The Trainmasters Read online

  “Yes?” Collins said, still wary and careful.

  “I treat machinery and equipment this way. But I treat myself the same way as well. When there’s something wrong in me, I fix it. And if that doesn’t work, 1 replace it. Efficiently. Without sadness. Without regret. It’s easier than holding to a faulty mechanism—or a faulty policy. Does that make sense to you, Collins?”

  “I’ve never thought otherwise of you, Mr. Carlysle,” Collins replied with hooded eyes.

  “I have to make my position on such things very clear to you in advance,” John continued, still sounding innocent and earnest, “because I am about to tell you something that will surprise you.”

  “Not much surprises me,” Collins said.

  “I’m sure,” John said.

  Collins waited expectantly, and John very discreetly sucked in his lower lip and then chewed nervously on it. When he was sure that Collins had noticed that, he moved on. “After our last meeting, I gave considerable thought— most considerable thought—to the substance of our discussion. I tried to do my thinking dispassionately. I tried, in other words, to ignore the anger that had so unfortunately colored the conversation.”

  Collins nodded. “Good. Very good.” And then he smiled. He was beginning to taste the wind that was blowing in his direction the way a farmer tastes the coming of rain.

  “I also consulted by telegraph with my superiors in Philadelphia. And I now know their thoughts on the matter as well.”

  “Their thoughts on what matter?” Collins asked softly.

  “On the matter of…” John paused, as though embarrassed to articulate this thought. “On the matter,” he repeated, “of the proper approach to the handling of your contract workers.”

  “And what,” Collins asked, with a scarcely perceptible catch in his voice, “might that proper approach be?”

  “They think you have been right all along, Mr. Collins.” John then let out a long breath. “And I have come to think that, too.”

  “You mean about the work rules?” He turned to face him. “And the dismissals?”

  “Yes, all of that,” John said slowly.

  “Hmmm,” Collins said. And then he straightened up in his chair. He had the look then of an inquisitor who has made a heretic recant without having had to use the rack or the stake. “Well then,” he said, “I’m pleased. And I won’t say I’m not.”

  “I was sure you would be,” John said.

  Then Collins looked a little troubled, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he had heard. “So the railroad’s totally behind me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And you’re with me, too?”

  “All the way.”

  “Does that mean you’ll be by my side tomorrow, when I speak to the men?”

  “Would you like me there?”

  Collins beamed. “I’d be much honored by your presence.”

  “Then I’ll be there.” As he said that, John rose and indicated to Collins and Henneberry that the meeting was over.

  “So I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” John said, once the other two men were standing.

  Collins smiled. “And I’ll be pleased to see you,” he said, extending his hand. “So we’ll shake now … in friendship?”

  John reached over and shook the man’s hand. “Good-bye, Mr. Collins,” he said. “Good-bye, Henneberry.”

  The two men then descended the stairs. As soon as they were out of John’s earshot, they broke into animated conversation. He didn’t strain to listen. He knew what they were talking about.

  Next, he thought, I’ve got to talk to Egan O’Rahilly, Francis Stockton, and my son. And that conversation is going to be even more difficult than this one has been.

  Later that same Saturday afternoon, John Carlysle went looking for Teresa O’Rahilly. Saturday afternoon was Teresa’s usual time off from her duties with the children, and that is when she took care of her laundry, sewing, and other personal necessities. Or else she spent the time with Deirdre O’Rahilly or some of the other women who were living in the camp.

  John had a difficult time locating Teresa, for she was neither doing her errands nor visiting with friends. Neither did anyone else know where to find Teresa.

  As he walked through the little village that had grown up around the camp, many of the men avoided him, gave him a wide berth, and muttered curses when he passed. John Carlysle and Tom Collins had become closely identified in their minds, not only because both men were bosses, but also because it was by now known that John had reversed himself and was now backing Collins. It hadn’t taken long for that word to get around. That actually pleased John, for it meant that Collins and Henneberry had worked fast.

  The men were turning ever more ugly, irritable, and restless.

  John realized that it would not take much to push them to rebel. But they would not take that step without someone to ignite them. And that was the reason John wanted to see Teresa. His inability to find her was now frustrating him.

  At last, having exhausted all other possibilities, John tried the local groggery, which was not a place that Teresa frequented, but, to his astonishment, that is where he found her.

  She was sitting at a rough-hewn table that was wedged in a comer. To her right was John’s son Graham; and to her left, facing Graham, was Francis Stockton. The two young men were playing a game of cards that John could not recognize. The two played quickly and effortlessly, flicking discarded cards onto the table smoothly and easily.

  Francis was elegant and erect, even when relaxed in his chair, while Graham was handsome and effervescent. His earlier troubles had not made him lose his desire for games of skill and chance.

  Graham, whose chair was facing the door, was the first to see his father enter the groggery. When he recognized who it was, his face twisted into a parody of revulsion.

  “You’ve seen a ghost?” Stockton asked with half a smile. Then he twisted around to see who had caused Graham’s reaction. The smile grew wider when he recognized John. “Worse than a ghost,” he said, “a father.”

  “Worse than a father,” Graham said. “The most hated man in Gallitzin… after Tom Collins.”

  In fact, Graham was glad to see his father. He welcomed the chance to find out the truth behind all the rumors he had heard in the camp.

  As John approached the table where the three were sitting, the other men standing nearby moved out of his way with hostile reluctance. Their anger was palpable; they saw him as one of those responsible for their recent distress.

  John affected to ignore them, but to anyone who knew him, his seeming indifference only masked his frustration and anger. He liked being here no more than the men in the room liked having him.

  “Afternoon, Teresa,” John said, greeting the woman first. “Francis. Graham.” His voice was cold and brusque. And there was an unusually abrupt snap to his movements.

  Teresa rose to her feet, but the two men remained seated, intent on their cards. When he finished his play, however, Stockton glanced up from his hand and gave John a brief but polite nod.

  Graham, however, finally taking notice of his father, pretended not to know him. “I’m not acquainted with that man. Who is he?” he asked Francis.

  “That man behind you?” Francis asked. “The one who looks like your father?”

  “Yes. That one. I don’t know him. And I don’t want to know him—not after hearing all the rumors about him.” At first, Graham glanced sideways, teasingly and slyly, at his father. But as he continued, his expression changed to worry and concern.

  “I’m a good man not to know,” John said, seriously.

  “I’ve heard that you and Tom Collins have made a treaty,” Graham said.

  John didn’t answer him for a long time. He couldn’t. He didn’t know what to risk saying in this place.

  Finally he said, “Whatever you’ve heard isn’t true.”

  “That’s more than a little provocative,” Francis said. “I’d be kind of inter
ested in hearing what is true.”

  “I can’t tell you that yet, Francis. I’m sorry.”

  “Why not?” Graham asked.

  “I can’t tell you that, either,” John said.

  “Even though it might help us understand why the men out there,” he indicated with a nod to the others in the groggery, “want to cut you into small pieces?”

  “Even though they want to kill me,” John said. “Like I said, I’m not a good man to know right now. In fact, now that I think of it, it’s better for you not to be seen with me.”

  Francis let out a huge gust of laughter when he heard that.

  “What’s that about?” John said, perplexed.

  “I didn’t realize it earlier,” Francis said, “but you have now become a member of my club. Welcome to the cheerful fellowship of men who are not good to know.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, boy,” John said, suppressing a smile. “You haven’t yet been sent into exile. And I for one am delighted to know you. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

  “Without me you might be much better off,” Francis said wryly, suddenly reminded of Kitty Lancaster.

  “How so?”

  “There are two ways to take your statement—logically,” Francis said. His voice was playful, but there was a darker edge to it, too. “You say you don’t know where you’d be without me. This means that without me you’d be worse off than you are. But it could also mean that without me you’d be better off and happier.”

  “Francis, Francis,” John said, suppressing another smile, “don’t be such a philosopher. I’m not clever or subtle enough to keep up with you. I’m just a simple engineer. And when I tell you I’m glad to be with you, believe me, that’s what I mean.”

  “If you say so, sir,” Francis said, his voice dripping disbelief. “If you say you are simple, then I’ll go along with your wishes.”

  Francis was, in fact, not actually sure what to make of John Carlysle. Though he was certain that John was by no means simple, he could not see beyond his British reserve. Yet, Francis would never forget that John had trusted his judgment during the tunnel crisis. And afterward, John was never less than fair in his dealings. For all this, Francis admired John. Therefore he was willing to wait and see what was actually going on between John and Tom Collins before judging John.

  As always, there was the unspoken connection between Francis and John—Kitty Lancaster. Francis did not know what Kitty’s feelings for John were. He still wanted her very much. But he didn’t have any illusions or false hopes on the subject because of the break that had occurred between them before John appeared in Kitty’s life. That break had been preceded by painful, angry scenes that their powerful attraction for one another could not overcome. Kitty’s abrupt departure from Gallitzin in April proved that. Francis knew that she would have remained longer if she felt differently.

  And so, Kitty’s image dominated both men’s minds whenever they met. Yet neither ever mentioned her name in the other’s presence.

  Teresa had remained standing during the initial conversation between John and the two other men. When she made a move to sit down, John motioned for her not to. “Teresa,” he said, “I’d like a few words with you. Could you spare me some time?”

  She looked at Graham. He was shuffling the cards.

  “Yes, of course,” she said.

  “Will you excuse us?” he asked Graham and Francis.

  “Don’t go away with that man,” Graham teased. “It’s dangerous to know him.”

  John gratefully realized that Graham still trusted him.

  “In that, his son takes after him,” she said.

  “I should only hope,” Graham said, turning back to his cards.

  “Teresa,” John said, holding his hand out toward the door, “would you lead the way, please?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said and proceeded across the room with John behind her.

  Outside, John took the lead, directing her a short way outside the village to a place where they would not be overheard.

  “What’s on your mind, Mr. Carlysle?” she asked once they were alone.

  “I’d like you to help me out, Teresa,” he said. “It’s quite important.” He paused to let that sink in. “Would you be willing to take on a special job for me?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “There’s actually little that you have to do, but only you can do it for reasons that you’ll see quickly.”

  “Go on.”

  “You know why Tom Collins has called this gathering tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Yes,” she said, “I know about that.”

  “And you know what’s likely to happen then to your brother?”

  “Yes.” As she spoke the word, her face grew tense, her features stony.

  “Do you believe I support Collins in any way?” he asked when he saw this reaction.

  “That’s the way people are talking, Mr. Carlysle. They’re saying you met with Collins and are taking his side.”

  “I did do that, and Collins does believe I’ve come over to him. But I’ve done that deliberately; I have good reasons for it. But I’ve done those things only for the sake of appearances.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked with more than a little bit of suspicion in her voice. She had never imagined that John Carlysle was a man who was in any way capable of intrigue.

  “I’ll try to explain as much as I can.”

  “All right.”

  “First, I want you to be my messenger. I want you to go to your brother and to my son Graham and to Francis Stockton with a message from me.”

  “You were just now with Francis and Graham. Why didn’t you tell them yourself?”

  “They must not be told that the message is from me.”

  “A message? From you and not from you?”

  “Yes. I want you to set up a meeting with them for later today… sometime this evening would be best. After dark. And I want it outside of the camp in some out-of-the-way spot.”

  “Would the clearing in the woods do? The place where I take the children?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Is that the message you want me to give to them? All of it?”

  “Yes. Simply tell them that it is vital for them to come together this evening. Tell them they are not to speak of this meeting to anyone. And don’t tell them I’m to be there.”

  “Why can’t I tell them that?”

  “I can’t be seen meeting with them, and they can’t be seen meeting with me.”

  “Why?”

  “There are a number of things I can’t tell you, Teresa. That’s one of them.”

  “I think you must,” she said, thoughtfully, doubtfully. “I don’t think you will be well served by keeping your intentions mysterious, Mr. Carlysle. I don’t know why you’ve come to me, but it’s clear that you need me. And that means you need to trust me with your thoughts.”

  John pondered a minute. He wanted very much to be honest with her. But he also believed it would be better for her if she did not know his plans.

  In truth, the ways of espionage and intrigue left him very uncomfortable.

  “You’re absolutely correct,” he agreed, after a time.

  “Then can you explain yourself?”

  “It would be better—for you—if I didn’t.”

  “I’d like to judge that.”

  “Perhaps,” he said.

  “Well then…” she said.

  “I can tell you a part of it,” he said at last, after a considerable pause for thought. “It must be seen that I approve of Tom Collins’s acts tomorrow at the assembly and that I now have come to support his overall treatment of the men. It will also appear that through me he has the backing of the railroad.”

  “You what?” she snapped, suddenly swelling up with outrage—but also pricked with simple curiosity. “You can’t be serious coming to me for help to do that

  “That’s why it must never be known that I am meet
ing with Egan, Stockton, and my son.”

  “Thai’s why?”

  “Yes.” He looked at her. “The word is ‘appeared.’ I must seem, at least, to assent to Collins’s acts.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  She shook her head. “You are a terribly exasperating man, and this is a terribly exasperating discussion!”

  He looked at her again. “You’ll have to trust my judgment, Teresa. You’ll have to believe that I know what I’m doing, even when I seem to be doing the exact opposite of what you and your brother would like me to do.”

  “Go on,” she said, now more curious than outraged.

  At that moment he decided to risk telling her all that was troubling him.

  “Think about Collins a moment, not from your brother’s side but from mine. Consider the man’s motives.”

  “That’s easy. He’s a petty tyrant.”

  “That’s what he appears to be,” John agreed. “He seems to be one of those bosses who tries to squeeze more and more work out of his men by constantly punishing them. But consider that from other angles. First of all, he is paid to get a job done. But, the job is not getting done. Not only is he harassing the men, but he is about to let go many of the best of them, including your brother. In so doing he will be making it publicly clear that he is determined to be unreasonable and unfair and to make the workers’ existence utterly miserable, while at the same time giving the appearance to the directors of the railroad that he is merely being hard and strict. What do you think of that?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, drawing in her breath slowly, for she was beginning to see the direction of his argument.

  “Now, let me move away from Tom Collins for a moment.”

  Teresa’s brow furrowed deeply, and she took in another very long, very deep draught of air.

  “Let us suppose that someone wants to put an end to the Pennsylvania Railroad. But to put an end to it in such a way that its death does not appear to be sabotage. How would a person do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Here is one very good way to do that,” he said. He described the growing number of incidents of destruction of property and equipment, incidents that did not appear to be sabotage. Then he described the railroad’s growing financial difficulties and his own suspicion that this was due to theft and fraud. Then he added Tom Collins’s recent actions to that formula.