Chapter Twenty-seven
From the Chugwater Defender:
An Honest Appraisal of the Company Who Would Give Us the Railroad
EDITORIAL COMMENT
by Charles Blanton
My earlier articles calling attention to the misdeeds of the C&FL Railroad company resulted in the loss, by arson, of my newspaper office, printing press, and associated equipment. And though it is my personal belief that the miscreants who pass themselves off as railroad police are the same ones who set fire to my property, I have no proof and thus am unable to make an official charge to that effect. Thus, you may regard my comment as opinion only, not substantiated by indisputable fact.
Despite the penalty I paid for my earlier articles, I will not be dissuaded from continuing to publish the truth as I see it as I am guaranteed the right to do so by the U.S. Constitution.
I have long expressed the opinion that there is something nefarious about this man who says he is Jake Poindexter and especially those who claim to be railroad police. They are not building a railroad. Proof of that is that not one mile of track has been put down. The C&FL are using our desire for a railroad as cover for their misdeeds. It is precisely because of these misdeeds that Messrs. Duff MacCallister and Elmer Gleason, as well as Miss Meagan Parker, have gone to New York to plead our case with Preston Poindexter, the president of the P R and M Corporation. P R and M, Preston Rail and Maritime Corporation owns the Cheyenne and Fort Laramie Railroad, the company who is supposedly laying tracks from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie.
Mr. Gleason is an old acquaintance of Mr. Poindexter, and it is Gleason’s contention that the elder Poindexter is a man of honor and integrity who knows nothing of the chicanery being pulled by the C&FL. This newspaper, and all the residents of the Chugwater Valley, indeed all of the residents who occupy the towns, ranches, and farms between Cheyenne and Fort Laramie hold on to the hope that our little delegation to New York is successful in bringing about a positive resolution to what is going on here.
Collins had just finished reading Blanton’s editorial when the Western Union delivery boy showed up at his office.
“Mr. Poindexter? This is for you, sir.”
Collins took the telegram without comment.
NEGOTIATION WITH PARTIES UNSUCCESSFUL STOP TRAIN CONTINUES TO CHEYENNE WITHOUT ME STOP FURTHER ATTEMPTS IMPOSSIBLE
Collins read the telegram growing angrier with each word. Then, with a growl of frustration, he ripped the little yellow sheet of paper into shreds and dropped it into the trash can. “Damn!” he said aloud.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Poindexter?” the young Western Union boy asked.
“No, get out of here. I don’t need you hanging around!”
“Yes, sir,” the boy said, hurt by the harshness of the response even more than he was by the lack of the customary tip.
“What is it?” Streeter asked after the boy left.
“Dixon failed. MacCallister and the others are still alive and coming back this way. Dixon isn’t even on the train anymore.”
“Do you reckon they might have learned that you ain’t the real Jake Poindexter?”
“I don’t know. But I think it would be very much to our advantage if they don’t make it back to Chugwater.”
“How are we going to manage that? Like you said, Dixon ain’t even on the train no more.”
“You’ve spent some time in Cheyenne, haven’t you, Streeter?”
“Yeah, I’ve spent quite a bit of time in Cheyenne.”
“Do you think you could round up five men who would be capable of stopping MacCallister and the others from returning to Chugwater?”
“Yeah, if I could offer them enough money.”
“I’ll give you seven hundred dollars. That’s one hundred apiece for each of the men you employ, and two hundred for you. You work out the details.”
Streeter smiled. “MacCallister will never make it to Chugwater. ’N if you had sent me instead of Dixon, he wouldn’t have even made it to New York.”
“I have no confidence in your boasting about what you are going to do. Come back and brag about what you have done.”
“Oh, yeah,” Streeter replied. “You can count on that.”
* * *
With the Emma Marie once more attached to a through train, Duff and the others continued their luxurious trip, passing through Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana.
When they reached Chicago, a boy wearing a Western Union cap knocked on the door of the car while the train was stopped. “Are you Mr. Poindexter?” he asked.
“I am.”
“I have a telegram for you.”
“Thank you,” Pete said, handing the boy a quarter.
“Thank you, sir,” the boy replied with a proud smile.
Pete read the telegram, then, with a curious expression on his face, looked toward Duff and the others.
“What is it?” Duff asked.
Pete read the telegram aloud. “‘Information has reached me that casts doubt upon the motives of MacCallister and Gleason. You may be in danger, and as your longtime assistant, I recommend you separate yourself from them at soonest opportunity.’ It’s from Jamison.”
“Do you feel you’re in danger?” Duff asked.
“Yes, after what we have just come through, I do feel that I’m in some danger, but not from you. I wonder where Jamison got his information.”
“A better question to ask would be where are the blackhearts who are attacking us getting their information,” Duff replied.
“Yes,” Pete said. “That is a good question. I may just ask Mr. Jamison that self-same question.”
“Nae,” Duff said, holding out his hand. “’Twould be best nae to raise any suspicion.”
“Then you think I shouldn’t respond to his telegram?”
“I have a suggestion,” Meagan said. “Why don’t you thank him for the warning and say you plan to stay in Chicago for a while?”
“That won’t work,” Elmer said. “If there’s someone spyin’ on us, this here private car o’ his sticks out like a sore thumb ’n they’ll see it when we leave.”
“I hate to say this, because I’ve never been on anything as lovely as this car,” Meagan said. “But if we leave the car here and go the rest of the way as regular passengers, we might be able to sneak Mr. Poindexter into Chugwater before anyone figures out what’s going on.”
“Aye, ’tis a fine point, lass.”
“I’ll send the telegram telling him that I am taking his warning under advisement,” Pete said.
HAVE TAKEN WARNING TO HEART STOP SEPARATED FROM FELLOW TRAVELERS AND REMAIN CHICAGO LOOKING AFTER BUSINESS
A short time later Duff, Meagan, Elmer, and Pete Poindexter were passengers on the Wagner Parlor car as the train continued west.
“There it is,” Meagan said, pointing as they passed the Emma Marie parked on a sidetrack. “Oh, what a lovely ride it was.”
“Yeah, but you was right,” Elmer said. “If we leave the car here, why we’ll more ’n likely be able to sneak back home without nobody knowin’ nothin’ about it.”
Corporate headquarters of P R and M
“Will there be a return telegram, sir?” The Western Union delivery boy asked.
“Yes.” Jamison wrote a message on a piece of paper.
To Jake Poindexter, C&FL Railroad Office, Chugwater, Wyoming. Jake, your father had intended to visit you there but he stopped in Chicago and will not be continuing his trip. MacCallister, Gleason, and Miss Meagan are continuing the trip. New money transfer to follow. NJ
“Have the telegrapher send this. Apply it to our bill.”
Jamison gave the boy a dollar bill.
“Thank you, sir!”
Chugwater
“Gentlemen,” Collins said after he read the latest telegram. “It would appear that we have successfully avoided what could have been a serious problem.”
“What do you mean?” Caldwell asked.
“Apparently Poindexter was coming here with MacCallister, but he has changed his mind.”
“You sent Streeter out to kill MacCallister ’n Gleason. If Poindexter was with ’em, it wouldn’ta been that big a problem. All we woulda had to do is kill Poindexter, too,” Caldwell said.
“No, we couldn’t do that,” Collins said.
“Why not?”
“Have you never heard the term Kill the goose that lays the golden eggs? If we kill Poindexter, our money will be cut off.”
“Oh, yeah,” Caldwell said. “I see what you mean.”
* * *
After a little more investigation, Kay Greenly became convinced that the line shack that she had heard the railroad police talking about a few days ago was the same one Blanton had told her was on what had been part of the Trail Back rangeland. And the more she thought about it, the more curious she became about who was being held there, and why. She knew that the railroad police were also deputy U.S. Marshals, which meant they had the authority to arrest someone and bring them in. Why, if they had found it necessary to arrest someone, was he not in the Chugwater jail?
She asked Marshal Ferrell that question.
“You’re saying that the C and FL railroad police have arrested someone?”
“Apparently they have.”
Ferrell shook his head. “Are you certain? I mean they do have the authority to arrest someone, and if they did, they would more than likely put them in my jail. But they would need a legitimate reason for making the arrest.”
“What would be a legitimate reason?” Kay asked.
“Well, I don’t know for certain. Perhaps it was someone who was sabotaging the construction of the railroad.” Ferrell paused for a moment. “Except that no building is actually going on now. Are you sure you overheard them talking about a prisoner they were holding somewhere?”
“Well, they didn’t actually say he was a prisoner, but I certainly got the impression that he was. All I actually heard them say was that it was someone they were keeping a watch on.” Even as she was explaining the situation to Marshal Ferrell, Kay realized that she may be overreacting.
“Well, that could mean just about anything,” Ferrell said. “It could be one of their own men who they think isn’t earning his pay.”
“Yes, I suppose it could,” Kay admitted.
“Where are they holding this person?”
“I don’t know,” Kay replied, although she had a very good idea where the mysterious person was being held. Figuring she had already made a big enough fool of herself, she didn’t share the information with Ferrell. “I’m sorry I bothered you, Marshal. I really had no business coming to you like this.”
“Now, don’t you worry about that, Miss Greenly. You were right to express your concern. Ninety percent of a lawman’s success comes from information provided by civilians.”