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SMALL FLATS – WILLIAMSON Railway Line
Poring over his map, John Williamson looked up on hearing the latest explosion. Wondering how his men were getting on and if they'd made any progress on the hillside they were cutting through, he thought he'd sit it out. They didn't need him adding to the look of defeat he'd seen on their faces. Looking at the picture frame he kept on his desk, John looked at his late father and grumbled to it. "You'd think you'd put in a good word for me up there. —Especially as it was your idea to put this thing through this place." Seeing his father looked back at him with a smile, John grunted. "So, that's all the help you're going to give me? —Thanks a bunch."
Shaking his head and trying to stay positive, he returned to the map and ran his finger along the path he'd marked out on it. Going through the middle of the Kearney homestead, he stopped at the Henley farm boundary and remembered what his agent had said, 'She won't sell us an acre. Best price I could offer her and she still turned it down.' Knowing the limited progress his men were making, John knew it was looking more likely that he'd have to drop by there with his hat in hand and ask for a path through her land. If she refused, he didn't know what he'd do next.
Pushing back his chair and knowing a change of scenery would help him to think better, John got up from behind his table and went to the opening of his tent. Taking out a cigar, he bit the end of it and spat it away. Placing the cigar in his mouth, John took a match from his pocket and struck it off a nearby rock. Holding it to the end of his cigar and happy that he'd got it to light, he took a deep drag and blew the match out. Tossing it away, he turned on hearing a crunch of gravel nearby.
"You got another one of those?"
John looked to see his foreman coming his way. Patting his chest and finding himself down to his last two, he took one out and handed it to him. "Enjoy it, Peter it's the last one. —So, any luck?"
"A little, but nothing like we made a week ago." Peter shook his head and put the cigar to his lips. Biting off the end, he put it back in his mouth and accepted a fresh match. "I swear those Kearney's must have been laughing at how much we paid them. It's no wonder they didn't put up much of a fight and accepted your second offer. I swear I don't know they could make rocks as tough as that. It's like the good Lord himself put it in our way to test us."
John nodded and took another long drag from his cigar. Looking at his feet for a moment, he looked up and asked, "And the men?"
"Had a few complaints that we're falling behind and that they're going to lose out on their bonuses, but what can they do. It's not as if it's in our hands, right?"
John nodded. He had a fair idea of the men his foreman was talking about. Far from home and leaving families behind them, he knew how much their bonuses meant to them. He also knew that he couldn't afford to have them grumbling to others and bring down the whole motivation of the team.
"Tell them that the last two days won't count. I know my father's partner won't approve, but it might help get them back on side-"
"You're sure about this? I mean-"
"It's OK, we'll probably make it up in the next week or so. This land can't be like this all the way through the state."
"Well, if you're sure-"
"I am, but tell them that it's a once off. There won't be any more free days. Whatever comes up next, we'll just have to knuckle down and work our...." Rocked by a large explosion, John dropped to his knees and covered his head on instinct. Hit by a light shower of soil and gravel, he looked to the man beside him to see if he was OK. Happy that neither of them was hurt, John stood and looked back in the direction of the explosion. Surprised that it hadn't come from the direction of their work, he watched the wood and splinters of their TNT carriage falling back toward the ground. Not knowing if any of his men had been working nearby, John took off running in its direction.
*****
REACHING THE CARRIAGE, John slowed his run and knew there was little he could do to undo the destruction he found himself looking at. Knowing that anyone who might have been working in the carriage was long gone, he turned to his foreman.
"Tell me you hadn't got anyone..." John started and read the man's face. "Who?"
"The young guy that we picked up last week—you know the one, the blond-haired fella."
John shook his head, remembering the youngster he'd hired and the enthusiasm he'd shown for the work. "You're sure?"
Peter nodded. "Just before I decided to come see you, I sent him to go and get a case of dynamite—I swear I don't know what could have happened."
Looking at the flames that rose from what was left of the carriage, John kept his distance. He doubted anything would have survived, but he didn't want to take any risks and get taken out by a leftover case of TNT. Shaking his head, he turned and found his men running toward the scene. Seeing the shocked look on their faces and knowing they weren't going to get anything more done this day, he turned to his foreman.
"I want you to get to the bottom of this, Peter. That dynamite didn't go off for no good reason..."
"But-"
"Somebody knows something here, Peter. I doubt that kid was stupid enough to walk in there with a lit match, do you?"
"Well, no-"
"Neither do I. Get to the bottom of it and see me when you know more." Leaving it at that, John pushed his way through the throng that stood watching the flames and made his way to his tent.
*****
PULLING BACK HIS CHAIR, John took his seat once more and pulled open the top drawer of his desk. Pushing the paperwork inside it to one side, he reached in the back and took out the bottle of whiskey he kept there. Lifting the bottle out and looking over it, he thought over whether to have a drink from it or not. Deciding to toast the young man who'd lost his life, John took a tumbler from another drawer and filled it. Tightening the top and putting the bottle away, he looked at the picture of his father.
"Well, still think I'm doing a good job?"
Knowing the young man didn't even know what had happened to him, didn't give John much peace. He'd lost a man on his team and he was responsible for it. He mightn't have been directly responsible, but he was going to make sure a tragedy like this wasn't going to happen again. Taking a long drink from his glass, he felt a tinge of guilt thinking over how this accident would set them back. Now with no dynamite, except for the small amount at the rock face, he began calculating how many days this tragedy would put them further behind. Opening the map, he'd been looking at earlier, John wondered if the land on the Henley farm was any better than the Kearney's. Lost in thought of what he could reasonably offer and still keep to their budget, John looked up on hearing his name called. Seeing his foreman stand at the opening of his tent, John waved to him in. Taking a long drink from his glass, he knew he was going to need it.
"That was quick," John said as he watched the man close the flap of the tent behind him. Gesturing to a seat opposite him, John watched the man sit down and added. "I didn't expect you to get to the bottom of it that quickly-"
"It was wet TNT," Peter interrupted.
"Seriously, but how? That carriage wasn't leaking?"
"It wasn't the carriage," the foreman interrupted. "It was three cases that were put on it last night."
John listened to the man's explanation and found himself with even more questions. "You're kidding me, right?"
"I wish I was." Peter shook his head. "It seems the kid forgot to take them out of the rain yesterday and put them back on the carriage-"
"But why, he wasn't on demolition duty, was he?" John asked.
"No, John. That's another thing you're not going to like to hear."
*****
STANDING IN FRONT OF the men in his tent, John paced up and down and fought against the anger that threatened to explode from him. "So, you two took it on yourself-"
"John-"
John stood in front of the man and stared at him. "You can explain this? That's great, maybe I can pass the story on to his family-"
"We didn't-"
"What? Think?" John asked, turning to the other who'd just opened his mouth. "Because I can see that that was far from what you were doing. Getting a kid to do your work while the two of you—go on, enlighten me?"
"We were just trying to make her change her mind. That's all-"
"By what? Frightening her?"
"It was only a few cattle. Just so she'd see sense..."
Looking for something to take his frustration out on, John took the tumbler in his hand and launched it at the back wall of the tent.
"Sense!" You know how much your little adventure has cost us." John pointed off to the distance. "Not only have you put us days behind schedule, you've also tarnished the good name of my father's company. And that's not the worst part, you're also to blame for that death today-"
"How were we to know he'd got the cases wet?" one of the men answered. "I mean, all he had to do was put them away..."
Closing his eyes, John knew he'd never get through to them. "So you let a kid, one who had no experience with dynamite, and you think he should have known how to take care of it?"
"But, John-"
"What?" John demanded. "You left something out? Something that can make this alright?"
Walking up to the man, John shook his head in disgust. "Get out of my sight, both of you." Seeing one of them on the verge of opening his mouth, John held up his hand for silence. "And if I even get a sniff of either of you around here, I swear I'll not be responsible for what I do next. —Now get out of my sight before I call the law on both of you."
Ignoring the pair, John turned his back on them and walked back to his table. Searching for another tumbler, he found one and filled it. Knocking back a mouthful of whiskey and feeling it burn toward his stomach, he took a deep breath and tried to let his temper dissolve. Finding a little numbing relief from his drink, he topped off his glass and pulled out his chair. Sitting in it and putting his feet on his desk, he watched the door of his tent open and Peter come in.
"They're gone. —Although not happy about it as you'd expect-"
"They're not happy! My God, what the hell was going through their minds? —Poisoning cattle? I swear I still can't get my head around it."
"You mind if I..."
John pushed the whiskey bottle across the table. "You have to take it from the bottle," he said, pointing to the broken glass on the ground. Watching his foreman take a swig and wipe his face with the back of his sleeve, he added. "You'll need to send a telegram to his folks and let them know. I'll put his wages together and add some money to it. It's the least we could do in this situation."
"And the Henley woman?"
"That's not going to be as easy. I can pay for the cattle that she lost, but once word of this gets out, I doubt anyone else is going to sell as much as a blade of grass to us." John stared at the amber liquid in his glass. “Things were going from bad to worse.”