The Trainmasters Page 21

  When the train finally arrived in Tyrone on Wednesday morning, Collins found the town all atwitter with the news that a few of the men caught in the tunnel disaster up at Gallitzin had survived. Two of these men had miraculously made what was already becoming in the telling an epic journey through the caves inside the mountain. They had actually met their rescuers at the cave’s entrance.

  There were no details about any of these men. No one in Tyrone even knew their identities.

  But this news seemed to inspire the group around Kitty Lancaster to even greater haste. And so they were all hurried aboard their coach connection to Gallitzin as soon as the train had come to a halt. They expected to arrive at the tunnel by noon.

  All in all, Tom Collins was most pleased with himself and the way things were going. The tunnel cave-in—even though he had not had a hand in it—couldn’t have worked out better for his purposes if he had planned it himself. And now he was journeying to the tunnel site with a company of people he was convinced he could put to good use in the weeks and months to come.

  During the course of Tom Collins’s training for the priesthood, he had been taught to avoid expressions of joy and gaiety. But as the coach lurched and jounced up the rocky road to Gallitzin, a huge grin—half-silly, half-seraphic— spread over his face.

  He was an icon of heavenly delight and satisfaction. No kid was happier after his first secret and illicit taste of tobacco smoke behind the hedge. No boy of sixteen was more rapturous when he first touched his tongue to an adolescent girl’s tan and trembling nipple.

  William Patterson, like Edgar Thomson, was rushing toward Philadelphia on that Wednesday morning. He had set out from New York City on the six o’clock ferry to Jersey City, and from there he had embarked on the southbound train.

  As he sat back in his seat and watched the countryside speed by, Patterson looked like an ideal picture of delight and accomplishment. After several hours of hard bargaining the evening before, he had achieved his goals in a deal with Daniel Drew and Cornelius Vanderbilt.

  The beauty of it all for William Patterson was that he had obtained rather more from Drew and Vanderbilt than they thought they were giving, and they had obtained rather less from him than they thought they were receiving. Patterson had issued to himself a block of five thousand shares of Pennsylvania stock with a par value of $50. He then used half of the block to secure a note in the amount of $100,000 with Cornelius Vanderbilt. And the other half secured a note of the same amount with Daniel Drew. Both men, in addition, had agreed to subscribe to $1,000,000 apiece of the bond issue that the board of directors would authorize at the Wednesday meeting. They would purchase the $930,000 they had each agreed to acquire in ten equal installments.

  With these two men thus participating, Patterson was confident that the railroad would have no difficulty selling the balance of the six-million-dollar bond issue. Thus his future as president of the Pennsylvania Railroad was now assured.

  At this moment he carried in his bag two bank draughts from each man in the amounts of $100,000 and $93,000, for a total of $386,000.

  Of this, $186,000 belonged technically to the railroad, but the railroad was not going to see that money immediately, for Patterson had other more pressing uses for it. The block of five thousand shares that he had issued to himself in order to secure the loans with Drew and Vanderbilt was not actually his to issue.

  But these were both problems for another day.

  His immediate concern was a mine near Angels Camp, California, of which he was half owner. Without $350,000 to reimburse creditors and to pay for new equipment and labor, the mine would close down. But with it, the gold seam the mine lay on top of could be profitably exploited; and the mine would soon return for William Patterson at least ten times the $386,000 he was “borrowing” now to keep it in operation. The additional $36,000 was for expenses and contingencies.

  This $386,000 was not a bad day’s work, he thought to himself as he savored a cigar and observed the New Jersey fields and pastures the train raced by at a fabulous fourteen miles per hour. And so it was with delighted anticipation that he contemplated the triumph over Edgar Thomson that he would soon reap.

  If he was apprehensive about his prospects beyond the immediate future, he did not betray it either then or later that afternoon when he watched Thomson’s humiliation before the board.

  It was not long after the coach from Tyrone arrived that John Carlysle learned who had arrived on it. He quickly walked up to the camp groggery, where the passengers had been deposited.

  That he did not expect these people—his three sons, Kitty Lancaster, and the wife, daughter and sister of Egan O’Rahilly—to arrive at this time in this place was an understatement. He was utterly astonished to find them at Gallitzin.

  But it turned out that their astonishment on hearing the news from the camp was even greater than his in finding them there.

  Egan O’Rahilly alive and well! After surviving the cave-in, he and a friend had embarked on an incredible underground odyssey! That John Carlysle had actually met Egan at the mouth of the caves seemed equally incredulous. And since Egan had led John and three other men back through the caves so that they could bring out those men who still remained appeared to them to be yet another miracle. It was incredible! Simply incredible!

  Kitty herself was thoroughly struck dumb when she first heard John’s story, while the O’Rahillys were all in tears. As the story proceeded, Kitty was moved to join them, but she held back that impulse, for she felt it was right for the O’Rahillys to experience their moment of elation and release unencumbered by her presence. Before long, however, she found that her body could no longer resist the deeper motions of her soul, and she, too, burst into tears.

  In the midst of the joyful weeping, Deirdre O’Rahilly asked John if she could go to her husband’s side. John told her that he would be glad to take her shortly, as soon as he could free himself from the other people who had just arrived. John explained that Egan was asleep and had been so for hours. The doctor who had treated his wounds had forbidden visitors until the following morning at the earliest. But John told her that he would be able to take her in to see Egan much sooner than that. He knew how much she longed to be reunited with her husband.

  Deirdre nodded her understanding, and then she began weeping once more.

  With a mask of stoic patience, John waited for the tears to subside. But beneath his patience he was in turmoil. The weeping itself did not disturb him; he could appreciate the emotions that gave rise to it. But he was able to be only partially attentive to the women as they cried. He was too worried about what he was going to do about them.

  Taking care of women and children was the last thing John wanted in this rough, comfortless camp. Where would they sleep? How could he assure them privacy? How could he protect them?

  Yet, as he waited he remained calm. He did not let himself become angry toward any of those who were now thrust upon him—even toward Kitty Lancaster, who was clearly the group’s leader. He wanted to hear their story before he made a judgment.

  And in truth, he was glad to see his sons. For he had come to miss them since the camp had calmed down after the excitement of the discovery of the caves and of his successful expedition through them. He wanted his boys to share with him his joy and triumph.

  He was even glad to see Graham, even though it was evident that Graham had been in serious trouble back in Philadelphia. That was, indeed, the proximate cause of the presence of the women and children.

  The gunshot wound Graham had suffered looked to be clean; it was not suppurating, and it would probably heal soon.

  John was greatly interested in the beautiful young woman who had chosen to accompany Graham and nurse him. He was especially interested in her after he learned that she was Egan O’Rahilly’s sister. That passionate and sensitive young man had fascinated John Carlysle from the first moment John met him in the caves, even though O’Rahilly had not once yielded in his hostility to John.
John was British, and in Egan O’Rahilly’s mind there could be nothing but hatred for him.

  John was especially glad to see Kitty. Her presence pleased and warmed him. Although she had come on what appeared to be a thoughtless impulse, John admired her ability to take control of a situation and make decisions.

  At first John hadn’t particularly noticed the older man who was accompanying them. He seemed to be just another Irish railroad worker. But Kitty made a point of introducing Tom Collins to John and to explain that he had been kind and helpful on the long and arduous journey to Gallitzin. That information did not rate more than a polite nod from John. But when the man turned out to be the labor contractor with whom he would be dealing most often during the construction, John took notice. He would be dealing with this man; he better get to know him.

  What he saw, he decided, he didn’t much like. But he ignored his assessment for the moment. He had other, more pressing, concerns.

  After the initial greetings and exchange of information, John suggested that the entire present company, including Collins, try to rest and refresh themselves as much as possible in the filthy groggery, since there was no other place nearby that was more suitable. After they had relaxed a little, everyone could be brought completely up to date.

  So they all retired into the building.

  There was little light within the groggery, only what filtered through the unglazed, shuttered windows and the open doorway. But the group found places to sit and made themselves as comfortable as they could in the chill and gloom. Before long they had begun to relate their stories in full:

  First, Kitty, Graham, and Teresa O’Rahilly told John about the clash with the Kean brothers that led to Graham’s wound and Ben’s death.

  Once he’d heard the whole of that exciting, sordid tale, John understood Kitty’s reasons for bringing Graham and Teresa to Gallitzin. He realized that she had been right in doing that. And it was of course most compassionate of her to offer to take O’Rahilly’s wife and daughter along with the others.

  Kitty Lancaster was quite a lady! John thought to himself.

  After Kitty and the others finished with their stories, John recounted his. As was his manner, John’s tale was painstakingly, relentlessly thorough and complete. Perfectionism had made John a success in his profession though it could be an annoying habit to his family and friends on occasion. Yet everyone listened intently to John’s detailed account of the tunnel rescue. No one paid more rapt attention to the entire tale than Kitty. She was fascinated with every aspect of the disaster and John’s discovery. But at only two points in its telling did she betray an emotion other than interest and concern. At the first mention of Francis Stockton’s name, Kitty gave a start and subtly clasped her hands together. And then again, when John was speaking about Stockton’s part in the ascent of the rapids, she shuddered ever so slightly. Both times, however, she quickly controlled herself. She was sure, each time, that John had not noticed her.

  John, in fact, did notice. But he said nothing.

  Not long after all the stories had been told—even Alex and David recounted their breathtaking train ride—and all the questions had been asked and answered, Francis Stockton himself arrived in the groggery, along with Egan O’Rahilly, who was staggering, bleary-eyed, and hardly able to support himself unaided. But he walked directly across the floor toward his wife completely on his own When he first appeared Deirdre simply stared at him. She could hardly believe what she saw, for Egan seemed hardly more substantial than a ghost. But by the time he was actually halfway to her, Deirdre herself was on her feet, and she was crying out again and again with joy, “Egan!… Egan! … Egan! Oh, my Jesus! My love! You’re here!”

  And then they were in one another’s arms. And so, too, was Peg. The three of them held each other so closely and so powerfully one wondered whether or not they could be separated.

  While this was going on, Francis Stockton had made his way across the room to the place where Kitty Lancaster was sitting.

  When he was standing beside her, he spoke to her in a low voice. But John Carlysle, who was sitting on the other side of Kitty, could nonetheless hear them. Though very little was said, John would think rather frequently about this exchange during the following days and weeks.

  “Hello, Kitty,” Stockton said.

  “Hello, Francis,” she replied. Her face did not tilt to look at him. She stared fixedly in front of her, apparently seeing nothing.

  “I heard you had arrived. And I was, of course, surprised,” he said.

  “I should think you would be,” she said.

  He smiled at that, a smile that was intended to show superiority and indifference. But it resembled instead a rictus of longing.

  “I hope you are well, Kitty,” he said.

  “I’m very well, thank you, Francis. And you?”

  “Glorious,” he said, with some of his habitual sarcasm back in his voice. “I just couldn’t be better.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” she said. She took a deep breath, and resolutely rose. “I think I’ll go outside for some fresh air.” Once she was on her feet, she offered her hand to John. “Would you care to join me?” she asked. “Excuse me, Francis,” she added, without turning to look back at him.

  Meanwhile, John took her hand, and together they walked out of the groggery. The hand was like iron. And more than once after they were outside she leaned against him. Each time he very gently held her, and then, like the proper gentleman that he was, he stepped away from her.

  Once they were far from the groggery, the two of them wordlessly gazed up at the road that led from the camp over the ridge and down to the western end of the tunnel. In silence they set out upon it toward the top of the ridge.

  Back inside the groggery, Egan O’Rahilly for the first time noticed that his sister was in the room, though Deirdre had reminded him a number of times that Teresa was here with her. In fact, Egan had not at first recognized her since he had not seen her in months. The battle he had had with her over the life she chose to lead had closed his mind to her. He had never wanted to see her again; he did not want to be related to that kind of woman. Yet the woman he saw today was a woman greatly transformed from the raw, young girl he had last seen. Teresa was now a very impressive woman indeed.

  When she became aware that her brother was staring at her, Teresa left Graham, who was half-asleep, crossed over to Egan, and greeted him.

  “Hello, Egan,” she said. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Teresa,” he said coolly, inclining his head.

  She was on the point of moving to embrace him, but when she saw that he would never accept that, she stopped herself.

  “You’re looking well, Egan, considering what you’ve been through.”

  “I could, but won’t, say the same for you,” he said.

  She laughed. It was either that or anger. Egan could simply never give in, or give up.

  But then, she was his sister. And that meant that she could no more give up on him than he could accept her.

  She moved closer to him, close enough to touch him lightly on the shoulder. He flinched, wincing as though her fingers were on fire.

  “Can we sit down together and talk for a while, Egan?” she asked, her hand still lightly, but determinedly, on his shoulder. “I came hundreds of miles to be with you.”

  “I wish that you had stayed in Philadelphia, Teresa,” he said. “I don’t want you here.”

  “Egan, you are a stubborn man,” Deirdre said. She had been hovering behind Egan, but now she decided to make her presence felt.

  “My sister has made choices that I can’t accept,” he said. “I don’t want to be with her.”

  “Egan.” It was Francis Stockton speaking now. The two men had struck up a friendship during their adventures. In the short time they had known one another, Stockton had gotten to know Egan fairly well. And of course, it was not only as a friend that Stockton was speaking, it was also, and more importantly, as a man.
When Stockton addressed him, his voice was imperative, commanding. “Egan O’Rahilly, climb down off of your white charger and calm down. She’s your sister, man, and she came to be with you when she heard you were in trouble. Can’t you receive her now that you’re alive and safe? After all, she expected to be praying over your grave.”

  Egan, feeling a bit deflated, nodded, first toward Francis, and then to Teresa. But he still could not bring himself to speak to her.

  “Sit down, both of you,” Francis said, continuing with the commanding tones he had learned at West Point. “No, not across from one another,” he went on when he saw where they intended to place themselves, “next to one another. Side by side, like brother and sister.”

  Reluctantly, Egan accepted Teresa beside him. He had been sitting near the center of a long wooden bench. He moved over to allow her to sit, although he did not look at all comfortable when she sat next to him. He was like a boy at his first dancing class.

  “There. Good. Well done,” Francis said. “A fine example of family love and loyalty.” He looked at Teresa. “And now you can place your hand across his.” She lifted her hand but stopped, waiting for Egan to allow it. “No, don’t stop,” Francis said. “Go ahead. Gently. Easily. That’s right—not like a lover, like a sister.” When Teresa’s hand was safely on Egan’s, and he had not pulled his hand away, Francis smiled. “There, that wasn’t painful, was it?”

  They stayed that way for a time, and then Teresa spoke.

  “Egan?”

  “Yes, Teresa.” He sighed.

  “I want you to meet someone.”

  “All right.”

  “Graham?” she called. “I’d like you to meet my brother Egan O’Rahilly.”

  After a few seconds, Graham opened his eyes, rose, and walked over. Egan stood up and offered his hand.