Chapter 8

The Old Courthouse Inn’s reception lobby was a room that extended across the width of the building at its front, facing Jackson Street. The reception desk was at its center, facing the front door. On either side, it was set up as a comfortably-furnished sitting room, with cushioned upright chairs, and overstuffed arm chairs and divans. There were tables with reading lamps between the seating. The window treatments were of refined quality and designed to allow maximum light. The polished oak floor hosted large area rugs of Persian design.

Malik found there a man and woman, both dark haired, comely of appearance, if looking a bit weary. The man rose as Malik approached. He was shorter, by two or three inches, but stood straight and gave the appearance of health and physical prowess. He wore a full, dark beard and mustache, but they failed to hide his pleasant smile.

He said, expectantly, “Mister Malik?”

“I am Emil Malik. May I presume you are David Lewin?”

“You are correct, sir,” the man said as they shook hands.

He said, “May I present Sara, my--”

The woman was beginning to rise and Malik said “Please stay seated Missus Lewin. Why don’t we all sit down? I’m sorry for interrupting your introduction, Mister Lewin.”

“No matter. I think the niceties have been seen to.”

“Indeed.”

His wife said, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Malik.” She was dressed in heavy traveling clothes, which betrayed long hours on the train. She also had a weariness about her.

Malik said, “Welcome to Waypoint. I see Mister Anderson brought water. Do you have any other immediate needs?”

Lewin looked to his wife, then said, “We’re fine, sir. Mister Anderson has been quite accommodating.” That worthy was working behind the front desk, instructing a new, young clerk in procedures.

“Good. I know you must be tired from your travels. Have you come from New York directly?”

Lewin said, “We stopped two nights in Chicago.”

She said, “We marveled that a fresh-water lake could be as vast and wild as the ocean.”

“It is remarkable, isn’t it? My wife and I ... oh, here she is.” Gabriela stood in the door to the dining room. Lewin stood as Malik went to her. She said, “They’re ready to order.”

“Let me introduce you to the Lewins. He’s the accountant? You remember?” They walked over to the couple, both of whom had risen.

Malik said, “Mister and Missus Lewin, this is my wife, Gabriela. Gabriela, these are Mister and Missus David and Sara Lewin.” Gabriela offered her hand to each and everyone sat down, again.

Malik said, “I am hosting a business lunch and will have to join that group. But I would like you to be my guests for lunch here. I know you must be anxious to see the office and apartment, but I will not be available until about two o’clock.”

“That’s understandable. And we’ll gladly accept your lunch invitation. Perhaps we can walk around town, after.” Lewin said.

“Nonsense,” Gabriela interjected. “I’ll host the Lewins at lunch and then I’ll take them across to the apartment. In fact, ask Christina to join me. We’ve had quite enough cigar smoke for the day.”

Malik looked to the Lewins, who appeared relieved. “Will that plan suit you?”

“Admirably. That is very gracious of you, Missus Malik.”

“Not at all. I’m glad for the excuse to slip away. But, Emil, they are waiting for you in there.”

“Of course. Mister Lewin, Missus Lewin, I will come by tomorrow. Though I’m sure Gabriela and my sister-in-law will leave me little to tell you.”

He rose and answered Gabriela’s mock frown with a kiss to her forehead, bid the Lewins good day, and he walked off.

After lunch, Baylor, Smith, and Lonegan sat at one end of the table, reviewing the syndicate agreement, under Westcott’s guidance. The lunch dishes and linen had been cleared away and the coffee urn had been refilled, with a new buffet candle to maintain its heat.

Malik and Castillo sat together at the other end of the table. “What I would prefer,” Malik said, quietly, “is to invite the railroad’s general counsel down here on an urgent, confidential matter. I don’t want the news hitting their home office and becoming volatile.”

“Yes, I can see that would certainly defeat your efforts to manage this situation.”

“So, do you think that meets my fiduciary responsibility?”

“I believe the action does, but you are tardy in taking it.”

“I realize that. My obligation to the railroad just never came to mind until yesterday.”

“That is understandable,” Castillo said in his soft Spanish burr. “For the last ten days you have been constantly on the move and acquiring new responsibilities at an alarming rate. Would you expect them to take action on your negligence?”

Malik ran his hand over his short-cropped hair. “I don’t think so, but I intend to admit my error as soon as I am face-to-face with Frederick Urban.”

“He is their general counsel?”

“Yes. He’s a decent man. So are the other directors. I would never have joined the board otherwise. Like Mister Smith said of the bank, they want slow and steady growth. They realize, too, that it is their employees who are the real railroad, not the rails and rolling stock. I like them.” Malik shook his head. “Well, the damage is done. I’ll do my best to fix it. Frankly, though, Raul, I feel a greater obligation to this county.”

“Yes. I can appreciate that. If your loyalty causes you to exclude them, you should declare a conflict of interest to their general counsel.

“I will.” Malik looked at Castillo. “There is another matter, though: this odd lawsuit to take control of the Sonora mine. I would like to hire you, on behalf of the Sonora Mining Corporation, to represent us.”

“Sonora Mining Corporation?”

“That reminds me,” Malik said, grinning, “could you draw up incorporation papers for the Sonora Mining Corporation?” He pulled a paper from his shirt pocket. “Here’s a list of the directors. Blue Maize will be president. I will be the general manager but not a director. The men on the list are the elders of the tribe. Keep in mind that meetings are not likely to be conducted according to Robert’s Rules of Order, so don’t lock us into it. Keep the whole thing as simple and basic as you think is safe. I’ll make sure they hit the high points. Maybe I’ll recruit Missus Quincy to record the minutes. No, wait, that won’t work. They’ll be speaking in Sonora. Well, I’ll think of something.”

“Fortunately, I am not too busy at the moment. I will accept both tasks. Do you have the authority to engage me?”

“Chief Blue Maize assigned me a power of attorney. It’s in the hotel safe. Do you want to see it?”

“Perhaps I’d better. This is already off the rails.”

“Speaking of rails, I’ll have my rail car tomorrow, after I approve the Kozlovs’ work.”

“And where will you take your first trip?”

“I’m planning to go down to the Springs tomorrow, see Blue Maize and also pick up the horse Cowboy gave me. Wait ‘til you see him. His name’s Tsela. It means ‘stars laying down.’ He’s what’s called a smoky black. At first, I thought it was a very dark brown. Cowboy explained he was black with some cream colored hair mixed in, I’d never seen one before. He’s dark all over but he has the typical Appaloosa speckles on the hind quarters. His are white. It’s very striking. Plus, he’s been trained by Cowboy.”

“It is a horse, Emil. Please calm down.”

“You’re a philistine, Raul.”

“I know you lost your roan, I do sympathize. Some animals just grow into companions.”

“Yeah, she was a good one.”

“Did you ever breed her?”

“Put her to stud a few times. Nada. Cowboy thinks she was barren.”

“Ah, well.”

Westcott, at the other end of the table, said, “Excuse me, Mister Malik. May I interrupt?

“Of course, Judge.”

“Will you permit us to review the Manuela Lake Partnership agreement?”

Malik looked at Castillo, who shrugged. “I don’t see why not, Judge. Mister Castillo drew it up for us, but it uses standard partnership language. The only exception is the bloc voting provision.”

Castillo said, “I have an extra blank with me. Would that suffice?”

“Yes, I think so. I’m mostly interested in the bloc voting.”

Castillo reached into his valise and produced a file folder. Malik took it from him and carried it to the Judge. “We made no changes. My signed copy is in the safe, out at the ranch. You’re welcome to look at it; we could have it here tomorrow morning.”

“No, this will be fine. Mister Smith wanted to be familiar with it for reference in recruiting other investors.”

“Any questions?”

“We’ll look it over and see if anything comes up.”

“Just let me know.” Malik went back to the other end of the table and sat down.

Castillo said, “I am rethinking my opinion that you, as in-state counsel, are tardy in notifying the railroad. Here is my reasoning: First, from the outset, you have acted to protect railroad property, specifically, their bridge over the Rio Isabella. Second, you could not be aware of potential freight traffic until today, with the discovery of possible wagon access. Third, discovering and developing Investment opportunities would not fall within the counsel’s purview, unless it’s part of your contract.”

“It isn’t. That’s a relief.”

“Perhaps. But I limited that relief to your role as counsel. As a director, there may be broader issues. Allow me to consider it.”

“I worry more about my performance as an attorney.”

“I know.”

Castillo and Malik sat in silence for several minutes. Castillo broke the silence. “As a director, did you sign any sort of contract?”

“No, just a form establishing identity and providing a sample signature.”

“Were you presented with a list of expected conduct or duties?”

“No, nothing of the sort. They are a very informal group. It was hardly more prescribed than children choosing teammates for a game, except that I had already been elected to the board before I was invited to my first meeting.”

“Is there anything in the incorporating papers or the bylaws that suggest any behavior not specifically related to conducting board business? By that I mean, are there any expectations outside the boardroom, such as in sales or land development?.”

“No,” Malik said, looking down toward the table. “There’s not even a moral turpitude clause. For a large business, the language in their managing documents is remarkably simple and they have few specified obligatory procedures. As I said, these people seem to have different aims than are apparent with many businesses, especially among railroads.”

“Then you may not be guilty of any actionable impropriety. But I should like to review the corporate papers. Have you a copy?”

“I have a copy of the bylaws, but not the incorporating papers. “I’m just hoping I will not have offended them. I respect their ethics and have been enjoying working with them.”

“From what you have said, I would estimate that any foibles you might have displayed will be discounted.”

“I hope so. I feel bad enough about it as it is.” He sighed. “I’ll send you the bylaws. I’ll ask Mister Urban to bring a copy of the corporate papers that I can keep.”

“You should write him so the letter goes out with today’s train. He is in Wichita?”

“Yes. He should get the letter late tomorrow or Thursday. I’ll get writing supplies from Mister Anderson.”

A few minutes before six, Molly and Maylon Rademacher arrived at the Inn and were greeted by Robert Smith and his wife, Rebecca. They found coffee, milk, lemonade, and orangeade available. Over the next twenty minutes, a number of townspeople arrived: Jacob Baylor, Francine Kuiper, Ivan Kozlov, Dmitry Kozlov, Ernst Bauer and his wife, Gretel, and daughter, Frieda, Hannah Isely and Matilda Tsosie, Valerian Garcia, Mitchel Anderson, Joe Collins, Niles and Eve Palmer, Thomas and Mary-Margaret Palmer, Joshua Trent, Jan Viddick, Stella Norman, and Lucius Gibbons. The surprise attendee was not the brothel owner, Stella Norman, but rather the guests brought by Gabriela and Christina: David and Sara Lewin.

At a quarter after six, Andy, Cowboy, and Malik carried in trays of sliced roast beef, thin-sliced pork loin in gravy, and grilled skewers of cubes of lamb interspersed with wedges of onions, peppers, and tomatoes. They were followed by a young man toting a fruit salad of apples, walnuts, celery, and raisins in a sweetened sour-cream dressing. Another young man brought a platter of sliced white bread and hard-crusted buns. Butter, mint jelly and other condiments were in place.

Robert Smith invited everyone to make their selections and enjoy the meal.

The dividing panels had been removed and the private room now had one long, sectioned table with seating for thirty six, so there would be a few empty seats.

Four hours later, arm-in-arm, Malik and Gabriela walked along Wagon Road Avenue toward their room at the Kuiper boarding house. The town was quiet and the road dark. Their conversation was quiet, to remain strictly private.

“I’m pleased you brought the Lewins. I wasn’t sure, at first, but then I realized that I trusted your judgment, so I relaxed,” he said.

“After spending the afternoon with them, Christina and I felt they were dependable enough to be introduced to the cold reality of Waypoint life.”

“Especially after you learned they had some money to invest?”

“That didn’t hurt their case,” Gabriela admitted, sheepishly.

“I reckon we’ll probably have more than enough potential investors after Andy gets the Ranch Home families together, tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll be just as worried about the water.”

“I think we spent more time, this evening, talking about dealing with a silver rush than we did about the silver mine.” Gabriela said.

“We’ll need those people to invest in the mine if we’re to protect the water, though.”

“I’ll bet most of them will invest just because it’s you and your brother and Cowboy running it. How did Francine Kuiper put it? ‘Nobody’s gone wrong bettin’ on the Maliks since they got here more ‘n thirty-five year ago. An’, Injun or no, them Tsosies look just as smart, t’me.’”

“Well, Bob did do a good job. I ended up saying very little. Mostly answering questions. Now I need to organize an expedition up there. That should be a circus.”

“Oh, Christina said she and Rebecca Smith would organize it. Rebecca will take care of getting names and finding out who needs a horse. Christina will take care of supplies and get horses from the ranch. They’re discouraging those who don’t ride regularly.”

“Needing to borrow a horse should be the first indicator.”

They both laughed quietly.

Malik was at the rail yard at seven the next morning, but his railcar had been moved and he couldn’t find it. He walked over to the yard office and found Thomas Palmer just unlocking the door.

“Mornin’, Emil. What brings you down here so early?”

“Morning, Tom. I was supposed to meet Ivan Kozlov to inspect their work on my railcar. But now I can’t find the car.”

“Oh, nobody told you? A construction crew came in on Monday and put in your private siding by the depot. Their work train also brought a brand new livestock car. Both cars are spotted at the new siding.”

“Really? That was fast work.”

“It pays to be on the board of directors, Mister Malik, sir,” Palmer said, tongue-in-cheek.

“Very well, then, my good man. But can you see what you can do about tidying up this switch yard? Let’s have all the cars of the same colors spotted together, shall we, as well as all the same types of cars? And the brake wheels all at the same end. I think, north. Hmmm. Yes, north.”

“Right away, Lord Director. But don’t you think maybe you ought to move your butt along so you can tend to the people who have real work to do, like the Kozlovs?”

“I’ll remember your impertinence the next time the directors consider which slaves to free.” Malik turned and headed south, out of the rail yard.

Palmer called after him, “How could I be impertinent? I don’t know what it means. See ya’ later, Emil.”

Malik raised his hand in a wave as he walked off, back into town.

He walked quickly and got to the new siding in less than ten minutes. Dmitry Kozlov was sitting on the car’s front steps. The young man rose when he saw Malik.

Malik said, “I apologize, Dmitry. I didn’t know they’d moved the car and I went to the rail yard.”

“Give it no thought, Mister Malik. I was pleased to wait for you.”

“Dmitry, you’re a grown man and we’ve known each other for years. I’d be pleased if you would use my Christian name. Please call me Emil. Or Shadow, if you’d prefer.”

“I will, sir,” he grinned, “when my father does.”

Malik chuckled. “Your father is a Cossack, and the Cossacks hate the Poles. And the Poles hate the Cossacks. I’m lucky he speaks to me at all.”

“I admit it makes him some unsettled because he likes you, sir.”

“He’s a good man. You’re both good men.”

“It is kind for you to say, Mister Malik. Do you wish to inspect our work, now?”

As usual, looking for flaws in the Kozlovs’ work was a waste of time. Their rough-in carpentry was always over-engineered while their finish carpentry was consistently in the Arts and Crafts style of deceptively plain but handsome furniture and cabinetry. The only thing was, it was a style Ivan had always used, before the design pattern became fashionable in England and Europe in the middle of the century, and then later in the US.

The interior was completed in oak furniture and distressed oak paneling, the latter finished in white stain to brighten the interior while the furniture was finished in a neutral stain, for a natural look. The exterior was painted in the colors of the Kansas & Arizona Southern Railroad livery, but in an opposite pattern. The K&ASR rolling stock was painted in a silver gray with a broad, cobalt blue, horizontal stripe and highlights, such as the company emblem and its logogram of a silhouette of a saguaro cactus with wheat stalks sprouting around it. Inversely, Emil’s car was in the main cobalt in color with a gray stripe. There were no company emblems, but a discreet “K&ASR” was painted above the car’s equally discreet registration number.

“Did the railroad approve these oil lamps?”

“Mister Palmer inspected everything, yesterday, sir, including the wheel trucks, couplers, and brakes. Here is his signature on the inspection sheet.”

“Thank you, Dmitry. Let’s go into the depot and I’ll borrow Mister Trent’s pen to sign my acceptance. It is truly excellent work, but I have to add, ‘as always’. You inherit a justifiably proud tradition from your father.”

“He will be gratified to hear those words, Mister Malik, all the more because they are said by you.”

“Then I am glad I said them. Shall we go?”

In the depot, after Dmitry Kozlov had gone on his way, Malik asked about the procedure for requesting that his cars be moved to another town.

Joshua Trent reached under his high service counter and came up with a large envelope. “There are procedures in here. But all you have to do is advise the stationmaster before the train arrives. Let me emphasize, before the train arrives. After it’s here, changes in work orders tend to further delay the train in meeting its schedule. Knowing beforehand does not eliminate a delay, but it minimizes it.”

“I can understand that.”

“There are also instructions in here that will tell the conductor where to spot your car at the destination and how it should be oriented. For that matter, the only place it would need to be turned around is at Texas Bend.”

“Texas Bend? I thought I’d only have places at the three county seats.”