Derringer, p.4
Derringer, page 4
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Derringer. We’ve reserved a whole cattle car for you and your two horses. I understand you’re going to stay in the car with your horses. Is that a fact?”
“That’s right,” Jesse said. “They have to keep their eyes out for me in case I get nervous.”
Nolen chuckled and said, “We can load your horses up right now, if you’re ready. We’re going to be ready to roll in about forty-five minutes.” Jesse said that would be great, so Nolen turned back toward the man he had been talking to. “Carl, take Mr. Derringer back to that empty cattle car and load his horses up.”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Derringer, just follow me,” Carl Swanson said, and started walking back toward the caboose. Jesse followed as they passed cars holding ties, spikes, and various other things until they reached the cattle car. Carl opened the car and pulled the ramp out, so they could walk up into the car. “I think you’ve got everything you need,” Carl said. The forward part of the car was filled with hay bales stacked to the ceiling. The rear of the car was set up for Jesse and his two horses to camp with hay covering the floor, and the ceiling and sides covered with canvas to protect against the rain and the cold. Carl showed him how to open a couple of windows in the canvas if he wanted more air or light. “Cold as it is already, I doubt you’ll want much more than what will come through when the train’s moving,” he said. “We’ll be making stops for water and wood, so you can let your horses out for a little bit when we do. And there’s a water barrel and a thunder mug for you.”
“We oughta be just fine,” Jesse told him.
“Let me know if there’s anything else you need,” Carl said. “The last report we got showed they were making good progress laying down track. I think you might get a ride all the way to Cheyenne.”
CHAPTER 4
As Carl Swanson had predicted, the Union Pacific tracks reached Cheyenne on November thirteenth. The next day, the first train pulled into Cheyenne carrying materials needed to continue the railroad on its path to join the Central Pacific Railroad. Arriving on that train in a cattle car carrying only three passengers was a newly hired Union Pacific employee by the name of Jesse Derringer. The other two passengers in the car were a gray gelding named Clem and a sorrel gelding that was called many names. At first sight of the bustling town, Derringer was not quite sure he was in the right place. The last time he was here at Crow Creek Crossing, now called Cheyenne, there were the same three travelers as today in his cattle car. But on that occasion, they were alone, looking at a peaceful creek with nothing to detract from that peace. Now, as he looked at the town through the slats of the car, he was overwhelmed by the size of it. William Cartwright had told him that the town was platted by the surveyors on the fifth of July and now, four months later, he was looking at a street housing dozens of businesses. And the somewhat primitive-looking storefronts seemed covered up with people. He was to learn later that day when he found the Union Pacific office that there were already an estimated four thousand people in the town. Newspaper editors back east were campaigning to call Cheyenne the Magic City, the Queen City of the Plains, since it had magically sprang up almost overnight.
As soon as the train stopped, he opened the door of the car himself and pulled the ramp out. He was leading Clem down the ramp when he saw Carl Swanson walking back down the line of cars to help him. He dropped Clem’s reins on the ground and went back into the car to lead the sorrel out. “Doesn’t look like you need any help,” Carl commented as he walked up.
“Just thought you might be too busy to worry about us,” Jesse replied. “I need to borrow a shovel to clean up a little after my horses. I tried to tell them to hold it till we could get outside again, but it ain’t too bad.”
Carl chuckled in response. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got somebody who’ll be delighted to take care of it. Hope you enjoyed the trip.”
“Wasn’t bad at all,” Jesse said. “It’s still hard to get it in my mind that we traveled five hundred miles in less than three days. I ’preciate the ride.” He looked over toward what appeared to be the main street in the town. “Do you happen to know where the Union Pacific office might be?”
“Yes, I do,” Carl replied. “It’s up ahead of the engine, close to the bridge. Right now, it’s still a tent. They ain’t built the office yet. That’s what that lumber on that flatcar is supposed to be for.”
“Much obliged,” Jesse said, and he climbed up into the saddle and rode toward the large tent that Carl had pointed to. Having worked for the general before, he felt it unlikely that Dodge would be in the office. He figured he would have to find him in the field, somewhere ahead of the existing tracks. But maybe whoever was in headquarters could tell him where to look for him. The conductor, Gilbert Nolen, called out to him when he rode past the passenger cars, and asked if he had enjoyed the trip. “Can’t complain,” Jesse called back, but didn’t stop to expand on the subject.
There were several horses tied up to a rope stretched between two trees that served as a hitching rail in front of what actually appeared to be two large tents set up to form one large headquarters. Jesse tied Clem to the rope and pulled the flap back to enter the first tent. There were two men sitting at desks inside and both stopped what they were doing to stare at him. “Can I help you?” one of them asked, then before Jesse could answer, he said, “This is not the construction employment office, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“I’ve got a job,” Jesse said. “I’m wonderin’ where I might find General Dodge.”
“What do you need to see General Dodge about?” the man asked. “My name is Clyde Woodcock. I handle most of the general’s business in the office.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Woodcock. He just sent word that he wants to see me and whenever he sends for me, I always come.”
Woodcock looked perplexed for a moment, then it occurred to him. “Are you Sergeant Derringer?”
“Well, I’m Jesse Derringer,” he replied, “but I’m not a sergeant anymore.”
“Yes, sir,” Woodcock responded. “The general will see you!” He jumped up from his desk and hurried into the adjoining tent.
The man sitting at the other desk broke out in a great big grin and continued to stare at Jesse. They heard an exclamation from inside the other tent, then a few seconds later, General Grenville M. Dodge charged into the tent with Woodcock close behind. “Sergeant Derringer!” Dodge declared. “I knew if you passed through Council Bluffs, you’d stop in the Whistlestop Saloon for a drink of whiskey.”
“Yes, sir, General,” Jesse japed, “that’s where I pick up all my messages.”
“Did they take care of you like I told them to?” Dodge asked.
“Yes, sir, they sure did. I got off that train that just pulled into town, rode all the way from Council Bluffs, me and my horses, ready to go to work.”
“Your timing couldn’t have been much better,” Dodge said. “I’m going to get on that train and take it about nineteen miles farther west to the end of the line just as soon as they unload the lumber for the Union Pacific office to replace this tent. And that’s just going to be the start of the final building. I planned from the beginning for Crow Creek Crossing to be the division point for the Union Pacific Railroad. It’s right here that the land goes gradually downhill for five hundred miles back east to the Union Pacific’s starting point at Council Bluffs. And to the west of Crow Creek Crossing it starts a serious climb to its highest point. And that’s about two thousand and two hundred feet in just thirty miles from right here when we climb Sherman Hill.”
“That’s a pretty big climb up that mountain,” Jesse had to comment, “especially in this kind of weather. I remember when we came through that mountain pass when those Indians were after us and it was a pretty good climb for a horse.”
“You remember correctly,” Dodge said, “and that’s why we’re only going nineteen miles on the train. That’s where the track ends. We made good time all the way from Council Bluffs laying three miles of track a day until we came to this hill. I christened it Sherman Hill because it stands firm against aggressors. We didn’t get halfway up it before the snow and ice got so bad that we’re stopped cold. I’m getting ready to ride back there and give the formal notice to the construction gangs right now. I hate to do it, but I’m closing the construction down until the worst of this weather is done. Old Man Winter is showing us what a mean S.O.B. he can be. We lost half a load of crossties yesterday down the side of that hill that had to be snaked out of the valley with mules, one by one. I haven’t announced a shutdown yet, but we can’t do decent work in these wintry conditions. That’s what I’ve got to do today. So are you ready to take another train ride?”
“Yes, sir,” Derringer said. “My horses have been restin’ for two and a half days. So I figured it was about time they worked a little bit, but I reckon I shoulda left them on the train. I guess I wasn’t thinkin’ when you said nineteen miles. It would be a lot quicker on the train, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes it would,” Dodge said, laughing heartily. “You might decide to look that hill over again when we get out there, so why don’t you take your packhorse to the stable over on the other side of the track. A fellow by the name of Leon Draper owns it and he takes care of the Union Pacific’s personal horses. You just tell him you work for me and he’ll take good care of your horses. It’ll be a little while before they get all that lumber for the office here unloaded, so you ought to have plenty of time to leave your packhorse and put your belongings in the hotel room I reserved for you. All paid for by the Union Pacific Railroad,” he added when Derringer’s eyebrows raised as if uncertain. “There’s more than one hotel in town,” the general went on, “but I recommend the Union Pacific Hotel. That’s where I stay when I’m in town. It’s safe to eat in the dining room, too.”
“Whatever you recommend, General,” Derringer said, “but I’m a little in the dark about what I’m gonna be doin’ to earn my money. You say you’re goin’ out to the end of the track today to shut it down for three months, till the weather improves. What am I gonna be doin’ for those three months? Are you gonna be here in Crow Creek Crossin’, I mean Cheyenne, for three months?”
“No,” Dodge answered. “I’ll be back in Council Bluffs for most of the time because I can get more done there. But I’ll be popping in on you from time to time, especially when the winter shows signs of letting up. Don’t you worry about earning your pay. I’ve ridden with you long enough to know what kind of man you are and I’ll be using your scouting skills for a long time after this winter.”
After Derringer took his packhorse to the stable and got a room in the hotel, he returned to the tent to discover his horse was missing. Woodcock told him that his horse had been returned to the railroad station and put back inside the cattle car, along with the general’s horse.
“The general’s over by the train, watching them unload the last of the lumber. I expect you’ll be leaving as soon as the last board comes off.”
“I reckon I’d better get down there then, else I might get left behind,” Derringer japed. “And the general’s got my gray geldin’ with him.”
* * *
After a trip that took less than an hour, the engine rolled to a halt nineteen miles from the railway station at Cheyenne. Several men jumped to the task of opening the cattle car and dragging out the ramp so Derringer could lead his and the general’s horses out. “Any problems?” Dodge asked as he hurried from the caboose to join him.
“No, sir,” Derringer answered, “smooth as silk.”
“I told you they would ride all right,” Dodge said. “My horse always rides by himself in that car and there’s never a problem.”
“I reckon,” Derringer replied, “but I wasn’t sure about Clem. He ain’t used to ridin’ trains, so I thought he might be more comfortable if I took the ride with him.” He also knew that on this particular train, the caboose was fixed up to be an office for the general to work in when he was out with the construction crews. So he didn’t want to interfere with the general’s office time.
They were joined then by a man wearing a heavy buffalo hide coat and hat. He was riding a Morgan horse and he stepped down to greet the general with a brief progress report. “We ain’t laid another foot of track since you were here two days ago, General. This damn weather just keeps gittin’ worse. I ain’t sure now whether God’s against layin’ tracks all the way across the country or not.” He paused only briefly to cast an inquisitive look at the man with the general before continuing. “We’re tryin’ to build the bed up the first real steep climb, but the ice and the snow just won’t let us work the mule teams. The damn roadbeds we’re tryin’ to build keep washin’ out before we can get the mule teams up that slope to secure ’em. It wouldn’ta done much good if they coulda got up there. Last night we got another two feet of snow.”
“I don’t know if God’s against the Union Pacific joining up with the Central Pacific or not, Jack. But I think He’s sent sign enough to let us know He doesn’t want it done this winter. That’s why we’re shutting it down until we get weather you can work in,” Dodge told him. Then he motioned toward Derringer and said, “This is Jesse Derringer. He’ll be workin’ with us to build this railroad. Jesse, this is Jack Tyler. He’s the foreman of the construction crew working to climb Sherman Hill.”
Tyler didn’t extend his hand, giving Derringer only a nod, his first impression being a suspicion that the rugged-looking man was there to tell him what he was doing wrong in the construction of the tracks. Consequently, he responded, “Mr. Derringer, what do you do?”
“As little as I can get away with,” Jesse answered. “I’m on the Union Pacific payroll, but the most I know about the railroad is trains run on the rails men like you build. I just do whatever the general tells me to do.” He stepped toward him and offered his hand, which Tyler accepted at once.
Dodge had to chuckle at the introduction of the two men and the way Derringer handled it, so he explained to Tyler. “Jesse rode with me in the army as my scout. His job with the railroad will be to scout out the best routes to put down track. And I might point out that this pass you’re working on was discovered by him and it’s the only way we can get the railroad past these mountains.” With the introductions settled, the general got to the business at hand. “I’m shutting down construction on this part of the railroad until we get a little better weather. I think it best to go with you to tell your construction workers, myself, so they’ll know it’s the official word and they’ll still have their jobs when we can start back to work.”
They climbed on their horses and Tyler led the way along the railroad tracks past the end of the last rails in place, where they found Tyler’s crew of men waiting. Unable to work, they were gathered around several different fires and were so many that Derringer couldn’t estimate the number. Tyler led him and the general to the largest of the gatherings, drew his handgun from his holster, and shot a couple of times up in the air to get everyone’s attention.
The general got off his horse and climbed up on a wagon to stand and address the crowd of workers pushing in to get as close as possible. Speaking as loudly as he could comfortably manage, he told them that work on the railroad would stop for three months due to the wintry conditions. “You can all go home and if you report back here in three months, the Union Pacific guarantees you will still have your job. Tomorrow and the day after that you can file by the office in Cheyenne to collect the money you’ve got coming for this month. I’m sorry to have to give you this news, but we can’t control the weather.”
His announcement was met with a general groan of disappointment, even though they were well aware that the railroad could not be built under four feet of snow. Most of the crew laying the tracts were ex-soldiers of the Civil War and their homes were back east. “I ain’t sure I can go home and come back here in three months’ time,” one man sang out.
“I know I can’t,” another man said. “I ain’t made enough money to buy a horse.” There were many more comments with the same complaint.
Jack Tyler climbed up on the wagon then to address the issue. “The Union Pacific don’t wanna stop construction for three months any more than you don’t wanna be outta work for three months. But there ain’t no use in bellyachin’ about it. It’s the weather that’s sendin’ you home, not the railroad. Be back here in three months and we’ll lay these tracks over this hill. You’ll all receive pay through the end of this day, so you might as well go back to Cheyenne. And you can sign your name, or make your mark, and pick up your pay tomorrow and the next day.”
There was a stirring in the crowd of workers, accustomed to responding to Tyler’s commanding voice, as they reacted to the railroad’s decision to quit work. For those without a wagon or a horse, it meant a four-hour walk back to Cheyenne. It was a five-hundred-mile trip back to Council Bluffs, where most of them had hired on, with nothing but prairie or desert in between. But Council Bluffs was not home to most of them. So when a man considered adding the distance from there to Mississippi, Georgia, or Carolina, the natural response was, “Ain’t no way I can get home and back in three months.”
“Maybe I could make it, if I didn’t stop when I got home and just turned around and came right back,” one voice speculated. “This time of year, it don’t make no sense.”
“Don’t make no sense a-tall,” another agreed. “Hell, I’ll walk back to Cheyenne, but that’s as far as I’m goin’.”
“Hey, Tyler,” one voice shouted out, “are you expectin’ us to unload those flatbeds and boxcars of all them crossties and timbers off that train?”
Tyler looked at the general and Dodge answered for him. “If you want to ride back to Cheyenne on the train, I expect you’d better.”
Derringer looked at the general and wondered if he had really thought about the risk of leaving a trainload of track-building material from back east at the end of the tracks, unguarded for three months. Then he decided that Dodge felt the gamble was worth the little bit of goodwill it would buy with the workers.
