Chapter Thirty Three

As they reached the tracks, they heard the faint rumble of a westbound train from around the bend. “That train isn’t going to stop for us,” Sage said.

“Train will stop,” Fong said and immediately began running up the tracks, away from the train.

“What are you doing?” Sage yelled after him.

“Need to make sure train has plenty room to stop,” Fong called over his shoulder without slowing his pace. Lucinda understood before Sage did because once again she picked up her skirts and was running after Fong, Sage and Sinclair close behind.

Ahead, Fong stopped, turned around and raised his hands in the air, waving them wildly. Once the others reached him they too began waving. The train had just rounded the bend. Sage was alarmed to see it traveling at a very high rate of speed. Much faster than normal. “We may not have run far enough ahead,” he said to Fong out of the corner of his mouth.

Fong looked grim as he nodded but he didn’t move or stop waving. “We may have to jump,” he said, flicking a glance toward Lucinda. Sage and Sinclair looked at each other, dropped their arms, grabbed Lucinda’s elbows and lifted her to the side of the tracks.

She protested until Sage said, “You could trip over those skirts of yours.”

Seconds later the metallic shriek of the braking train filled the summer air. The train engine’s brass medallion grew rapidly in size as it bore down on them.. Sage looking toward Fong. His friend had lowered his arms but remained calmly standing between the two rails, his knees slightly bent. Sage wondered if he planned to halt the train with a snake and crane move. The thought made him smile. Nah. Not even Fong could pull off a stunt like that.

Twenty feet from where they stood the train stopped, its stack huffing steam as if angry. Certainly the engineer was angry. He stuck his red face out the side window and shouted, “Get the hell off my tracks!”

Sage raised his voice in return, “We’ve got to get to Astoria, it’s a matter of life or death.” A beehive helmet appeared at the top of the iron rungs to the cab. Sage shouted, “Hey, Officer, are you with Sergeant Hanke?”

“Yes, sir, that I am. That’s why you need to get off the tracks. We’ve got a rescue mission underway!”

By now they’d reached the side of the engine. Sage grinned as relief coursed through his body. “Well, Officer, we’re with the Sergeant on that same mission.”

The policeman was momentarily surprised but then gestured back along the train. “You all better hop aboard then. The Sergeant’s back there with the passengers explaining why we aren’t stopping until we get to the ocean.”

The four of them ran alongside the engine toward the passenger railcars. When they reached the first door, it opened and Hanke looked out. “Glad you could make it,” he shouted. Instead of lowering the steps he grabbed Lucinda’s reaching hands and hefted her aboard. He did the same for the other three. Sage was last aboard, running alongside as the train started its slow roll up to speed.

Hanke led the four of them to the rear of the railcar. There sat Eich and a woman who worked in the laundry. Hanke gestured to the woman. “This here is Miss Caroline Stark. She’s a friend of your mother and the Levy sisters.”

Sage narrowed his eyes. He remembered that name and there had been some negative association with it. That’s right. His mother had told him she liked the woman but was suspicious of her. He studied her but she didn’t notice. Instead, she looked past him as her polite smile slid right off her face. “Mr. Sinclair, what are you doing here?” she demanded, standing up, her fists clenched. She turned to Hanke. “He works for the laundry owner,” she told Hanke. “He probably had a hand in the kidnappings.”

Hanke turned toward Sage, his normally placid face showing surprise, “Is that so, Mr. ah, Miner?” Since this was the first time they’d met during this particular operation, Hanke had to guess whether Sage was using his customary alias.

Sage gestured that Sinclair should take the bench seat next to the window so that he faced both Caroline and Hanke who also sat down. Sage sat next to Sinclair. Lucinda and Fong took seats across the aisle, facing Eich.

“Before we start with the explanations, Sergeant, suppose you tell me what Miss Stark is doing here?” Sage said. He saw the woman reach out a hand and lay it on the Sergeant’s uniform sleeve. Hanke looked at her and she gave a little shake of her head.

Turning back to look at Sage with a steady gaze, Hanke said firmly, “Miss Stark is helping us with our inquiries. I had no choice but to bring her along.”

“But,” Sage began only to have Hanke interrupt.

“You must trust me on this,” Hanke warned as he glanced toward Sinclair.

Sage clamped his lips shut. Trust he would because Hanke would have good reasons. Beneath the sergeant’s calm and somewhat bovine placidity lurked a steel-trap mind and an excellent character-judging ability. Sage cleared his throat and said, “Well, then. Miss Stark is correct. Mr. Sinclair was working at the Sparta laundry and for the association of laundry owners. He’s the fellow who kidnapped the Levy sisters and Mrs. Clemens. He’s admitted as much.”

Hanke’s face didn’t change expression but Sage saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. When he looked at Sinclair and spoke, his voice was calm. “Is that true, Mr. Sinclair? You’re responsible for those women being on that coastal steamer heading downriver?”

Sinclair nodded and looked miserable. Hanke turned back to Sage and asked, “He’s your prisoner, then?”

“Not exactly. We’re keeping an eye on him, of course.” Sage sent his eyes toward Fong who was clearly listening to the discussion. “To his credit Sinclair told us everything without us forcing him to talk and he volunteered to help in the rescue. It seems he’s had a change of heart.”

Hanke studied Sinclair for a few moments before saying, “Well, a change heart, huh? Suppose you tell me the whole story Mr. Sinclair?”

Sinclair took a deep breath and began talking. He told them everything. About working for Farley, who was working for the association’s leader, Thaddeus Cobb. He told of accidently grabbing Rebecca Levy. How he’d kept Rebecca at the whorehouse. How he’d tricked Rachel into being captured. How he’d drugged and strong armed Mae onto the ship. He even pulled up his trouser to show them the purple shin bruise she’d given him. His display was met with grins from Fong, Eich, Lucinda, Sage and even Hanke.

Caroline Stark, who’d been staring daggers at Sinclair, was the first to speak. “Mr. Sinclair, I know Jesus says I should forgive but I must tell you, I will need to say countless Hail Mary’s before forgiveness will enter my heart where you’re concerned.”

Sinclair hung his head, kept turning his bowler hat roundabout and said nothing.

“Well, we need to get on with the business of rescuing those women,” Hanke said. Just then, the train’s air whistle split the air and they all glanced out the window, startled to see that the train was entering a settlement.

“That’ll be Scappoose,” Hanke said. The seven of them froze, waiting to see if the train slowed for the station. It didn’t. Instead, the platform whizzed by but not before they saw the station’s telegraph operator standing at the platform’s edge waving them onward. Ranged out on either side were the bypassed passengers, all of them aping his gesture and cheering.

“Good,” said Hanke with a faint smile of satisfaction. “We shouldn’t have any trouble from here on. It looks like the station master got word down the line.”

Over the next two hours, the train rocketed through Scappoose, St. Helens, Rainier and Clatskanie. With each passing village, the crowd on the rail platform was larger. Clearly word of their rescue mission was spreading from the passengers to the settlements themselves. Meanwhile, the engineer was demonstrating his considerable skill. The railcar rattled and rocked more than any Sage had ever ridden, its brakes squealing as they approached a curve, sometimes taking it at a speed that nearly flung them off the tracks. He pondered the toll this hell-raising trip had to be taking on the engineer’s nerves and the fireman’s muscles. Mostly Sage craned his neck to look forward of the train, anxious to see Astoria’s outskirts.

Everyone else seemed focused on that end as well because there was little conversation as they drew close to the river’s end. Even Hanke grew grimmer with every passing mile. Finally Sage could stand it no longer. He gestured to the sergeant who rose and followed him out to the platform between the two cars. In a way, it was a relief to stand there in the open, the air flowing from the train’s passage lifting Sage’s hair. “What’s going to happen when we reach Astoria?” he asked.

Hanke looked out at the scenery whipping past the windows. “I don’t rightly know, Mr. Adair. If my officer was able to convince Chief Hunt to do as I asked, the town’s police chief and reinforcements will meet us at the station. I’ve been thinking and I’m betting the Maggie Jane plans on steaming right past the town. If that’s what she does, then we have to figure out how to stop her in the river. Steam ships can always maneuver; they don’t need the wind. I don’t know if we’ll be able to stop her.”

This was Sage’s fear. Even if Astoria’s police could commandeer a few fishing boats and their captains, how could they stop a bigger ship bent on steaming out into the Pacific Ocean? “Just a minute, we might be able to increase our rescue flotilla. Sage ducked inside the railcar, gestured to Fong who returned to the platform with his friend.

“Mr. Fong, we’re wondering how we’re going to stop that steam ship with just a few boats. Do you have any suggestions?”

Fong looked solemn. “I’ve been thinking about same thing. Once we get to Astoria, I will go find Chinese men. Some of them have boats. They will help.”

“Good. Maybe we can slow the Maggie Jane enough to climb aboard her,” Sage mused. Fong was nodding. “I have to find hatchet when we get to Astoria,” he said.

Hanke and Sage looked at each other. They knew exactly what Fong meant.

The cabin’s air was stale. Once the task of making weapons was over, the three women had given into exhaustion and the torpidity of heat. Mae and Rachel were sharing the floor mattress while Rebecca had climbed into the top bunk. A noise from outside woke them. It was the metal clank of an anchor lowering to the river bottom. The ship’s mechanical rumbling ceased.

“They’re stopping,” Mae observed unnecessarily. Fear clutched her heart. Were they already at the ocean? She jumped up and stepped to the porthole. She saw the bright green of grasses and leaf trees, mixed with the dark green of firs along a wild shoreline. “They must plan on waiting here until the tide is right to cross the bar into the ocean. I’ve heard it is near impossible to get across when the tide is coming in,” she said.

“I wish they’d left us with a jug of water,” Rachel said quietly. “This heat sure makes me thirsty.”

Mae smiled grimly at the thought they were surrounded by fresh water they couldn’t reach. “Well, if we manage to break out of here, you may get to drink more fresh water than you’d like,” she said.

Suddenly a flash of movement caught her eye. There, beyond the trees, she saw it again. It took a minute before she realized it was the train heading toward Astoria. She’d ridden that train with Herman on a day outing to Astoria. A memory she treasured. When Herman learned she’d never seen the Pacific Ocean he’d surprised her with two tickets and off they’d gone.

Mae felt a deep sadness crawl around her heart. She given up all thought of a man friend before meeting Herman Eich. Their’s was a sweet, easy friendship, one that had become important to her. He’d blame himself if she didn’t get out of this mess.

She didn’t hold any illusions. Sinclair told the girls that they were going to Panama. When the steamer reached San Francisco, they’d transfer Rachel and Rebecca from the Maggie Jane onto a ship heading to Panama. Their feet wouldn’t even touch solid ground. But, not her. Nobody would think it financially worthwhile to ship a tired, graying woman to Panama. Nor could the captain risk leaving her in San Francisco where she could point the finger straight at him. No, she’d have a different fate. Once they were on the ocean, they’d throw her overboard like a piece of garbage. Her eyes stung as she gazed at the lush green riverbank and the fir-clad ridge running high above it.