Ribbons of Steel (16 page)

“Roll. Get down on the ground and roll,” he yelled.

Fire crackled as flames licked at Westmüller’s clothes, now covered in oil, burning them right off the writhing man’s back. The stench of charred skin mixed with heavy smoldering oil filled the air.

Charley scanned the area.
God Almighty. He couldn’t help them all.

“Someone help the others,” he yelled above the din, yanking his white soot-covered shirt off his back, the hand-sewn buttons flying off in all directions. “Fetch some blankets. Anything. Be quick about it.”

Despite the hot flames licking all around Westmüller’s body, Charley flew to his side. He grabbed his flaming, flailing arms and dragged him to the ground. The flames diminished, momentarily, but then flared straight through the thin cotton. A trainman shoved through the crowd and rushed forward with a blanket. Charley wrapped it around Westmüller, then rolled him on the ground until the flames died.

God, he hoped he wasn’t too late. He’d be surprised if Westmüller survived. The flames, now extinguished, hadn’t missed a single part of the prone man’s body. Paper thin charred flesh hung from his arms exposing raw, red tissue and bone. Charley turned away and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. The stench burned his nose.

“Get this man to the doctor,” he ordered.

Several men ran to assist Westmüller. Charley wiped his hands over his face and sighed. He turned to see about the others and found Aderley standing just outside the ring of fire.

“See what else you can do here, then report back to me,” he shouted at Charley. “I’ll be in my office.”

Charley nodded, then checked to see who else needed help. He spied two bodies lying, charred, lifeless, and almost unrecognizable. Many stood by, stymied. Charley lifted his head as Aderley retreated. The boss had taken a chance coming to this area in the first place the way things stood. Right now, even Charley wanted to take a pop-swing at Aderley for letting things go this far. Without Westmüller’s wages from the railroad, the man’s family was gonna be heading for the poor house, thanks to the doctor’s demand for compensation after this fiasco.

Not to mention the families of the other two dead men.

The damage done, the strikers started to disperse along the tracks. Weary now from the carnage, Charley leaned against one of the railcars. People wandered in a haphazard fashion down the tree-lined street. They got into their buggies and headed out. Still, plenty of others lagged behind and milled about as if they had no place to go.

The Blue Bottle would be finding it hard to keep up with business before long, what with so many militia and vagrants in the area. Tempers were still high. With all these sympathizers stoking the fires, wherever-the-hell John Donahue was right now, it was obvious the man had a big hand in all this.

****

Aderley paced his office while he waited for General Hancock and his staff to arrive. Mayor Stokley had put out the call over the wires as soon as he’d returned to Aderley’s office. It wouldn’t be long now. In the meantime, Donahue was nowhere to be seen. Charley knew Donahue instigated things at the tracks.
The dirty rat better not show his face right now if he knew what was good for him.

By late afternoon, over a hundred marines from Baltimore rode the tracks into town. They set up positions along the bluffs and took control of the entire area. Charley sighed as Aderley continued to pace behind his desk.

“I have to get back to my office,” Stokley said. “I’ve ordered a Committee of Safety, and they’ll double the militia. By the end of the day, there should be another five-hundred armed men from the First Artillery. Order should soon be restored here.”

Chapter Eleven

Jason Aderley took his last breath during the night while the others lay exhausted on the opposite side of Weber Canyon’s raging river. Marian’s haunting sobs awakened Emily.

How does one comfort a mother who just lost her son? What if it had been one of her children? Lord, she missed them something terrible. She should never have left home.

As much to comfort herself as Marian, Emily flew to the distraught woman’s side and lifted Marian’s head and placed it in her lap, brushing the woman’s hair aside. She could do no more, for to envelope the already broken body in her arms would only cause more damage. No matter what people said, words did not help ease such pain at a time like this.

Emily hummed a lullaby. Her gentle voice drifted in the night through the ravine. Before long, others gathered around. Some joined in song for their own comfort; others sat close by listening. Word passed like a game of gossip informing everyone Jason Aderley had gone to meet his maker. The humming switched to hymns, heads bowed, hands clasped.

Touched by everyone’s caring, Emily lay down beside Marian and let the spiritual glow from the strangers blanket them in healing. Jonathan moaned in his sleep next to his mother. His eyes remained shut. He would learn of his brother’s death soon enough. The morning hours were not going to be pleasant for this young man who not long ago was so full of life.

The men dug a small grave for Jason in the morning hours. Sadness prevailed as the rest of the passengers and trainmen learned the Aderley boy had passed during the night. Before the sun rose in the sky over Weber Canyon, everyone had gathered to see the boy lay to rest.

“Such a shame,” one passenger mumbled. “He was such a vigorous young man.”

“What a terrible end to a marvelous adventure for him and his brother,” another replied.

“A real heartbreak, for sure.”

“Why, these things aren’t supposed to happen,” Violet Weaver complained in earnest. “They promised we’d be safe. Told us there was nothing to fret over.”

Emily concurred. Once the trains crossed the vast countryside, the long journey wasn’t supposed to be the torturous expedition it was turning out to be. How many other unsuspecting dangers lurked here in the west? According to a letter from Marybelle after she’d gone out west, people had starved, died of untold diseases, and even been attacked by Indians during the early days when the wagons wheeled across the continent. But those hardships were believed to be over. Especially, by railcar. No one anticipated a damaged trestle, let alone a fatal buffalo stampede.

“I say it’s them Injuns what’s to blame,” Violet spouted.

“If’en we don’t get going and get up out of this ravine, they’ll be coming back looking for us soon enough,” someone else agreed.

“We gotta get outta here. I ain’t a’waiting for them redskins to come back for me.” Violet muttered, agitated and fussing with her hands at her throat, her big bosom heaving dramatically.

“Now you just calm down. All of you,” the conductor yelled to those kicking up a fuss. “Soon as we lay this lad to rest, we’ll be on our way. Silver Springs is just over the rise a few miles. We’ll get a good start before the sun rises too high in the sky so’s we don’t bake in the afternoon heat.”

“I’m not walking to no town. It’s too far,” a portly woman protested.

“Ya can stay behind down here if ya want, but I be moving out with the others. Take yer pick,” Mr. O’Leary said, which left the remaining passengers quiet for the time being.

Marian remained silent. Jonathan sat on the ground, mute, his broken leg stretched out in front of him. Mr. O’Leary said a few words over the grave before the last handful of dirt was tamped down. It was a sad group as they turned from the make-shift grave of the small boy to face the problems of the day.

They didn’t dally.

Climbing up out of the rocky ravine was as arduous a task as the night before when they had climbed down. Filled with a panic to arrive at the top without delay, even though there was no sign the Indians had returned to the area during the night, the entire contingent of trainmen and passengers band together to forge up over the rugged rocky ledge.

Emily attempted to climb, but stumbled and lost her grip.

“Mrs. Carmichael. What are ya trying to do to yerself?” Mr. O’Leary called over to her. “You be too weak to be climbing that hill all on yer own. Come. Ya should be using the lift along with the others.”

Too weary to protest, Emily let Mr. O’Leary guide her to the lift. Along with the Aderleys, Mrs. Young, and the two sisters, Violet and Pansy, Emily waited her turn to be hoisted out of the canyon.

“Thank you, Mr. O’Leary,” Emily said as the eccentric gentleman gave her a hand, assisting her onto the make-shift platform.

“Me pleasure, to be sure,” he answered, then gave the signal for the men on top to get the pulley operation underway.

Next thing she knew, she was above the ravine and swinging over solid ground. Emily found the earth cooler now, almost cold, as she sat on the coarse sand waiting for the rest of the passengers. She sat next to Mrs. Young, who had come up before her. Emily positioned herself in front of the young mother who was in the process of trying to nurse her crying baby before they started their trek to Silver Springs.

As the others climbed up out of the deep cavern, Emily prayed for their safety. One by one, heads appeared over the rim. Along with the trainmen, Mr. O’Leary helped lift the passengers up. Several of the younger women didn’t bother to wait for the lift, wanting only to get out of the canyon. Emily prayed harder after witnessing one woman, whose dress got caught and wrapped around her legs, making it cumbersome to draw her legs up over the side. The long skirt and petticoats clung to her ankles. Her shoe caught in the hem as she swung first one foot and then the other up onto safety. In an undignified grab, Mr. O’Leary urged the woman away from the edge. The two rolled head over heels several times before coming to a quick stop, at which point the woman righted herself, giving Mr. O’Leary an ungrateful look before she strode away. Emily wanted to laugh but held back. However, she did smile when Mr. O’Leary’s fedora, still fastened to his head, shifted over his left eye.

The rumble of gravel, stones, and even loose boulders sliding down and landing at the bottom of the ravine mixed with the whimpers, the cuss words, and the chanting of prayers as several passengers slid back down only to have to start the climb again.

Two and a half hours later, the chill of the night was gone, and the sun began to climb into the bright blue cloudless desert morning sky. The group, exhausted already, had a long walk ahead of them.

“There’s a mesa over yonder,” the conductor said, pointing west. “We’re headed there. Must be about five miles or so. We’d best get walking now before the sun gets too high overhead. Don’t look like there’s much shade to be had between here and there.”

They were given a few minutes to collect themselves, but time was sparse. The fear of an Indian attack made everyone anxious to get underway.

Several of the burly men had already made a make-shift litter with blankets tied to two long wooden poles taken from the raft. Marian and Jonathan were helped onto one, while Elizabeth Young and her baby onto another. The two older sisters refused to be coddled and insisted they were more than able to walk.

Regardless of their disposition, Emily figured she would be able to keep up with Violet and Pansy, seeing as they were more apt to keep a slower pace. She chose to walk alongside them.

Slow and steady, the contingent spread out across the plains. No one spoke. Before long, fatigue set in.

“I can’t take another step,” a woman wailed. “We have to rest. My feet are paining me.”

Violet, the feistier of the two sisters leaned over to her sister and muttered “If’en she’d worn a more comfortable travel shoe instead of those high-heeled pointy things they wear in the city these days, her feet would be just fine.”

“Now Violet, just think, the good Lord is using her to do us good. We’re all in need of a rest,” Pansy chastised.

“Don’t I know it?” Violet sounded contrite. “Miss Emily, you must be near dragging yourself. Soon as we catch up with the others, we’ll have a good sit down and rest, too.”

“I am a bit weary.” Emily managed a weak smile at her companions who hadn’t uttered a word ’til now. “My feet are getting hot and tired as well.”

“At least I’m glad to see you wearing sensible shoes, my dear. Quite serviceable. Quite,” Violet said, nodding her head.

Emily’s shoes were nothing to write home about. She could only imagine how uncomfortable it was to be wearing the kind of shoes several of the other women sported.

The sun had risen higher, and the heat was scorching. Beads of sweat trickled down everyone’s foreheads, streaking the dust on their faces like irrigated fields they had passed back in the Midwest. The trainmen offered everyone a drink from several canteens they had filled with water. Emily sank to the gravel-covered ground where tufts of prairie grass lay scattered about.

“For drinking only. We need to save some for later,” the man said. “We still have a long walk ahead.”

Emily drank from the canteen, wanting to take a dram of Dover’s powder, but she needed to stay awake. She laid her head down in her folded arms on top of her bent knees and closed her eyes.

“Mrs. Carmichael,” Mr. O’Leary said. “Mrs. Carmichael. Ma’am. We’ve made room for you on one of the litters.”

Emily barely registered the two men who helped her over to the litter where Elizabeth and her baby had been.

“If you will cuddle my baby, Mrs. Carmichael, I’ll walk alongside for a spell.” Elizabeth Young’s voice cooed her words in the vicinity of the blanketed baby.

“Thanks. I could use the rest.” Emily lay back, cuddled the infant, and closed her eyes.

Keeping a slow, steady pace so as not to tire everyone, the long trek took hours. When they stopped again, mid-morning, a tin of small biscuits and thin slices of salted ham were passed around. Water was doled out as well. But they didn’t linger.

The sun had risen even higher in the azure, cloudless sky.

Mr. O’Leary took his heavy woolen coat off. Marian tilted her hat down over her face to keep the sun off and placed a thin shirt over her son’s head for protection. Elizabeth Young took the warm blanket from around her baby and instead put a small lightweight cloth over the sleeping infant so she wouldn’t be exposed to the sun. Others in the group were doing the same. Emily, although willing to give up her spot on the litter to one of the older women after her rest, was still tired.