Chapter 9

They met the Lewins at the depot at eleven. The train was due to arrive at eleven-ten and depart five minutes later. For travel, both men wore business suits and the ladies wore traveling dresses with long outer panels to catch the dust, soot, and cinders of a railroad trip. They set their baggage by the back hallway and Malik approached Stationmaster Joshua Trent for his guidance.

With the Kansas & Arizona Southern Railroad, a stationmaster was the senior staff member for all operations at that “station.” This included not only the depot, but all train operations, including any switchyards, freight and sales offices, or scales and loading ramps, within the station’s yard limits, a denotation not dissimilar to a city’s incorporation limits.

Trent said, “Go ahead and board your car. The conductor on today’s southbound is Fergus Healy. My work order reached him at Villagemill this morning. The simplest thing would be to back the train onto your spur and hook you to the end, but it’ll be up to Mister Healy. He may want your car behind the locomotive or between the freight and passenger cars for some reason. They left Texas Bend only five minutes off schedule, so they may even make up the time, especially since they have to do some switching here, now.”

On American railroads, the conductor was the senior employee and the manager of the train and had authority over the train crew, including the engineer and firemen

Just then, the faint sound of a train whistle could be heard. Trent pulled out his watch and checked the time. “Yep, Mister Healy must be trying to impress you.”

“I like him,” Malik said. “He’s got the devil of a wit. Thank you, Mister Trent. We’ll go aboard and wait to see what happens.”

The men each carried two large satchels and the canvas- and leather-sheathed long guns. The ladies each carried a hatbox. They exited the depot building through a hall leading to a south entrance. It opened to a half-block-long street, Depot Lane. Depot Lane’s primary function was to give wagons access to the freight dock that adjoined the south end of the depot’s passenger platform. Malik’s siding terminated at Depot Lane, across from what might be considered the back of the depot building.

At the car, Malik hefted his bags onto its platform, then climbed up and took Lewin’s baggage, and then the hat boxes. That filled the platform, so the others waited until Malik unlocked the door and shifted the baggage inside. Then he made himself available to help the ladies up the the somewhat narrow and steep crew-style steps while Lewin did the same from the ground. Malik said, “There are a set of standard stairs fastened to the bulkhead in the front room that I can place at one of several positions for easier access. It even has a handrail. I just hadn’t set it in place since the work was only signed off this morning.”

“That’s quite all right, Mister Malik. I have often watched the trainmen clamber on and off of a moving crew car. Now I appreciate even more the agility that’s required.”

Lewin observed, “Of course, they’re not wearing voluminous heavy skirts nor shod in narrow-soled boots.”

“David Lewin! Will you now be announcing other intimacies of my attire?”

“Might as well, if what you included for bathing togs will be further cut down.”

“Really, David! What the Maliks must think of us.”

Gabriela laughed. “The Maliks think they are in the company of two pleasant human beings who share a deep and caring relationship. Don’t concern yourself, Missus Lewin. While my husband and I can approximate formal manners, folks tend more toward relaxed interactions here in the west. Moreover, Shadow and I are even less observant of those manners. With that said, I invite you to call me Gabriela and my husband Emil or Shadow, as it suits you. I will leave to your discretion those circumstances which may require more formal address or reference.”

“Then I must insist you call David and me by our given names, Gabriela.”

“Thank you, Sara. I’ve always admired that name. I find it both feminine and strong.”

As the Lewins went in the door, Malik said, “Go ahead through to the next cabin. It has comfortable chairs for travel, some of them around a meeting table, some by the windows. All the furniture is fastened to the floor, though the chairs at the table swivel. I think the baggage will be fine right here on the floor.” Malik asked Gabriela to show the Lewins the rest of the car while he returned to the platform to await the arrival of the northbound train.

Outside, Malik smiled as the whistle became louder and more frequent, the train having moved into Waypoint’s north side. The whistle sequences were warnings of the train’s approach to several intersections of road and rail, “grade crossings,” in railroad parlance.

Within a minute, the huffing locomotive came into view, pulling the freight cars in its consist past the passenger platform. The brakes began to squeal and the train clanked to a stop. Fergus Healy, a robust man of thirty-eight years, clad in his black uniform and kepi-style cap, all with discreet cobalt blue piping and trim, jumped down from the leading platform on the first passenger car. He strode quickly across the plank surface of the freight dock and hurried down the steps at the back of the station. In his wake, a brakeman, clad in grease-soiled shirt and dungarees, followed, a long-spouted oil can in hand. Healy called back over his shoulder, “Release the brakes after you check the journal boxes, Donnie, me lad. Then make sure they let go.”

“Aye, Mister Healy,” came the brakeman’s answering shout.

Then, as Healy approached, he looked up at Malik and loudly asked, “What’s all this? It looks like someone washed a baggage car and didn’t turn it right-side-out again,” referencing the reverse color scheme.

“Color pattern was the general manager’s idea, not mine.”

“And a lovely pattern ‘tis, then. So have you discovered, Mister Malik, that you will travel cheaper as baggage than as a passenger?”

“No, Mister Healy. I was just hoping for something more restful that didn’t include your shouting town names all the time and disturbing my siestas.”

“Sir, I call names, I do not shout.” He grinned and stopped to look at the car.

“Nicely done, ‘tis. May I see the inside, Mister Malik?”

“Of course. Come aboard, Mister Healy.”

As he clambered up the steps he said, “So, a Confederate general’s car, I heard?”

“Indeed. I’ll give you a quick tour, as I know the train only stops for five minutes.”

Two minutes later, Healy was exiting by the ladder next to what Malik thought of as the back door, which had no platform. As Healy stepped off between the business car and the reverse-liveried stock car, Malik said to him, “I truly appreciate the extra work that goes into this service, Mister Healy. Please let the rest of the crew know that I’m beholdin’ to them” He had given Healy two dollars to treat the crew in Junction City.

“It’s no problem, Mister Malik. It’s what railroadin’ is about.” Healy pulled out his watch. “Time to move out. We’ll have you at the rear o’ the train. Be bangin’ on in a few minutes. I apologize for the rough treatment, but these knuckle couplers need a bit of a jolt to set their pin.”

“I understand. Thank you, Mister Healy.”

The conductor waved over his shoulder as he walked back to the depot platforms. Malik secured the door.

A few minutes later, Sara asked, “Why do they keep blowing the whistle every couple minutes?” They were seated at the table.

“Right now, the engineer is ‘talking’ to the other trainmen, the conductor, flagman, and the brakeman. One of those trainman on the ground, who is guiding the engineer, will have given him the move-forward sign, which is an up-and-down motion of the hand.” Malik demonstrated the slow, exaggerated wave. “The engineer acknowledges he saw the signal with two short whistles, meaning, ‘I’m about to move the engine forward.’

“Then the engineer pulled the train past the switch that opens this spur to the depot siding. At that point, the trainman on the ground signaled the engineer to stop the train with a cross-wise motion, then he threw the switch lever that opens this spur. With that switch realigned, he gave the engineer the back-up sign, which is moving your hand in a big circle. The engineer blew the whistles thrice, meaning, ‘I’m about to back up’. It’s also a warning to the trainmen on the ground to stand clear.

“But now, I think, we’re about to feel a jolt, so brace yourselves.”

Ten seconds later, there was a loud clang and the car shifted backward a foot or two. Then they could hear a hissing sound.

Lewin said, “I was surprised when this railroad turned out to be using the Westinghouse air brakes. Even some of the major railroads haven’t converted fully.”

The whistle blew twice and the car started rolling slowly out of the short spur. There was a clatter as the car crossed the “frogs” and “points,” the rail junctures that made up the switch. A minute later, they heard footfalls on the roof and the train began to pick up speed.

Malik lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “That’ll be the trainman who set the switch back to the depot siding.”

Then he said, “The K and ASR converted to the air brake and the Janney coupler to make it safer for their employees and their passengers, and more secure for the freight they carry. The air brakes mean no more brakemen clambering across the roofs of moving cars all the time. The new couplers mean trainmen don’t have to get between the cars during the coupling process. Those two tasks alone accounted for most of the deaths and injuries of railroad workers over the past decades. The new equipment also saves time and can provide a more dependable service than men running around swaying car roofs, sometimes ice-covered, in winter.”

Just then, they clattered across another noisy track section. “That was the switch leading from the depot siding to the main line. Mister Trent controls that with one of those large levers behind his desk. That lever is linked by long rods to the switch mechanism.”

Eventually, they settled into the two pair of first-class style seats that faced each other near the windows; those were in the far left corner, as one entered the main cabin from the front cabin. Malik thought of the platform end of the car as the front, though it was a relative term as, at the moment, that platform was at the trailing end of the train.

The center panels on either side of the car, where ordinarily there would have been a large cargo doorway, instead were finished like the remainder of the exterior, save for four passenger car windows on each side.

Occupying the center of the main cabin was a sixty-by-thirty inch ovoid table, its longer axis corresponding to that of the car. The table was served by six swivel chairs. Malik had informed them he planned to use the table as his working surface, rather than use a desk, though there was a compact, built-in writing desk in the smaller front cabin.

Also in the main cabin, upon one’s left when entering, there was a compact, round, coal stove in the corner. In the far right corner was a five gallon tin water container on a floor stand. The tank had a spigot near its base. It could be filled from outside, via an affixed tube. It was set in a tray that had a drain tube that led to the floor

In answer to the Maliks’ questions, the Lewins described their lives in New York City. Sara’s father and two uncles were bankers. David’s father was a bookkeeper in private practice, though Lewin admitted his father’s biggest client was into some shady dealings. “But, as my father puts it, ‘If it weren’t for me, they’d be paying no taxes at all. Those lunkheads would slip someone a twenty buck bribe to avoid paying a ten buck business license fee.’”

Sara Lewin smiled at the story. “My mother at first objected to David’s courting me, as his father’s unsavory clients were known to her, even though his father was not, himself, thought to be anything other than aboveboard in his work. But then she had to reverse herself when my father reminded Mother that her own brother was the banker for that same dubious business group. But I think her objection was more a formality as Mother seemed glad for the excuse to back down. She’s really a sweetheart.”

Lewin agreed. “She really is, especially for a Jewish mother-in-law.”

Malik and Gabriela told of their honeymoon tour of the east coast cities during the autumn, a year-and-a-half prior. They’d been impressed with the wide palette of the fall foliage. Not that the West’s autumn display was shabby, it was the dominance of yellow that made it a different experience. Gabriela explained: “Aspens are the most common deciduous tree of the mountains and cottonwoods rule the valleys, marking the watercourses in our semi-arid landscapes. Both turn yellow, though the aspen can be a gold that seems to glow, it’s so bright. There are other deciduous trees, but they tend to be smaller, some scrub oaks and large shrubs, so occasionally one finds red, but not the many hues and shades that seem to paint the eastern hills and valleys.”

After the train departed Utica Switch, the only stop between Waypoint and Dorado Springs, the conversation dwindled as all four of them began to doze. The seats, themselves, were well-padded leather, with a high, cushioned back and small wings. The combination made for workable siesta conditions, at least for sitting in a moving train car. In any event, all four of the travelers eventually nodded off.

Malik was awakened by the train whistle at a grade crossing a few miles from Dorado Springs. He woke the others in time for both the women and the men to make use of the privy closet in the railcar’s bunk room before arriving at the depot.

Once the train stopped, the men helped the ladies to the passenger platform. Then Malik and Lewin went about removing the baggage, and Malik locked the door.

Fergus Healy walked up as Malik handed the last of the bags to Lewin. “We’ll be spottin’ your car at the end of the wye, Mister Malik, which will put it east of the main track, over near the mission school, don’t you know. Normally we don’t leave cars there, we don’t, but they usually only turn the yard engine here. It’s a rare thing that we need to turn a longer set, an’ that’s for certain. So the branch superintendent thought the wye is long enough to keep you out of the way, then.”

“It’s a good spot, Mister Healy. I may even get some shade from the pecan trees. I’ve locked the car. Will that be a problem for you?”

“Aye, an’ not at all. An’ when are you returning to Waypoint, Mister Malik?”

“I expect to return tomorrow.”

“Then you’ll have me to cheer you on again, you will.” He looked at his watch. “Well, here we go. An’ good day, all.” He gave a wave toward the engineer and, at the answering whistles, he climbed onto the railcar’s rear platform.

Gabriela spotted a boy with a white burro lingering by the station steps. “Miguel, ven aquí, por favor (Miguel, come here, please),” she called to him. The boy, about ten years of age, was carrying a canvas bundle under his arm. He looked over and smiled when he saw who had called him. He quickly walked over, the burro trotting behind.

Cómo puedo ayudarlo, Señora Malik (How can I help you, Mrs. Malik)?”

Gabriela turned to the Lewins. “This boy’s mother has small houses to rent.”

The boy, grinning, said, “Si, house to rent.”

Gabriela turned back to him. “Miguel, está disponible la casa en el bosque de almendros (Miguel, is the house in the pecan grove available)?”

“Sí, Señora. Quiere que lleve su equipaje (Yes, Ma’am. Would you like me to take your baggage)?”

“Sí, Miguel, gracias. Aquí está el dinero para tu madre y algo para ti (Yes Miguel, thank you. Here is the money for your mother and something for you).” She handed him a silver dollar and a nickel. Both Malik and Gabriela were generous tippers. Ordinarily, children were tipped no more than three cents for doing manual labor, such as carrying the luggage. Simple messenger tasks would normally garner one or two cents depending on distance and urgency.

“Muchas gracias, señora Malik (Thank you very much, Mrs. Malik).” He opened the canvas bundle and draped it over the burro’s back. Each side consisted of a large pocket and several short rope ends. The boy cinched the pack under the burro, then began to load the satchels by tying the handles to the canvas. He was careful to balance the load. Malik and Lewin stood by to help, but the boy had his methods worked out and managed the task on his own.

“Miguel, podrías poner nuestro equipaje en la casa y vigilarlo, por favor (Miguel, could you put our luggage in the house and watch over it, please)?” She handed him another nickel.

“Por supuesto, Señora. Estaré feliz de mantener tus cosas a salvo (Of course, Ma’am. I will be happy to keep your things safe).”

As the boy moved off with the baggage, Gabriela said, “He’ll put our things in the house and then watch over them.”

“Is he a Sonora?” Sara asked.

“He’s Mexican, Miguel Escudero. Most of the southwest corner of the United States was originally part of Mexico. The Sonora and the Mexicans fought each other for many years. They no longer fight, but their history keeps their relationship uneasy.”

Malik said, “As a group, they don’t usually associate. However, as individuals, it’s a little different. Most of the Sonora and Mexicans around the Springs get along well and many cooperate in businesses and projects, even to intermarriage.” He checked his watch. “But let’s go eat.”

Malik led them to the three sisters’ food stall, only a short walk from the depot.

After he saw the menu, marked on a piece of chalkboard, Lewin said, “I’ve been told that Mexican food is excessively spicy.”

Malik said, “Just to be clear, these women are three Sonora sisters. Most of the dishes are adopted from a mix of Sonora and Mexican cuisines. Sonora traditional fare is somewhat plainer and less varied. But spiciness is a choice of the cook. She can use hot peppers or mild peppers. These dishes are all mild. Now, a couple of the sauces are muy caliente, which means ‘very hot’ in Spanish. Even the Sonora use Spanish terms for most of this style of cooking. Spicy can also be called ‘picante.’ You want to ask for ‘salsa suave,’ which means, ‘mild sauce.’”

“Sahl-sa swah-vay.” Lewin tested the words.

“Yeah,” Malik said, “Salsa means sauce and suave is the same spelling as the English word suave, which means polite, gracious. Same thing.”

Ten minutes later, both Lewins were marveling at the food.

Sara said, “This is so different, to have the entire meal wrapped in a, uh, what is it, again?”

“A tortilla. This one’s mostly wheat flour with a little corn flour.”

“Tore-tee-yah. It’s like the bread course. Then there’s meat, and beans, some corn, and the green pieces are chile peppers, you said?”

“Poblano peppers. They’re generally mild. They roast them over a fire until the skin chars, then they peel it off,” Gabriela explained.

Lewin said, “Well, they say there’s foods of every nation somewhere in New York City, but I’ve not encountered Mexican before, I’d have remembered something this good.”

“You have to admit, though, David, that we don’t venture far from our half dozen familiar restaurants.”

“True enough, dear heart. I notice, Emil, that there is not a wide variety of soft drinks available. All we’ve encountered so far has been lemonade and orangeade. Do you see much of carbonated soft drinks?”