STEWART GROWS
WITH THE JOB
Now that Stewart had a job, he decided to find a room closer to the construction site. He also got the brilliant idea that once he had a more permanent address, he could write home and see if they had heard from Raymond. He was reluctant to write and tell his folks that he lost Raymond and was looking for him.
As soon as lunch break started, he went to the boarding house across from the project. He secured a room that provided three meals a day. He decided to get his things after the shift and be back in time for his first supper at the boarding house. He also remembered seeing a post office and a gun shop when he was riding with Mr. Townsend. He could get the letter written tonight and see if the gun shop offered safe storage as a service.
Stewart had a good supper that night. He thought the pork chops were exceptional. The mashed potatoes were almost as good as Mom’s. He liked the sauerkraut, although that was not his favorite vegetable. It was difficult to find vegetables in the winter or early spring. Back on the farm, Mom canned enough to feed them into the summer with produce from the vegetable garden. Stewart thought the apple pie and coffee were the best. Ma Peterson, as they called her, claimed she served “working Man’s meals.” By the way he felt as he climbed the stairs, he could not argue that it was definitely enough to eat.
Upon returning to his room, he hid the Winchester under his mattress. He thought that was probably the first place somebody would look if they broke into his room. “Well, tomorrow after work, I can get it stored safely.”
He kept rolling over and over in his mind how he wanted to compose the letter. Fortunately, this letter would be to his mom and dad, and not to Raymond’s parents:
Mom and Dad,
I am sorry it took so long to write. I have a long story to tell about how I spent my winter. The short version is that Raymond and I hooked up with another hiker, who was trustworthy enough. I thought it might be some time before I would be able to get back into the mountains, so I took the higher route. Raymond wanted to get through the mountains as quick as possible, so he took the lower route with Daryl.
Before I was very far up the mountain, I found a man who was knocked down by a tree he had chopped. He was pinned under the tree and had a broken leg. I stayed with him and nursed him back to health. He was a fantastic man. You know how I said I wanted to go to school? I feel as though I spent the winter in class with the long discussions we had. His name was Michael Thomas. He gave me a Winchester 45/70 and snuck some money into my backpack when I left.
Unfortunately, I have not been able to reconnect with Raymond. I have posted notices all over Wellspring, close to the trail head where I came out of the mountains. Would you please talk to his parents and see if they have heard from him. I have found a job that should last until next winter.
I am staying at the address I listed, right next to the construction site. Will you try to make it to Wellspring by rail any time this summer? It only takes two days to come around the south end of the San Juan Range by rail. The scenery will not be as majestic as what I saw, but it should be as pleasant ride. Not too costly.
Love,
Stewart read the letter over again and placed it into the envelope that he had obtained from Ma Peterson. He wanted to be careful not to alarm anybody without appearing to be too nonchalant in his attitude. Stewart pulled out the Bible Michael sent with him and read until he was ready to fall asleep. It did not take long with the full day’s work, the walk and the heavy supper before he got up, put out the lamp and climbed back into bed.
Stewart slept in a little longer than usual since he did not have to find a place to eat breakfast or walk to the job site. Stewart was on the site mixing mortar and stacking bricks when the other men started filtering in. He always brightened when he saw Sven. Sven was a large framed Swedish man with a heavy accent. Sven was a fatherly figure with a huge heart.
Stewart asked Sven how many blocks up the street the post office might be and if the gun shop stored guns as a service. Sven got a big grin on his face and said, in his Swedish accent, “Iis Stewart writin’ hist girlfriend?”
Stewart laughed and said, “No, I am finally writing home, now that I have an address where they can write back.”
Sven told Stewart that the post office and gun shop were about five to seven blocks west and about two blocks apart. Stewart figured he would not be able to get everything done during his lunch and be back in time. He would go after work. Maybe Big Jim would let him knock off about a half hour early, if he got everybody supplied with bricks and mortar.
Stewart asked the favor. Big Jim said, “I guess, but don’t make it a habit.”
Stewart worked ahead of the bricklayers so he had more than enough bricks for them to finish the afternoon. He made an extra batch of mortar and covered it in the mud boat so it would not dry too quickly. He asked Sven if he would clean the boat, the mortar boards and the square nose shovel. Sven laughed and said, “You can’t efen finish der verkday vit’ out running off to see dat girl?”
Stewart just laughed and headed for the boarding house. He wanted to get everything worked out and be back for supper. He reached under the mattress and pulled out the Winchester, grabbed the envelope and headed out. He got some weird looks as he walked down the street carrying a Winchester rifle, but he had encountered that the other times he had to move the gun in town. He arrived at the post office, bought a stamp and asked how long the letter would take by rail. The clerk said, “Oh, about a week.”
Stewart walked another block and a half and found the gun shop. While he was waiting for the store owner to finish with another customer, he looked around at the guns and ammo. The smell of gun oil, the leather holsters and the shining precisely machined parts on the guns made Stewart think of Gramps.
Although Gramps was not a gunsmith, people brought their guns to him to fix from miles around. In fact they brought everything they could not figure out themselves. Gramps had taught himself the machine shop, welding, forging, and blacksmithing. Gramps could even pick the guitar in the evenings. Stewart wondered what Gramps could have accomplished if he were born a couple of generations later, in the Industrial Revolution. Well, I guess we are all created for our time. What do we do with it?
“Do you want to sell that?”
“What? Stewart realized the shop owner was talking to him. No sir, but do you offer secure storage of guns for customers?”
“But you’re not a customer.”
“If I buy some ammo and pay for the storage, I am a customer.”
“I guess that is true. Two bucks a month.”
“Done. How often do you want me to check in to pay? “
“Pay the first two months and then check in and pay each month.”
Stewart got a receipt and left, promising to buy ammo when he needed it. As Stewart walked back to the boarding house, he felt relieved to have made the effort to communicate with home and he felt the gun was secure. He also looked for any messages on the sign boards he passed.
As he passed a café, he could see Mr. Townsend talking to three men. Mr. Townsend was facing away from the window so he could not see Stewart. Stewart took a quick glance at the other men and continued toward supper. He thought as he walked. He wondered who those men were, and why Mr. Townsend was talking to them away from the office. One had a suit on and looked more like an attorney than a construction worker.
Stewart wondered if Mr. Townsend was hiring any more workers. From the quick glance, Stewart discerned that the conversation was one between men familiar with each other and not the tense or formal type of conversation in which somebody was seeking employment from the other.
The next day at work Sven said, “Stewart, vee talk sometime today, yah?”
“Sure, we talk all the time during the day.”
“No, I mean in private.”
“Okay, let’s get something to drink after work and talk. It‘s Friday, and I feel like celebrating a little”
At the end of the shift, the men cleaned their tools, picked up their gloves, coats and lunch boxes. Stewart wondered all afternoon why Sven was so secretive. They walked down the block to the saloon, found a semi private booth and ordered something to drink. “Alright, Sven, what do you want to talk about?”
”Stewart, has anybody approached about der union?”
“Nobody has. I guess I would be willing to listen.”
“You don’t vant to talk about der union on der job. Townsend vould fire you at der drop of der hat if efen he thought you ver interested in listnin’. If he thought you ver an infiltrator, or an agitator, he vould haf you beaten and driven off.”
“Oh, that’s crazy. That would be against the law, and what is he so afraid of?”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m no union organizer. I just vant you to be avare of vat ist happening. Der owners und people who haf der vealth are not villing to share der fortune wit dos upon whose shoulders dey built dare vealth. Dey say der unions are Socialistic. Der unions say dey vant safe verking conditions und fair wages. It‘s not about vat ist right and wrong. It’s about total control.”
“But, what about those thugs who are being hired to suppress peoples’ right to free choice?”
“Dey are private detectives hired by der Pinkerton Agency. Dey are all over der Vest in mining towns, construction sites and on der railroads. Some infiltrate, posing as union organizers. If dey sense dat an employee ist sympathetic toward der union, dey might play along and set der person up. Dey haf efen been alleged to organize strikes to shut der union down. Dey act as judge, jury and executioner. None haf been prosecuted, as day haf efen been used by governors and local law enforcement agencies. Dey are abuff der law. Dey consider themselves to be der law. Be careful Stewart, I could efen be von.”
“On that, I remain dubious.”
“Chust be careful, yah!”
By Sven’s expression, Stewart knew he was not kidding around. Sven always tried to make the job easier for the other workers. He attempted to bring humor into every aspect of the job. He was a father figure to younger men, and teased them about girl friends, work habits and appetites. Although he teased Stewart, Stewart never felt like the teasing was a put-down or mean spirited. Although Sven was one of the older men on the job, he was like working with a great big kid. Stewart thought, “Dad would like Sven and he would be happy to know someone was keeping an eye on me.”
On Monday Big Jim approached Stewart. He looked concerned as he pulled Stewart aside to talk to him. “What did you and Sven talk about Friday after work?”
Stewart attempted to show no emotions as he answered. “Nothing. We just stopped and had a drink after work.”
“Just be careful who you listen to. You know there are troublemakers everywhere.”
Stewart was now seething under the surface that his foreman would actually keep track of who visited who after work. “Sven has been nothing but kind to me. He even warned me about unions.”
“You might reconsider mentioning that word on this site.”
“Yes sir!”
As Big Jim finished talking and began to turn around, Stewart noticed some of the other men watching and trying to eavesdrop on the conversation. He could not describe it, but Big Jim’s attitude seemed to abruptly change toward him. Previously, Big Jim had at least feigned an air of friendliness. As Stewart worked the rest of the day, the other men also seemed to distance themselves from Stewart and Sven, almost as if they no longer trusted them. Stewart was amazed how the men had judged and convicted him and Sven without a chance at any defense. Gramps was right when he told Stewart, “Facts are negotiable, perceptions are not.”
Stewart had only been able to trust Big Jim on a limited basis, even prior to this conversation. In other conversations, Big Jim would act respectful to somebody’s face, only to make a comment about the person to Stewart after the person left the immediate area. He even acted respectful toward Mr. Townsend, only to make sly comments about him in his absence.
Stewart even suspected that Big Jim, in an effort to maintain control and dependency from the workers, had spread bad reports about the men to Mr. Townsend. Big Jim was more likely to reward the workers for demonstrating outward respect for him than the amount of work they were able to produce. Big Jim liked to think the workers respected him. They actually feared his devious tactics. When he wasn’t around, they referred to him as “Jumbo.”
Toward the end of the day on Thursday, the men began cleaning their tools. Big Jim called Sven over to talk to him, before Sven had finished. The men left after they cleaned their tools. Stewart hung around until Big Jim left the site. “Would you like some help?”
“You run along, boy. I am almost done. You don’t vant to keep dat girl vaitin.’”
Stewart went directly to his room, poured some water in the basin and began to wash his face and hands. As he was drying his hands, standing back away from the window, he could see Sven arguing with two men. They were inside the building, almost obscure from sight. They would not have been seen from the ground, but were visible from Stewart’s vantage point. The encroaching darkness almost hid them in the shadows.
As one man talked face to face to Sven, the other had sidled around behind him. Stewart looked more closely as that man picked up a wooden plank and swung it, hitting Sven on the head and knocking him to his knees. The two men ran so quickly that Stewart did not have time to do anything but watch. He clearly saw their faces as they neared the street. He saw them as they stopped running and began walking rapidly down the street.
Stewart ran down the steps. Ma Peterson had dozed in her chair since Stewart came in from work and greeted her. He shouted to wake her and to tell her to find help and send somebody to the police. Stewart ran over to assist Sven. He found Sven alive, but unconscious, bleeding pretty badly from the head wound. As Stewart attempted to comfort Sven and support his head, a police officer came upon the scene. Stewart thought that was awfully quick, but he was thankful he arrived so quickly.
“Alright, put him down and step away.”
“Officer, I didn’t do this.”
“I am sure you didn’t.”
About this time some men from the boarding house came and made a make-shift stretcher. They carried Sven to a bed on the ground floor in the boarding house. Another man had gone to retrieve the doctor. As the men were taking care of Sven, the police officer placed Stewart in hand cuffs and led him away. “I can explain!”
“I am sure you can. Save it for the judge.”
Stewart knew he should not attempt to tell anybody what happened until he had an attorney or someone he felt he could trust. The officer took Stewart to the nearest jail, got him checked in and told the men he was off duty now, and he would see them tomorrow. Stewart later learned the officer’s name was, Kevin Nelson.
The jail was a small building with four small cells - about eight feet by six feet iron cages. Stewart was beside himself. He was worried about Sven and he knew this whole situation could go very badly for him. After about two hours, Ma Peterson came to the jail. She told Stewart the doctor had examined Sven and tonight would be very difficult, but if he survived until morning, he would probably live. She also told Stewart that she had a nephew who was an attorney. She had sent word to him to meet with Stewart in the morning, as he would have to stay overnight. She also brought him his Bible and the jailer approved of letting him have it to read.
Stewart was reading Proverbs: “Anyone who rebukes a mocker will get insults in return. Anyone who corrects the wicked will get hurt. So don’t bother correcting mockers; they will only hate you. But correct the wise and they will love you.”
Stewart was thinking how he had never really met anybody he would consider wicked. He also wondered how mockers behaved. About midnight Stewart heard a commotion in the outer office of the jail. Two other police officers brought in two men, who were charged with being drunk and disorderly at a saloon. Stewart was still reading. As he looked up, he recognized the men. He did not know if they had ever seen him or would recognize him. He tried to keep his face turned away from them as much as possible as they were placed in two of the other cells on the other side of the room.
“Hey Julius, look we have a Bible scholar. They only read that thing when they get themselves into trouble.”
Without looking up or turning his face toward the men, Stewart asked, “Don’t you believe in the Bible?”
“It’s for suckers. It’s a bunch of fables used to make people feel guilty and to control us.”
Stewart did not want to engage in too much conversation, but he could not resist asking a few questions. He wanted to see if he could discover anything about the motives of these two men. “Actually I read it every day.”
“If you’re so good, why’re you in here?”
“I didn’t say I was good. But I can be forgiven. How about you?” Stewart asked the other man, “Do you believe this is just fables or do you believe in God?”
“What difference does it make? There’s no hope for any of us.”
Stewart said, “There is hope, but we have to believe.”
“Oh great! We got locked-up with a preacher.”
The officer opened the door, shut off the light and said, “Alright you guys, shut-up and get to sleep.”
Stewart spent the night praying for Sven to recover.
The next morning, Ma Peterson came with her nephew, James Peterson.
He informed Stewart that it looked like Sven was going to make it, although he was still unconscious. They were going to wait until Saturday morning to see if he would be stable enough to be moved to the hospital. “We have some other good news. Since there was no murder, and they can only charge you with attempted murder or assault and battery, a bail hearing is set for nine A.M.”
The jailer came in and handcuffed Stewart. They escorted him to the barred police wagon to take him to the court house. James said, “I will drop Aunt Irene at home and meet you at the court house.”
Stewart made bail and was given the date of the hearing. Bail was set at two hundred and fifty dollars, so he paid twenty-five. He asked James when they could talk, and they set aside a time for Saturday morning. Stewart went to work, but was told that until he got cleared, they would not allow him on the job site. Fighting with another employee was strictly forbidden by Townsend.
Stewart looked in on Sven. He wondered how anybody could provoke such a decent person and injure or attempt to kill him. As Stewart was thinking about the turn of events he decided to do some detective work of his own. He knew he had seen Sven‘s attackers, prior to the evening of the attack. He was trying to think why they looked familiar to him when he saw them fleeing the scene. As he walked past the café where he had seen Mr. Townsend, he realized they were the two men talking to Mr. Townsend. “Who was the fourth man?”
Stewart went to the saloon where the men had been arrested. It was only a half block from the construction site. They apparently did not feel the need to run very far. They probably got drunk to drown their guilt, if they had any conscience. Stewart asked the bartender if he knew the men. He knew their names, but not much else. Stewart took the names, August and Julius Knapp.
