Chapter Twenty-six
Charley Blanton was in his new building with a spanking-new printing press, platen, and a large gathering of type in various sizes and fonts. Though he had put out a special edition the day after he returned with the new press, he was about to put out the first scheduled issue of his paper when the jingle of a bell announced that someone had opened the front door. The notification bell was also a new edition.
Looking toward the front, he was surprised to see Kay Greenly coming in.
“Well now, Miss Kay, fancy seeing you here,” Charley said with a welcome smile. “Have you come to see my new facilities?”
“Oh, your new building and facilities are quite lovely. I’m so glad you were able to get everything put together again. A town needs a newspaper.”
“It does indeed. I’m glad you see that.”
“Mr. Blanton, as you are a newspaperman I would imagine that you are aware of just about everything that goes on around here,” Kay said.
“Well, I do try and keep abreast of things, though I must admit that I don’t quite understand everything that’s going on with this . . . this C and FL business.” He stressed the words, using a tone of voice that indicated his contempt for them. “But, I digress, my dear. You have a question, do you?”
“Yes. Do you know anything about a line cabin that’s about an hour’s ride from here? It may be at the foot of a mountain.”
Charley chuckled. “I must confess that I hadn’t anticipated such a question. About an hour from here, you say? Well, there’s one like that on Trail Back. It sits at the foot of Tomahawk Mountain. Of course it’s not Trail Back land anymore. It’s now part of the land grant that the railroad has grabbed up, but even before that, David had abandoned the shack a long time ago. I’m not even sure it’s still standing. Why are you asking about it?”
“Oh it’s just something I heard that made me curious about it, is all,” Kay said without being more specific.
“Yes, old abandoned buildings can be interesting, especially if there are several of them. In that case they become a ghost town. Which is what we might become if we don’t get that railroad,” Blanton said.
“Do you think we won’t get the railroad?”
“Frankly, my dear, I do have my doubts.”
“The people who have come to build the railroad, they . . .” Kay halted in midsentence.
“They what?”
“They aren’t very nice people.”
“You have struck the nail right on the head. You’re right. They aren’t very nice people.”
“I read all of your stories about the railroad. You were one of the first to realize it. Mr. Blanton, do you think the railroad people may have had something to do with the fire you had?”
“Oh, I don’t just think, I know,” Blanton replied. “Of course, as I have no proof other than an inherent knowledge of the fact, there’s nothing I can do about it, other than be more careful.”
“Are you saying that you mean be more careful about the articles you write?”
“No, my dear, I have no intention of being more careful with my articles. Nothing will infringe upon the freedom of the press, and I shall exercise that right as granted me by the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.”
Kay smiled. “I am pleased to see that the Fourth Estate is in good hands.”
“Fourth Estate? Miss Kay, you are not only beautiful, you are a most intriguing young woman.”