A Million Tears (28 page)

We loaded dried meats into one truck and carpets into another. Into yet another we put furniture. There were twenty trucks and our coach, which was next to the engine. It had three bedrooms, a lounge area and a separate place for heating water and cooking food. It was the sort of railway coach I never knew existed.

The wagons came non-stop. At twelve we paused for sandwiches and cold chicken, delivered by the Italian restaurant we frequented. The men couldn’t believe it, being unused to generous behaviour by other employers. When we restarted half an hour later they worked with a greater will, if that was possible. At eight o’clock we paid them, gave them a bonus, and told them to keep what was left of the food.

‘I’m worn out,’ said Evan, stretching and yawning. ‘It went better than I’d hoped, look you.’

I nodded. ‘With the money we were paying and the added food and tea it wasn’t surprising it went well,’ I rubbed my eyes wearily.

‘The food didn’t cost much and I was sure they’d appreciate it. I know I would have, back in the mines. It’s the sort of thing that makes hard working men loyal. If we ever make it big, Uncle James, don’t let me forget what it was like in the mines. That way I shan’t forget how to treat the men properly.’ He never did need reminding as far as I know, not ever. ‘Why don’t you take a cab back to the hotel, Uncle James and I’ll wait for the watchmen to arrive.’

‘No, I’ll wait with you, bach.’ I paused. ‘Do you realise how fast we’ve been moving since we arrived here in America? It’s not been two months and look at us.’

‘I know, Uncle James, but we had to move fast.’ He grinned. ‘If I had stopped to think about what I was doing I would have frightened myself so much I couldn’t have gone on with it. I get frightened now. We still have a long way to go. If we can’t sell this stuff then I could end up in jail, especially if Fforest looks into my references too closely.’

I reassured him. ‘He won’t, as long as we can pay him back in time and I’ve got faith bach, I’ve got faith.’

On Wednesday we were at the train by seven o’clock, ready for our departure at eight. The previous day we had sent another telegram to Meg confirming our time of arrival and hoping she would be ready for us.

Our carriage was no longer as comfortable as it had first appeared. It was filled with sacks of coffee grains. The only space left was a narrow passage from one end to the other, the two beds and a small area near the store where we also had two armchairs. The rest of the carriage was packed high. Neither of us objected to the smell, in fact I liked it.

There was no fanfare, no hooting whistles, no loud goodbyes when we left. We just slipped out of the siding and headed west. It seemed an anticlimax after our efforts of the previous week.

The journey back was as long as ever. Evan had bought a pile of books to read which, though I tried I could not have understood if it had meant my life. They were all about finance, economics, monopolies and trusts. One book was about company law which even after Evan explained some of what it meant was still double Dutch to me. I did read some of the local newspapers and a magazine or two I had bought but most of the time I played solitaire or watched the scenery unfold. I remember that, though the journey seemed to take forever, it was one of the most tranquil periods of my life. I enjoyed just sitting and watching.

I did the cooking and made the coffee or tea but Evan never seemed to notice what was put in front of him he was so immersed in his reading. I sat often and looked at him as he concentrated on his books – he had two going at once most of the time – and I knew I loved him more than I did my own son, who was and, I feared always would be, a waster.

Our arrival a week later was a lot less quiet than our departure from New York. True, there was no bands or cheering crowds, but there were Meg and the boys and about fifteen wagons and a few buckboards with their drivers.

I stood to one side as Meg dashed into Evan’s arms, hugging and kissing him as though he had been away for a year. I contented myself with a hug from the boys, though I couldn’t help wishing I too had a good woman to meet me. The boys were jumping up and down with excitement, hugging me, their father and then their mother in turn.

Though perhaps I did have a good woman as Meg turned her attention to me and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She introduced us to Sonny McCabe, whom she had hired. He had arranged the wagons, hired the help to do the warehouse and had generally proved indispensable. He was a likeable young man in his early twenties, short, stocky, with a friendly smile and, I soon learned, was a willing and hard worker. Meg’s judgement, as usual, was sound.

We began unloading within minutes of our arrival. When we realised that Sonny was more than capable of supervising the work, Meg led Evan and I to the warehouse. It was well placed, midway between the railway and the river wharves. It was two stories high and had a long frontage. The main entrance was a double door through which a wagon could drive easily. Inside, the floor was concrete and there were racks upon racks of shelves. At the far end, up a narrow set of steps, were three offices.

‘What do you think, Uncle James?’ Meg asked, waving her free hand at the warehouse below, the other tucked under my arm.

‘I can’t believe you managed to do so much in such a short tine,’ I replied.

‘Oh, most of the shelving was already here. It belonged to a sugar and tobacco distributor, of all things. It’s been empty for months. All I did was . . . at least, all Sonny did was get the place whitewashed and some rotten shelving replaced. We had ten men working in here at one stage. I was really lucky to find Sonny, otherwise I’d never have managed.’

Evan said, ‘Did you move away from the boarding house?’

‘Yes, into the Lucky River as soon as I started advertising. I let it be known I was available to answer questions from any of the traders.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘You should have seen their faces when they found they were dealing with a woman. I could see some of them didn’t like it.’ She smiled then added, ‘Here’s the first wagon.’

By evening we had more than half the trucks unloaded. The warehouse had been fitted with electric light a year earlier and therefore we could work late into the night. So far only the major cities of America had electric power, each run as a separate enterprise but it was spreading rapidly throughout the country.

I shook my head. I think it was Meg’s way of telling Evan that she was as much a decision maker as he was, and though ultimately he may be the boss, it was after all a partnership.

A man approached our table, his cap in his hands. ‘Excuse me. Are you Mr Griffiths? The man who came in with the train load today?’

Evan nodded. ‘I am.’ He tried not to show it but I could see he was displeased at the interruption.

‘I am sorry to trouble you over dinner. My name is Reisenbach, Hans Reisenbach. I represent a number of the farmers in the area. Do you mind if I sit down? I have a business proposition you may be interested in.’

Evan’s attitude changed immediately. He got to his feet. ‘My dear fellow, please do. Here let me pull this chair over. Waiter . . . another glass please and another bottle of that . . . what is it, Meg?’

‘Burgundy.’

‘Aye, another bottle.’

21

‘What exactly is this proposition, Mr Reisenbach?’ Meg asked, surprising him. He was obviously not expecting a woman to say anything during a business meeting or even to be present. A lot of people during those years were going to be similarly surprised.

‘There should have been a train through tomorrow from Kansas. A goods train. There would have been enough room on there for us to send our crops to Pittsburgh. It isn’t coming. These blasted railroads . . . Ach, they do as they please,’ Reisenbach’s voice was guttural and harsh. ‘Ve vondered if ve could hire your train to send our crops . . . if that is you are not sending anything to Pittsburgh.’ He paused to drink some wine, half a glass disappearing in one swallow.

‘I vould say ve could fill about half of your trucks. It is mostly early vegetables. Peas for the canning factories, sprouts and svedes that have been stored from the vinter in our barns. Ve have also early lettuces, spring onions . . .’

Reisenbach frowned and spoke directly to Evan. ‘I am not used to dealing mit frauen,’ in his agitation not only did his accent worsen but he lapsed into German. ‘Wer ist die Boss hier? You or your vife?’

I was unsure whether Evan would get angry or not at the man’s bad manners. Luckily he laughed it off. ‘My wife is also my partner. She has as much say . . .almost as much say, as I do. If she asks you a question it’s because we require the answer. If you would be so kind as to tell her what she wants to know then perhaps you’ll be good enough to answer a few questions from me.’

His voice was honey reasonableness and immediately the German was contrite.

‘Please excuse me,’ he turned to Meg. He had drained his glass. Evan refilled it and Reisenbach absent mindedly drank it again in a few mouthfuls. ‘Ve can be ready vhen you are. It vill take us at most a day to bring the crops from our farms. I can spread the vord in hours and they vill load up during the night and be on their vay before dawn.’

‘Thank you,’ said Meg, picking up her own glass and sipping the red wine.

‘Mr Reisenbach, what do you normally pay the railroads for transporting your produce?’

‘On average it is betveen four t’ousand and five t’ousand dollars, depending upon the number of trucks ve use. I have here,’ he removed a worn envelope from his coat pocket, ‘the exact amount. Of course ve expect to pay the same to you.’

‘Where do you unload in Pittsburgh?’ Evan asked, looking up from the paper.

‘There is a siding, it is quite close to the markets and vithin,’ the way Reisenbach sometimes pronounced words correctly and other times spoke with a thick accent confused me, ‘a short distance of the canneries. It is very convenient.’

‘How eager are you to get the stuff away on my train?’ Evan asked.

‘Vot do you mean? Are you t’inking of putting up ze preise? Gott in Himmel . . .’

‘Hold it, Mr Reisenbach,’ Evan held up his hand to calm the German. ‘Nothing is further from my mind – quite the reverse. You see my train has to return directly to New York. It’s in my contract. If I sent it some other way all sorts of complications could arise, like a law suit for subcontracting when I have no right to do so. You get my meaning?’

‘Ja, I get your meaning,’ Reisenbach was crestfallen. ‘You cannot help us?’

‘My husband didn’t say that. What he’s saying is that we can’t deliver to your usual place. We need to stop on the outskirts of town on some pretext and unload there,’ Meg smiled at Evan.

That was the first of many times I saw Meg and Evan act together during a business deal, each seeming to know what the other was meaning. People often found it off-putting, as Reisenbach now did. He looked at Evan for confirmation.

‘That is exactly the point I was about to make. Also, because of the inconvenience this will cause you and the arranging you’ll have to do I suggest twen . . .’

‘Ten percent off the price,’ Meg swept in blithely. ‘There’ll also be other conditions as well. We’ll tell you where we can unload and if your people aren’t there on time the train will have to go on to New York. After that, what happens to your produce . . . I guess the railroad will keep it and sell it.’

Reisenbach pulled a face, clearly not liking this too much. ‘It vill take a lot of doing. The added expense at the other end. Perhaps twenty percent reduction vill be better, nein?’

They settled on fifteen.

Reisenbach suddenly smiled and shook hands all round. ‘Listen, my friends, I think ve make a good deal for all of us, especially if you have trains travelling back empty in the future as vell. Ach, I have had enough of this vine. Vould you like to come to a German bar for some good German beer, brewed in St Louis? You can meet some of the others.’

Evan hesitated. ‘Mr Reisenbach . . .’

‘Please, call me Hans.’

‘Hans . . . I’m Evan, this is Meg and this is James. We only arrived back today from New York and would like to have an early night. Perhaps some other time?’

‘I see,’ he got to his feet, for some reason taking offence. ‘Ve are good enough to do business mit aber nicht gut genug . . .’

Evan also stood and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Sit down man and don’t be so daft. Saturday night we’ll go out for a meal . . . A German meal at your expense,’ Evan grinned, ‘and then you can see if we only want your money.’

Reisenbach’s temper vanished as quickly as it had appeared. ‘Ach, I’m sorry. I am alvays on the defensive about that. Stupid I know but ve . . .’ he shrugged. ‘I look forward to Saturday very much. Ve vill see you tomorrow, my friends and I, and arrange things. I shall have to get somebody on the early train to Pittsburgh tomorrow to make the other arrangements. Good night and t’ank you.’ He bowed his head to Meg, ‘Gnadige Frau,’ he said and left.

‘All we need do now is to bribe the train driver,’ said Meg.