Chapter 8

Wednesday, January 21, 1891

The Maliks returned to Waypoint for the last two weeks of January.

Malik had had one of the bedrooms converted into a studio and office for Beatrice. For the past two years, her time had been occupied with managing the depot renovations on the Fort Birney branch. But that project was now, for all practical purposes, complete, and further developments on other branches had been suspended in keeping with the railroad’s austerity plan.

On Wednesday evening, while Peng and Wren were bathing the children and putting them to bed, Malik and Beatrice relaxed in the parlor, a fire on the hearth.

Beatrice said, “I don’t suppose there’ll be any more expansion projects on the other branches then, will there?”

“Not with our concerns about the economy. Raul thinks that, within a few years, there will be a glut of vacant commercial and office sites, and he’s pretty convincing.”

“Oh, I agree with his reasoning. I was just thinking about looking around for my next project. Most other people are still of a mind to build and expand, and I see no reason not to accept their business.”

“Have you something in mind?”

“No. But I was wondering if I should open an office, maybe place some advertisements in the paper.”

“An office in Waypoint? Maybe. But I know we’re going to need eight or nine station houses on the Ogallala extension.”

Beatrice shook her head and said, “The railroad uses a standard floor plan and standard frontages and design features. The floor plan is time tested; I wouldn’t change it. And the design of the building exteriors is unique to the K and ASR and is known by sight, much as the saguaro and wheat stalks logogram. The only thing that varies is the size of the station and platform. But they all have that Oriental feel to them.”

“Oriental? What do you mean?”

Beatrice paused briefly, then said, “Take, for instance, the detailed fretwork of the platform roof fascia, or the shape and finish of the posts that support that roof. Those details are of a design type called chinoiserie. It’s a French term that means Chinese-like. Even the depot roofs reflect that style, with the layered eaves.”

“I always thought that was some sort of Spanish style, Moorish or whatever.”

“It’s similar in some ways.” Another brief pause. “It may even be related through influences that traveled the Silk Road over the centuries, but it’s more Chinese. Even the window panes, with the fretwork, definitely Chinese.”

“That’s not just to, uh, I don’t know. I thought it was to reduce glare or something. I do know that trying to keep them dusted is a common complaint from stationmasters. But, I have to admit, it does look smart.”

“So, you’ve not heard this Chinese style mentioned before?”

“No. But it’s not the sort of subject we are typically concerned about. Maybe Pete and Arnie know about it, but it seems to me to be one more subtle Chinese feature that Chen Ming-teh brought to the K and ASR.”

Beatrice nodded in agreement. “You’re right, it is subtle. I mean, it doesn’t look like a pagoda or anything. But its style is not common and so it makes the K and ASR station houses stand out as an emblem for the railroad.”

“I see what you mean. And I reckon you’re right about the way the stations are laid out, too.” He shrugged. “So I don’t expect they’ll be much design work that we’ll be needing. What did you have in mind for an office?”

“A couple rooms, preferably front and back, with some windows for good light.” Beatrice sat forward in her chair and flexed her shoulders, a mild grimace on her face, then sat back, again.

“Your back stiff?”

“I was playing with the boys, before supper. I bent to lift one of them and something let go, or pinched, or something happened. Now it hurts.”

“Is there ice in the icebox? Want me to go chip some off, wrap it in a towel?”

“No. Let’s see if it eases off by itself.” Then she added, “Getting back to the question of an office, there’s nothing vacant, at least nothing that is in a good location for an architect. I hate to ask, but what about building something on one of your lots?”

Malik looked out the window for a few seconds, then he turned to her. “I have mixed feelings about that. While I’d be glad to give you the lot and build something on it, I think that it’s not going to work out as a favorable investment, as far as business considerations are concerned.” He leaned forward a bit. “Let me ask you this: If you had your choice of any location, whether it is currently occupied or even currently exists, where would you want your office to be.”

“Oh, that’s easy -- Paris,” she said, straight-faced.

“Thank goodness. I was afraid you were going to pick somewhere like Houston,” he replied, equally straight-faced.

She chuckled. “Fine then. Probably down at the corner of Jackson and Wagon Road, the same place everyone wants to be.”

Malik was silent again, watching the flames in the fireplace. Then he wrinkled his brow and said, “As you’re aware, we quickly outgrew the real estate office on that corner. Right now, most of the staff are at the Courthouse Avenue office. We do keep a skeleton crew down on Wagon Road, because it is such a good location. But most of the work is done up on Courthouse Square.”

He sat back in the chair and turned to her, with a speculative look. “I’m thinking about a couple alternatives that might suit you.

“One might be for you to take some space in that real estate office. If you wouldn’t mind being on the second floor, we could still keep two salemen on the first floor, in the rear office, and you could share the receptionist. We don’t have to have three salesmen down there all the time. As it is, if things get busy for us now, we have the receptionist telephone the Courthouse Avenue office and ask someone to come down to help out. That’s one idea.

“The other is that we commission a Pullman railroad coach be built for a business office and we spot it on the second Malik parking spur, behind the depot. You saw to it that the Depot Way entrance was nicely landscaped, after it was vacated as a street, so that it looks like an inviting and congenial courtyard entrance. It appeals to the carriage trade, which was your purpose in that design. And it’s just a half block from the Wagon Road.-.Jackson corner, but with more charm than any other business entrance. Plus, there’s also access from the passenger platform, with a place to hang your shingle, there, too. Custom arriving by train could walk directly to the your coach.”On the negative side, there is not the sort of natural light you specified.

“Those are my two ideas, though sort of spur of the moment.”

Beatrice looked thoughtful. “Oh, wow. That’s going to require some thought. But why a railroad coach?”

“Well, it’s partly the coach and partly the setting. I really like how that all turned out, with the roof over the parking spurs and the way the street was turned into a walkway mall. It’s very peaceful and relaxing. Beyond that, I thought, if you got involved in a project at some other location, you might be able to take the coach along as your office.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t really well thought-out. I just came up with it now.”

“Well,” she said, “the first notion, sharing the office, is very practical. But the coach idea is intriguing. However, I’m not the one with my own train. I would have to pay standard fees, at least on other roads, if I wanted to move it about.”

He raised his eyebrows and smiled apologetically. “I’m not sure I could even give you a break on the Kanzona’s fees. But it wouldn’t be like you’d be traveling all the time. I featured you moving the car and leaving it in place for the duration of the project, not making the round trip daily from Waypoint.”

She frowned, slightly. “I’m not sure I would want to take on projects that would keep me away from home for more than a day or two.”

He contemplated her for a few moments, then said, “It’s your career, Beatrice. Moreover, it’s also your life.” He paused, then said, “I’m not sure what I’m trying to say.” She waited, allowing him time to develop his thoughts.

“Maybe it’s this: I’ve been in a position, since I’ve come of age, and maybe even before then, to choose my path. Within the limits of my physical and financial wherewithal, I’ve pretty much done just that. I still am doing it. But I’m dragging all of you along as I do it.”

She started to respond, but Malik held up his hand and said, “No, please let me run with this. It’s a notion I’ve not explored before.”

“Sure, Emil. Go ahead.”

At that point, Peng came into the room, wearing a floor-length, indigo silk robe, her breasts moving noticeably underneath the fabric. She knelt at Malik’s feet, sat back on her heals, and placed an arm across his knees and leaned against them. She said, “Wren is bathing and will read in bed, afterwards, Master.”

“Very well, my qie.” He stroked her hair, watching his hand move through her dark locks. “We’ve been discussing Beatrice’s plans for her architecture work. I was just comparing our career paths.

“I had made note that, all of my life, I have pursued whatever goals I chose. And I’m still doing that, today. And all of you have, for all intents and purposes, chosen to ride along with me, in both a figurative, and often literal, sense.”

He paused, then looked at Beatrice. “But you, Beatrice, with your career, are choosing to play second fiddle to me. You’re molding your professional pursuits to fit within whatever boundaries I’ve chosen. I’m not comfortable with that.

“When I was married to Gabriela, she ran her ranch up in Smoky Valley and I pursued my interests down here. Sometimes we didn’t see one another for weeks at a time. I wasn’t comfortable with that, either. Nor was she. However, it did seem more equitable, to me, that arrangement with Gabriela. I was pleased that she could pursue her own interests. Any limits caused by our marriage were shared. Each of us accommodated the other. Sometimes I’d travel to the Doña Anna, sometimes she’d come to Waypoint. We both compromised, not so much to each other, but to the marriage of two people with divided interests.” He shook his head. “I’m not saying it right.

“But don’t misunderstand: I love having you with me as much as you are. It’s not just a joy, it’s a real comfort. But I have to admit to feeling guilty that we are all dancing to my piper.” He looked down at Peng and stroked her cheek. “Not so much with you, my qie, because I know this is what you want. But I am concerned about your ability, Beatrice, to pursue your profession and, in a different way, I feel bad about Wren, too.”

“Wren?” Beatrice said. “Why? Her job is to be caring for the children, and, since they travel with us, she does, too. I don’t hear her complaining,”

Malik said, “It’s not so much that.” He paused, then went on. “Wren will be twenty-six this year and she’s never been in one place long enough to have a serious beau, save for her years on the Doña Anna. Everyone there looked on her as a daughter or their kid sister, if they gave her any attention at all. Since then, she’s been dragged about from pillar to post, as she has cared for Aspen while I gadded about, pursuing my various interests, and now with the twins.”

“And has she ever complained?” Beatrice asked.

“I think she may be afraid to bring it up. Besides, I expect she loves Aspen, and would prefer to be near her.”

Peng said, “I think she loves you, Master.”

“What?” Malik exclaimed. “Why would you say that?”

Peng kept her position and it was Beatrice that answered. “Because it’s true, Emil. In her mind, I think she sees herself as your third wife.”

“That’s ridiculous. Where does this come from? Has she said anything?”

“No,” Beatrice said, “not in so many words.”

“Then why do you think it?”

Peng moved from his knees and, still sitting back on her heels, looked up at him and said, “We are judging from how she acts, not on what she says, Master.”

“And how does she act?”

“Like a woman in love,” Beatrice replied.

“Oh, this is too much. I’m ten years her senior.”

“She’s admitted she was infatuated with you when she was a child.”

“Well, yeah, when she was a younker. But then she fell in love with that Jim Johnson, the prior foreman on the Doña Anna. I’m pretty sure that cured her of her puppy love.”

Beatrice looked smug. “I suspect, that, living with you and Aspen these last few years, she came to realize that Jim Johnson didn’t hold a candle to you, Shadow.”

Malik was looking at the fire, shaking his head. Then he turned to Beatrice and said, “That’s exactly the problem, she gets no opportunities to spend time with other men.” He gestured with his hand open and asked, “Whatever happened to that young man, the clerk from, what was it, the accounts payable department? I thought they were keeping company.”

Peng said, “That was nearly two years ago, Master. I think he took her to dinner twice. She said he was not mature enough for her.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. He was a nice young man. I had Raul check on him. And he was a dependable worker, likely to get ahead.”

Peng replied, “I don’t think she wants a ‘nice young man,’ Master. I think she wants you.”

“Peng, don’t start with that. I don’t want to hear it and I won’t entertain it. And, Beatrice, you’re my wife. I trust there’s no ulterior motive at operation, here.”

Beatrice said, “The heart wants what the heart wants, Emil. It’s not a logical process. You, for one, should certainly understand that.”

Malik threw up his hand, looking exasperated. “How did we even get onto this topic? We were talking about your office, Beatrice. I’d like to return to that topic.”

“Au contraire, my husband. You were talking about the opportunity for us women to pursue our own interests.”

“I was referring to occupational activities, not affairs of the heart.”

“You think they can be separated?” Beatrice asked

“Of course.”

“So, you’d prefer we not travel with you in your work?”

“What? I never said...” His voice trailed off as he became more pensive. Finally, he said, “Well, we need to do something for her. Maybe we need to find her another job, so she can have her own home. I’m sure I can get her a good position. She likes to cook. Maybe she’d like to work one of our dining cars.”

“That’s good, Emil. You can help her pursue her goals by giving her the opportunity to pursue some other goals, goals that you choose for her instead. Meanwhile, both she and the children will be hurt.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He shook his head and sighed. “Look, if she’s happy here, then that’s all well and good. There’s no need to change anything.”

Peng said, “I would not say that she is happy, Master, just that there is no place else that she would prefer. Perhaps it would be more correct to say there is no one else she would prefer.”

“Peng, didn’t I just tell you --”

“I was attempting to help you clarify the situation you were addressing, Master.”

Malik, moving his feet, said, “Excuse me, Peng. I’m going for a walk.”

(Wednesday, January 21, 1891)

Thursday, January 22, 1891

Malik had scheduled two full days at Dorado Springs; he planned to leave Thursday and return Saturday. There was no time for further dissuasion about Beatrice’s work or Wren, so those questions remained unresolved.

Since he planned to be away for just two nights, only Peng traveled with him, rather than disrupt the household for the brief trip. Wu Jianhong went along to cook and tend to kitchen duties, while Peng would see to any general housekeeping. They were in the Manuela de Ortega, as the Chen Niao had been left in Wichita.

Rather than run a special train, he had his coach added to the regular passenger train consist for the transfer to Dorado Springs. In any event, his meetings were not about the railroad, and all his appointments were in town.

Unexpectedly, Connor Lonegan was on the southbound, and he came back to Malik’s coach.

“Connor, good to see you,” Malik said, as they shook hands.

Lonegan said, “Emil, I miss having you around as much, though things tend to be quieter when you’re not here, for some reason.” Then he turned to Peng. “Deputy Peng, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” Peng gave a short bow in response.

“Come on, sit down, have some coffee and some sticky buns. Mister Wu made them fresh.”

“Oh, these look tasty. Don’t mind if I do.”

They sat down in the small parlor at the end of the car, Peng also choosing one of the club-style chairs.

Malik asked, “What brings you down this way?”

Lonegan, in a business suit, tossed his dress Stetson onto another chair and scratched his close-cropped scalp. Settling back in his chair, he said, “Someone blew up the Sonora’s diversion dam and headgate on the Isabella. Until the Sonora are granted title to their allotments, we still have jurisdiction, especially since most of their un-alloted land remains unsold and is still considered federal.” He shook his head. “But nobody wants the Dry Valleys, not without mineral rights. Except for the Isabella drainage. That valley, everybody wants. But between the Sonora, the railroad, and the Dry Valleys Co-op, the Isabella’s pretty well sewn up.”

“Do they know who did it?”

“That’s what I’m down here to find out. Long Hand and his brother say they tracked the guy, but he was off the reservation when they caught up with him at Jackrabbit Spring, so all they did was steal his horse while he was asleep. They took his canteen, too, but left him his food and a sack of beans they had. He’s either stuck there at the spring, or he has to hike out dry.”

“You’re going out there?”

“Me an’ them.”

“Are you taking the train?”

“There’s a train that goes to Jackrabbit Spring?”

Malik laughed. “No, but it will get you within about fifteen miles. That’s better than the near seventy miles from the Springs or the fifty or so miles from Waypoint. You can borrow some horses from the string the deputies keep out at the silver mine.”

Now Lonegan chuckled. “Yeah, I know. I’m meeting the deputies at Kylie Junction. That’s where they wired me from. Do you want to go along?”

“Much as I’d like to, I’ve got meetings set up with folks in the Springs for the next couple days. Les Toomey’s coming in from Smoky Valley and I’m supposed to meet with the new mining engineer, and Blue Maize, and, well, a bunch of folks. Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I have some inkling as to how busy you are from the fact that I sp seldom see you any more. Me, an’ Long Hand, an’ Stream-In-Winter will handle it.”

“Yeah, I sure do miss getting out in the back country. Not so much the sleeping on the ground part, but I do appreciate being away from crowds of people amidst all that open country, even those dry ridges.”

“I know what you mean, I seldom get out any more, either. I have six deputies, now, and mostly I’m coordinating their jobs an’ doin’ the paper work. I haven’t been on a horse outside a’ town since last summer. When this came in an’ everyone else was busy, I jumped at the chance. Besides, I like that Green Ridge country. It’s pretty up there. Come to think, that’s where I first met you an’ Cowboy.”