Ribbons of Steel (17 page)

“We’re a sturdy lot, we are,” Violet informed her. “Our mother didn’t raise no weaklings.”

“She’s right. And we ain’t near as ill as you are, my dear,” Pansy confirmed. “You just lie still. Can’t be much farther.”

Emily thanked them, knowing she didn’t have another step in her.

They stopped several more times during their walk to Silver Springs. The threat of an Indian attack was replaced with the danger of the constant heat from the hot sun climbing higher and higher overhead.

Before long, the travel-weary assemblage spotted the small town nestled at the foot of the tall, flat mesa.

“Don’t be letting the distance to that town fool you,” the conductor said, shading his eyes with his hands. “We have at least another hour before we get there.”

The crowd was silent with the news.

“We can make it, sir,” Pansy told him, stepping forward just to prove her point. “Can’t be far if I can hear music drifting this way.”

“Now Pansy, your mind’s just so frazzled you think you’re hearing things,” Violet said. “Perhaps you should take a ride on one of them stretcher contraptions. Give your mind and body a rest.”

“I can make it if you can, Violet. I’m not much older than you.”

The challenge had been given. Neither woman let the other have the advantage.

Just the sight of the town up ahead gave Emily hope they’d be there soon. Those who had lagged behind somehow found renewed strength to pick up their feet and stand a little straighter. Emily gave up her spot on the litter to the other woman whose shoes were causing her so much pain.

****

“New York’s a mess,” Charley gasped rushing into Aderley’s office without waiting for an invitation. “They’re striking in Buffalo and Hornellsville on the Western Division of the Erie. They refuse to let passenger trains go out. The Fifty-Fourth New York Regiment is posted at Canisteo and West Street Crossings in Hornellsville.”

Aderley rubbed his hands over his face, his elbows rested on his desk. “What happened?” His words came out in a defeated sigh.

“A small passenger coach with about fourteen people, and four times the militia, rolled into the station close to ten o’clock. They didn’t anticipate the steep climb of Tiptop Mountain. Can you believe they gathered up enough steam to try and make the climb? But the tracks were slathered with soap? The train didn’t do nothing but slide back down those tracks.”

“What about the militia? Didn’t they do anything?”

“The crowd gathered along both sides of the track right down over the hillside like a sea overflowing its banks. Once the train lost speed, they all clambered aboard in a manic frenzy. Men, women, and children, yelled, shouted, scorning the militia who were ineffective. Even some of the militia started sympathizing with the strikers. Then someone uncoupled the cars and coaches. And that’s not all.”

“Don’t tell me there’s more?” Aderley shook his head. “Go ahead, you might just as well get it over with and tell me everything.”

Charley didn’t think there was any reason not to tell Aderley at this juncture of the strike. The man needed to know what the trunk lines had started.

“Strikers axed the steel, and brake rods were bent. Wheels were damaged before the cars were run to ground. They stopped a train filled with troops who had set out for Buffalo. They boarded the train, expelled the militia, and sent the locomotive back to the yards. Another train heading out to New York City was ambushed and cleared of its passengers and crew. They stranded it half a mile away on the east side of town. If you ask me, Donahue has been aware of this right along.”

“I’m beginning to believe you,” Aderley mumbled. “I haven’t seen him around, and he hasn’t reported to work in several days.”

The silence was almost piercing as they sat for a moment.

Aderley was the first to speak. “I’m sorry to hear things aren’t going so well up in New York, Charles, but I’ve got to say, I’m glad things have calmed down here as well as in Pittsburgh.”

“Once the militia took control it didn’t take long,” Charley agreed.

“Have you seen Westmüller lately?” Aderley enquired.

“No. I plan to visit him later today to see how he’s fairing. Talk to the family, see if there’s anything I can do.”

“Keep me informed. And, Charles, stay alert. Let me know if there are any more rumblings going on down below.”

****

Mrs. Flanagan proved to be a godsend. The house ran like clockwork, and Seth could concentrate on the farm. He even caught Catherine singing and smiling; something he hadn’t heard in a long time. With Timothy helping with chores and the fields, and Michael and Robert busy feeding chickens, collecting eggs, pumping water for the kitchen, and carting wood for the stove, Seth was feeling right proud of the family. Madeline was a wonder with baby Sarah. In the evening, Mrs. Flanagan even found time to read to them at the kitchen table.

Anna Louise was missing out on a fine family.

“Have you considered selling some of your lace in town?” Seth asked Maggie one evening when they were all gathered around the kitchen table. “I could check in town next time I go and see if one of the dress stores might be interested in buying some. Perhaps you could display some samples at Mrs. Wentworth’s millinery.”

“Oh, these are just some pieces I crocheted for a special Sunday dress for your sister. She’s been working so hard she deserves something nice. I’m sure the ladies in town would be wanting something a bit more delicate than this.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Flanagan.” Catherine’s head popped up from reading her text book. “But Seth is right. Maybe you should let him take a few pieces into town.”

“I’m thinking I need to go to town in a couple of days,” Seth encouraged. “I’d be glad to take a few pieces with me. See what Mrs. Wentworth thinks.”

Seth’s eagerness didn’t fool his sister if the smile on her face was any indication.

“Well, if you have a mind to. ’Twould be a treat, Seth. You have such a head for business, ya do, always thinking up ways to make ends meet here at the farm. If ya don’t mind, maybe I will. Just to see what comes of it.”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind making a trip back into town, Mrs. Flanagan. Seth has business to tend to, I’m sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Seth glared at Catherine, a warning which didn’t do much good. “Business is business.”

“That’s what you call it? Business?” She chuckled. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Anna Louise, per chance?”

“Per chance, yourself. Mind your own business.”

“Ah-ha. You are sweet on her. Ever since last year at the fair you haven’t been able to stop talking about her. When are you going to do something about it?”

Her smile teased him.

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled.

“Oh, my. Did you two have words? Did she reject your advances?”

“Leave it be, Catherine,” Seth said, scraping the chair back preparing to leave.

“She did, didn’t she? I saw her with Mr. Linsky. Oh, Seth, is that what’s bothering you? I’m so sorry…”

“I said leave it.” Seth grabbed his hat and stormed out of the house. He was going to prove them all wrong. Anna Louise just needed time to get used to the idea of marrying him. He didn’t need an excuse to go into town. If he wanted to go court Miss Anna Louise, he would.

Who was to stop him?

****

Seth hadn’t counted on the weather. Rain poured down in buckets the next day, and the two days following. The creek beds rose to flooding, and the road down off the hill washed out. When he and Timothy checked the crops in the fields, Seth stood and shook his head.

“Unless this rain stops soon, we’re going to lose the buckwheat.”

“How can we stop mud from sliding down the south slope into the potato field below?”

“I don’t know, Tim.” Seth brushed the hair off his forehead and sighed. The two new crops he’d planted earlier in the year were a wash out. He figured the rain had just cost him two acres of buckwheat alone and about another of potatoes.

“Can’t you replant?”

“Only if the rain lets up soon. I’ll see if I can get more seed from the mill. See if someone over in Richford has any potatoes I can buy.”

“At least you have the herd of goats.”

“Yes. We’ll be okay. But I’d hoped this would be a success.”

His herd of goats was producing milk like the rain falling from the skies. Even if he wasn’t money ahead from the crops, the farm had no debts owing at the moment, thanks to his tin-eaters.

However, once the bad luck started, nothing went right. Michael slipped in the mud and broke his arm the day after the rains let up. The eggs he’d been carrying from the hen house broke right along with his arm. With no eggs in the kitchen, Mrs. Flanagan had to use her imagination to create meals for the day.

But the real problem involved getting Michael down the washed-out road to Doc Wooster’s to have his arm set. Catherine and Mrs. Flanagan wrapped a towel around his arm to keep it from swinging on the trip to town. Catherine rode along to help out and remembered at the last minute to take some of Mrs. Flanagan’s handmade lace.

Maneuvering down the dirt road was a slow process as Seth steered the horses through the muddy ruts, which had only gotten deeper with the flooding. The ride was bumpy to say the least. Several times the wagon skidded toward the steep bank on the right. Seth reigned in the horses just in time to keep them from going over the drop-off into the creek fifty feet below. The back wheel broke loose, and Seth had to get out in the mud to fix it before they finally turned onto the turnpike and were heading toward Candor. The Ithaca and Owego Turnpike trail, however, was just as muddy and washed out from all the rain. The going was slow. At least there were no hills to speak of, and they moved ahead at a steady pace.

By the time they got to Candor, Michael’s staunch pride dissolved as he writhed in pain. Doc Wooster was in and able to care for Michael immediately.

“I’ll give him a dram of laudanum for the pain. Just enough to ease the discomfort while I set his arm. He’s too young for more.”

Doc Wooster administered the vile tasting liquid. Michael made a face but was in too much pain to fuss.

“Help me get him up on the table, and we’ll lay him down.”

The table was a large wooden affair that had seen many medical procedures in its time. The room he was taken to was tidy, clean, and smelled of lemon oil, antiseptic, and kerosene.

“Miss Carmichael, if you will just hold young Michael’s good arm. Seth, you might want to hold his shoulders down while I set this.”

Michael didn’t even blink as Doc Wooster undid the towel and straightened out the arm. Within a matter of minutes, the arm was splinted and wrapped, then tucked tight against his rib cage to help keep it in place.

“Let him stay here and rest for a bit. I’ll keep an eye on him to make sure he’s not in more pain when the laudanum leaves his system. I’d say two to three hours.”

Seth and Catherine walked on down the street and dropped off Mrs. Flanagan’s lace at Mrs. Wentworth’s store.

“Such wonderful lace. My dear, of course I’ll purchase some for the store. You tell Mrs. Flanagan to send more.”

“I’m sure she’ll be pleased when I tell her,” Catherine said.

Saying goodbye, Seth followed Catherine out of the shop.

“How about we stop at the Candor Creek Inn for a bite to eat?” Catherine suggested. “It’s all the rave these days.”

“I’ve never had the opportunity to stop in.”

“Then let’s go.”

Walking into the Candor Creek Inn was like walking into a large kitchen, only there were many more tables and chairs. The tables were large, round and sat ten, easily. Instead of white pristine tablecloths, a round revolving tray on a small spindle held an assortment of condiments in the middle of each table. Simple curtains hung in the windows, and the waitresses wore plain white smocks over their dresses. The Inn was a no-frills establishment where the young people gathered to socialize. The smell of pan-fried food filled the room, along with the noisy crowd.

Catherine led Seth past several tables surrounded by people Seth didn’t know. “There’s an empty table in the corner. Let’s sit over there,” she said. “I want to try one of those fried beef sandwiches. They smell delicious, don’t you think so?”

“Yes. I’ll have one as well.” Seth sat and glanced around the room. “Where did all these people come from?”

“You really need to get off the hill more, meet people your own age.”

“I do get off the farm. And I do meet people.”

“Just those old men on your agriculture committee.”

“It’s an important committee if you’re a farmer, Catherine.”

“I suppose. Oh, look. Anna Louise is over there in the corner with her friends from the Women’s Christian Temperance Union.”

Seth’s head shot around. Sure enough. Anna Louise sat across the room with a group of young ladies, their heads all bobbed together toward the center of the table, real intent on something. As usual, Anna Louise was a sight. She was all smiles. She simply glowed.

“Go over and say hello, for heaven’s sake,” Catherine nudged. “She won’t bite.”

“She’s busy with her friends. I don’t want to disturb her.” Seth wanted desperately to talk to her, but not while she was with her friends.

Catherine caught their eyes and waved a hello in their direction. “Don’t be rude, Seth. Smile and wave.”

Seth gave what he considered a friendly smile and attempted a wave. He nodded, then listened as the ladies tittered while they outright stared at him. Embarrassed, he glared at them in an effort to show his displeasure. They turned back to their own business as if he was invisible.

All except Anna Louise.

She still looked his way.

Anna Louise smiled.

Heat radiated up Seth’s neck as if he had a fever.

Seth took hope once again.

Chapter Twelve

“You just walk right between us, Ma’am. We’ll see you come to no harm,” Violet said.

Emily walked beside the two sisters the last half mile into town. A collective sigh of relief washed over the bedraggled group as sounds of the pounding of metal on metal from the local blacksmith hammering away carried over the humid afternoon heat.