“Whatever do you mean? Mr. O’Malley, I don’t believe it is safe for you to be here. The police will arrest you if they see you.” I looked over my shoulder.
“Aye, miss. That Jennings is determined to blacken the name of O’Malley, but it was him and that Stark who were behind it.”
“It was you who sent me that note, then? About the bomb in the clock tower?”
“Aye. ’Twould not have been dealt with fairly by the company. I hoped you might get them to stop it and show the truth of it. But that Stark and Jennings got away with it for all that.”
“I’m sorry that is so. I’ve protested, but no one will do anything. I am very sorry, but I don’t believe anyone can do more about that until the strike is over.”
“If ever it is.”
“It must be.”
“It’s not for that I’ve come now. There is something else that must be stopped. After they took the men away some of the dynamite was gone, was it not?”
I remembered back to what Detective Whitbread found at the end of that evening. “My brother told me there were four sticks missing. I assumed Mr. Jennings and Mr. Stark had spirited them away.”
“’Twas not, ’twas LeClerc.”
“What? How? He was not even there.”
“But he was, miss. And so was I. I hid myself there most of the day, don’t you see. I hoped you would find someone to stop them, as you did. But I could not let them go through with it if you did not, so I hid to watch, hoping I’d not have to show myself. And who should I see arrive before you all? It was LeClerc. I thought at first you had gone to him instead of the police and MacGregor. I was surprised, but as long as they were stopped, I cared not. But then I saw you and the police detective and MacGregor. Well LeClerc, now, he did them a favor. When Stark ran, he nearly got away. ’Twas the ARU man who grabbed him and threw him back to you. I could see it all from above, as I had been watching in the dark all along. But while you were all arguing with Jennings, I saw another thing. I saw LeClerc sneak in and take the dynamite. Well, I followed him then, but he only left. He wasn’t going to use it. You’d stopped the trouble, as best you could, but Jennings had still got away with it. To expose the ARU man then would only make it go bad for the strikers. There seemed no reason to do it. They wanted me, too, so I saw no way to expose it without causing myself and the innocent men like MacGregor nothing but trouble. So I kept mum, and I kept low. Even after poor Mooney was killed. It would only make for more sympathy for the company and the sheriff’s men, give them more of an excuse if they knew LeClerc was the one stole the dynamite.”
“But you are telling me, now. Why? Why are you telling me?”
“I’m afraid now he’ll use it.”
“Surely not. Mr. Debs and the ARU have been against violence all along. They have forbidden it. Just like Mr. MacGregor. They don’t want to blow anything up. They want a peaceful resolution. It was the company that wanted to make it look like the strikers were behind the violence. Why would Mr. LeClerc use the dynamite now? I don’t believe it.”
Joe pushed aside some of the branches to look towards the camp of soldiers around the Florence Hotel. “Things have changed, you see. Times are desperate. Maybe Debs forswears violence but the men as work for him, like LeClerc, maybe they see the end in sight and it’s not a good one. Maybe they’re losing faith in Debs and the leaders.” He let the leaves fall gently back into place. “If he uses the explosives, they will blame the strikers. What do you think the army will do then?”
“No, he wouldn’t. But why do you think he will use the dynamite? He hasn’t so far, has he?”
“He’s in the brick shed, miss. He’s there using the tools to fill a pipe with nails and screws from the machine yard and I’m feared he will use the sticks of dynamite to explode it all.”
“How do you know about this? Have you been following him? Working with him, like you did with Stark?”
“No, miss. Not like that. It’s not LeClerc I’ve been following.” He hung his head. “It’s Miss MacGregor. I’ve been trying to reason with her. To make her see what he plans to do, but she’ll not listen.”
“Fiona? But she was ill when I saw her last week. She was with Raoul then.” So was Joe O’Malley in love with Fiona, too? Fiona, who had engaged the affections of the doctor, Raoul, and Joe’s dead brother. She had certainly been busy. No wonder she had no time for the clinic. “Surely Miss MacGregor is not involved in something so dangerous.”
“She’s at the shed in the brickyard with him now.” He looked across at the army camp again. “I cannot go to her father. Besides the fact I’m in hiding, he would not believe it of his daughter. But we cannot let them make the bomb and we cannot let the soldiers find out what they are doing. We must stop them, but not let anyone find out.”
“But why do you come to me, Mr. O’Malley? What do you expect me to do? How can I stop them?” I was bitterly disappointed in Raoul LeClerc. It was possible that Joe O’Malley spoke only out of jealousy, but somehow I believed him. I wanted to turn away and go back to my relief station. And there was nothing to stop me.
“I thought you could get the police detective to help us.”
“You mean Detective Whitbread? After he went along with them the last time? And after he saved Stark when he shot Mr. Mooney? I have not spoken to him since then. Why would you think he would help in this? You may as well tell Colonel Turner and have done with it.”
“No, miss. I don’t think so. I think the detective will see that if the company and the army find out about this, it would be a disaster. I think he can stop them. But you must decide, miss. I cannot go to them. I can try to stop LeClerc, but Fiona will take his side. And if I am not successful, then they will use the bomb. I must go back.”
“Mr. O’Malley, you must go and tell Detective Whitbread yourself. I cannot do it.”
“No, miss. I’ll go back to the shed. You must send the detective if you can see your way to do it.”
“No, Mr. O’Malley, don’t go.” But he had already left.
I stepped out from the alley and looked towards the camp at the Florence. Who to tell? Who to warn? Should I go to Mr. MacGregor again? But what if the soldiers saw a confrontation at the brickyard shed? Surely they would assume all of the strikers were involved in the bomb plot. I could picture them surrounding and shooting MacGregor and his men. And this just when Nellie Bly was set to describe how peaceful and pitiable the situation was for the people of Pullman. And what of Raoul LeClerc? His connection to the ARU would be obvious. They would assume Debs had ordered the attack and all hope of a compromise to settle the strike would be lost. This was all the newspapers would need to crow over “Dictator Debs.” Nellie Bly would never get her story published. Could I allow the desperation of two people like Raoul LeClerc and Fiona MacGregor to destroy the hopes of the men and women who had joined this boycott in an effort to bring some justice to the starving workers of Pullman? I did not know why I had to decide what to do—what did I know of such things? But to merely return to the relief station and act surprised when a bomb exploded, ruining everything, was something I could not bring myself to do. I regretted that Joe O’Malley had picked me to tell of the dilemma, but I could not escape the consequences of knowing about it. I kicked a clod of dried mud and headed across the street.