Ribbons of Steel (5 page)

He laid her head in his lap to make her more comfortable.

Seth yanked on the reins, the crack of the whip echoing across the valley. The team bolted forward and picked up speed. Charley smelled the dampness in the air. The sun had disappeared behind a heavy blanket of clouds, and a heavy mist covered them as they turned onto Main Street. By the time Seth led the horses to the hitching post in front of Doc Wooster’s, the mist had turned into a steady downpour.

Charley jumped from the wagon and slid Emily across the bench into his arms. He was up on the boardwalk under a protective awning within seconds, pounding on Doc Wooster’s door.

“Open the door,” he barked.

Seth was by his side and opened the door, not bothering to wait for someone else to open it from the other side. The dimly lit interior smelled of disinfectant.

“Doc? You in there?” Charley called out.

A short, dark-haired, middle-aged woman with bright green eyes ran from the other room, wiping her hands on a long white no-nonsense apron. An odor of vanilla drifted in around her.

“What do we have here?” She inspected the bundle in Charley’s arms.

“My wife is with fever. She passed out on the way here. Where’s the Doc?”

“Follow me.” The woman indicated a stark, spacious, clean room to the left. A pristine bed was made up in one corner. A kerosene lantern sat on a nightstand, and a chamber pot hugged the wall.

The woman hovered over Emily as soon as Charley laid her down. “If you’ll kindly wait outside, I’ll take over from here.”

“You ain’t the doc,” Charley said. “Where the hell is he?”

“With another patient in another room. He’ll be here soon. Please wait outside,” she said, her hands affixed to wide hips. “The sooner you leave, the sooner I can ready your wife to be seen by the doctor.”

Charley could tell the bossy woman wouldn’t take no for an answer. He nodded, then joined Seth in the sitting room. Emily’s health was more important than his standing in the way.

Charley paced the floor in front of Seth, who had taken a seat.

“Sit down, Pa. Your walking the floorboards ain’t gonna fetch the doctor here any sooner.”

“What’s takin’ him so long?”

“At least he’s in there with Ma, now. We’ll know something soon enough.”

Doc Wooster finally emerged from behind closed doors and strode toward the sitting room. Charley jumped up so fast from the hard chair that it teetered back and forth before settling in place.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I’m afraid your wife is suffering from consumption. She needs to be placed in a sanitarium.”

Charley’s heart sank. “We can’t afford a sanitarium.”

“She needs total rest. Someone to look after her. Do you have someone to care for her at home?”

Charley cast his gaze to the floor, shaking his head. A knot formed in his stomach. Charley looked at Seth, then back at the doctor and shook his head.

“No.”

“I thought not. I can make arrangements at a sanitarium upstate. Payment there will be minimal.”

“Do you think she’d be able to handle a train ride?” Seth stepped forward.

“What the hell, boy,” Charley bellowed. “Of course she can’t. She didn’t even make it here without passing out. I know what you’re thinking son, but going out to Marybelle’s is out of the question.”

“Actually,” Doc Wooster interrupted. “I can give her a dram or two of opium, some Dover’s powder, to help make her more comfortable on the train. Exactly what did you have in mind?”

The doctor looked at Seth as if he were the one in charge. Bothered by the doc’s assumption, Charley eyed his son, then filled the doctor in on what Seth had in mind.

“Emily’s cousin lives out west. She’s been inviting her to visit for some time. If you think she’s up to traveling so far under her current condition, I can send a telegram to her cousin. See if she’d be willing to look after Emily for a while.”

“The air out there might do her some good. But the fact of the matter is, her lungs are giving out. You should make the arrangements as soon as possible. I’ve given your wife something to make her sleep for a few hours. Mrs. Wooster will look after her while you send a telegram and make the arrangements.”

Charley shot out of the door and headed straight for the train depot’s telegraph office across the street. He hoped Marybelle would send a favorable reply.

And soon.

Chapter Four

Marybelle’s warm reply was a welcomed relief. He should send Emily to her for complete rest to recuperate as soon as they could make arrangements. He could go back to Philadelphia and concentrate on the strike knowing Emily would be in good hands.

A second telegram had arrived; Aderley sent word that a hundred Pennsylvania Longshoremen working on the New York docks would walk out if the wage cut was initiated, and come hell or high water, Charley’d better hurry back to Philadelphia. The telegram implied he’d be spending more time than he wanted at the yards keeping the workers from rioting.

“I hate to leave all of you like this. But if I don’t get back to Philadelphia, I’ll be out of a job. See your mother doesn’t get out of bed ’til it’s time to get on the train. I’ll meet her when she transfers in Philadelphia; see she makes her connection out west. By damn, Marybelle best be waiting for her at the other end.”

“We’ll see she’s taken care of, Pa,” Seth promised. “Catherine will wash and pack her clothes this afternoon. We’ll get her to the station on time, day after tomorrow.”

“What about the baby?”

“I’ll take good care of Sarah,” Catherine said. “Seth can handle the boys.”

Charley shook his head. Not much else he could do.

With things settled, he nodded to his family and headed inside to say goodbye to Emily.

“Seth, get the rig ready. I’ll only be a minute.”

He hated to leave Emily so soon, but he took heart seeing Seth and Catherine take charge without a fuss.

****

After waiting and watching and wondering when things would erupt at the tracks the week before, sensing how riled up everyone was, Charley hoped he could resolve the situation before things got out of hand.

He hoped he wasn’t wishing in a bucket instead of a well.

Damn trains. Everyone considered they were going to revolutionize the country, and all they’d done so far was create a lower class dependent on the few crumbs thrown their way by the wealthy owners. He felt sorry for them.

Hell, he was sorry for himself.

His nerves were shot to hell and so far gone, he was ready to explode. He worried about the men at the yard, he worried about straddling the line between the workers and management, and now he was worried about Emily. If it weren’t for Aderley nailing down his loyalty to the railroad, he’d be home with Emily right now. She wouldn’t have to be going so far away from him.

And her family.

The train wheels squealed on the iron tracks, the hiss of steam mingled with the blast of the horn, and the train jerked to a stop. The smell of the rails filled his nostrils as others got off the train and rushed past him to the platform in front of the station. He took his time, more relaxed than he’d anticipated. He was in his element. He couldn’t help it; it was in his blood. But it was one hell-of-a-way to live.

Right away he could see something was wrong.

“Hey, Michael, where are the men? Why are these rail cars lined up on the holding tracks?”

Charley didn’t wait for an answer. He picked up his satchel and made a bee-line to the station office. He had to find out from Aderley what was going on. Had the man not waited ’til he got back, as promised?

He rounded the corner and started toward Aderley’s office only to have Donahue step in front of him, closing off entry to the building.

“Where do you think you’re going, Carmichael?” John Donahue sneered. He folded his arms in front of his wheezing chest, his long, skinny legs planted inches apart.

Huh, as if that would stop him from entering the building. The rat had a smirk on his face itching to be knocked off. Charley was ready to oblige him.

“You can’t go up there just yet,” Donahue said, the dare evident in his beady, little eyes. “There’s a meeting going on. Aderley has his hands full with some of the fellas.” He braced himself into a more solid stance. “They don’t want their wages cut. In case you haven’t heard, it’s already been settled. It’s gonna happen, and I don’t intend to stand by. Those big bugs don’t care if we all starve to death.”

“I’m surprised you’re still here.” Charley stood his ground. The only way to handle this good-for-nothing rat was to sweet-talk him out of his own thinking. Charley could see by the look in the man’s eyes that it would be a waste of time.

“I suspected you were the instigator all along. You’ve been spending a lot of time at the yard talking to the men. You’re getting a pretty penny for your job, you fool. Your job’s secure. Why make life more miserable for the others.”

“Yeah, well I don’t earn as much as you think. But that’s gonna change real soon.”

Charley didn’t see how Donahue would be bringing in more than he got already. “It’s more than you’ll be making elsewhere. Now, step aside and let me pass. I’ll see for myself what’s going on up there. Stop the bedlam you’ve created before someone gets hurt.”

Charley stepped around Donahue, but Donahue again blocked his access to the entrance.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said. “You might just as well join us, or pack up and go home. I’m getting better wages just keeping the strikers riled up.”

Charley didn’t doubt him one bit. The weasely-eyed fool was raking in the dough from somewhere. Knotting his hands into fists at his sides, Charley wanted to take a pop-swing at the guy.

“Get out of my way. I’m going through.”

Donahue swung at him.

The punch landed to the side of his right eye taking him by surprise and knocking him to the ground. Tears pooled, blocking his vision. His face stung, but it was nothing compared to the instant headache that left him stunned when his head connected with the concrete steps.

Charley took a steadying breath then bounded back up, fists raised, and stood face to face with the tall, skinny, seething Irishman. Charley’s dark hair hung over his left eye; he blew it out of the way, not letting his guard down. He’d have one hell-of-a-shiner come morning.

But right now he had a job to do.

“I’m going up those stairs if I have to take you down first. Now, get the hell out of my way, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

Donahue smiled, planted his feet securely in front of Charley, and swung his fisted hands to his hips. “Be my guest if you think you’re stupid enough.”

Charley didn’t want to fight him. He sidestepped around him, looked back to see Donahue’s hand slip inside his pocket.

The damn fool had a knife.

Charley swung around, doubled up his fist, and hit Donahue broadside. With a single punch, the man fell backward with a thud, then lay still, his eyes staring up toward heaven. Charley hoped he was praying for forgiveness.

Charley turned away, then bounded up the steps without a backward glance. May God help him; he didn’t care if he’d killed the agitator.

Engineers and trainmen alike littered the hallway at the top of the stairs. Charley elbowed his way through but was shoved aside.

“Let me through. Let me talk to them,” he demanded.

“You think you can do any good? You can’t.”

“Too late. Go back to New York, Carmichael. Go milk your cows. We don’t want you here.”

“Yeah, you’re nothing but a turncoat, Carmichael. You’re on their side.”

“Go on, get outta here.”

“I can help,” he reasoned, but the din drowned out his words. No one paid him any attention. How the hell could he reason with a gang of angry men?

“If you strike now, you won’t work,” Charley raised his voice. “No work, no pay. How are you going to feed your families with no pay?”

His cries fell on deaf ears. Didn’t they know what little they earned was better than nothing? Things had deteriorated faster than he or Aderley had anticipated.

What a God-awful mess.

Charley leaned against the stairwell and rested his throbbing head against the wall. He dragged his fingers through his thick, damp hair. It was hotter than hell in here, and the tempers and temperature were rising.

He looked to his left and spotted his friend, Seamus, standing against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. Head bowed, Seamus looked to be studying his worn out work boots.

“What’s going on, Seamus?” Charley called over the bedlam.

Men tried to pack themselves into Aderley’s office. Seamus’ head shot up.

Charley waited until his friend’s blank eyes cleared and focused. “What’s going on here?”

Seamus stepped away from the wall and wound his way through the tight crowd toward the top of the stairs.

“We’re protesting the cut, we are.” He stopped in front of Charley. “And rightly so. By all that’s holy, we can’t live on the little we get. How can we face our wives? What do we tell our children? I’m telling you, if we don’t do something now, if we don’t band together, we’ll be rotting in our houses, dying of starvation. That is if we don’t get thrown out for not paying rent.”

“It’s not just here.” Michael appeared at Seamus’ side. “The vote was unanimous. All the trunk lines are cutting back on wages. And for what? Just so they can line their pretty pockets, I ask ya? To fill their already full pockets while ours are empty and getting emptier?”

“Are you sure a strike is the best way to go?” Charley asked. “Donahue instigated this, didn’t he? I knew he wasn’t to be trusted. He’s the one who’s been at the tracks talking all of you into striking, hasn’t he? He just tried to stop me from coming up here and talking sense into you.”

“Listen, Charley, a trainmen’s union has been organized in Allegheny City. A union for all railroad workers. If we can’t talk sense into management, we start to strike on June twenty-seventh, and they’ll join us. Robert Ammon, freight brakeman on the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne & Chicago’s line is going to be chief organizer.”

“You’re talking, what, three-, five-hundred trainmen? Are other trunk lines involved, Seamus?”