The Railroad War (20 page)

“There won't be any trouble getting them to do that,” Jed said quickly. “The Captain figured we'd have to vote again to make things legal.”

“Good,” Kinkead said. “The next move I'll make is to have the legislature's Commerce Committee investigate the South Sierra Railway Company, with the intention of revoking their charter. That will take time, though. The election matter can be settled at once, at tomorrow's session. I don't know what I can do about the bank, though. The chairman of the Banking and Finance Committee is my chief political enemy, and—”

“Leave the bank to me,” Jessie broke in. “As soon as I can send a telegram to San Francisco, I'll take care of that, and the territorial legislature won't have to be involved.”

“You can use the wire here in my office,” Kinkead offered. “Or when you get to Virginia City, you'll find a public telegraph there. In fact, thanks to Hearst and Mackay and Fair and their Combination, Virginia City had telegraph service five years before the capital of the territory did.”

A knock sounded on the office door, and after a polite pause, Kinkead's clerk opened it wide enough to stick his head in. “I hate to disturb you, Governor,” he said, “but the chairman and two members of the Appropriations Committee need to consult with you for a few minutes.”

Jessie stood up, and Ki and Jed followed her example. She said, “I'll send my wire from Virginia City, Governor Kinkead. We'll be heading there early in the morning.”

“But you'll stop and see me on your way back to Hidden Valley, I hope?” Kinkead asked. “There are still a lot of things I'd like to talk with you about.”

“Of course we will!” Jessie assured him. “And I'll save my thanks until we see you again.”

Walking across the street to the Ormsby House, Ki said, “We found a real friend just when we needed one, I'd say. The governor can do things that we'd never be able to do alone.”

Jessie nodded, then smiled. “It's strange not to be fighting the cartel by ourselves, isn't it, Ki?”

Before Ki could answer, Jed said, “Don't forget I'm here too, Jessie. And the folks back in Hidden Valley are with us.”

“I didn't intend to leave you and the others out,” Jessie said. “But most of the time when Ki and I get into one of these open battles with the cartel, the people we're trying to help aren't even aware that such a thing exists.”

“You were going to tell me more about it,” Jed reminded her as they entered the Ormsby House.

“And I will. But not now,” Jessie replied. “We've had a long two days, and all of us need rest. We'll talk on the way to Virginia City tomorrow, Jed.”

 

Jessie had not realized how very short the distance was from Carson City to Virginia City. They'd gotten up yawning from beds they'd found luxuriously soft after a night on the hard ground, and started out when the sun was just gilding the towering peaks of the Sierra Nevadas. Still tired, they'd talked very little. The sun was still low in the east and the cartel had not been mentioned when they came to the first rise in a cluster of cone-shaped hills, and sighted the first mines, marked by huge smokestack-topped buildings that rose above the shafts and housed big steam engines that provided power for the pumps and hoists.

“We're nearly there,” Jed said. He pointed to the first and highest of the hills, and with the same gesture indicated the tall, ramshackle structure that clung high on its sloping side. Below the building, huge heaps of raw dirt covered the steep side of the mountain. Jed went on, “They call that Mount Davidson, and if I remember rightly, that mine's the Yellow Jacket. The town's just another couple of miles ahead.”

Belatedly, Jessie remembered her promise and told Jed, “I'm sorry we haven't talked about the cartel, Jed. I thought we'd have a half-day of riding and plenty of time to talk. But I haven't forgotten, and we'll have time while we're here.”

“I'm not in any hurry, Jessie,” Jed replied. “Except I am a mite curious.”

Ki said, “I'm not sure we'll be in Virginia City as long as you think we will, Jessie. With what we already know, it shouldn't take us too much time to turn up this Frank Jeffers.”

“I hope you're right, Ki,” she replied. “But we've both learned that finding someone when we don't want him to know we're looking for him can be a long job. And from what I've heard, Virginia City's as busy as an anthill and twice as crowded.”

“We've got to get back to the valley as quick as we can,” Jed reminded them. “The Captain will need the papers the governor promised us before he can do very much.”

They passed the base of Mount Davidson and reached the end of the curve that the road made around its base. The wide, rutted thoroughfare stretched ahead of them, a wavering line on a wide, uptilted shelf that extended from the clump of hills. Perched precariously on the sides of each hill were one or two or sometimes three or four buildings similar to that which Jed had pointed out as the Yellow Jacket mine. Absorbed in looking at the mountainsides, Jessie and Ki did not notice that at some point the road had become a street until Jed reined in.

“C Street,” he announced, pointing to the houses that clung precariously to the sides of the hills ahead. “And that's Virginia City.”

Jessie and Ki reined in their horses beside Jed. Though Jessie had traveled to many places, she had never beheld a scene like the one that lay before them.

A short distance ahead, C Street widened into a smoothly paved thoroughfare, and still farther ahead there were buildings stretching away from it on both sides. On the sharply sloped flank of the valley below the shelf, a score or more huge shafthead sheds stood, the tops of their smokestacks towering above the heads of the riders.

Wagons with teams of ten mules hitched to them were lined up on a narrow wagon road that wove its way from one of the mine buildings to the next, the wagons moving so slowly that they seemed to be standing still. Great piles of raw yellow lumber surrounded the sheds, and the steeply pitched ground that stretched beyond the lumber stacks was covered with heaps of fresh dirt tailings, their conical sides shimmering wetly.

While they sat looking at the sheds, the chugging of a locomotive and the sharp blast of its whistle almost underfoot set the horses dancing. The train had passed with a screeching of wheels on curving rails before they'd calmed the animals, and when Jessie looked down into the valley, she saw only the caboose disappearing around the curve in the shining tracks.

“I didn't know there was a railroad here,” she frowned. “I suppose it only hauls materials between the mines, though.”

“Oh, no,” Jed said. “That's the Virginia & Truckee Railroad. It goes clear up into the mountains over across the California line. It hauls lumber for mine timbers from there and takes refined silver to Truckee, where it's loaded on the Central Pacific and sent on to San Francisco.”

“It doesn't carry passengers, then?” she asked.

“Well, it does, only I've heard you've got to have a real strong stomach to ride it, or you'll get sick. They say the tracks from here to Truckee have got more crooks and curves than any railroad in the world. But it carries passengers to Truckee, and they get the CP from there on into San Francisco.”

“I see,” Jessie said thoughtfully. “Well, I have some business in San Francisco. I hadn't planned to go there myself, but if it's necessary, I know now that it's possible.”

They rode on slowly, looking now at the town. The ground rose ahead of them, and being on horseback extended their field of vision so that they saw the town much like a map held at an angle to their eyes. Two steep hills that rose behind C Street, their peaks not quite a mile apart, defined the town as well as confining it. The bases of the hills extended almost to C Street, and the ledge or shelf along which the street ran was wide enough only for a single row of buildings that backed up to the dropoff above the shafthead sheds. The rest of the town was crowded into the broad vee between the hills.

On the level shelf of the vee along which C Street ran, the ground was covered with buildings standing wall to wall. Terraced streets had been cut at intervals up both steep sides of the valley, and houses faced these streets. Like the buildings on the strip of flat and relatively level land along which C Street ran, the houses on those streets were closely spaced, separated by no more than a yard or two. Few of the buildings were imposing. Almost all of them were simple single-story frame structures, though scattered here and there were a few houses built of brick, some of these two or even three stories high.

On the sloping sides of the canyon below C Street, beyond the shafthead structures and overpowered by the chutes and boxed-in runs for hoist cables, were other houses. Most of these were small and shabby, and some were little more than shanties. A majority of these had been built of boards, their surfaces now weatherbeaten, while those on the hillsides above the business section were freshly painted and appeared to be new.

That the structures along C Street and immediately behind it were business buildings could be seen at a glance, for some were two or three stories high at the front, though in many places the space between street and slope was barely enough to accommodate their foundations and the beginnings of their side walls. Level foundations for a few had been excavated from the hillsides, but for the most part the foundation lines of the long, narrow structures tapered upward from the street to conform with the rise of the slope, and at their backs the eaves were almost level with the slanting ground that rose above their roofs.

Even at that early-morning hour, C Street itself was like the anthill to which Jessie had compared the town earlier. There was little wheeled traffic; only a half-dozen buggies could be seen, and even fewer wagons, but the street was awash with men, some moving purposefully, the others strolling idly. Here and there the feathered plume of a wide-brimmed hat marked the passage of a woman, but these could have been counted on the fingers of one hand, with the thumb left over.

They reined their horses to a walk when they reached the first of the pedestrians. Jessie had been looking at the town's buildings as well as at the crowd, and now she said, “So far, all I've seen is fleabag lodging houses and sleazy hotels. Surely there are some good hotels here, aren't there, Jed?”

Jed pointed ahead, to a massive red brick building that dominated the center of the town. It rose six stories, its façade punctuated with rows of windows capped by arched limestone lintels, and an elaborate pediment of the same white stone circling the walls below a mansard roof.

“That's the International Hotel,” Jed said, as Jessie and Ki gazed at the imposing structure. “I never have stopped there, but I hear it's the best hotel between Denver and San Francisco.”

“We'll find out if it is,” Jessie told him. “Since we'll be here several days, we need a place for our headquarters where we can have meals served and talk privately. I'll get a suite, Jed, with a sitting room and separate bedrooms for each of us.”

After a moment's hesitation, Jed said somewhat hesitantly, “I understand rooms there are right expensive, Jessie. I didn't bring much money with me—”

“Don't worry about that,” Jessie replied. “Money isn't as important to me as having what we need for our job here. And I like to be comfortable, of course.”

“Well, I'll pay my share, then,” Jed insisted.

“We can talk about that later,” Jessie said. “The first thing to do is to find out if the International has room for us.”

When they went into the International Hotel, and Jessie gave her name to the desk clerk, a suite was made available without hesitation. The clerk may have had the Starbuck name impressed on the mental roster of the wealthy and powerful that is carried in the minds of employees in luxury hotels; or, despite Jessie's travel-worn clothes, he may have recognized the calm assurance of authority with which she made her request.

Jessie glanced at the guest register when the desk clerk put it in front of her, and said, “I would prefer that my name not show in your register. Please oblige me by signing for the suite to show that it is occupied by Miss Johnson and party.”

Without changing expression, the clerk nodded calmly, as though such requests were commonplace. He said, “Of course, Miss Johnson.” He signed the register, turned it to show the entry to Jessie, and asked, “Are you traveling by carriage?”

Jessie shook her head. “By horseback. Our mounts are in front of the hotel.”

“Very good, Miss Johnson. A bellboy will bring in your luggage and show you to your suite. I'll have a stableman take care of your horses.”