in keeping you alive than I do,” Matt said. “After all, you’re paying me five thousand dollars. That’s more money for this trip than the average cowboy would make in five years.”
“Matt, are you telling us that you have actually been a cowboy?” Mary Beth asked with a little laugh.
“What’s the matter? You don’t think I could be a cowboy?”
“Yes, I think you could be a cowboy, if you wanted to be. I’ve never known anyone quite like you. I think you could be anything you chose to be,” Mary Beth replied.
“Well, being a cowboy is not my normal occupation, I admit, but I have punched cattle from time to time. And I once helped drive a herd of Black Angus from Wyoming to Texas.
“You took cows from Wyoming to Texas? That’s backward, isn’t it? I thought Texas shipped cattle out; I didn’t know they brought cattle in.”
“It was someone starting a new herd with a new breed,” Matt explained.”
“I think I’ll send Drew a message while I still have the teleprinter connected,” John said.
All the time they had been talking, reports had been coming in straight from the stock market in New York and the commodities market in Chicago. John cut off the long narrow strip of paper that was now lying in a pile on the floor in front of the bell jar, then he began tapping in the message to Drew Jessup.
NOW IN ASSUMPTION ILLINOIS. ANOTHER TRY ON MY LIFE LAST NIGHT BUT JENSEN HANDLED IT WELL. I VISITED WITH MORRIS. AM CONVINCED THAT HE IS NOT BEHIND THIS. NEITHER IS KEATON NOR MITCHELL. LEAVING FOR CHICAGO TOMORROW. WILL ARRIVE LATE TOMORROW NIGHT. IF NOT KEATON MITCHELL OR MORRIS WHO?
A response was received quickly.
JESSUP UNAVAILBLE NOW STOP HE ASKED ME TO RESPOND TO ANY FUTURE MESSAGES YOU MAY SEND STOP HE WILL BE IN TOUCH SOON
JAKE FOWLER
“Hmm, that’s odd,” John said.
“Maybe he had to go shopping for something,” Mary Beth said.
“It isn’t just that he isn’t there, it’s the wording of Jake’s telegram. He says he is to respond to any future messages, as if Drew’s absence isn’t just temporary. I hope everything is all right.”
Chapter Thirty-three
The next morning Matt accompanied John and Mary Beth to the Assumption mine. Around the mine shaft, which was sunk into the ground to a depth of several hundred feet, were clustered the mine buildings: the mine office, the engine house, the machine and repair shops, and the sheds and other out-buildings. Towering above all these buildings was the tipple tower, a tall skeleton of structural ironwork that covered the mouth of the main mine shaft, which lowered cages down into the mine as well as bringing them back up.
They were met as soon as they arrived by a smiling Ray Morris.
“Come on,” he said, heading toward the mouth of the mine. He handed each of them a cap, to which an oil wick lantern had been attached.
“There are also lanterns down in the mine, but this will give you light wherever you might need it,” Morris explained.
After going down in the elevator, they reached the bottom of the main shaft. Here there was a network of tunnels. The tunnels led to the rooms at the end of which were the headings and the blank, black face of the coal seam where the actual mining was done.
“This is our new shaft,” Morris said, pointing to one of them. “Come on down, and I’ll show you what a rich seam we’ve hit onto.”
The tunnel was a little less than six feet high, and though the other three had no problem walking in it, Matt had to stoop over slightly.
“What’s that cracking sound?” Mary Beth asked.
“That’s the coal talking to you,” Morris replied with a little smile.
“What?”
“There is tremendous amount of pressure put on these seams, so the coal snaps, pops, and creaks all the time. The miners get used to it.”
“I see you’ve got new shoring up,” John said.
“Yes, sir, I intend to keep my miners as safe as I can. Why, this shoring . . .”
Morris was interrupted in midsentence by the sound of a blast. A cloud of coal dust came whipping through the tunnel.
“What was that?” Mary Beth asked, coughing and waving her hands in front of her face.
“It was a dynamite blast,” Morris replied. He, like Mary Beth and the others, had to cough a couple of times as the billowing cloud settled to the floor. “But I don’t understand. We aren’t doing any blasting today.”
The four of them hurried back to the opening of this shaft where they saw that part of the wall had collapsed. The shoring, however, held enough of the shaft up that they were able to get through. That’s when they saw a man, lying on his back, with a large part of the wall on him. His eyes were open and bulging, and blood had come from his mouth.
“Oh!” Mary Beth said, turning away from him. “That poor man!”
“That’s Martin Sullivan, isn’t it?” John asked.
“Yes. But what is he doing here?” Morris asked. Morris looked at part of the wall. “Look, here is a borehole.” He stuck his finger in it, then pulled his finger back and smelled it.
“I’ll be damned! Sullivan set off that blast! But why?”
“It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?” Matt asked. “He wanted to kill us.”
Morris shook his head. “I know we’ve had trouble with him. But I never expected him to take it this far!”
Later that same day, cleaned up from all the coal dust, Matt, John, and Mary Beth waited in the car for track clearance so their trip could resume.
&nb
sp; “I’m wondering now if it might not have been Sullivan all along,” John said. “And now that he’s dead, maybe, at last, Mary Beth and I really are out of danger.”
“Morris might have been right in suggesting why Sullivan wanted you dead, here, but I doubt seriously that he had a long enough reach to have been behind your coach accident or any of the incidents on the train,” Matt said.
“Yes, I guess you’re right. But I have no idea where to go now.”
“How about Chicago?” Mary Beth suggested.
John laughed. “Yeah, how about Chicago?”
A few moments later they heard the engine whistle, then they began moving.
“It must look strange to people to see a one-car train,” John said, as they were looking through the windows and saw the curious expressions on the faces of the people who were watching them pass by.
“Yes, but seeing as we are the only ones on the train, at least we know there isn’t anyone on board now who is trying to kill us,” Mary Beth said.
Paxton, Illinois
Two men, Hank Pearson and Mo Carson, were waiting by the Illinois Central tracks, just south of Paxton. There was a railroad switch here for the purpose of being able to shuffle a freight train off to a sidetrack so that a fast-moving passenger train, called “varnish” by railroad people, could pass on by.
Mo had climbed a nearby tree and was looking south along the tracks.
“I see somethin’ comin’!” Mo shouted down.
“What is it?”
“It’s a locomotive ’n two . . . no, there’s only one. A locomotive ’n one car.”
“That’s got to be it,” Hank said. “We was told there would only be one car. Come on down. I’ll throw the switch, then we’ll ride up to the next switch.”
“You think he’ll be able to stop?” Mo asked, as he scrambled back down the tree.
“No, he’ll be goin’ too fast when he hits the first switch, ain’t no way in hell he’ll get stopped afore he hits the next ’un,” Hank replied. “And since that switch won’t be throwed, it’ll wreck the train.”
The Great Train Massacre Page 24
