Chapter 29

They sat in silence for several minutes. After a while, Andy finished his cigar and stubbed it out. Then he asked, “Do you suppose we’ve seen the last of the Labor Pioneers?”

“Ha. I’m not sure that we actually have seen anything of them. From what Vandeventer told us, and from what I got out of ... well, you know, that whole episode, everything that happened along the Fort Birney trunk, was at the behest of Cable Aldecott. Any unionizing was just incidental. Exactly what motivated Aldecott was never made clear. I don’t think those two knew. What they did know was that Aldecott let them bring the union into his mine in exchange for the harassment and attacks down here. Since it suited their purposes, and since Aldecott funded it, they signed on. I was left with the distinct impression that no one at the union knew why, either. They just saw it as a chance to agitate a labor market.”

“Do you have a guess as to why?”

“Not really. At first, I thought it might have been in reaction to the rumor that I might run for governor. But Jonathan looked into that and learned that no one was taking that rumor seriously, as it was known I had never shown an inclination to run for any office.

“Then, I was drawn to the notion that it had something to do with the monetary standard, somehow, the silver versus gold debate, and how it might affect the prices for either metal. I thought Aldecott may have been trying to shut down our silver mines. But you helped to dispel that, when you said that silver, to the detriment of its own price, is actually helping to enhance the price of gold, because so much of American silver production is being used to buy gold. Just like we’re doing.

“So, no, I haven’t a clue. Perhaps Aldecott is some cousin to Paulus Ranford, or maybe our Pa said something insulting to his Pa after the battle of Monterrey. Or Abuelo (Grandfather) de Ortega rejected his suit for our Ma. I have no earthly idea.”

“Do you suppose we should go ask him?”

“Only with unassailable witnesses to our movements. If Aldecott should suffer something untoward while we were in his vicinity, we’d be named responsible,” Malik said, by way of dismissing the idea.

“I’m serious, Emil. Should we go ask him?”

“Why would he even see us? Or did you figure just to surprise him? He might not even be there, if a surprise visit was part of your plan.”

Andy was quiet, looking toward the rio. Then he said, “I’ll bet his office at the state senate knows his schedule. We could get Jonathan to inquire of one of his old pals up there.”

Malik turned toward his brother, “I can’t imagine he’d even see us, let alone admit to any involvement. It would be tantamount to a confession to a conspiracy to commit murder.”

Andy said, “I’m not so sure. He could admit to a motivation for his enmity without declaring his participation in anything improper. If his antagonistic feelings are strong enough to sic those jackals on us, then his sentiments should be of such a nature that he would easily betray them, if not outright declare them. I’m willing to bet that he couldn’t resist the opportunity to spite you in person.”

“I just may take you up on that bet. If we do go up there, and he won’t see us, the whole trip comes out of the ranch budget. That’s the bet.”

“Fine. I’ll accept those terms. So, we should go as soon as possible.”

Malik was shaking his head. “I don’t know, Andy. I was serious, too, about taking a witness with us. Witnesses would be better.”

“Well, what about Connor?”

“Connor? I’m not so sure. Connor holds an upstanding reputation in the state, but he’s also known to be my friend.”

After a moment, Andy said, “We’ll ask him to bring along that other marshal, from Arenoso’s western district.”

“Pat Wylde? What makes you think he’d consider it?”

“Because you’re going to offer him a ride in a private railroad coach.”

“Hold on a minute. After Fort Birney, that’s all Santa Fe railroad territory. We’d get no special service out of them.”

“All we’d want is ordinary service. Surely, they haul private coaches all the time for various business moguls. You may even be subject to professional courtesies, as a fellow railroad tycoon.”

The following Sunday afternoon found Malik, Andy, and Connor Lonegan sipping cold beer at the quiet saloon, next door to the Fort Birney Lodge. They had supper at the Officer’s Mess, but the westbound Santa Fe was not due until seven fifteen that evening, so they chose to relax at the tavern Raul Castillo had referred to as his “club.”

“All the deputies come here now,” Lonegan was saying. “We even got Judge Westcott here a couple times. I think he likes the place. He said it was nice enough, they ought to be serving ladies.” Lonegan chuckled. “I think his wife is agitating for a night out that includes some liquid spirits.”

“We’ll tell Jonathan.” Malik said. “Maybe next time he and Ada come up here to visit, they could come here together.”

“The thing is,” Lonegan said, “I’ve seen men with their wives in here before.”

Andy said, “I could see Christina in here. It’s a nice, quiet place. It has a nice feel to it.” He looked around. “Dignified, maybe.”

After checking his watch, Malik said, “Santa Fe’s due in about a half hour. We should get back before they start moving the car around.”

Andy went to the bar to pay the bill and Lonegan asked, “They’re not just going to back onto the siding and pick it up?”

“No. One of their switchers will take us out onto their depot siding as soon as their train pulls in. The switcher will hook us on. Saves time for the passenger train schedule.”

Andy walked up and asked, “Are you ready?”

Lonegan and Malik rose, and the three men walked out the door into the late spring evening.

Thirty minutes later, Malik’s coach was coupled to an idling locomotive as they waited for the westbound Santa Fe passenger train. The Santa Fe yard brakeman, who was directing the switching of Malik’s car, had told them the passenger train was running about ten minutes late.

As they sat on the couches, discussing the trip, Andy said, “Oh, I meant to tell you. I asked the bartender whether they normally admitted ladies. He said they were actually trying to encourage women to patronize them, as long as they came with a male escort. He said he would ask an unescorted female to leave. They’re being very careful of their reputation. He said they don’t allow chewing tobacco or any spitting.

“If a woman comes in during their free lunch, he’ll make some small sandwiches, cutting the crust off. He’ll offer it directly to the lady’s table, so they wouldn’t have to go over to the lunch counter.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Malik said.

Just then, the switcher blew two short whistle blasts, and the car began to move along the yard spur. Several switch crossings and some minutes later, the locomotive reversed itself and began moving slowly with Malik’s coach preceding it. Another minute, and even that slow speed was reduced. Then there was a jerking halt, the clank of Janney couplers engaging, and the hiss of air entering the coach’s brake system. Malik, leaning on the back of the coach and peering out the window, saw the brakeman walking back toward the switcher. As he passed the main cabin, he gave two hard, audible slaps to the side of the coach and a wave of his hand above his head, though he did not look up to see if anyone was watching his friendly farewell gesture.

“Who’s that?” Andy inquired.

“Just the brakeman letting us know everything was set.”

“No, not that. It sounded like someone knocked on the door.”

At that point, there were two knocks on the coach door. Malik gave a quizzical look to Andy and he got up and went toward the forward-facing end of the coach, where it was attached to the Santa Fe train.

As he approached the door, he was startled to see, through the door’s window, none other than Chen Ming-teh. He quickly opened the door, to find Raul Castillo standing behind the railroad’s chairman.

“Mister Chen, Ming, please do come in. Raul, this is beyond a surprise. Come in, come in. Marshal Lonegan and my brother are with me.”

When all the greetings had been completed, and all the surprise dissipated, the five men sat down on the couches in the coach’s cabin.

“I can’t believe this is a coincidence, Ming,” Malik said. “Are you intending to join us in this pursuit?”

“In fact, I am, Emil,” the chairman replied. “Keep in mind, at the same time those thugs were attacking you and yours, they were also attacking our railroad. Your report that Senator Aldecott was funding those activities certainly piqued my interest, to say the least.”

“And Raul? What’s his purpose? In case you need an emergency contract written?”

“Not at all, Emil,” Castillo replied. “When we all found out that we might be joining you on one of your adventures, we drew straws to see who would come along. I lost.”

Everyone, including Malik, got a good chuckle out of that. Malik said, “It is good to see you, Raul. Hardly a week goes by without someone mentioning you, and I’m always gladdened to think that you ended up in such a perfect spot.

“And, Ming, let me again express how grateful I am for the gift of this coach.”

“I knew you would put it to good use, Emil, and here we are, hardly more than a week later, and you are using it to mount a quest to the benefit of the railroad.”

“That’s nice of you to say, Ming, but, to be perfectly candid, the benefit to the railroad was simply coincidental to my purposes.”

“That is exactly my point, dear Emil. So much of what you do advances the railroad’s interests, even when it is not integral to your objectives. That is why I have given you a free rein with our resources along the Fort Birney trunk.”

Malik appeared discomfited by Chen’s words. “I’ll try not to abuse those privileges, Ming.”

Chen stood and, with a sideways bob to his head, invited Malik to join him. Chen led him down the corridor, past the bunk rooms, and, finally, out onto the rear platform of the now slowly moving train.

Chen leaned close to Malik, so that he could speak in a muted tone. “My concern, Emil, is that you are more likely not to use resources when they are available, rather than take inappropriate advantage. The fact is, I want you to use them. Trust your instincts. Do not overthink problems when emergent conditions arise. You are very good at anticipatory planning, but you are even better in reactive assessments.”

Chen paused, then spoke again. “I believe your feelings of hesitation are a result of the terrible experiences you have been through over the past year. The loss of Cowboy was a tragedy beyond measure, but consider the women you rescued and the villains you put down. Oh, I know it was not you who personally shot those men, but it was your plan, constantly changing to react to new information. And it never would have worked had you not had the use of a locomotive and if you had not broken some rules and taken some risks in executing your plan.”

“No, do not protest, Emil. I am fully aware that the others helped form those decisions. But they were your decisions. What’s more, all of those men were there because of you. You chose them and, in turn, they chose you. You were the one who had a broad enough perspective of what was involved that you could take that group and get the most out of it, even to the last, full measure of devotion, as Mister Lincoln had it. Cowboy did not merely die out there, Emil. He gave his life. Gave it, Emil, in the pursuit of something that all of you agreed would be worth your own sacrifice. Each of you chose that same risk.”

Chen looked thoughtfully at the receding train depot for a moment, then he said. “There is a great deal of wealth to be had when one controls large quantities of resources. Resources like a railroad, or broad swaths of land and the minerals they hold, and the crops and livestock they can produce. Your father and many others, including you and your brother, have worked hard for many years to develop those resources and to enrich the lives of many people, entire communities. As you well know, there are many who seek ways to take those resources away. And some will stoop to any means to accomplish that. We have not seen the last of them, Emil.”

Chen looked into Malik’s eyes. “You will always take action to confront such men. It is your nature. I am merely providing tools so that you may be more effective. Many people will benefit. When the need arises, use those tools, Emil.”

Malik turned away, watching the lights of Fort Birney grow distant. A rising full moon lit the steel-on-steel polished top surface of the rails.

Malik shook his head. “This wasn’t the role I anticipated for my life. I thought I’d work as a lawyer, get married, have children, make some investments, and go hunting with Cowboy. The rest of it just seemed to happen.”

Chen nodded. “There’s an ancient saying that has different forms in different places, but it says, in essence, ‘Man plans, the gods laugh.’ You cannot escape who you are, Emil. This is who you are: a man of vision, a man of action, and a man of justice. And other men will follow you.”

Chen reached up to the taller man and grasped Malik’s shoulder. “If it is any comfort, you might keep in mind that I never, not in my wildest imagining, back on my uncle’s farm in China, thought that I might, some day, be operating a railroad in America.”

Malik turned to Chen. “That genuinely is a comfort. It makes my life look like a Sunday afternoon picnic.”

Chen said, “Come, let us go back in.

Back in the main parlor, Chen said, “Gentlemen, I invite you all for breakfast, as soon as we leave the Cabot station at six o’clock.”

“Uh, Mister Chen,” Lonegan said, “Marshal Pat Wylde is coming aboard at Cabot.”

“I will inform the Misters West. They are cousins, and provide cook and porter service in my coach. I know we can seat ten easily, so, with the Wests and Mister Lee Jin, over there, Marshal Wylde will fill the table.”

“Oh,” Malik said. “I hadn’t realized you were traveling in your own car. It seems obvious, now that you’ve mentioned it.”

“Quite so. We are traveling in the Lincoln Falls Loop, one of our new seventy-foot coaches. Captain William McCroskey, the supervisor of the K and ASR Security Section, is also traveling with us. He and the Wests were playing penny-ante poker when I came back here.” Chen looked around, and said, “I bid you good night, gentlemen. I appreciate having all of you along on this adventure that Emil has organized. I will see you at breakfast.”

Both cars were set out on a siding near the Cabot depot shortly after eleven that night. There, they awaited coupling to the Santa Fe passenger train to Meseta, Arenoso’s state capitol, with continuing service to Buchholz, well north of the capital. That train departed daily at six o’clock in the morning.

After the cars were moved to the depot siding at five-thirty, Simon West came over to Malik’s coach to invite the men to join Chen for coffee while awaiting breakfast. The Malik brothers and Lee Jin, who had, at his preference, slept on a pallet on the floor in the main cabin, went to have coffee or tea, while Lonegan went into the station to await Pat Wylde.

After a quick tour of the new car, the Maliks had just taken their places at a dining table set for ten, when they began hearing cries of “Extra” from newsboys on the depot platform, but the remainder of their hawked message was indecipherable from inside the car.

Bill McCroskey, the K&ASR’s security chief, rose from his chair and said, “Let’s see what that’s all about.”

Before he could exit the car, however, Lonegan and Wylde came in, each carrying one of two competing newspapers being sold as extra editions that morning.

Lonegan put the broadsheet paper in front of Malik and said, “This will put a different shade on things. Aldecott’s been murdered.”

Malik looked down at the paper and began to summarize the sensationalized account that was presented in the article, extracting the relevant details. Aloud, he said, “This says that ... Senator Aldecott went to church with his wife and daughter, then ... after dinner, he said he had some work to do at the mine and he left, on foot ... still in his Sunday suit ... his wife assumed he would be at work in the office. When he did not return at the agreed-upon time for supper, his wife ... sent a servant to fetch him. The servant found the senator,” here, Malik hesitated, “with a thin rope around his neck that was ... also wrapped around a ceiling support post ... in the mine offices building. Someone had used the rope as a garrote, slowly tightening it against the post ... using a railroad spike as a twisting lever.” Malik looked up. “And that’s how they found him, still fastened to the post by his neck.”

“Yeah,” Wylde said, “that’s pretty much what this one says.” He dropped the tabloid-style paper on the table. Andy reached for it and began to read. Wylde went on, “But this story went into detail about his face having turned purple and his tongue sticking out, his neck clawed by his own fingernails, if all that’s even true. Even if not, it still must have been pretty gruesome.”

Malik and his brother both pored over the newspapers. Chen seemed lost in thought, even stunned. Meanwhile, the train, with the two private coaches attached, had left the station, northbound to Meseta.

Castillo rose from his seat and said to Wylde, offering his hand, “Marshal Wylde, I am Raul Castillo, general counsel to the Kansas and Arizona Southern Railroad. Welcome aboard.” After shaking hands and accepting Wylde’s greeting, Castillo introduced the marshal, a man of mid-height with curly, dark hair and beard, to the others. Castillo held Chen’s introduction until last, by which time the chairman seemed to have regained his composure.

“I would be pleased if you would join us for breakfast, Marshal. And thank you, too for providing a witness service which now seems to be wholly superfluous.”

“I’m not so sure, Mister Chen. From what Marshal Lonegan has told me, Mister Malik’s whereabouts may be at issue in the upcoming investigation. His location for the past twenty-four hours may have to be established. I am a witness, at least, to those who were with him in the early hours of this morning and who might have legitimate testimony as to his earlier activities and location.”

Chen nodding, said, “Yes, quite right, Marshal. Thank you for putting things into perspective.”

“But do you intend to go on to Buchholz, then, Mister Chen?” Wylde wanted to know.

Chen looked inquisitively at Malik, who said, “Since we’ve come this far, I, for one, would like to see Buchholz and the gold mine operation, if it will be permitted. While that’s in the offing, we might as well make some inquiry as to the circumstances of Senator Aldecott’s death. I am disturbed by the coincidence of our planned confrontation and his murder.”

Lonegan looked at Wilde. “He’s right, too, Pat. It does seem a bit odd that, just as we were about to follow up on the evidence provided by one of those involved, the principal suspect is murdered in a most deliberate manner. Now, it could be something as mundane as a wronged husband taking his revenge, but that type of strangulation is known to be especially cruel because it can be drawn out for some time, with the victim helpless.”

“The other thing that bothers me,” Malik said, “is the use of a railroad spike as the turning lever. While I can only imagine that use, it seems like it would be somewhat short as a tool of choice. I would prefer something longer, an axe handle, for instance, or the leg broken from a chair or stool. Unless we find a stack of rail spikes outside the building, it would mean the killer carried the spike there for that specific purpose. He could have easily brought a length of dowel or a crow bar, even a walking stick. But he brought a railroad spike.”

“Why would he have done that?” Wylde asked.

“I have no idea,” Malik said, then, “Well, only an idea in the most general terms. The spike was meant to carry its own message or to symbolize something.”

“Like what?” McCroskey inquired.

“Who knows? Railroad tracks? The railroad? Spikes? Things you hit with a hammer? Iron or steel? Crucifixion? Depending on the spike, maybe rust? Or something more twisted, understood only in the killer’s mind: his wife’s fidelity or the breaking of an iron-clad business contract.”

“If it could mean anything,” Wylde said, “it won’t provide much by the way of tracing the killer.”

“Perhaps. But allow me to provide a further consideration. If the rail spike was some form of symbol or message, for whom was that message intended? Senator Aldecott? Or someone else? The senator, after all, was likely fastened with his back to the post and the railroad spike twisted in the cord behind that post, so the senator could not have seen it, at least, not while it was in use. But it was left in place, for others to find.” Malik took a sip of his coffee and sat back in his chair.

“Who’s going to be investigating this?” Andy wanted to know.

Lonegan and Wylde exchanged a look and Lonegan nodded to the other marshal.

Wylde said, “I’d guess that the local sheriff will have started an investigation, unless it was in the town’s jurisdiction. But, in either case, I’d expect the state police, the bailiffs, to take over.”

“No federal marshals, then?”

Lonegan said, “I don’t see how, Andy. As far as we know, there’s nothing in it to raise it to the federal level.”

“Gentlemen,” Chen said, “why don’t we all sit down so Mister West can serve us breakfast? We can continue this discussion as we eat. Please, take a seat. You, too, Marshal Wylde.”

Some ninety minutes later, the northbound Santa Fe train was at the Meseta station for an extended coaling and water stop, before proceeding to Buchholz.

A determined-looking McCroskey mounted the coach’s steps and came directly into the main parlor through the rear doorway. He was followed by the two marshals, who had been smoking cigarettes and talking on the back platform. Now they appeared curious as to the security chief’s intent. They stopped to watch McCroskey, who had walked over to wait as Malik assisted the Wests in fastening the dining table components in place on a purpose-built rack in a wide but shallow storage locker on the interior bulkhead of the main cabin. Chen had looked up from where he was reading a book as McCroskey walked in. Andy and Raul, who had been in a quiet conversation, also looked on.

Malik, unaware of McCroskey’s approach, turned to the others in the parlor and said, “What a clever set-up.” It was then he noticed the police captain standing in a posture of military attention. He said, “Captain McCroskey, how may I be of service?”

“Mister Malik, I’m not so sure the choice of a rail spike as a twisting tool was not a good one.” He held out his hand, offering a ten-inch rail spike with some cord wrapped around it. “I think you may have visualized the twisting as a two-handed task, but I think it could easily be accomplished with one hand, for which this spike is nearly ideal.”

Malik took the spike and gripped it with one hand, moving it with a twist. “I see what you mean.” Then he held it up to display the tattered ends of the rope. “You tested your theory?”

“I did. On the handrail of a box car ladder. I twisted until the cord broke. I would not have wanted my throat to be caught in that loop, but I think the act would be well within the physical capability of most adult males.”

“And was it easy to find the spike?”

“Only because I knew where to look. There are some repair cars on a nearby siding. There was an open box of spikes easily accessible on a flatcar. On the other hand, I had looked for discarded spikes as I walked over there, but didn’t see any.”

Malik gripped and twisted the spike again, then handed it back to McCroskey. “You make a good point about its use, Captain. I’ll have to consider my objection as being overruled. Thank you for your diligence.”

“I’m just trying to help, Mister Malik.”

Malik smiled. “Captain, in social situations like this, please call me Emil.”

“I’m Bill, Emil.”

“Good, then.”

Chen spoke up, “That applies to me, as well, gentlemen. Please call me Ming. Does anyone object to our mutual use of our given names?”

“I’m called Pat or Patrick,” Wylde said. Because Wylde was new to the group, everyone else mentioned their personal name, including Robert and Simon West.

At that point, the uniformed Santa Fe conductor came in from the door at the far end of the car and, seeing Chen sitting in the rear corner, walked up to him.

“The locomotive is about to hook on, so we’ll be leaving in about five minutes, Mister Chen. Has everything been satisfactory?”

“Everything is fine, Mister Raymond. It is kind of you to inquire.”

“Not at all, sir. May we assume you still plan to return to Cabot with our train tomorrow afternoon, Mister Chen?”

“That is the current plan, Mister Raymond. If those plans change, I will inform you or the stationmaster at least one hour in advance of your schedule, if that will be sufficient.”

“It will. We’ll be spotting your cars on a siding nearest the main street, so you will have access to food and other commercial enterprises. Thank you, again, Mister Chen. Just let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, I will, Mister Raymond,” Chen replied. The conductor gave an informal salute to Chen and said, “Gentlemen,” to the others, then he exited through the corridor past the bedrooms, the direction from which he had arrived.

“Marshal Wylde, excuse me, I mean, Patrick,” Chen chuckled at his faux pas, “I will be glad to see to your fare back to Cabot, should you wish to debark here or return from Buchholz this afternoon.”

“Well, thank you, Ming, but, if it’s all the same to you, I’d as soon ride this out, see what develops. You’re an interesting bunch to travel with, and I’ve a feeling you all are more involved in this than any of us yet realize.”

“Of course, we are happy to have your company, Patrick. Nor is it likely only coincidental that I share your feeling of involvement. Several of us have either been involved as direct or indirect targets of this recent wave of violence. It remains to be seen if the Senator’s death marks a cessation of these acts or if it is simply another stage in the process.”

“Well,” Wylde said, “I’ve read the statement that Connor obtained from that union organizer, Van ... uh...”

“Vandeventer,” Lonegan filled in.

“Yeah, Vandeventer. Thanks, Connor. I’ve read Vandeventer’s statement, and he wasn’t sure if it was Cable Aldecott alone or if there was someone else involved. All he knew was that his bosses sent him to meet Aldecott and work out the details and it was Aldecott who gave him the money, most of which disappeared with that Volkov fellow.”

Andy looked toward his brother. “So, do we have a plan? For when we get there, I mean?”

Malik gave an exaggerated shrug. “It all depends on the nature of the circumstances when we get there. But I reckon we need to go at it from at least three, maybe four different angles. First, is to see what the bailiffs or the sheriff or town marshal are doing and what they or he knows. Second, we need to inquire with the mine management. Third, we need to talk to the miners. And lastly, we need to see if there are any likely rumors among the townsfolk, maybe in the saloons.

The Wests had been sitting near the hall doorway in a couple folding chairs, straight-backed and without arms, plain wooden chairs. Simon West said, “We can wander around town, see what we can find out just from listening to folks talk to one another. If there’s any colored folk, we can even ask some questions.”

Malik said, “That’d be good, fellas. But be careful. If you’re not back by suppertime, we’ll come looking for you, starting at the jail.”

‘Let me see if I can talk with some miners,” Andy said. “I’ve been around enough of ‘em, lately.”

“Good, Andy,” Malik said, then turned to the marshals, “Connor, Pat, if you’d see what the lawmen have going?”

Lonegan glanced at Wylde, then said, “Sure, Emil. That’s what I figured on doing.”

Malik said, “I’ll go see who’s in charge of the mine. Maybe they’ll be willing to talk. Their general manager was rather forthright when Morton Quincy was up here.”

He turned to McCroskey. “Looks like you’re stuck with the saloons, Bill, if that’s okay.”

“I’ll suffer through it.”

Chen asked, “And me?”

Robert West said, “Looks like you’re makin’ supper.”

Though it was late on a Monday morning, the only men visible at the gold mine were two armed guards. They stood, shotguns in hand, at the narrow gate through a six-foot tall fence of chicken wire and strands of interlaced barbed wire that curved in a semi-circle around the mine entrance.

“That’s far enough mister,” one of the guards shouted at Malik when he was still ten yards off. “State your business.”

“I’d like to speak to the manager or supervisor or whoever’s in charge of the mine.”