Chapter 15

At seven-twenty the following morning, Malik found the office door already unlocked and both Peng and Tian Wu at their desks in the front office. Both were in western-style dresses and they looked up from their work as Malik came in the door.

Peng stood and addressed Malik. “Mister Malik, may I present Missus Tian Wu.” The woman, shorter than Peng, more typical of the people of China, stood and bowed to Malik then offered her hand. Peng continued, “Wu, this is Mister Emil Malik, sometimes called Shadow.”

“Missus Tian, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“And I yours, Mister Malik,” she replied in accented but easily understood English.

“The two little girls are you daughters?”

“Yes, sir. They began attending school yesterday,”

“And you are comfortable at Missus Kuiper’s?”

Tian looked at Peng, who said, “We have rented a house on Jefferson Avenue near East First Street, behind the Catholic Church.”

“Oh,” Malik said. “Are you Catholic?”

“We are. Most of Mister Fu-Chun’s clan are Roman Catholic, from their time in Mexico.”

Malik’s eyebrows rose speculatively. “That’s interesting. Uh, what are you two working on so diligently?”

Tian said, “I am working on bookkeeping accounts for Mister Lewin.”

Peng said, “Mister Lewin asked me to bring the house accounts up to date and then prepare the financial statements for February.”

“You’re both here very early.”

Peng said, “I am here early because you are here early. Missus Tian will work until half-past three when school classes end so that she may tend to her daughters.”

Malik hesitated before asking, “Missus Tian, may I be so bold as to inquire after your husband?”

She looked at him with little expression. “My husband and our son were killed by a mob in Wichita.”

“Please forgive my boorishness, Missus Tian. You have my deepest sympathy for such a terrible loss. I grieve with you.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Mister Malik. It is a common point of social intercourse to inquire after another’s spouse. Thank you for your kind condolences.”

Peng said, “Mister Malik, I have placed two memorandum on your desk for your review.”

“I see. Very good. Well then, welcome to our, uh, firm, I suppose it could be called. I’m very pleased to have you working with us. If there is anything I can do to help you with getting settled here in Waypoint, you simply have to ask.”

They both thanked him and he left by way of the new door to the stairs, which risers and treads, he found, had now been carpeted.

All three of the attorney’s offices were modest. Two were built as apartment bedrooms. Malik’s was created from a portion of the combined sitting and dining room. It was a bit narrow, but felt open because of the array of the bay window that looked out over Courthouse Avenue and toward the new county courthouse. Truth be told, Lewin’s office, on the first floor, was the largest, and he had the biggest desk.

Even then, the furnishings were modest, too, though of quality workmanship. Most of it had been manufactured in the Kozlov family’s cabinet shop, on Washington Avenue.

Malik found two sheets of paper on his desk.

The first listed his appointments for the next two days.

The second was a list of office equipment and supplies that Peng was recommending. Included was a typewriting machine and a list of materials under the heading “Speaking tube system.” Malik looked confused by the item and had risen to walk down to ask Peng what it was, when he stopped short, smiled, shook his head, and went back to his desk.

Later, he found that the other partners had also received the list. They all agreed it was reasonable and would improve their work product.

Both Quincys were on Malik’s appointment list for that afternoon. Peng brought them to Malik’s office.

“The Misters Quincy are here, Mister Malik,” she said, after knocking on his door frame.

Malik immediately arose and walked around his desk saying, “Morton, Emmet, please come in.” Looking at Peng, he asked, “Have you gentlemen been introduced to Miss Peng?”

“She very graciously introduced herself when we came in,” Morton said.

“Very good then. Would you gents care for a beverage?” Malik queried.

“Just some water, Emil.” Morton said.

Emmet said, “Same here.”

Peng went to the side table where there were a carafe and glasses, but Malik said, “I’ll get that, Miss Peng.”

Peng said, “I’ll bring a fresh carafe.”

“That would be good. Thanks, Miss Peng.”

Peng left and Malik went behind his desk. Before he sat down he asked, “Are you fellas comfortable in here or would we be better off at the conference table?”

The two men looked at each other, Emmet shrugged and Morton said, “This should be fine, Emil.”

Malik sat down and asked, “How is June, Emmet? I heard she was sick, back when that whole Nestor business got started. I trust she’s recovered.”

Both of the Quincys were grinning. “Not exactly,” Emmet replied. “She’s still feeling nausea most days, but Doctor Kagan expects it will taper off in a month or two and be fully cured when June delivers our baby, sometime around the middle of October.”

Malik stood up and walked around his desk to offer his hand to the expectant father. “Ah, Emmet, that’s terrific news. Congratulations to both you and June. Please give her my best wishes. You’ll be excellent parents, I’m certain.”

Then he turned to Morton, who’d raised Emmet and his older siblings after their parents, his sister and brother-in-law, and even Morton’s own wife, had died. “And what are you grinning about. I can hardly congratulate you.” He shook the elder Quincy’s hand, anyway. “Why do I get the feeling that the strict and reasonable upbringing you delivered to you sister’s children will all be forgotten when you deal with your grandniece or nephew. I’m quite certain that, from a Emmet’s view, you are going to be a very poor example of parenting. I’m certain my own father would have been just as hopeless as a grandparent. Congratulations, nonetheless, Morton.”

As he returned to his desk, Malik still sounded excited. “You wait, just you wait, Emmet. When you see that baby, well, the clock will be reset and a brand new life will open up for you. It changes the look of everything.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a sip of a fine old brandy in celebration?”

Morton said, “That is a warming thought, Emil, but not for me. As you know, I’m not a teetotaler, but it feels a bit early, to me.”

Emmet said, “And I’m afraid my only two experiences when I was in college are now just memories of headaches and nausea. I can hardly stand the smell of liquor, nowadays.”

“No matter, gents, no matter. We’ll simply bask in this good news solely on its own merits.”

Peng knocked on the doorframe and brought in the water carafe from the cool of the cellar.

Malik said, “Thank you, Miss Peng.”

“Will there be anything else, Mister Malik?”

“No, thank you.” Peng left.

Malik smiled at Emmet Quincy and asked, “Did we frighten you with threats of invading Texas Rangers, Emmet?”

“Not exactly, but the day did get more interesting. And thanks for the Chinese miners, by the way. Everything I learned about the Chinese building the railroads proved true. Those men are hard workers.”

“Ah, Chinese miners, eh? When did they show up?”

“Let me ... ten days ago. I tried to get the Welshmen to come back, but they’d already been hired on at the coal mine and didn’t want to work on the reservation any more. I thought you knew about the Chinese miners. I was under the impression you’d arranged for them.”

Malik’s face showed his “Who knows?” expression. “Perhaps I did. Mister Chen, the chairman of the K and ASR introduced me to a man named Fu-Chun Li.” Emmet began nodding. “He needed a place for some Chinese people to live and I offered him a corner of the ranch. Ever since then, Chinese people seem to keep popping up to fill needed work slots.”

Emmet said, “Yes, it was a man named Fu-Chun who brought the miners. He said he’d begun working with you in Wichita.”

Malik picked up his train of thought. “It is a bit unsettling, how that has progressed, though it’s all been positive so far.”

He chuckled and shook his head, though his face suggested some vexation. “Take those two downstairs, for instance. We had just started discussing our need for some clerical help, and a few days later, Miss Peng and Missus Tian show up. What’s more, they show up at the same time I’m boarding the train to confront those Texas Rangers and Miss Peng follows us, just appearing in my car.”

Malik described Peng’s list of martial skills and recounted those he had seen demonstrated. Then he told of her clerical skills.

“I mean, how is this happening? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but it seems more than a bit unnatural.”

“Well,” Emmet said, “it sure pulled our fat out of the fire. We’re almost back to my production quota for the calendar quarter. We’ve already sent four carloads to the smelter in Cabot.”

Morton said, “We’re getting a good deal with the mill in Cabot, but the transshipment charges on the Santa Fe will be taking a big cut from our earnings. They charge nearly twice per mile what the Kanzona charges. And all the AT and SF does is drag the car from one spot to another. The Kanzona has to transfer the ore from narrow-gauge hoppers to standard gauge hoppers, and they’re only about half the Santa Fe’s price. Is that the kind of problem the Interstate Commerce Commission would be concerned with?”

Malik shook his head, saying, “Most likely, no. The Interstate Commerce Commission is more concerned with discrepancies on any given railroad, not the differences between them. If the Santa Fe was charging us more than it charged some other shipper, or if it charged higher rates in Arenoso than it did everywhere else, then the ICC would investigate.”

Malik paused for a moment. Then looked at each of the men. “Would it be worth setting up our own smelter?”

Emmet asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean a smelter, somewhere along the Fort Birney trunk or the mine spur or even the Kylie Loop, once it’s built.”

“Well,” Emmet said, “it’s not just a smelter. You need a stamp mill. And skilled men to run everything. And keep in mind that it’s a process that produces a lot of smoke and waste material.”

“Does it require a lot of water?”

“Some, but water is more incidental to the process, not integral. There are chemical refining methods that depend on copious amounts of water. Smelting is more like an oversized blacksmith’s shop.”

“What if we set it up right at the mine? We’re already dumping some tailings. The land doesn’t support much graze, even without the mine muck. And it’s land that the Sonora will have to abandon in a little more than three years.”

Emmet said, “Well, sure, Emil, but we’re talking about a major cash outlay and an entire new component of production. This isn’t something we can set up as a side business.”

Morton asked, “Why this display of enthusiasm for smelting, Emil? Or are you working on another plan.” After a momentary pause, he said, “I can see you are.”

Malik smiled at them. “For one thing, I know where we can get a stamping mill and smelter cheap. And we could use a smelter for more than just the Sonora mine. There’s also the Dry Valleys Co-op mine. And, unless I miss my guess, there will be other mines operating in the Dry Valleys before long. We know there’s almost certainly copper out there. Likely galena, too. Which means there’s fair chance there’s more silver. And the K and ASR has more narrow gauge rail than they know what to do with. They could run spurs up each valley. They were going to make the Kylie Loop narrow gauge just because they had so much of the lighter rail. We talked them into going with standard gauge.”

“Where is this equipment?” Emmet wanted to know.

“In the Sangre de Cristo mountains, north of Santa Fe, a ghost town called Dos Picos. The K and ASR bought the whole shootin’ match, from the top of the clock tower right down to the street pavers.

“Hmm?” Malik leaned back in his chair and looked off into the middle distance. “That clock tower would look good in Waypoint. Maybe on the corner of the bank building, at the town’s main intersection.”

He sat up straight and looked at the two men. “We should go up there, see if it’s worth moving.”

“Slow down, Emil. Like I said, just having the equipment isn’t the only issue,” Emmet said. “First of all, I wouldn’t put it on the reservation. In three-and-a-half years, we’re going to lose control of that land. We’d have to move everything again.

“Second, the land on the east side of Shepherds Ridge, just north of the railroad’s second switchback, would be a much better site. The slope is gentler, but still steep enough to move material to feed the stamping mill by gravity, then the smelter, and finally to dump tailings. And the tailings are much less likely to be eroded into any water course there, with all the flood mitigation structures going in. Plus, the Dry Valley Co-op owns that land.

“But we’d still need a building and some water, not a lot of water, but some. Especially as we’d have to run the mill machinery with steam engines.

“And we’d still need all the skilled men to work there.”

Malik was sitting with a thoughtful frown on his face. He began slowly. “The building is there in Dos Picos. It’s made from corrugated sections, maybe tin. We could take it apart and bring it here.

“Water, water,” Malik mused. “We could try a well, using one of those deep-drilling rigs they use to drill for oil. Or we could run a ditch from the upper Isabella. That would be what? Fifteen, twenty miles. Or we could pump water up from the Rio Isabella. Or continue to have it brought in by railroad tank car. We’d have to see which approach is more economic. I think I’d put my money on the ditch.”

“The ditch? Why?” Morton queried.

“Because I think I know where we can get the workers to get it dug quickly, and after that, there are only minimal maintenance costs.”

Emmet said, “I don’t know, Emil. Fifteen miles? I’m not sure you could put enough water into a ditch that long to overcome the absorption and, to a lesser degree, the evaporation. Unless maybe we channeled darn near the whole rio. But that would reduce the acre feet delivered downstream a significant amount.”

“Yeah, good points,” Malik said. “I’m glad I was only going to bet a dollar.”

Morton said, “For what they’re charging us, I’d bet on the railroad.”

“That could be,” Malik said, “but I don’t think it’s as simple as just a matter of price. Perhaps it’s just me, but I prefer a situation with fewer variables. In this case, water is essential, but its supply is controlled by another business organization. That adds a variable.

“Admittedly, in this instance, it’s the K and ASR, which is about as dependable as a business partner can be. In addition, they’ll also likely be the controlling agent on our supply of ores to refine and the shipment of the refined minerals. So that mitigates my concern. But the ideal would be our own source of water. So that would mean a well. But the railroad is a good second choice, I suppose.”

“Ah,” Emmet sighed, “the idea’s already growing on me. I’d prefer the entire process would be ours to manage.”

Malik, nodding, said, “Let’s look at the equipment, first. How about we leave on Monday? We’ll probably go all the way to Wichita, so maybe June would like to come along. She might enjoy Santa Fe, too. She could stay there for the day while we go up the mountain, if that would suit her.”

Then Malik added, “I suspect Miss Peng will accompany us, too, as Mister Fu-Chun has given her the task of seeing to my personal safety.”

“Really?” Morton said.

Malik’s raised eyebrows and compressed lips showed his own perplexity. “It was the first thing she told me. And though it seems odd to say it, she gives me confidence that she is fully capable. In any event, it means there would be another woman for June’s company, at least part of the time.”

Just then, Andy came into his brother’s office, the door being open, and he greeted the Quincys. Emmet shared the good news of June’s being with child to Andy’s hearty congratulations. When he heard of the mining equipment still at Dos Picos, Andy decided to go along.

At that juncture, the meeting ended, because the Malik brothers wanted to go to Ranch Home for the week-end. They invited the Quincys. Morton accepted but Emmet wanted to return to Dorado Springs on Saturday’s southbound, so he elected to stay in town. Malik offered him the use of his room at Mrs. Kuiper’s and Emmet accepted, never having had any of Mrs. Kuiper’s renowned cooking.

Malik wished Bream a good day and proceeded down to the first floor, where he found Peng already in ranch-style riding garb, save she wore a lightweight, lace-up boot into which the cuffs of her riding breeches had been tucked,

After bidding a good day to Lewin, Malik led the group on a walk out to Mrs. Kuiper’s, where he, Andy and now Morton Quincy, would change into outdoor clothes. Malik stopped at the ranch office to ask that two horses be saddled for Peng and Quincy to ride.

Later, on the way out of town, Malik stopped at the depot to send a telegram to Chen, informing him of their planned foray to Dos Picos and then to Wichita. While Malik was at the depot, Andy went into the bank to tell Robert Smith that Malik had knowledge of a clock tower that might significantly enhance the bank’s status and that a group was going to its location in New Mexico on Monday.

Malik and Niles Palmer, the manager of accounts at the Jackson County Agricultural and Mercantile Bank, were sitting side-by-side in the sleeper car of the eastbound Santa Fe express passenger train.

Palmer said, “Do you think Fu-Chun is right? The stones can be stained to match the bank’s?”

“I don’t see why not,” Malik replied. “We stain wood and Emmet says that limestone is permeable to fluids. Even if it fades after a few years, the stain could be applied again. The trick will be mixing it to the right shade, but you could experiment on the lowest blocks or those least noticeable from the street. An experienced man would have little trouble doing the job.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “It might be worth consideration to apply a contrasting or complimentary shade.”

“Well, it would make a damn handsome addition to the bank.”

“That’s exactly what I thought,” Malik agreed.

The men -- the Malik brothers, both Quincys, and Palmer -- had been to Dos Picos the day before; Peng had accompanied them. They had been met there by Fu-Chun Li, who showed Malik the progress made in removing and loading the paving cobbles and the furnishings that had already been carefully packed into crates that were stacked in the narrow gauge box cars.

They also took a careful look at the stamp mill and smelter that was still sheltered by the large, tin-roofed sheds that clung to the mountain slope just above the town.

June Quincy and Eve Palmer had remained in Santa Fe.

Eve Palmer, Waypoint’s premiere dressmaker, had a particular interest in examining the textiles and designs of the local Puebloan craftsmen and -women and other contributing artists from that region. While much of current fashion in women’s wear was somewhat staid, ranch women, at least those not solely determined to ape eastern fashions, often liked to venture into the bolder colors and patterns seen among the native peoples. She was also considering branching into jewelry retail, so she was reviewing the offerings and the prices.

June Quincy enjoyed an insatiable curiosity, so she was intrigued by just about anything with which she was not familiar. She’d been sorely tempted to visit the ghost town, but her stomach was still subject to the, fortunately diminishing, bouts of nausea, and a visit to the old Spanish town plaza at Santa Fe had been a worthy consolation.

At one point, June Quincy had said, “What someone should do is to purchase large lots of these jewelry-makers’ output at a wholesale price, then distribute a mail-order catalog, marking up prices accordingly.”

Palmer, kneeling to examine an array of turquoise necklaces displayed on a spread blanket, looked up at Quincy and said, “I wonder how one would go about discovering the addresses of potential customers.”

The following day, all, including Fu-Chun, had boarded the Santa Fe express passenger train for Wichita, where Chen Ming-teh and the other members of the K&ASR’s executive committee planned to meet with them.

Later, Malik sat down across form Emmet and June Quincy. Morton was seated behind them. Malik asked, “So, what do you think?”

Emmet said, “Everything we need is there. It looks like most of the structural members can be re-used. I want you to know, though, that I won’t be able to take it on, not and provide engineering to the two silver mines.”

“Oh, no, Emmet. I never thought of you managing it. I just want your opinion, maybe more, I’d like your evaluation of the potential. No, we’d definitely have to hire someone to supervise that part.”

He looked at Morton, “If we decide to go ahead, maybe it should be set up as a separate corporation. Maybe another cooperative or a partnership. But what about you, Morton? If we had able leadership for the work of the mill and the smelter, could you take the executive duties in your role of general manager?”