Far Away Home (18 page)

Chapter 18

In October,
Aislynn secured a loan from the Express Office and a simple one-room building
with a false front was mail ordered. Now, its proud face watched Main Street
while its body balanced on the stone foundation she and her men had dug and
stacked. With the cold, hard winter moving in, many of her customers remained
at their tables long after meals were eaten, warmed by her large cook stoves.

Tim, Johnny, No
Nose and Murphy were sharing a table with Moran and the two men who regularly
rode with him, Buck and Jeb. The talk of the evening buzzed around the
traveling show driving into camp the next night. When Aislynn approached, all
lips came together. She slammed the pot of coffee on the table and said, “You
can serve yourselves.”

Johnny tried to
reason with her, “It’s not our fault.”

“If this show is
so indecent I can’t see it, why are you three going?” Aislynn aimed her
question at No Nose, Tim and Johnny.

Glances were
exchanged among the faces that wore redness or hid amusement or looked away
from her to be excluded from the fray.

“It’s what men
do.” Johnny grinned and reached for her hip. His hand was swatted away. “Every
man in camp will be there; how can we stay home?”

Moran broke in,
“You know, it might not be wise to leave her alone.”

The
lightheartedness dissipated. Knowing looks traveled around the table. Tim
offered his sacrifice, “She’s my responsibility; I’ll stay.”

“No, I’ll stay.”
Johnny waved away Tim’s generosity.

“I can take care
of myself.” Aislynn patted the pocket where her tiny revolver resided.

Tim shook his
head at Johnny, refuting her claim. Aislynn scoffed and turned toward a pile of
dirty dishes. She stopped mid-step when Moran spoke. “You two go. I’ve seen the
show.”

Aislynn turned
abruptly. From behind Moran’s back, she shot a look at Tim; he stiffened under
her fire. “Thanks, Mr. Moran, but we couldn’t ask you.”

“You’re not
askin’, I’m offerin’.”

The men shuffled
around the cabin, trying to appear too occupied to address Aislynn’s tirade.
“So now I’m to be doubly punished just for being female?”

Tim relented,
“What could we say?”

“You could have
said no!” she shouted. “You should have insisted!”

“Don’t raise
your voice. It’s not ladylike.”

Aislynn stamped
her foot. Johnny calmly joined the discussion, “You know, maybe an evening
together would be good. You might discover he’s not a bad sort.”

“He’s arrogant,
self-centered and proud.”

Johnny reached
for her shoulders and pulled her close. “Angel, be Christian. Maybe he hasn’t
had the advantages we’ve had.”

Aislynn shook
him off. “He has everything, including you two kowtowing to him.”

“That’s not what
I mean. He’s alone, always has been from what I hear. When a man always has to
look out for himself, he can get hard.”

“Such wisdom
from a man who talks to his mules.”

Johnny put his
arms around her waist and placed a peck on her hair saying, “I talk to you,
too.”

Tim and No Nose
laughed at the comparison while Aislynn elbowed Johnny in the side.

Aislynn cleaned
the empty restaurant as Moran pretended to read a newspaper. She could feel him
watching her. She turned and looked at him, “Yes?”

“Aren’t you
ready to go home? It’s nearly nine o’clock.”

“I thought I’d
just get some things done before the men return.”

“Don’t you want
to go home?”

“Why?”

“Don’t you live
there?”

Aislynn twisted
her mouth, “Yes, but what are we going to do there?”

“What do you
normally do?”

“They play
chess, checkers, read. Tim is teaching No Nose to read.”

“And you?”

“There’s never a
shortage of work for me at home.”

Moran laughed,
“When do you stop working?”

“I don’t have
the time.”

Moran’s face
fell and he asked her softly, “Don’t you ever play?”

Aislynn thought
his question indicated her lack of something. “Of course.” Moran studied her.
Aislynn felt defensive. She sighed, “I was the only girl; I still am.”

He folded his
paper and slapped it on the table. “Take the night off.” He stood and said,
“Lock up. Let’s go.”

In the cabin, he
sat at the table and produced a deck of cards. “Know how to play poker?”

“Sort of.”
Aislynn eyed the cards with apprehension.

His brows rose
with suspicion. “I think you know more than you let on. We won’t be betting.”

While they
played, they discussed business. He asked her if she knew what stocks were. She
shook her head. He settled into his seat and began a simple explanation. “Let’s
use Central Pacific stock as an example. The company, the CP, sells pieces of
itself called shares. The people who buy the shares pay a price, like one
dollar per share. Now, say the company is broken up into a thousand shares. The
person who owes one share owns a one thousandth share of the company. When the
company makes money, the owners make money equal to their percentage of shares.
They receive dividends or part of the profits. Also, if the company makes
money, the value of the company increases and the price of a share may rise,
say from one dollar to two dollars. Now if that happens and you bought your
shares at a dollar when you decided to sell your share how much profit would
you make?”

Aislynn frowned
at him. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Moran stifled a
laugh, “No, quite the contrary. Please forgive me. I lost my head. Now, with
railroads, the government loans the companies money in the form of bonds to
build the lines. In addition, the government allows us to sell bonds. You know
what bonds are?”

Aislynn admitted
ignorance again.

“Bonds are
basically loans, like your mortgage. Eventually, they have to be paid back to
the government or to those people who are doing the lending or as we say, to
those buying the bonds. But, to help us pay off our loans or bonds, the
government gives the company land, miles of it, along the finished line to sell
so those debts can be paid off.”

“That’s
incredible. That’s like the express office giving me money to pay them back for
my mortgage. Why does the government give you so much?”

“They want the
railroad, too. They learned a lesson in the War. This is a mighty big country.
If we’re going to hold together, we have to be able to travel from east to
west, moving troops and stores. Railroads are the answer.”

Aislynn was
fascinated. He continued, “That’s not all. For every mile of track completed,
the government issues us more bonds. Plus we get paid for every mile of rail we
lay, and the payment per mile increases with the elevation.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, we get
$16,000 a mile for the flat lands. Between the eastern base of the Rockies and
the western base of the Sierras, we get $48,000 a mile for building in the
mountains and $32,000 for track between the ranges.”

“That’s so much
money. How much does it cost to build?”

“Good question.
The answer is it depends on where we’re actually building. You know the rails
are coming through the Sierra Nevadas. In the mountains, the grade can’t be too
steep, or the engines can’t climb it, so at some points, we have to literally
go straight through the rock. There, every inch has to be blasted. Some days
the line only moves an eighth of an inch. And at the highest elevations, the
snow makes laying the track even more difficult, and extremely expensive, hence
the bigger payment.” Moran sat back and scrutinized her for a moment. “Want to
know a secret?”

Aislynn rested
her elbows on the table and leaned her chin into her hands, nodding.

He moved toward
her, “Let me ask you a question first. Do you think men can move mountains?”

“You’re going to
tell me they can.”

Moran pulled
back and frowned, “I’m either losing my poker face, or you’re beginning to know
me too well.”

Wide eyed,
Aislynn bent closer and demanded, “Tell me.”

“Well, how do we
know where the mountains begin?”

“I guess where
the land starts to rise.”

“How much of a
rise makes a mountain?”

“I don’t know.
However, I’m sure engineers and surveyors know.”

“And what they
say goes?”

“I suppose.”

“Do you think a
man could say the Sierra Nevadas extend, oh, maybe, twenty-four miles farther
west than they actually do, so the track would be worth $48,000 a mile rather
than $16,000?”

Shock escaped
from her lips, “No! That’s nearly three quarters of a million dollars.”

Moran chuckled,
“You’re mighty fast with figures.”

He scooped up
the idle cards and started to deal.

“That’s
cheating.” Aislynn moralized.

“That’s
business,” Moran answered, laying down the cards.

“It’s dishonest,”
she insisted.

“But
profitable,” he said as a matter of fact, studying his cards.

Aislynn sighed
and picked up her hand. “Men can get away with cheating and lying. When you own
everything, control everything, you don’t have to be honest.”

Moran looked up,
his brows raised, “And women are honest?”

Aislynn looked
at him from under her lashes. “More than men.” She watched him make a sour
face. Aislynn shook her head, “How do you trust anyone?”

A hard look
flashed across his face. “I don’t,” he said, tapping his cards on the table.

Fighting her
feelings of pity, Aislynn dismissed them as superfluous. He was a man who had
everything. They played a hand in considered silence.

Curiosity
overcame her, “If you’re so involved with the Central Pacific, why did you come
here?”

“Ambition.”

Leaning on the
table, Aislynn studied him, waiting for his explanation.

“I want to go to
Washington, not as a lobbyist for the Central Pacific or a messenger for Utah’s
governor, Mr. Durkee. I want to be a senator or congressman.”

“The Mormons
will never elect you.”

“Now, Miss,” he
straightened the deck, “you have to learn to think ahead. First, there are a
whole lot of Christians or Gentiles coming into the Territory. When the
railroad is finished, and men hear about the silver, more will come. It’s one
of Brother Brigham’s biggest fears.” Moran put down his cards and continued.
“Someday, the Territory will become a state and when it does, can a Mormon go
to the Senate or the House and do any good in an arena where he would be
disliked, distrusted and ostracized?”

“No, I don’t
suppose so.”

“Now, a man who
is sympathetic to the Mormons...”

“How can you be
sympathetic to them? You know how they treated me and Johnny.”

“There are good
and bad Mormons just like there are good and bad Christians. You have to
remember Mormons came out here to avoid religious persecution. They walked
themselves and their belonging nearly two thousand miles so they could be left
alone to practice their faith. Along comes the “Gold Rush,” and the very people
the Mormons were trying to avoid come passing through their territory, some
even wanting to stay and claiming land. They brought their objections to the
Mormons and their practices with them. You traveled all this way to get what
you want; how do you think you’d react to people who want to take all you’ve
worked for?”

Aislynn nodded
reluctantly, “I understand, but they were so awful to us.”

“They were just
a few bad men. We Christians have them, too.”

“I know. I
suppose I could be more tolerant.”

Moran leaned
back and sent her a suggestive smile, “Yes, you could.”

Aislynn felt the
color rise in her face as she raised her eyes to the ceiling and shook her
head. She turned the conversation back to his ambition, “How are you going to
get them to nominate you?”

“By being a
friend to Brother Brigham.”

“My goodness,”
she marveled, “you want so much.”

“Why not aim
high?”

“Because if you
don’t get what you want, you’ll be disappointed.”

“It’s a small
price to pay. However, I believe I’ll get my way. If I don’t,” he shrugged,
“I’ve frequently found a journey can be more exciting than its destination.”

Aislynn sighed
and fell back against her chair, “You must take an awful lot of risks.”

Moran aimed his
flinty, unreadable stare and said, “I try to limit myself to safe bets.” A
smile crossed his lips, “Now, young lady, tell me what you’ve learned?”

“I need to make
more money.”

A whistle,
blowing the signal to close the mine, pierced the quiet morning air. It was an
uncommon blast, only sounded in emergencies. Aislynn ignored the blast and
continued to instruct Sung Lee, her new employee. Aislynn had developed a plan
to increase her income. Although No Nose was her part-time helper, he refused
to perform any tasks he categorized as women’s work. With the help of this Chinese
laborer, she could increase the number of tables and serve more people. She was
explaining her routine when Murphy threw open the door, breathless, announcing,
“Moran wants to see you! Better run!”

Murphy hung on
the door for support, unable to say more. Aislynn grabbed her shawl. She feared
some terrible tragedy had occurred. Puzzling over her purpose, she hurried up
the street through the thin, sharp air. Then it hit her, “Tim!” She ran and
burst through the office door.

Moran stood,
solitary, his face dark and pinched in anger. The room felt small with him
seething at its center. Weak morning light hazed around them, dusty and smoky
from cigars and the burning stove. Her intuition sharpened; she recognized this
had nothing to do with Tim. She was the object of his wrath. Aislynn waited,
watching him ball his hands into fists.