No Less Than the Journey (15 page)

CHAPTER 24

Wes and the others reached the main St Louis to Iron Mountain railroad travelling on a twice weekly branch-line train which served those living on the many outlying farms in the area. Here they parted company.

It was not an easy parting for either Wes or Anabelita. As a professional gambler Anabelita was used to concealing her feelings and she did so today – but with the greatest difficulty. She kept her face turned away from the others so that only Wes saw the tears that welled up in her eyes before the train she was on pulled away, heading for St Louis, leaving Wes to wait for one that would carry him in the opposite direction – to Harmony.

Since Wes’s return from the Schuster plantation he and Anabelita had spent each night together and she had made use of every wile available to her in an attempt to persuade him to change his mind and travel to Abilene with her and the others.

The most she had been able to achieve was a promise that if Peter Rowse, Wes’s uncle, was no longer in Harmony and had left no message for him, Wes would make his way to Abilene, find Anabelita, and discuss the future with her.

To Anabelita it sounded as though he had made up his mind they would not be seeing each other again. She would never know how close he came to changing his mind whenever he looked at her.

When the train on which Wes was to travel came along and he climbed on board he began to wish he had gone with Anabelita and the others.

The train was comprised of ore trucks with the addition of a single passenger ‘carriage’ at the rear of the train, immediately ahead of the brake van. It was, in fact, a boxcar, from which sections of the side-panelling had been removed.

The seating consisted of half-a-dozen bench seats placed around the perimeter of the floor space and all were occupied, albeit loosely.

As none of the seated men seemed inclined to move up and make room for him, Wes dropped the bag containing his possessions on the floor and sat down beside it.

The men in the carriage were dressed in clothes Wes instantly recognized as those worn by miners and they fell silent when he climbed on board. When the train jerked into motion they began talking together again in a language he did not understand, but took to be German.

Once, one of the men tried to engage him in conversation, but when he indicated he did not speak the other man’s language no further effort was made and he was ignored for the remainder of the journey.

When the train juddered to a halt some of the men alighted and, although Wes repeated the name ‘Harmony’ to those remaining, they pretended not to understand what he wanted.

Fortunately, the brakeman came along and when Wes put the question to him he proved to be an American, saying, ‘There’s no station at Harmony, friend. This is Potosi and as
close as you are going to get.’

Gratefully, Wes picked up his bag and alighted from the train. Standing beside the track he asked the brakeman, ‘How far is Harmony from here?’

The brakeman shook his head, ‘I’ve never been there, but I believe it’s about fifteen miles, or so.’

When Wes expressed dismay, the brakeman said, ‘There’s a store a little way into town. They run wagons up to the mines. You could ask if they have anything going to Harmony.’

Thanking him, Wes made his way from the railroad station as the train clattered into motion once more.

The owner of the general store proved more helpful than had the German miners. In reply to Wes’s question, he said, ‘I’ve got a couple of wagons leaving for Harmony within the hour. You’re welcome to a ride on one of them – but do you have friends there?’

‘I hope so,’ Wes replied, ‘I’ve come all this way to meet my uncle, he’s a miner there.’

‘An
English
miner?’ There was incredulity in the storekeeper’s voice.

‘Well, yes … although he would no doubt prefer to be known as a Cornishman.’

‘How long is it since you heard from this uncle of yours?’ the storekeeper asked.

‘I suppose he must have written his last letter to me about eight or nine months ago. Why do you ask?’

Ignoring the question, the storekeeper said, ‘I doubt if he’s still there. A great deal has changed on the mines around Harmony in the last twelve months. So many Germans have come in that they’ve taken over most of the work on the mines, ousting miners from other countries. They’ve also formed themselves into trade unions – militant ones at that. A while ago they all downed tools in a bid to get more money from the
mine owners. The owners’ answer was to bring in workers from outside. There was a whole lot of trouble for a while before the Germans were forced to go back to work if they didn’t want to see their families starve. A great many of the miners brought in by the owners were Cornishmen, so unless you have someone influential there you’d do well to stay well clear of Harmony. Around this area Cornishmen are about as popular as weevils in a cookie factory.’

‘You’re not the first person to tell me that,’ Wes admitted, ‘but I wrote and told my uncle I was coming. It’s just possible he stayed on to wait for me. If he did he’ll be having an uncomfortable time. I need to go there and find out.’

‘I don’t think you realize just how bad things are up there,’ the storekeeper said, seriously. ‘Men who fall foul of the unions don’t find it merely “uncomfortable”. Their problems are more likely to prove terminal.’

Pointing to where the Winchester bought by Aaron for Wes at New Orleans was strapped to his bag of belongings, the storekeeper added, ‘I see you’ve got a rifle there. While you’re in Harmony I suggest you keep it loaded and have it close by – day and night.’

With these words of warning the storekeeper left the store and went outside to check the wagon yard. When he returned to where Wes had been thinking over what he had been told, the helpful store owner said to him, ‘The wagons are just about ready to leave. If you haven’t changed your mind you’d best get out there.’

Assuring the storekeeper that he was still intent on travelling to Harmony, Wes thanked him for his assistance and was making his way from the store when the man called after him.

‘Seeing as you’re not going to see sense, I suggest you check in at the Eastern Promise hotel in Harmony. It’s run and staffed
by Chinese. They don’t care where a man comes from, or what colour he is. Just so long as you’re able to pay your way they’ll give you as good a room as you’re likely to find anywhere.’

CHAPTER 25

Harmony was a typical American mining town although the hastily erected houses raised when lead was first discovered in the area had been largely replaced by more permanent structures and the streets were cleaner than any of the mining towns and villages Wes had known in Cornwall. It was a result, the wagoner told him – albeit grudgingly – of Germanic influence upon the town.

The same wagon driver set Wes off outside the Chinese hotel and expressed thanks for the few coins Wes gave him to buy himself a couple of drinks when the wagon had been unloaded.

The diminutive and elderly hotel proprietor’s Chinese name was Nieh Tei, which had been corrupted by early English occupants of the town to ‘Nitty’. As Nieh Tei preferred to be known as ‘Joe’, he inevitably became known as ‘Nitty Joe’.

Nitty Joe went out of his way to make Wes welcome in his establishment. There seemed to be few other guests and Wes thought it highly probable that most other Harmony hotels
catered for Germans, leaving Joe to tend to the needs of the few non-German visitors to the small mining town.

Wes was given a front room overlooking the street and although this was quite noisy when the window was open, the hotel itself was quiet and after a passable meal Wes went to bed and enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

Next morning at breakfast he got into conversation with a garrulous travelling salesman who worked for a Chicago footwear company, visiting various town and mining stores taking wholesale orders.

He was exactly the type of man Wes had been hoping to meet with. After listening to a lecture on the impossibility of the Germans allowing him to work in the lead mines in the area, Wes persuaded him to draw a passable map of mines in the vicinity for his use.

Armed with this, Wes set off after breakfast to find Peter Rowse – and also sound out the possibility of finding work in the area.

It soon became apparent to him that the reports he had heard of the German attitude towards English miners had not been exaggerated.

At the first two mines his search for Peter Rowse met with a ‘don’t know and don’t
want
to know’ response and while a tentative inquiry about the possibility of being given work provoked incredulity in the first mine office and anger in the second, when he broached the subject at the third he was actually threatened with violence and forced to leave the mine in a hurry.

At the fourth mine, that afternoon, the mine manager was more reasonable and spoke more English than had the Germans on the other mines. It turned out he had attended the Camborne school of mines in Cornwall and had actually learned some of his skills working in Cornish mines.

He had not known Peter Rowse, but gave Wes the useful information that many miners who moved from the area left details of their intended destinations in the post office in Harmony, where a record was kept of such information.

The helpful mine manager also warned Wes that another strike was imminent with the first men coming out that very night. At such times tempers boiled over and because of previous strike-breaking activities by Cornish miners he suggested Wes should obtain the information he wanted and leave Harmony at the earliest opportunity, explaining that when news that a Cornish miner was in the town reached the ears of union officials, as it most certainly would, they would seek him out and forcibly evict him from Harmony.

Wes was told this was an action the union men had taken on many occasions during their previous strike – and with ever-increasing violence.

Thanking the helpful mine manager for his information and the warning, Wes tramped back into Harmony, aware that he could not reach the town before the doors of the post office closed for the day. However, the office was not far from his hotel and he decided he would go there first thing the next morning and plan his future actions according to the information he received.

One thing had already become increasingly certain. He would not find employment as a miner in Harmony and if his uncle was no longer here there was nothing to tie him to this particular area.

Indeed, if there was no message from the family member, he could go anywhere. Even to Abilene!

When Wes reached the Chinese owned hotel he found ‘Nitty’ Joe in a state of some excitement. It seemed from what Wes was able to gain that someone from the sheriff’s office had
come looking for him, with a message.

The hotel owner could tell Wes nothing more than this. Puzzled, Wes made his way to the sheriff’s office, only to find it locked and no one there.

An old man, crippled from years spent underground in the lead mines and suffering from a more recent excess of alcohol was seated on the boardwalk nearby. He told Wes the sheriff had sworn in a number of deputies and gone to the mines in anticipation of trouble when miners came off the late shift and the strike began.

Wes decided to return to the hotel and have another early night, ignoring what was going on in the mines around the town. He was not aware that his presence in town was known and had been rekindling the still smouldering resentment against non German miners – Cornishmen in particular – who had been called in to break the earlier major strike.

CHAPTER 26

The following morning, Wes had finished his breakfast and was contemplating the map drawn for him by the travelling salesman, trying to make up his mind whether he should go to the sheriff’s office before visiting more mines, when he heard raised voices in the reception hall outside the restaurant.

The owners of the voices sounded angry and he could also pick out the loud and excited sing-song voice of the hotel’s proprietor.

Rising from his seat he had reached the doorway to the reception area when he was confronted by more than a dozen men he took to be miners, with a voluble and agitated ‘Nitty’ Joe berating them in an unintelligible mixture of English, Chinese and German.

Among the miners Wes recognized the man who had made a half-hearted attempt to engage him in conversation on the train to Potosi.

The miner recognized Wes at the same time and excitedly pointed him out to a squat, heavily-built man who appeared to be the leader of the group.

The heavily-built man spoke to Wes in German but, well aware that the men had not come to the Eastern Promise to welcome him to Harmony, Wes said, ‘I’m sorry, but I only speak English and, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.’

He made to pass through the group but the miner’s leader stepped into his path. Jabbing a finger towards Wes, he demanded, ‘What are you doing in Harmony, Englishman?’

Wes’s inclination was to tell him to mind his own business but before he could reply ‘Nitty’ Joe intervened. Stepping between the two men, he spoke excitedly to the German, ‘Mister Curnow guest in hotel. He good man … no make trouble.’

The glance the German miner’s leader gave to the hotel owner was brief and contemptuous. Returning his attention to Wes, he said, ‘I asked you a question. You have been to the mines asking about work. We will not have Englishmen come here for work when we have called a strike. You are not welcome.’

‘I came here looking for a relative,’ Wes retorted. ‘I am still looking for him. My asking what work is available was incidental, but I am a miner.’

‘You are not a miner here – and you will not be. We had trouble with Englishmen coming here to work when we called our last strike. It will not happen again. You will leave today.’

‘I will leave when I’ve found out what I want to know about my uncle,’ Wes retorted. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me….’

He moved to bypass the Union leader but the German moved too, blocking his path and the other miners closed in around him.

Once again the Chinese hotel proprietor tried to head off possible violence. Pushing in front of Wes, he pleaded with the German, ‘Please … no trouble. I want no trouble my hotel.’

‘Then you should be more particular about who you allow
to stay here … now get out of the way.’

With this, he reached out and, taking a grip of the front of the cotton jacket worn by the diminutive Chinese, he lifted him off his feet and flung him to one side, where he crashed heavily against the reception desk and fell to the ground.

‘There was no need for that,’ Wes protested, ‘He’s an old man.’

‘You are not,’ the German miner replied, ‘and you are next.’

‘I’m not looking for trouble,’ Wes said. Even as he was speaking he stepped back into the doorway of the restaurant so that none of the miners could come at him from behind, or from either side.

‘Then you should not have come to Harmony,’ the miner’s leader said, taking a pace towards him.

Wes was deciding whether he should strike the first blow, or turn and make a dash for a window in the restaurant, when suddenly ‘Nitty’ Joe appeared from behind the reception counter – and in his hand he held a double-barrelled percussion sporting rifle.

What he intended doing with it was never put to the test. One of the miners, more quick-witted than his companions, grabbed the barrel of the gun and forced it downwards, pointing at the floor.

Suddenly, the contents of one barrel discharged, creating a hole in the floor that left no one doubt what it would have done to a man, or men, had it been fired in their direction.

The miners’ union leader was furious. Wes was forgotten for a moment as he turned on ‘Nitty’ Joe. ‘You think you would shoot me, eh?’ he shouted.

The miner who had caused the gun to discharge had now taken possession of it and another miner had pinioned the owner of the weapon from behind, holding him in a grip from which the puny Chinaman had no possibility of escaping.

Taking the gun from the man who held it, the Union leader addressed ‘Nitty’ Joe, ‘Perhaps now I shoot
you
.’

The miner who held the hotel owner, aware that if his prisoner was shot, he too would at least be wounded, hurriedly protested the situation to the union leader and, swinging the gun away from his frightened intended victim, the man pulled the trigger.

The shot shattered a very large mirror decorating a wall of the reception area. Before the last of the glass had fallen to the ground the union leader was swinging the gun around to strike the helpless little Chinaman a savage blow across the face with the barrel. Before he had recovered from the pain of the blow, he had been struck on the other side of his face with a return swing of the gun.

This was the moment when Wes should have taken the opportunity to run back through the restaurant and follow the example of the three guests who had been taking breakfast in the restaurant when trouble erupted. Opening a window, they scrambled outside as quickly as they could.

Instead, Wes took a couple of paces into the reception hall as the miner holding the hotel proprietor released his hold, allowing his bloody-faced captive to fall to the floor.

‘That wasn’t necessary,’ Wes said angrily to the man who had struck the blows, ‘Joe’s an old man who was merely trying to prevent trouble in his hotel.’

‘If you had not been here there would have been no trouble,’ was the reply. Then, with a gesture to his companions, he barked an order in German.

Wes was immediately seized and held by two of the miners. Swaggering up to him to stand with his face close to Wes’s, the union leader said, ‘Perhaps you are right, he is too old to have any sense … but you are not. You will leave Harmony – now!’

‘I’ve already told you why I am in Harmony. As soon as I’ve
learned where my uncle is I’ll leave and go to a place where miners are happy to spend their time doing what they’re paid to do, and not go around beating up old men.’

The German union leader smiled sadistically, ‘No, you will go today, as soon as I have shown you it is not only old men we beat.’

Standing back from Wes he struck him hard across the face with the flat of his hand, then gave him an equally forceful back-handed blow.

He repeated this four times and Wes tasted blood on his lips, but he remained defiant. ‘Perhaps you’d care to ask your friends to release my arms so I might return the compliment.’

The union leader smiled again, ‘By the time your arms are released you will not feel like doing anything to anyone.’ He drew back his hand to strike once more, but before he could do so Wes kicked him hard in the groin.

The German bully let out a grunt of pain, but the kick had failed to put him out of action and Wes was still held fast by the miners.

Angry now, the union leader said, ‘You will suffer for that, Englishman. You will suffer very much….’

‘I don’t think so.’ The loud voice carried no trace of an accent. ‘You’ve had all the fun you’re going to have for today, Kauffmann.’

The speaker was a tall, grey-haired man with a five-pointed star pinned to the left breast of his jacket. Stepping around the side of the group of miners, he spoke to the two men holding Wes.

‘Let him go.’

Instead of obeying the order, they looked uncertainly at their leader.

The new arrival reacted angrily, ‘Damn you! I said release him – now! Otherwise I’ll arrest you and take you back to the
county gaol in Potosi to stand trial for assault and battery, unlawful detention … and anything else I think of along the way.’

The two men holding Wes were in no doubt that the lawman meant what he said and they hurriedly released him.

Wes put a hand to his mouth and his fingers came away bloody. He gave the man who had hit him an angry glance, but said nothing. Instead, he went to where ‘Nitty’ Joe was sitting up groggily, holding both hands to his face.

Behind Wes, his rescuer said to the Union leader, ‘I see you are up to your old tricks again, Kauffmann. Didn’t you learn anything the last time you went on strike?’

‘Yes, County Sheriff Marlin,’ Kauffmann replied, ‘We learned not to allow any strike-breaking Englishmen in to Harmony – and to collect enough money from miners when they are working to carry them over the time they are on strike.’

The proprietor of the Eastern Promise was sitting up now, his swollen face obviously painful, but he waved Wes away, repeating, ‘No trouble…. No trouble!’ when he tried to examine it.

He was less dismissive about his shattered mirror. Pointing to it he was close to tears and unleashed a torrent of Chinese. Wes, who had overheard what Kauffmann had said to the county sheriff, said, ‘Since the union has no money problems I suggest they make a collection among the members who are, here to pay for a new mirror for Joe. It was his pride and joy.’

‘That sounds a good idea to me and, as county sheriff, I think you should volunteer the money, Kauffmann. Otherwise I am going to have you all lodged in gaol until we can organise a court to try you and order you to pay. Tell your members, Kauffmann, just in case there is anyone here who doesn’t understand American.’

County Sheriff Marlin was aware that Harmony’s town sheriff was German himself – and also an ex-miner. If the union members were arrested and turned over to him they would remain in custody only until he left town.

Kauffman was aware of it too and if the county sheriff was intent upon a showdown, he would eventually be the winner, yet the German was not ready to capitulate right away.

‘What happened was an accident.’

Wes snorted scornfully. ‘Just as Joe’s face was an accident! You’re a bully and a coward, Kauffmann. You wouldn’t last five minutes if you were representing Cornish miners.’

‘You are
Cornish
?’ Kauffmann’s surprise was genuine. ‘Had I known I would not have wasted a shot on the mirror. In fact if anyone here is carrying a gun I’d be happy for him to use it on you anyway, county sheriff or no county sheriff.’

‘I wouldn’t advise anyone to take that seriously. This here’s a buffalo gun and one shot would put a bullet through as many as six men – even if they are as thick-skinned as some of you.’

The voice was that of Charlie Quinnell. Standing up, away from ‘Nitty’ Joe, Wes could see the old mountain-man standing in the hotel doorway, holding his long-barrelled buffalo gun in a deceptively casual manner.

The Chinese hotel proprietor, still seated on the floor, pleaded, ‘Please … no more trouble. Too much trouble already.’

‘I’m inclined to agree with Joe,’ Sheriff Marlin said to Kauffmann, ‘I suggest you set an example to your men by being the first to make a generous donation towards a new mirror for the Eastern Promise. Put the money on the counter, where we can all see what’s being given. That way nobody will want to appear mean.’

After a brief discussion with his fellow miners, Kauffmann
put a number of coins on the counter. When he looked up and saw the frown on Sheriff Marlin’s face he dug in his pocket to add more. The other miners followed suit, albeit with considerable reluctance.

When the last man had contributed his donation, Kauffmann asked curtly, ‘We can go now?’

‘Yes … No! The sight of all that money has reminded me of the reason I came to Harmony this morning.’ Shaking his head in mock disbelief, Sheriff Marlin added, ‘I just can’t believe I forgot in the first place…! A bank was robbed in Potosi during the night and the gang which did it split up afterwards. My deputy’s heading a Potosi posse following some of ’em who were heading west. I came to Harmony to raise a posse to try to catch up with the others, who set off heading for the mountains up this way.’

Believing he had a much needed opportunity to hit back at the county sheriff and regain some of his credibility as leader of his union, Kauffmann said, incredulously, ‘You came to Harmony to ask us to help
you
catch bank robbers? No, Sheriff Marlin, you have never tried to hide your contempt for miners –
German
miners. Now you will realize the contempt they have for you. You will not find one man in Harmony to join your posse. Not one. We all have other things to do.’

Wes thought Sheriff Marlin seemed surprisingly unconcerned at Kauffmann’s almost gleeful statement but the reason soon became clear.

Shrugging his shoulders, the tall sheriff said, ‘Oh well, I can’t go after them by myself. Go get your things together, Wesley. You won’t find your friend here, in Harmony, but he’ll no doubt have left a message for you in the post office. They’ve tried to keep a record there of where miners are heading when they leave Harmony. We’ll call in on the way back to Potosi. You can stay at my place for a while until you decide what
you’re going to do with yourself.’