Chapter 7

Monday, June 26, 1893

Malik invited the entire crew -- trainmen and law men -- to join him for an eight o’clock breakfast at the re-built and expanded Old Courthouse Inn. The entire group, twenty-three men and two women, were easily accommodated in one of the two private dining rooms. Nearly half of those partaking in the breakfast decided to try the Eggs Benedict, on Malik’s assurance that they could order something else if they did not care for it. In the end, no one of those who ordered it was inclined to take advantage of that offer -- with one exception.

Nate Vargas did attempt to take devious advantage of Malik’s offer. He consumed all but a small portion of his Eggs Benedict, which he left on his plate. He said that, after a thorough assessment, he didn’t think he cared for it. When a grinning Malik told him he could order whatever he wanted from the menu, Vargas ordered another portion of the Eggs Benedict.

Chuckling, Malik announced that anyone who was still hungry could order more food. Portions at the Old Courthouse Inn restaurant were not stingy, and so there were only three takers. The two brakemen and the firemen, all younger men with physically demanding jobs who immediately took him up on his offer.

Smiling, Malik sat back to sip his coffee, as he packed some Lost Mine pipe tobacco into an intricately carved meerschaum. The pipe had been a gift from Beatrice on their second wedding anniversary. Malik tended to smoke a pipe more at home in Waypoint and the Guardia Real cigars when away.

He winked at Vargas as the young man sliced into what was, essentially, an open-faced egg sandwich lavished with a rich blended sauce of butter and egg yolk. The Inn’s portion consisted of two eggs, each on a slice of smoked pork loin, what some were now calling Canadian bacon, with a grilled crumpet half for a base. The plate was garnished with three asparagus tips, also laved with the pale yellow Hollandaise sauce. Malik had enjoyed the same meal, except for the second helping.

In fact, this had been Malik’s second breakfast, of a sort, as he and Peng had risen early and walked up to the family home, There, they had toast and tea while Beatrice, Wren, and the children ate their breakfast at the usual early hour of half past six. During the meal, they decided that the family would move out to the ranch on Thursday, and would remain there until it was determined what form the current “union organizing” would take. Tommy Palmer would drive the Malik’s enclosed cpach while Andy Malik would accompany them on horseback for the twenty-seven mile trip out to the Malik ranch.

By nine o’clock, the trainmen and the police officers were busy with tasks involving readying the new train consist for quick departure, should such become necessary. The Kanzona policemen were completing their occupation of the new crew coach, which had eight bunk cabins and was equipped with privies, shower baths, and a lounge cabin. Meanwhile Rafael Delgado and both brakeman were inspecting the substructure: truck frames, wheels, journal bearings and boxes, springs, brakes, brake linkages, air lines, and couplers.

Fei Weisheng, Zou Lei, and their son Zou Chin, were at Baylor’s store, buying equipment and supplies for the crew coach’s kitchen. Zou Chin would cook in the Rio Cimarron.

Just at eleven minutes past nine, Symington, the stationmaster, stepped onto the Lincoln Falls Loop’s rear platform and knocked on the door. Peng had seen him approaching and was already at the door. She let him in.

Symington said, “Good morning Miss Peng, Mister Malik, and all.” Nate Vargas was running an errand, but Connor Lonegan, Sheriff Edwards, Dick Schroeder, Moira Daley, Frank Tremaine, Marty Finnerman, Israel Soriano, Mortimer English, and Long Hand were seated at the table with Malik and his Qie. “This wire just arrived from Mister Castillo.” He handed the envelope to Malik and left the coach.

After reading the message, Malik looked up at the others seated at the table. “Well, this is interesting. Raul says that Carter Sweeney contacted them and asked for a meeting with Raul. Raul agreed to meet him at eleven, this morning, which is ten o’clock, here,” He glanced at a spring-driven clock attached to the bulkhead, “In about twenty-five minutes.”

Lonegan asked, “Sweeney’s the man you believe is paying for this supposed labor organizing, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Malik said. “Mike Jefferson, that tall, colored officer you met? Well, he found correspondence between Sweeney and Abernathy regarding Sweeney’s financing of the group.”

“Is Sweeney representing the union, then? Is that his pretense for his meeting with Raul?” Lonegan asked.

“Raul doesn’t say, so I’d guess no mention of it has been made. The papers we found ... better, you can look through them, yourself.” Malik turned to Peng. “Peng, fetch that file with those letters that Mike brought back.”

“How did Jefferson obtain them?”

“From their trash barrel, at the house Abernathy was using. The house was vacant. They’d already moved out. Jefferson was left with the impression they had only occupied it for a few weeks.”

“What led him to that conclusion?” Lonegan asked.

“He spoke with some neighbors.”

Peng returned with the file. She set it on the table at Malik’s elbow, then resumed her seat next to him. Malik slid the file to the Marshal, who was seated across the table.

One of the uniformed railroad police officers stepped onto the coach’s platform and knocked at the door. Peng rose to give him entry.

Stepping just inside the door, the policeman said, “There are pickets outside the depot, four of ‘em. Their signs say, ‘Kanzona Railroad not safe for workers or passengers.’ They’re passing out these handbills that say much the same thing but they also say that we’ve cut back on track maintenance and it’s dangerous to workers and passengers.” He offered a copy of the handbill to Peng, who brought it to Malik.

Sheriff Edwards asked, “Have you cut back on track maintenance?”

Malik was shaking his head. “Not in any real way. What we’ve done is impose a hiring moratorium. What with having to reduce wages, we decided the best course was to try to retain the workers who were already on the job rather than hire and train new ones and then have to further reduce wages as a result. That hiring freeze has left some of our section crews reduced in size. Typically, a section crew is six men and a foreman. About fifteen percent of our section crews are operating with five men and a foreman. As far as we can determine, there’ve been no problems keeping up with track maintenance. What we’ve cut back on are peripheral maintenance chores, like brush clearing, shed painting, and access road upkeep.

However, there’s also been a reduction in traffic so the demand for routine maintenance had likewise been reduced and we’ve reduced the affected maintenance ri rge same degree – not across the board, but ib maintenance based on wear and rear. Greasing switch operating gear, for instance. The switches aren’t used as often, so we don’t have to grease them s often.”

Malik read the handbill, then passed it back to Peng. She read it and slid it across to Lonegan, who read it and passed it along.

Meanwhile, Malik said, “This is a different complaint than what they used at the San Angelo branch. There, the message was about unfair wage cuts.”

Nate Vargas appeared on the coach platform and he let himself in. His older sister, Consuela, followed him in. She was carrying a thick sheaf of papers. Nate stood aside, allowing his sister to approach Malik.

Malik said, “Hello, Miss Vargas. What can I do for you?”

She set the bundle of papers down on the table. “A man named Abernathy, one of the picketers, hired us to distribute these, Patron (pah-TRONE). Should I just burn them?” Since Nate had gone to work as an assistant to Malik, and Tommy Palmer had taken Nate’s old job working for the Malik Waypoint household, Consuela had taken over the management of their general services business, Vargas, Palmer & Associates. That group, founded by Natan Vargas, Thomas Palmer, Jr., and some others, employed a number of the school-aged children in town in various forms of part-time, unskilled labor. The papers Consuela had brought looked to be a hundred or more copies of the same handbill they had just been discussing.

After a moment’s reflection, while he looked at the bundle, Malik asked, “How do they want them distributed, Consuela?”

“First to all the businesses, then to the homes west of the tracks.”

Malik looked up at her. “Go ahead and fulfill your contract, Consuela. The word will get out, in any event. This way, they may decide to ask you to do other jobs, and you can keep us informed.”

“Si, Patron,” the tall young woman answered.

“And, Consuela, be careful around those men. Never meet with them by yourself. Have at least one of your young men with you, and another waiting, out of sight, nearby.”

“Si, Patron. Natan has also instructed me to be careful in this manner.”

Malik leaned to look at Nate, standing behind his sister. “Good job, both of you.”

Nate picked up the paper bundle from the table, then escorted his sister to the door, where he returned the handbills, gave her a peck on the cheek, and sent her on her way. Then he sat in a chair near the end of the table, pulling out a notebook and a pencil from a jacket pocket.

Malik asked Israel Soriano, “Did you get a look at Justin Abernathy, back in San Angelo?”

“Yeah. I was there the day he met with Miz Watts.”

“Would you be good enough to go look out the depot window and see if he’s out there picketing? Then come back and let me know. I want to see him, so I’ll know who he is.”

“Sure, Mister Malik. I take it you don’t want to draw attention to this.”

“Exactly. Come back and tell us what he’s wearing or whatever, and those who want can go one at a time to look through the windows of the depot waiting room.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Soriano left.

Lonegan said to Malik, “You mentioned something about these handbills being different from their picket signs in Texas.”

“Oh, yeah. The signs they used in Texas presented a legitimate complaint about the wage issue, since we are reducing wages across the board. But this business about safety doesn’t wash. Our safety record is the best in the country for any road our size, and even among the bigger roads.”

Peng said, “Perhaps, sir, they intend that our record becomes tarnished.”

Malik turned to look at her. At the same moment, a telephone jangled. The instrument, a varnished wooden box roughly a foot square and six inches deep, had a funnel-like speaking tube on the front, a receiver hanging from a hook-switch on the left side, and a small hand crank on the right. It was mounted on the coach’s dividing bulkhead near the foot of the table. Nate Vargas rose to answer its demanding bell. The connection to the local exchange was accommodated at Malik’s home parking spot.

“Lincoln Falls Loop, this is Nate Vargas. How may I help you?”

“Yes, Mister Symington.”

“I will, sir, right away. Thank you.”

Vargas replaced the earpiece and turned toward Malik. “Mister Symington has been monitoring the company wire. He said that Junction City, Dorado Springs, and Shepherds Crossing all have sent reports to Fort Birney that their depots are being picketed, four men at each.”

“Nowhere else?”

“He said that was all, so far.”

“Anything about what the signs said, or any handbills?”

“Mister Symington made no mention of that.”

“Okay. Thanks, Nate. We should be hearing from Fort Birney, next, I expect.”

Soriano returned and told Malik that there were three picketers, at present, and that Abernathy was not among them.

Moira Daley said, “To return to our earlier discussion, I think Miss Peng has made a good point. Why would they criticize the safest railroad? My guess is because it’s about to look not quite as safe, anymore.”

“Such as how?” Lonegan asked.

Malik replied, “Our biggest vulnerability is a derailment. We have many miles of remote trackage. Someone could remove the spikes, but leave the rail in place. Derailments are the type of accident that is a subject quickly spread by word-of-mouth and is also a likely story for newspapers.”

“But they’re already picketing with those signs, and you’ve had no problems,” Lonegan said.

Malik glanced at the clock, which showed twenty-seven minutes until ten. He said “Peng, quick as you can, code a message to Raul. Tell him we’re being picketed and what the signs and handbills say. Keep it short. Mark it ‘urgent, immediate delivery’ from me. I want him to have it while he meets with Sweeney, or even before, if possible.”

Peng was already scribbling. Nate fetched a book from a side table drawer and brought it to her, opening it to a particular page and setting it in the center of the table. Lonegan, using his finger to hold the chosen page, picked it up to see what it was. The book was a compact, leather-bound Bible.

Peng reached for it and Lonegan set it on the table in front of her. She consulted the text, then began transcribing her notes into groups of four characters. After another two minute, she handed the sheet to Vargas, who hurried out the door.

“A Bible?” Lonegan asked.

Malik picked up the volume and then glanced from Lonegan, to Edwards, Long Hand, and Dick Schroeder, the only non-railroad people at the table.

“Our code system is confidential information, usually shared only with our employees who are trained to use a telegraph key. That includes our police officers. I’ll trust you to refrain from mentioning this elsewhere.”

Lonegan, nodding, said, “Sure. Emil, I understand.” The others made similar comments or gestures.

Malik held up the book and said, “We use this edition of the Bible as the basis for our ciphers. I won’t explain how we use it, but suffice it to say that the code base changes daily and it has several different variations, depending on function. For instance, Raul and I have a version that only we use. Beyond that, we have special code abbreviations for common phrases; those must be memorized.”

“So it’s not like the ‘stewed chicken in the pot’ code that our office used to use?” Lonegan said, grinning.

“You gave up on that?” Malik asked, returning his grin.

“I’m afraid so. Nowadays, we use a standard federal code book, if we require supposed confidential communication.”

Nate, slightly out of breath, reappeared with a telegram envelope. “This just arrived from Fort Birney.”

Malik opened it, saw it was still coded, and handed it to Peng. She opened the Bible again, then started transcribing.

Peng, in her British accented English said, “A repeat of what we heard from Mister Symington, plus the fact that there are pickets at Fort Birney, too. This is a duplicate of a message they sent to Wichita.”

“Okay, then. Take this down.” He waited while Peng readied herself. “‘All stations, Fort Birney Division: Be alert for vandalism affecting safety and safe operations, especially rail tampering, airline and brake tampering, or similar tampering with vulnerable systems. Report incidents to Fort Birney Security Section Immediately.’ Sign it from me. Don’t code it; send it in plain language.”

Peng handed the page to Vargas who went out to the depot, behind which they were parked.

Mortimer English said, “Perhaps we should introduce a speed restriction.”

Malik thought for a moment, then said, “We should get the chief dispatcher involved in that decision. Are you recommending a reduction, Mortimer?”

After a minute, English said. “I’d recommend a ten mile-per-hour reduction across the board.”

Malik said, “Peng, a coded wire to Mister Healy: ‘Mortimer English and I suggest, repeat, suggest an immediate forty-eight hour speed reduction of ten miles per hour, with a five mile per hour minimum, for tracks on the Division.’”

Nate Vargas returned just in time for Peng to hand him that message. He turned and hurried out of the coach, again.

Lonegan said, “Strictly speaking, since this branch doesn’t cross a state line, I really don’t have any jurisdiction.”

“So you’re just here for the free food?” Malik quipped.

“Pretty much. But since you mentioned that Sweeney character had an interest in Dorado Springs, I think I’ll stick around. We still have jurisdiction on the reservation.”

“He wasn’t trying to buy reservation land.”

“Just the same, I want to see what develops,” Lonegan said, with a quick, one-shoulder shrug.

Nate returned, with another message. Malik opened it, and handed it to Peng, who drew the Bible over and began paging through it. Then, finding the page she needed, she glanced at the text, and, while the others waited, she turned to the telegram message, and began to transcribe the coded text.

A minute later, she handed the paper to Malik, who summarized aloud as he read. “The Arizona Southern Division has pickets at Yuma, Prescott, and Seligman. Lamy reports pickets at their depot, and at Santa Fe, Española, and Chama. Kansas Southern has pickets at Liberal, Coldwater, and Medicine Lodge.” He looked up at the group. “That’s it. They all seem to have three pickets at each site and have the same safety message on their picket signs and handbills.”

Schroeder said, “That’s at least thirty men, and we know of at least twenty more on this branch. Assuming they’re all getting paid and that their travel, lodging, and food is paid for, someone is footing a fair-sized bill.”

“Some of them could be locals,” Daley said.

Schroeder shrugged. “Even so, ut’s costing a fair amaount.” he replied.

Malik said, “Nate, can we hire a couple of your men to watch our coaches, during daylight hours? We’ll do our own two-hour shifts, tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Vargas said, “I’ll telephone Consuela.” He rose and stepped to the telephone.

Nate had only just hung up the receiver, when the instrument rang. He picked it up and said, “Lincoln Falls -- “ Instead of finishing the greeting, Vargas listened to the caller.

“Yes, Mister Symington, I’ll tell him. Thank you.” Vargas returned the receiver to its hook, then turned to Malik. “Mister Symington says they just received an emergency general train order from Fort Birney imposing the speed limits you suggested.”

“Thanks, Nate,” Malik replied, then, turning to her, he said, “Peng, combine the vandalism warning and the speed restrictions, and code an “information only” message to all Divisions.”

Peng asked “Over your name?”

Malik nodded, but said, “Let me see it, first.” She began writing.

After that message was carried to the depot, it was eerily quiet for over a half hour. In the coach there were quiet conversations, the imbibing of coffee and tea, and various uses of tobacco. At one point, Nate Vargas had gone out to instruct two young men who appeared on the coach platform. As the morning warmed. Malik had Peng engage the electric ceiling fans.

Just past a quarter to eleven, Gregory Symington came onto the coach platform and knocked on the door. Peng went to the door and accepted a telegram envelope from him. She brought it to Malik.

Malik said to her, “Next time, tell him he doesn’t need to knock, to just come in.” Then he opened the envelope, glanced at the contents, and handed the form to Peng, She looked at it, then reached for the Bible.

Malik said to the others, “It’s from Raul. Must be he’s met with Sweeney. We’ll see in a minute or two.”

It was closer to four minutes by the time Peng finished the transcription. She presented it to Malik, who easily read her precise handwriting. He read it through once, then summarized its content as he skimmed through it again.

“The upshot is that Carter Sweeney wants to buy the Fort Birney Branch. Failing that, he’d like to buy the entire railroad. He’s offering a decent price, too.”

“Will you sell?” Lonegan wanted to know.

“Not hardly. Raul and I, and everyone else, would have to find something else to do. I like the railroad business. One of Sweeney’s conditions for sale is that all of the directors would have to stay out of the railroad business for ten years. That’s not going to happen.

“Besides, if Sweeney bought the entire road, I expect he’d sell it off piecemeal, except for Fort Birney.”

Marty Finnerman observed, “Probably not much of a market for railroads until after this depression runs its course.”

“Reckon you’re right,” Malik offered. “The problem is, Raul said that Sweeney made some veiled threats, suggesting that we were about to have “union problems” and that it might lower the value of the road.”