Once again she had touched a nerve, and his fair skin flushed. “I am ambitious, Moira. You’ve always had money, so you don’t know what it’s like to stand around with your hat in your hand waiting for someone to give you a tip.”
“Is that why you keep asking me to marry you?” Moira raised her eyebrows in mock horror, then shook her head. “Marrying the boss’s daughter is the quickest way to the top, I suppose.”
“Moira! You know better than that!” Hayden lifted his voice in protest, which drew the attention of Moira’s father, Sherman Ames, who sat next to General Dodge at the end of the table. Lowering his voice he murmured, “You must know I love you, Moira. And I can’t expect you to marry a poor man, so that’s why I’m ambitious.” A rash smile creased his full lips, and he shook his head. “If I didn’t love you so much, do you think I’d leave the comforts of Boston—and you—for a raw frontier?”
Moira Ames studied Hayden, her head cocked to one side. She was a striking woman of twenty-two, tall and well-formed. Her straight blonde hair framed an oval face, and the hand she lifted to touch her cheek in a meditative motion was rounded and smooth, never having done a day’s hard work. She had had many offers of marriage, but none of them had suited her. Her father had cried out once with a rare impatience, “Moira, you try out men like you’re picking out a new dress!” And she had not disagreed with him, for her wealth and position had spoiled her terribly. She would often remark that her only redeeming feature was that she knew she was spoiled—and planned to continue exactly in that way.
Ray Hayden had come to work for her father at Ames Shovel Company two years earlier. He had impressed Sherman Ames, who had promoted him rapidly and, as a matter of course, admitted the young man into his inner circle, which included his family. He had been witty, charming and deemed a suitable escort for Moira, and within a year he had become an ardent suitor.
Now as she looked at Ray, Moira wondered exactly how she did feel about him. He had come into her life at a time when she was bored, and when she had just handed Jeffrey Sloan a refusal of marriage. Life had been dull—but Ray had been there. She had kept him dangling, which did not bother her, and which he didn’t seem to mind, but now she was suddenly dissatisfied with the relationship. It must have been a feeling that had lain dormant, but now it rose to her mind, and she said carefully, “This will be good for you, Ray. You’re smart and charming, but so are lots of other men. You’re smart enough to see that the building of this transcontinental railroad is going to make a few men rich. And you’re sitting in the car with most of those men.”
Ray glanced around the table at her words. Grenville Dodge, Chief Engineer of the Union Pacific sat at the head of the table. He had been a commander under Grant during the war, and it had been Grant who had given him a leave of absence from the Army to serve in that capacity. He was an unimpressive man in his mid-thirties, with a short black beard and a set of careful black eyes. His word was law on the Union Pacific, and that word usually was soft spoken.
To his left was Sam Reed, Superintendent of Construction. He was a small man with a rather gentle face set off by a brown beard. It was his job to get the actual rails laid, and since Dodge was usually off to Washington or in an advance survey party, he often had to make the big decisions.
General Jack Casement sat across from Reed. He was the smallest man in the room, not over five feet five. He had served under Grant, and it was his job, along with his brother Dan, to control the actual construction. He was a feisty man, always ready to take up fists or guns with any of the thousands of workers on the line.
To his left sat Sherman Ames, his 220 pounds spilling over his chair. He had graying hair and beard, but no moustache, and his blunt features gave plain warning of the stubbornness that lay underneath. He was very wealthy, and had come to be one of the prime movers in the financing of the Union Pacific. He was talking now to the last member of the party, and his voice was gruff and displeased.
“We’ve got to keep the cost down, Durant,” he said bluntly to the rather flamboyant man who sat somewhat apart from the others. “Some of the lines you want will run the UP over the country like a snake!”
Doctor Thomas C. Durant studied the table, not answering at once. He was isolated not only by the fact that he sat apart from the others at the table, but also by every other measurement. He was a small man, with thin fingers and a Vandyke beard that he often stroked, and there was a shrewdness in his eyes as he looked up and measured the other men in the car. He had studied medicine at Albany College, and had later taught there. His mind was too quick and active to be satisfied with a medical practice, so he had leaped into railroad construction and promotion. This change in vocation had proved tremendously successful, and he now owned more UP stock than any other individual. He was also known to squeeze as much profit from construction as the traffic would bear.
“Of course, Ames, we all want that,” Durant shrugged. “But you have to remember that we can’t afford to economize. Don’t you know that the Big Four have already boasted that they’ll beat us to Utah?”
“Durant is right,” General Dodge nodded. He stroked his beard and added, “It’s going to be a war, this railroad. And the Big Four are formidable.”
The Big Four were the men who controlled the Central Pacific: Leland Stanford, a slow-spoken wholesale grocer with political ambitions, Charles Crocker, Mark Hopkins, and Collis P. Huntington. They had combined their wealth and were determined to cut the Union Pacific out of the big government money.
Reed gave General Dodge a curious glance. “They’ll cut our throats if they can, General. There’s not an ounce of mercy in the four of them!”
“Exactly!” Durant said quickly. “We’ve all got to realize that this is no time for niceties. For example, I wish that we could put down good oak ties all the way from end of track into Ogden. But if we wait until those ties catch up, the Central will forge ahead of us and beat us to Utah.”
“We have to have ties,” Jack Casement protested.
“Of course, but we can’t wait for the oak. They have to be cut and shaped in Michigan or Wisconsin and cost as much as $4.50 apiece delivered. We’ll have to use cottonwood. There’s plenty of that available.”
“Cottonwood won’t stand up, Durant,” Sherman Ames said at once.
“It’ll last long enough for us to get this railroad built,” Durant shot back.
“So you would have us throw down a road that’ll crumble—anything for a dollar!” Ames was a ponderous man, and his anger came slowly, but it was obvious that he disliked Durant. They had clashed already several times, and it was said that Dodge had asked Ames to come in to keep Durant from running wild with finances. “We can’t do it—we won’t do it!”
Dodge broke in, heading off the argument. “I agree with you, Ames, but at the same time, Durant may have a point. We’ll have to consider it, much as I hate poor building.”
“General Dodge, may I put in a word?”
They all looked with surprise at Ray Hayden. None of them expected him to speak; all of them considered his role to be limited to courting Ames’s daughter. Dodge, ever courteous, said, “Certainly.”
Hayden was nervous, but it did not show in his face. With a quiet confidence, he said, “You gentlemen have all probably heard of it, but perhaps you have forgotten the Burnettizer.”
Reed asked at once, “The Burnettizer? What’s that, Hayden?”
“It’s a new method of treating soft wood that makes it suitable for ties. I’ve been thinking about this problem for some time, and I wrote off for information.”
“I didn’t know you were doing that, Ray,” Ames said in a pleased voice. “What did you find out?”
“It seems to work very well from all reports,” Hayden said. It gave him a heady sense of power to have these giants listening carefully to him, and he made the most of it. “It’s a huge steel cylinder, and as many as 250 cottonwood ties can be crammed into it. The air is pumped out, which drains the pores of the timb
er, then a zinc solution is administered under high pressure. After the ties are heated and dried you have a piece of wood that looks metallic and weighs almost as much.”
Durant said, “I’ve heard of this, young man. As a matter of fact, it’s been my thought that this might be our answer, but I haven’t had time to move on it.” He added suavely, “I think Mr. Hayden has given us a real possibility. If you gentlemen approve, I’ll wire Omaha at once and have my manager move on getting a Burnettizer.”
Dodge knew that the storm between Durant and Ames was only postponed, but he was wise enough to know that corners would have to be cut. This seemed like a good place to begin, so he nodded. “I think it will be an excellent option. We’re in your debt, Mr. Hayden.” He took a few rapid puffs on his cigar, then gave an unexpected smile. “You may have to keep Mr. Hayden around, Ames. He’s the first man I’ve met who can make Durant and yourself come to any sort of agreement.”
A thrill went along Hayden’s nerves, and he felt Moira’s knee press against his. “I’ll be glad to serve in that capacity, General—at no extra charge.”
A uniformed conductor entered the car and announced, “Five minutes to North Platte, General.”
They all rose and went to their sleeping cars, but Moira lingered long enough to lean against Ray and murmur, “Wonderful! You’ve made your mark with General Dodge—and the others, too. I was so proud of you, Ray!” She reached up and pulled his head down for a quick kiss, then whirled and ran down the aisle, asking, “What does one wear in a wild west town, Ray?”
He stood staring after her, and the giddy sense of success seemed to lighten his brain. “By Harry! It’s a beginning!” he breathed, and being an imaginative man, he moved toward his compartment, his brain swarming with exotic possibilities.
****
The wind tore at Moira’s hair as she and Ray followed General Dodge and Jack Casement toward the end of track. It had been three days since the dinner party in the private car, and her father had been called back to Boston. He had argued that she should return with him, but she had laughed and said, “I want to see some of the wild west, Dad. Ray will look after me for a few days.”
It had been fun, she thought as she clung to Ray’s arm. They had prowled the sinful streets of the hell-on-wheels, shocked by the violence and raw sin that erupted at sundown. Ray had protested that it was too dangerous, but General Jack had sent two of his roughest men with pistols in their belts, and there had been no trouble.
“You like all this, don’t you, Moira?” Ray asked. “Is it the fact that you’re the only woman among thousands of men?”
“That’s it,” she said at once, squeezing his arm. She had been, he had noticed, much more affectionate since the dinner party. “What are those huge cars?” she asked.
“Work cars,” he answered. They were indeed huge, over eighty-five feet long, ten feet wide and eight feet from floor to ceiling. They were so long, he pointed out to her, that they were swaybacked. One of them served as the Casements’ office, a twenty-foot kitchen, and a forty-seven foot dining room. Another was a bunkhouse with three tiers of bunks along each wall. There were still others with blacksmithing equipment and tools of all sorts.
“And there are rifle racks in every car, over a thousand of them.”
“What in the world for?”
“For Indians, Moira,” he said. “We’ll be pushing into their lands soon, and the tracklayers will have to be ready to throw down their shovels and pick up their guns to fight the Sioux.”
She stared at the workers carefully. “They’re very rough, aren’t they?”
“Most of them are ex-soldiers from Grant’s army. Yes, they’re pretty tough, but it takes a tough bunch to face what’s coming up.” They reached the end of the work cars and he said, “Now you can watch a minor miracle. The Casements claim they’re going to lay a mile of track a day—and that’s never been done. Let’s stand over here where you can see the show.”
They moved to a slight crest and watched the tracklaying operation. Steel rails and ties were piled beside the track, and these were loaded onto four-wheel lorry cars. A horse was hitched to it with a long rope, and a small wiry boy was perched on its neck. He yelled and thumped the horse, and off it went at a gallop. At the end of track men jumped in and stopped the car. The horse was unhitched, and men seized the ties and spaced them out on the grade ahead.
The two-rail gangs moved in from right and left. The first pair of men laid hold of a rail’s end and drew it out over a greased roller on the lorry’s front. Other gang members took hold, two by two, as the rails’ twenty-eight-foot lengths came clear. Each pair of rails was carried forward, fitted and gauged. Then the spikes were driven and the fishplates set. The lorry was shoved ahead over the new rails, and the operation was repeated.
“Why, they’re laying track almost as fast as a man can walk!” Moira exclaimed.
“Yes,” Hayden nodded, “but it takes much longer in the mountains or in the dead of winter.”
They walked along slowly, watching the tracklayers at work, and Moira asked more questions than Ray could answer. They caught up with General Dodge and Casement who were standing beside the roadbed discussing the grade. Dodge was saying, “I’ve got to get the survey work done up ahead, Casement—especially that 275-mile stretch west of the Green River. That’s where we’ll jump off with construction next year, and we can’t wait until then to set our stakes.”
“Indians will be thick out there, General,” Casement said.
Dodge nodded. Seeing Ray and Moira, he turned and asked, “What do you think of the tracklaying, Miss Ames?”
“It’s spectacular, General Dodge,” she said with a smile. “I never saw men work so well!”
“Yes, it’s the best organized, best equipped and best disciplined work force I’ve ever seen.” He frowned and said, “The workmen are fine, but we’re short of engineers.”
Ray had been listening as he watched the tracklayers. Suddenly he exclaimed, “By Harry!” and without a word broke into a run toward the tracklayers.
“What in the world is he doing?” Moira asked in surprise.
“Looks like he’s found an old friend,” Dodge said. And so it was, for Hayden called a name and a tall, sunburned man had turned quickly from where he was bossing the tracklaying crew. It surprised Moira to see Ray throw one arm around the shoulders of the man, for he was not an overly friendly man when it came to other men.
“That’s my foreman, Mark Winslow,” Casement volunteered. “He’s a good one, too.” He saw that Hayden was pulling at the foreman’s arm, and called out, “Come up here, Winslow. Let Lemmons take over.”
The two men approached, and Ray’s eyes were bright as he said, “Like to introduce an old friend, General Dodge. This is Captain Mark Winslow. We were at West Point together before the war.”
“Glad to know you. What was your unit, Captain?” Dodge asked.
Mark Winslow smiled and said, “The Stonewall Brigade, General.”
Dodge’s eyes opened wide, for he had assumed that Winslow had been in the Union Army as most of the other men had been. Then the humor of the thing gripped him, and he smiled. “That particular brigade gave me more trouble personally than the rest of the rebel army. I could usually figure out what other generals would do, but Old Stonewall just wouldn’t do what I expected.” He paused and said pensively, “He was a great soldier—sometimes I think even greater than Lee.”
Mark swallowed, for to hear such a tribute from a former enemy was unexpected. He said at once, “I remember once when a runner came and said, ‘General Jackson, they’ve replaced General Wash with General Dodge.’ The General got mad—one of the few times I ever saw that happen. He was sucking a lemon, as he usually was, and he threw it to the ground and said, ‘Oh, blazes! I always know what Wash is thinking—but that fellow Dodge—he’s apt to surprise a man.’ ”
Dodge liked the story. His eyes gleamed and he said, “There were giants in the earth in thos
e days.” Then he said, “I suppose you went south with General Lee when the war came.”
“Yes, sir. I’m from Virginia.” That seemed to say it all, and Mark thought of the days that had drifted by since that time he had ridden back to his home. He had no bitterness, even though the war had torn up his world and left him an alien. But at least he was alive and whole.
“Sir, you just said you needed engineers,” Ray spoke up. “Well, you’re looking at one of Lee’s finest. Close to the top in his class at the Point, too. And I was darned near last.”
Casement said in astonishment, “You never told me you were an engineer, Winslow!”
“I needed a job, and a foreman position was what you offered, General Jack.”
“And he had to lick the bully boy of the crew to hold it,” Casement nodded.
Dodge was staring at Mark, and remarked abruptly, “Casement, you’ll have to get another foreman. I need a man to go with Peter Brown to Green River. That is, if you want the job, Winslow.”
Mark stared at him in disbelief. He had had nothing much come his way since the war but disappointment, and now to be sought by General Dodge! He nodded, “I’d like nothing better, General.”
“Well, then that’s settled.” Dodge liked the way Winslow made no promises. “Get your things together. Come back to North Platte and we’ll meet with Brown. You two can go over the preliminary survey tonight. He’s leaving day after tomorrow.”
He turned to go, and as he did, Moira said, “I’m Moira Ames, Mr. Winslow. I think Ray must be ashamed of one of us, since he refused to introduce us.”
“Oh—Moira, I’m sorry!” Ray exclaimed. “I was so excited I forgot. . . .”
He broke off, and Moira said pettishly, “Go on and admit it, you forgot me.”
“That must be a new experience for you, Miss Ames,” Winslow nodded. A whimsical look touched his eyes and he said with a straight face, “Ray was known at the Point for his forgetfulness. Especially about women.”
“Why you slab-sided rebel!” Hayden broke out angrily, “You know that’s a lie. I never forgot a woman in my life!”
The Union Belle Page 10
