Ribbons of Steel (25 page)

The men all nodded.

Charley knew their dilemma. It was why he’d taken his family north. He patted his pockets for a smoke. Empty. He shook his head and gritted his teeth. He didn’t blame the men for not wanting to back down.

“I’ll talk to Aderley before the meeting. See what I can do. In the meantime, don’t do anything rash to blow this thing wide open.”

“No promises, Carmichael. We’re going to do what we have to do, no matter whose side you’re on.”

The men turned from Charley and walked away. He was on his own. He wished he were anywhere but in Philadelphia. He wished he’d gone west with Emily. He sorely needed her comforting arms around him.

Charley couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation with Aderley. Aderley had been distressed because he hadn’t been there to comfort his wife in her time of need. He had also confided in Charley that there’d been several kidnapping threats against his children, the main reason he’d sent them to San Francisco in the first place. Where they were supposed to be safe.

But their conversation had also centered on the strike. Mason Aderley and Tom Scott were adamant about enforcing the wage cut despite the events so far. They anticipated being able to replace every single one of those striking with others who needed work. They weren’t aware the community was supporting the strikers. No one was going to cross the line and fill those jobs.

With all the reinforcements coming to town, they were going to be outnumbered. God Almighty, they didn’t stand a chance.

“They want that meeting,” Charley told the general when he’d finished talking to his men. In his opinion, the general wasn’t much interested in what the men wanted.

He shook his head and followed the general back to the carriage.

Later, in Aderley’s office, Charley listened as the room full of disgruntled engineers and trainmen were informed—strike or no strike—the reduction in pay would stand.

“If you don’t want your jobs, there are others who do,” Aderley said.

The room broke out in a rash of angry shouts and raised fists.

“Damn it, we’re starving now,” someone yelled. “If you cut our pay, we won’t be able to feed our families or pay the rent.”

“Yeah. We won’t be able to pay the rent. We’ll be put out of our homes, we will.”

“We’ll be forced to live like the hobos who hop rides on the rails.”

“Think about what you’re doing to us. We can’t afford another cut in our wages. We’re underpaid now. We’ll become tramps.”

Other cries erupted from the crowd as Mason Aderley, General Hancock, and a few militia guards looked on, not knowing how to respond. Charley kept to the side. He didn’t want to appear loyal to the railroad, but he didn’t want to look as if he was siding with the strikers. He was a coward, but it was the only way he would still be able to talk to the men afterward to try and help calm things down so the sorry fools wouldn’t lose their jobs. He might be able to help Seamus, but he couldn’t help everyone and their families. The best he could do was keep their tempers from getting the better of them. Didn’t the poor fools realize that if they didn’t have their jobs, they would be out on the street before the week was out?

Charley’s mind shifted to Emily. The room hummed with tension and fear. He’d gotten definite word from San Francisco. Emily was okay and recuperating at Marybelle’s. There was nothing to worry about. He sent up a silent prayer, grateful she was okay.

But, word was, a strike was a’brewing in San Francisco, too.

Loud shouts rang out. Charley turned his attention back to the meeting. General Hancock raised his voice over the din. Aderley stepped back in charge.

“Mayor Stokley has organized a Committee of Safety. He promises to do everything necessary, regardless of the law, in an effort to make sure there is no more disruption of the peace here in Philadelphia. Just look around. The police force has been doubled. More troops arrived last night. There is nothing to do now but go back to work and forget about striking. We don’t want any more bloodshed here.”

Charley could see the engineers weren’t appeased by Aderley’s statements. In fact, they were more riled than before. Having troops, the mayor, and everyone else jumping down their backs and running all over the place did not bode well. The men were fired up over the oil tanker explosion, the deaths of the two men, the loss of their wages, and now the fact no one was listening to their demands. The angry looks on their faces told their own story. They were a sorry looking lot. Tired. But not beaten.

Yet.

The meeting over, General Hancock left to join his troops stationed nearby. The engineers and sympathizers left, heads hanging, shoulders drooping, and at odds with themselves over their next course of action. Seamus nodded from across the room. They needed to talk. But Charley needed to talk to Aderley first.

The eerie emptiness and quietness in Donahue’s office outside Aderley’s chambers surrounded Charley. His footsteps sounded loud to his own ears as he walked across the solid wooden floorboards. There was no need to knock. The door stood open.

Aderley sat behind his desk, his chair swiveled so he was staring out the window into the clear blue late afternoon sky. He addressed Charley without turning around.

“Sit down. I’m not sure what to make of this meeting. What do you think?”

“I’m not sure, either. I think they were holding their emotions under control. They were a bit dejected when they left. I don’t think they’re about to give up. I’ll meet with them later to find out what I can. Try to find out what they have in mind.”

“Let me know as soon as you can. I can’t believe they would try anything else after the oil car explosion. Or with all the militia and other forces in town.”

“How many do you figure?”

“I don’t know,” Aderley turned toward him. “There’s more than a thousand armed police, about four hundred firemen, seven-hundred United States Regulars, and a hundred or so Marines. I should think there are a couple thousand special police and a good handful of men of the Veterans Corp.”

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about right now. Besides, the men will need to regroup and pass the information they received this afternoon along to the others.”

Aderley looked pensive. The news from California and the results of his having drunk too much again the night before was still obvious. The day wasn’t going well. Charley didn’t care any longer. Too many lives depended on him.

“What’s happening in San Francisco? There’s some sort of uprising underway.” Charley put his hands on his knees and leaned forward, shoulders hanging low. He tilted his unshaven face up and looked Aderley in the eyes.

Aderley looked down at his hands lying still on the shiny mahogany desk for a few long, quiet seconds and then looked across his desk at Charley. Determination reflected in the man’s eyes, and in his body language. Still, Charley couldn’t read the man in front of him. Was he or wasn’t he going to confide in him?

“California has been suffering a drought for some time. Their grain crop failed. Cattle are dying. Scott tried to get his Texas & Pacific branch into California. Californians blame the Chinese for their economic troubles.” Aderley lit a cigar, handed it to Charley, and then lit another for himself. He leaned into the bottom drawer for his bottle, lifted it out, and placed it on his desk with a thump. Empty. He tossed the bottle in the trash can next to his desk.

“More than fifty-thousand Chinese were let go by the other railroads after they were built,” Aderley said. “About twelve thousand settled in San Francisco and are now farmers. Some of them found domestic service, many opened laundry shops, and others found jobs in factories. They started living together in overcrowded “rookeries.” Squalid at best. They’re known for their exotic dress, gambling, opium addiction, and worse—prostitution. Can you believe the overall worst thing they did was to work longer hours for much less pay than the white workers, making the white workers look lazy? Seems it riled them up a bit.”

Aderley stood and started pacing the hardwood floor. His loud footsteps echoed in the large opulent room. The state of the Chinese was no news to Charley, but he let Aderley expel his frustrations while he waited for the man to get to the bottom of the real problem.

“I understand there was a meeting on a vacant sandlot next to San Francisco’s City Hall. Can you believe, in sympathy for the conflagration in Pittsburgh? About eight-thousand people gathered. A bunch of hoodlums, no doubt. The meeting lingered on into the night before someone shouted for the discharge of the Central Pacific’s Chinese workmen despite the fact it was supposed to be an anti-coolie rally. Anyway, to get to the point of the matter, one of the hoodlums knocked down a Chinaman at McAllister and Leavenworth Streets. From there, all hell broke loose. Rioting and looting and burning have been taking place, mostly within the Chinese district, hitting many of the laundry shops. Thank God this took place in a different section of San Francisco than where Marian is staying.”

“Is there any word from her since she arrived in San Francisco?” Charley asked, sitting forward, understanding now what Aderley was getting at.

“I got in touch with her while you were with Hancock. She’s doing as well as can be expected. They both are. Marian says Jonathan feels guilty over his brother’s death.” Aderley took a moment before he continued, jammed his thumb and forefinger over the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “As soon as this business here is over, I plan on going out there myself. We’ve been apart too long. I should never have sent her out there alone with the boys.”

“Are things still in an uproar out there? Has the strike affected other towns?” Charley was worried about Emily’s safety.

“Word is, there was one last disturbance. A wash-house sacking of some sort. The police have gotten things under control. They’ve got a veterans brigade with Union and Confederate’s and about two-hundred United States Marines, along with the police. Put them in their place. Things are as close to being back to normal out there as can be expected right now. We can be thankful our wives got there and settled in when they did.”

Charley couldn’t relax; he was still concerned about Emily. The sooner he could reunite with his own family and walk away from the railroad, the better. After seeing the damage this strike had caused already and the treatment of the rail workers, he was more determined than ever to leave and walk away. God knew he wasn’t a farmer, but he’d just have to work harder alongside Seth, and became one.

Now was the time to make his stand with Aderley.

“You might feel our wives are not in any danger now, but my family has been split apart, too. As soon as this strike is over I plan to set things right.” Charley stood and paced the room, his hands held behind his back, cigar dangling between his fingers. His back straight, his eyes never left Aderley’s all the while he walked back and forth in front of the shiny desk where Aderley now stood.

“The railroad companies have done nothing to help their workers, including yours. It’s about time they understood my loyalties may have been with you during this uproar, but by God, my heart has been with the strikers. They’re starving. Why do you think I sent my family out to the country two years ago? Even
my
wages aren’t enough to support them. I’ve tried my best to keep things quiet here in Philadelphia, but even the citizens and local police sympathize with the engineers and trainmen. Just why do you think that is?”

Charley stopped in front of Aderley’s desk and stared at the stunned expression on the man’s face. He wasn’t deterred by the look.

“Are you so blind you can’t see the way people are living; trying to survive? Are your pockets being lined as well as Scott’s and the others to the point your heart has dried up to what really matters? You’ve just lost a son, nearly a wife. Put yourself in their place, dammit. How would you feel if they were the ones starving?”

Charley pointed his finger at Aderley. “You said you would reward me for staying loyal to you and the company. Well, I have been. And I’m here to collect. After this is over and the trains are running without a hitch, I want a ticket home to see my children to make sure everything is all right with them. Then I want a ticket to go to California to get Emily, and one for the both of us to come back home.”

Aderley stood, face to face, with Charley. He looked just as defeated as those who had left his office not long ago.

“You’re a good man, Charles. You’re right. I do owe you. And I keep my word. As a matter of course, I too, like I said, will travel to San Francisco to be with Marian and my son. She has dealt with our son’s death on her own long enough. As for this strike, I fear I have no more control than you. Tom Scott calls the shots. I’ll be meeting with him when he returns from Pittsburgh. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll go talk to the men and see if I can keep them from rioting a bit longer, at least. Any sign of Donahue?”

“No. And let me tell you, if I ever lay eyes on him again, I’ll fire him on the spot. You were right about him. Not only did he keep information from me, he’s been altering the books and stealing right out from under my nose.”

“Do you think he had anything to do with the kidnapping threats?”

“I’ve given his name to the locals. They’re investigating him now. And to think I sent him to my home to run errands for my family.”

He never liked John Donahue, never trusted him.

****

Two days later Tom Scott arrived in Philadelphia. He and Aderley spent most of the day behind closed doors. Charley wasn’t surprised to learn Scott had called in all his I.O.U.’s.

“Aderley told me Scott’s invited House Speaker Samuel Randall to Philadelphia so he can ask him to talk to President Hayes on his behalf,” Charley told Seamus as they sat across the table from each other at Seamus’ house. “He wants him to write a proclamation to put down the strike.”

“What does that mean for us, Charley? If the President says we can’t strike, can Scott cut our wages anyway?”

“Aderley said Randall refused to speak on Scott’s behalf. Seems a citizen from Cincinnati wrote advising a federal intervention would only provoke a nationwide revolution. After President Hayes met with his Cabinet, he refused Scott’s request.”