The entire countryside was anxious to be at the Emerson depot to greet the first train arriving from St. Paul on the morning of November 11. Shortly after daylight on the auspicious day, Susan left home and after walking down the alley, rapped lightly on the McLaren back door. When she entered the kitchen a brief spate of cold air followed. She felt the sudden warmth of the room and the mouth-watering smell of frying bacon. Dancing flickers of light leaked from the damper on the left side of the cast iron range.
Mary glanced up from where she was turning the bacon. "You're just in time for breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes and toast." She reached to the cupboard and handed a cup to Susan, then began turning the bread toasting on the hot top of the stove.
Maggy was sitting quietly at the table, nursing Kate at her breast. Reaching for the coffee pot, Susan said, "I've had breakfast. I came over to see what time we're leaving for Emerson." Seating herself opposite Maggy, she asked, "Will Patrick be able to get off work to come along with us?"
Baby Kate stopped nursing and turned upon hearing Susan's voice. Susan smiled at her. "Gosh, every time I see her she's grown." She marveled, "She'll be walking soon, I bet."
Maggy looked down at Kate fondly. "She's on solid foods, too, but she's still a glutton for breast milk. She says "Mama" and "Dada," and I do believe she'll start walking in another month or two. That is, if someone holds her hand. She can already pull herself up and stand." She looked to Mary. "You were walking by yourself when you reached your first birthday."
Mary smiled and reached behind her head to pat her back in jest. "Yes, and you've told me a hundred times how I got into everything." She looked toward Susan. "Pa can't get off work, but Jerold and Knute will take us over in the buggies. There's not much snow, and with the five of us and Mike, we'll need your buggy too."
"Ian got off work at six this morning. I fed him breakfast and he's fast asleep by now. He'll join us in Emerson around noontime. It's a pity we all can't go to Roseau Crossing1 to see the spike-driving ceremony, but Ian says it's too far and too cold a ride."
Knute entered the kitchen and wiggled a silent hello to Susan with his fingers as he sat down at the table. He had evidently overheard Susan's remark, and he added, "Nearly a three-hour ride each way and a chilly one too."
Mary scooped the fried bacon and potatoes onto a platter and placed it on the table. Grasping the covered dish of scrambled eggs from the warming side of the stove, she removed the cover and inserted a serving spoon. Placing the bowl in the center of the table, she remarked, "The toast will be ready in a jiffy."
"It sure will," Knute was smiling. "It's already burning!"
"Oh, my gosh!" Mary hastily stabbed into the offending slice of bread with a fork, and then examined it closely. "It's all right, just burned a little on the edges."
Baby Kate pulled away from Maggy and endeavored to stand in her lap. When Susan held out her arms coaxingly, the baby smiled and attempted to crawl across the table to her. Sliding back her chair, Susan stood and lifted the child from Maggy's lap, saying, "I want two just like her, and two like Ian."
"And are you trying?" Maggy teased.
"You bet!" Susan broke into a merry laugh.
While the women smiled, Knute sat back silently; he was obviously embarrassed.
"We should leave by 10 o'clock." Maggy said. "I want to look around the stores this afternoon, for I've heard they have good print on sale for 12 cents a yard. Kate needs new dresses; she's nearly outgrown everything. We can eat dinner at one of the hotels. We're not packing any lunches today; it'll be my treat."
Sounds from the back porch indicated Jerold was back from the barn. They could hear the thumping of the milk pails on the porch floor. Moments later he entered the kitchen. "Smells like heaven in here. Anything left for me?"
"Not if you'd stayed out there much longer," Mary teased.
"Well, it was my turn to milk this morning." He grinned. "Knute's turn to milk tonight, then I'll be the one to have it easy." He sat at the table and began helping himself.
Susan stood and lowered Kate into her high chair. "I'll be back with the buggy at ten."
"No, you won't!" Jerold was smiling. "I will be the one. If you'll wait a moment until I finish eating, I'll walk back with you and be your chore boy while my big brother is busy sawing logs."
Susan looked up at the ceiling musingly. "Let's see. I need kindling split for the stove, the ashes must be cleaned from both the kitchen and parlor stoves, the barn needs cleaning, and, oh yes..."
"Whoa there! Have pity! Leave something for Ian to do."
"If you want it so." Susan looked at her brother-in-law fondly. She knew she had joined a wonderful, loving family.
It was nearly noon before the two buggies crossed the international boundary and proceeded north along Emerson's Main Street. It seemed a few tents were pitched helter-skelter here and there. Before they turned east on Church Street, they noticed each hitch rail in sight was occupied by riding horses or teams. The saloons were evidently doing a booming business, due to the crowd. It seemed every man who had ever worked on the railroad was in town for the celebration. Turning east toward the Depot, they were finally forced to stop; they were still two blocks short of their destination. Further travel was impossible for sleighs and buggies blocked the entire street.
Jerold turned to his mother. "What time is the train supposed to arrive?"
"Pat said sometime shortly after the noon hour. We might as well step down and visit a bit. I hope we don't have to stand in the cold too long." She handed Kate to Mike while she stepped from the buggy, and then reached to take the baby back. Walking to Knute and the girls, whose buggy had stopped behind theirs, she said, "Let's mingle a bit with the crowd until train time. No doubt some of our old neighbors will be about."
They had barely approached the crowd at the tracks when the shrill whistle of the northbound train was heard. Within a minute the highly decorated 4-4-0 engine slowed for the depot. Crowds momentarily panicked to clear the track and the train stopped, steam jetting out from the cylinders. From where the McLaren family stood, they could not hear the welcoming speech, but they could see the arms of the speaker gesturing vigorously. Flags decorated the engine and bunting hung from the cars. To Maggy, it seemed there were few passengers. She later found there were only 24, mostly executives of the St.P.&P.
The stop in Emerson was brief; with a sudden surge of power, the high driving wheels of the engine slipped momentarily, then slowed to seize the rails. People were waving from the car windows as the train finally moved north to the ceremony planned at Roseau. Mary turned to her mother. "Let's meet at the Gillis' restaurant. It'll fill quickly, so we'll hurry. We'll save seats for you."
Knute smiled, confident they would get to the café in plenty of time since they were on the outer fringe of the crowd. He remarked, "We'll beat everyone downtown. There aren't any rigs parked behind us."
They were two blocks from Main Street when Knute noticed a small group of men standing at the next corner. He became apprehensive when he saw they were watching the approaching buggy with obvious interest. The men were smiling and exchanging smirks, as if in anticipation. Just as their buggy passed by, one of the heavily bearded men threw something just ahead of the horse.
Susan clutched Knute's arm tightly. "Watch out! He threw a firecracker."
The explosion that followed was no firecracker. It was tremendous. For a second the girls and Knute were in shock. Then the horse began bucking. Twisting wildly, it forced the buggy nearly over on its right side. Mary was toppled out onto the ground. Kicking and rearing, the horse broke into a wild gallop, the right rear wheel of the buggy passing over Mary's chest. Out of control, the horse then left the road, bolting between two buildings. The two right wheels were torn from the axles as they scraped through to the alley. When the horse turned suddenly at the alley, Susan lost her balance. She was thrown clear of the buggy and landed heavily on the slushy ground.
All of the force Knute could exert on the reins by bracing his feet on the dash of the buggy failed to stop the horse. When a large water trough blocked the way, the animal attempted to jump it and failed. As the buggy struck the trough, it was totally demolished; Knute was thrown forward, his body striking heavily against a board fence.
Jerold, Maggy and Mike, who had been following a half-block behind Knute, witnessed the explosion and runaway. They noted that the men responsible for throwing the explosive charge cast furtive glances among themselves, and then hastily left en masse, in the direction of the Russell House. Not one man went to the aid of Mary, who was lying as if dead on the snow-laden street.
Maggy hastily pushed Kate into Mike's lap, crying, "Hold her!" Even before Jerold could bring the buggy to a complete stop, she leaped from the side and ran to Mary. Pushing back Mary's long hair, she saw the scraped, bloody face. Her daughter was moaning with pain, attempting to straighten from a fetal position.
"Hold still, darling. Everything will be all right."
Mary's eyes began to flicker as she became conscious. Her face was colorless. It was obvious she was in shock.
Maggy drew in a deep breath as she placed her fur muff under her daughter's head. From business establishments along the street, faces appeared, alarmed by the loud blast. Several men, seeing Maggy crouched down alongside Mary, approached at a run.
Jerold shouted to Maggy, "I'll follow Knute's buggy. He and Susan are in trouble." Driving hurriedly around the end of the block, he entered the alley in time to see Susan rising groggily from the ground. She looked dazed and was futilely attempting to wipe mud from the front of her coat.
Further along the alley was the smashed buggy. The horse was straddled across the water trough, flailing wildly with its front legs and emitting pitiful screams of agony. Drawing the buggy to a quick halt, Jerold thrust the reins into Mike's hand, commanding, "Hold the animal! Stay in the buggy with the baby!"
Knute was crumpled against the board fence motionless, yet apparently conscious. His eyes were open, but his extended right leg was strangely bent below his right knee. Moving cautiously to avoid the threshing legs of the horse, Jerold endeavored to pull Knute from the danger. A sick feeling came over him as he drew Knute's body back and saw what looked like a jagged stick protruding from the torn trouser leg. Although dazed, Knute recognized Jerold. He burst out, "I hurt like hell! My leg is on fire."
Susan, although badly shaken, joined Jerold in tugging Knute clear of the threshing hooves.
"Lay still, Knute," she ordered, while cradling his head in her hands. Motioning to Jerold with a jerk of her head, she said, "Give me your coat!" Jerold quickly complied and she gently tucked it under Knute's head.
Jerold cast a glance down the alley to the west. "Stay with him, Susan. I'll get help and find someone to dispose of the horse -- it's done for."
Before he could rise to his feet, they heard excited voices. The first two men to appear were clerks from Ashdown's store, located just on the corner. Realizing the situation of the maimed and crippled horse, one of the men cried, "I'll get a gun." Turning, he ran back to the store. The other clerk knelt by Susan and Jerold anxiously as Susan carefully wiped Knute's face with her scarf.
The man volunteered, "I'll get help to carry him into the store. We've got to get him off this cold ground." He headed toward the store.
Jerold urged, "Susan, why don't you see to Mike and little Kate? Take them into the store where it's warm. I'll stay with Knute until they return with more men."
Returning to the carriage, Susan reached to take Kate from Mike's arms. Mike jumped from the buggy and looked at up at her apprehensively. "Knute's going to be all right, isn't he?"
Susan looked as him reassuringly and put her arm around his shoulder. "He'll be fine, Mike. We'll have him home in no time."
Within a few moments one of the clerks returned with three men. As they carried Knute into the mercantile store, they heard the sharp crack of a pistol.
The shock from the impact with the ground was leaving Mary and she groaned, "It hurts to breath, Ma."
The merchant who was kneeling by her side looked up at Maggy. "She probably has some cracked ribs. It happened to me years ago; that's how I felt."
Maggy was somewhat relieved when she wiped the blood from Mary's face to find it oozing from a cut lip. She looked up at the men gathered around her. "Can you help me get her into a warm building?"
One of the men took charge. While he and two others carefully lifted Mary, another man assisted Maggy to her feet. "We'll take her into Ashdown's and call the doctor."
Luckily, the doctor was found at his hotel by one of the Ashdown clerks. After examining Mary briefly, he said, "She possibly has some cracked ribs in addition to her bruises; also, she has bitten her lip -- that's not serious. However, I can't tell if she has internal injuries, I'll have to look closer. He turned to the nearby watchers and said pointedly, "I need privacy to conduct a more detailed examination."
As the men turned away, another group of men entered through the rear door of the store. They were carrying Knute. The doctor looked startled and Maggy heard him mutter, "It never rains, but it pours!" Opening Mary's blouse, he slid the straps of her chemise down over her arms. Dark blue and red discolorations were on each side of her chest. One well-marked hemorrhaging streak had evidently been made by one of the buggy wheels.
"Like I thought, she has damaged ribs. I'll have to bind her chest. It will hurt to breath for a few days, but they'll mend and the pain will go away." He turned to Maggy, "Find a glass of water and I'll give her some laudanum before I wrap her chest. That will kill nearly all of the pain. Buy a pillow case from the store and I'll bind her chest with that. Oh, yes, get some large pins also. She'll need to be moved gently if you intend to take her home. I'll give you additional medication for her before you leave." After watching Maggy coax Mary into drinking the sedative, he said, "Now I'd better look at that other chap."
The men carrying Knute had laid him on a section of the store counter. Someone had placed a rolled blanket under his head. Susan, holding Kate in her arms, moved hastily over to join Maggy and Mary.
The doctor noted Knute's pasty, grim countenance. "What hurts the most, son?"
"My leg! My damn leg!"
The doctor briefly ran his hand down Knute's blood-soaked pantleg, then looked to Jerold. "Borrow some scissors from the store and slit the leg of that trouser carefully."
After the fabric had been cut open, Jerold noted the sudden grim look on the doctor's face. Moving away from the counter, the doctor beckoned to Jerold. "You'll have to get him over to my hotel room. Thank goodness, he's lost little blood. I hate to say it, but the lower part of the leg will have to be amputated. Both the tibia and fibula are broken and it's a compound fracture. Morever, just above the ankle, the two bones are mangled beyond repair. There's no way I can splint them. If it's not done immediately, there's almost a 100% chance of infection and then he will have little chance. He appears to be a strong, healthy boy. He should pull through satisfactorily."
The doctor turned to Enoch Winkler, the proprietor of the store. "Have you a mattress available for use to convey the boy to my hotel? His leg will need support while he is being moved."
Without answering, Winkler nodded and turned to the rear stockroom.
With Maggy's and Susan's help, the doctor deftly wrapped Mary to prevent the shifting of her ribs. By this time the laudanum had taken effect and she appeared to be sleepy and in little pain.
The doctor turned to Maggy. "Do you live in town, madam?"
"No, I'm Maggy McLaren, from St. Vincent. This girl is my daughter.
"I'd suggest a hotel room for her, but I'm afraid with the huge crowd in town, you'll look in vain."
Maggy reached out to smooth back the hair of her nearly sleeping daughter. "We'll see she gets home safely. Can you call over at our house in St. Vincent tomorrow, Doctor?"
"Yes, perhaps in the early afternoon. I must see to the lad now. He will need my room for a few days. I'll make the necessary arrangements."
When Knute was finally secure in the doctor's room at International Hotel, he appealed to Jerold. "My leg is shot, isn't it?"
Jerold tried to keep lightness in his voice. "It's just bad above the ankle."
"He's going to take it off, isn't he?"
"It won't make any difference, Knute."
Knute exploded, "What the hell will I do with one leg? Can't farm, can't do anything. Where are those sons-of-bitches who threw that bomb in front of the horse? They're responsible!"
"We'll find out who they are and get them!"
"You damn right! I'll spend the rest of my life getting even with them."
Ian arrived in Emerson too late to see the train pass through. A townsman recognized him and apprised him of the accident and of the location of his family. He immediately went to the Ashdown store to find his mother already making arrangements to have Mary returned to their home in St. Vincent. Mike was sitting quietly on a window seat by the door holding Kate on his lap. Concerned about his wife, he asked anxiously, "Just what happened? Where is Susan? Has she been hurt? Where are Jerold and Knute?"
Maggy hastily explained, "Susan is fine. She and Jerold took Knute to the International Hotel. He's in the doctor's room. His leg is badly broken and I don't know what the doctor plans." She looked at the sleeping Mary. "Mr. Winkler is out locating a spring wagon to carry Mary home. Mike, Kate and I will return with her; you see to Susan and Jerold. They're with Knute and know more what's going on than I." She added, "They've got our buggy; yours is shot. Also they've had to destroy your horse."
Ian hurried to the hotel and found Susan by the desk. Grasping her arms gently as she arose from a chair, he asked, "Have you been hurt, darling?" He noted her ashen look.
"No, just a bit shook up. But the doctor said Knute's right lower leg will have to be amputated."
"Oh, God! Poor kid! He'll need a lot of cheering up.”
Susan noted the grim look on his face and hugged him close. "We'll all see to that!"
"Can I see him?"
Susan shook her head. "The doctor is operating on him now. Jerold and another man are helping."
"Then I guess there's not much I can do except see Jack Bell and find the scum who did this. Sure you're not hurt?"
"I'm fine. Just find those men. They've got a lot to answer for."
Ian found Bell at the corner of Main and Church. The constable had already been informed of the accident and turned as Ian called to him. He smiled grimly and held out his open hand as Ian approached. Ian immediately identified the two objects Bell held in his hand as partial sticks of dynamite. "What are you doing with those, Jack?"
"I found them at the scene of the explosion." He fingered the greasy, oily paper.
"The bastards who caused the runaway stole this from the railroad, then cut it into three pieces. When they saw the damage they caused, they dropped the remaining portions on the ground to get rid of them. I checked your horse, too. No wonder he went wild. The explosion blew a chunk of hide from one of his front legs. I've been told those same men were seen walking toward the Russell House. I'm just heading for a look-see. Want to come along?"
"You bet!" Ian was grim. "They're going to pay the piper! I'm told Knute will lose a leg. What a hell of a thing to happen at a celebration!"
Bell whistled softly as he exhaled. "That should get them a few years in jail when we find them."
At the door of the saloon they hesitated momentarily to make plans. "We'll stick together and see who we can recognize," Bell advised. "Sometimes you can spot the guilty by their evasive actions and the looks on their faces."
The large barroom of the Russell House was packed with railroaders and civilians. Ian estimated the room held at least sixty men. All appeared boisterous, apparently oblivious to the heavy, blue haze of tobacco smoke that filled the room. Four harassed bartenders moved hurriedly behind the long mahogany bar. The chairs at every table were fully occupied and men stood two-deep along the bar.
"It's not going to be easy," Bell murmured.
Stepping ahead of Ian, he beckoned to the nearest bartender, who finally noticed him and turned. "I'm looking for four or five men who came in here recently, maybe a half hour ago, maybe a bit longer."
"Hell, Jack! I haven't had a chance to even look at the door. Look at this mob!" He waved his arm around. "Help yourself!"
Ian overheard the words and touched Bell's arm. "I'm going to look around."
While Bell remained in position to size up men he knew, men who would possibly have information, Ian went back outside. He realized that there were no saloons within a block and hoped the men they sought were inside. Then he saw a boy of about ten years of age playing just across the road. He had a hoop and stick and was chasing the hoop up and down the wood sidewalk. Crossing the street, Ian blocked the boy's path. The youngster stopped, looking puzzled.
"Son, did you see a group of men come over from Church Street some time ago? Maybe they entered that side door to the saloon across the street."
"You mean the ones that lit that big firecracker?" The small freckled face lit up.
"They're the ones," Ian said expectantly.
"Yup! They went into that side door. There were five of them and two were big buggers. They all had beards and one of them grabbed my hoop and threw it into Tennant's back yard."
"Were they drunk?"
"They were all laughing." He pointed at the hotel. "They haven't come out of there either."
Ian picked up the hoop and handed it to the boy. "Thanks! You've helped a lot."
Re-crossing the street, Ian realized he was in luck. He joined Bell and related his conversation with the boy, saying, “They’re still in here, according to the lad. I'm going back along the bar and see who's here."
Men blocking his way made movement difficult; they were intent in their conversations and reticent to move aside. He forced himself to be patient while worming between them, not wanting to irritate anyone. He knew that in a bar, with many drinking, anything deemed an insult could result in a massive brawl. At the far end of the crowded room, he suddenly stopped in surprise. Standing by the wall, nearly hidden from sight, were Brogan and Murphy with three other men. Wending his way back to Bell, he briefly related his past troubles with them and told of his suspicions.
"I know both of them. Come on!" Bell led the way forcefully, pushing through men, raising bitter looks as he shoved through the crowd. When he and Ian reached the end of the bar, sudden, apprehensive looks appeared on the faces of the five men as they were spotted. Their quick exchange of glances was obvious. Brogan and Murphy pretended a nonchalant conversation as their companions began to drift away.
Bell reached out and grasped Brogan's shoulder. "You and Murphy come outside with me. I want to talk to you." Murphy casually turned his back. "Yes, you too, Murphy."
"What the hell you want, Bell? We're drinking and minding our own business." A troubled look came to Murphy's face.
Bell thundered, "Either you two come with me or I'll drag you out!"
At first Ian though Murphy intended to start a fight, but then perhaps he thought better of it. Obviously reluctant, he followed Brogan and Bell to the door. Outside the bar, Bell turned on them. "How long have you two been in the saloon?"
Brogan exchanged glances with Murphy. "Hell, since early this morning."
"Turn out your pockets. I want to see what's in them." Bell demanded.
"What's this all about?" demanded Murphy.
"Never mind, just do it!" Bell ordered.
Slowly they emptied their pockets, displaying loose change, tobacco, jackknives, matches and sundry items, even a few buttons.
"What, no dynamite caps?" Bell looked at the two shrewdly.
Even Ian detected the startled looks on the men's faces. Murphy snorted. "What the hell are you trying to pin on us?"
"Pin what on you?" Bell had a nasty smile on his face.
Ian lost his temper. "You bastards set off that dynamite. Knute is going to lose a leg over your meanness, and both my wife and sister have been hurt. In addition a good horse is dead and my buggy destroyed." He surged in anger toward Murphy.
"Hold, Ian, hold!" Bell moved his huge bulk between them. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a revolver. Pointing it at the suspects, he exclaimed, "You are both going to jail. Now march, and you know where. Down to McRae's blacksmith shop. You'll stay locked up until we sort this out." He looked at them grimly, "In my book you're a pair of skunks!"
He called to Ian as he started the prisoners toward the jail. "Find Kenny McRae and tell him I need him at his shop. I'll arrange a hearing for tomorrow; then I can transfer them to Winnipeg."
Ian lost half an hour hunting up McRae, then he hurried to the hotel to check on Knute. He found Jerold and Susan conversing in the lobby.
Both arose to greet him. "The doctor removed his foot just above the ankle," Jerold said. "I helped a bit to hold him while the ether was applied, but I never want to go through that again. I'm not cut out for doctoring."
Susan sounded hopeful. "The doctor said that he'll be able to walk again. He said they make what is called prosthesis, a kind of artificial foot that can be attached to Knute's leg. He's asleep now, but we want to stay until he wakes up. He'll need a lot of looking after and bolstering up."
"He'll get it too!" Ian reached to put his arm around her shoulders. "It was railroaders who threw the explosive. Bell has Brogan and Murphy in custody. We think they were the ringleaders. That wasn't a firecracker they threw under the horse; it was part of a stick of dynamite."
A puzzled look appeared on Jerold's face. "Did they single out Knute and the girls, or were they just in the wrong place at the wrong time?"
"I guess we'll never know the answer to that unless they confess," Ian retorted.
"There have been too many coincidences lately: the attempted burning of my crop, the harming of Charley's horse, and the burning of Mason's livery. Now this! What's next?"
"Surely they'll get jail sentences over this. That should end any more trouble." Susan looked hopeful. "It could have been by chance they picked us. We might have returned downtown on another street."
Jerold glanced at his watch. "It's almost suppertime. When Knute wakes up, someone should be with him." He turned to Susan. "Why don't you go home with Ian? I'll stay with Knute tonight."
Casting a wry look down at her long skirt, Susan shrugged, and then turned to Ian.
"It's impossible to ride double in this dress. Why don't you leave your horse for Jerold and we can take your Father's buggy home?
"Jerold, if it's agreeable with you, I'll come over in the morning and spend the day with Knute. Perhaps I can divert his mind a bit by reading to him. He likes that."
Bell was tired and disgusted when he went home after locking up the prisoners. He and McRae had difficulty putting leg irons on the two men, because of their vociferous objections. It had taken a firm threat of shooting them both before the suspects backed down. Locked in the small building and limited in movement, Brogan and Murphy were forced to feed the small jail stove during the night to keep warm. It was only after Bell and McRae left that they began to discuss their plight.
Murphy sneered, "That damn fool Bell never found the other two capped dynamite fuses. I'll scrape out some chinking between the logs and hide them."
"Where'ja have them hid?"
"Got a secret pocket in the inside of my vest. If he had searched me good, our goose would have been cooked. Why, that dumb blacksmith never even found my knife. He put the irons on tight around my ankles but he never lifted either of my pant legs. Don't guess they have anything to hold us on -- they've got no proof."
"You suppose he'll corner Arnie and the boys and maybe work on them?"
"No chance. They won't spill any beans. They're just as guilty as we are."
Murphy began shaking his head. His headache was coming back and the voice was saying: You damn fool! Damn fool! Get that McLaren bunch, especially the girl!
He had tried and got one of them, but the wrong one. He judged himself lucky that they had come along Church Street when they had. The others had wanted to throw the explosive under the first buggy or sleigh that came along, but he had waited.
"What you got against the McLaren family, Eck? Do you know them from somewhere?"
"None of your damn business!" Murphy rolled into one of the dusty buffalo robes on the wall bunk, pulling it tightly to him. He cursed aloud, for McRae had tightened the ankle irons before riveting them shut. They were pinching and uncomfortable.
Brogan studied Murphy's form in the dim light. Why in hell did I ever get mixed up with him? He's peculiar at best and dangerous too. He talks to himself -- even shouts out in his sleep. Moody as hell -- guess he's a crazy. I should have known better. If I get out of this we're splitting company for sure, else he'll get me in serious trouble someday. His mouth was becoming dry and the effects of the day’s drinking were wearing thin. Geez! Wish I had a bottle now. It's going to be a long night and that dinky stove throws little heat!
Shortly after Maggy, Mike and the baby arrived home with Mary, Kirby rode into the yard. Hurriedly tossing the reins to the ground, he burst into the back door of the house. Mike was alone in the kitchen, making a sandwich.
"Where's Mary? I just got word at the fort that she's been in an accident."
Mike glanced up briefly. "Mother is upstairs with her. We just got back from Emerson. The doctor says she has broken ribs. I think she's asleep now, but you can go up and see."
Kirby took the steps two at a time, meeting Maggy just as she stepped from Mary's bedroom. She held a finger up to her lips and said softly, "She's asleep now. I've just tucked her in. You can go in and sit with her if you like, but don't wake her."
"How was she hurt?" Kirby's query came as a hoarse whisper.
"A buggy accident. It's a long story. When you come downstairs, I'll explain. Pat should be home from work soon; it's nearly suppertime."
Patrick, Ian and Susan arrived nearly simultaneously at the house. When Susan stepped from the buggy, Patrick said amiably, "You must have had a full day, just getting home now. Where is the rest of our family?" A puzzled look came to his face.
"How come you're driving my rig?"
"We've had trouble, Pa." Ian jumped down and turned to Susan. "Why don't you go into the house, I'll put up the horse." Then he saw Kirby's shivering animal. "Looks like Kirby is here; I'll put up his horse too." He looked puzzled, "It's not like Kirby to neglect his animal."
When all had gathered in the kitchen, Kirby heard the voices and came downstairs. As Maggy and Susan related the happenings in Emerson, Patrick became livid with rage.
"Those no-good rotters! So Bell has them in custody, eh? What's he going to do with them?"
Ian attempted to calm his father. "He said he'll try to schedule a hearing for tomorrow, then he’ll take them to Winnipeg for trial. He has them locked in the shed adjoining McRae's blacksmith shop."
"Perhaps I should go to Emerson to stay the night with Knute." Patrick looked questioningly at Maggy.
Ian interrupted, "No, Pa. It wouldn't do any good. He was still under the effect of the anesthesia when Susan and I left. Jerold is staying the night with him and Susan will take his place in the morning. Meanwhile, I'll do the chores tonight and again in the morning after I get off work."
Susan placed her hand on Patrick's arm in a further effort to placate him. "Knute will have to stay in Emerson for at least two or three days. The doctor seemed concerned about the possibility of an infection."
Glancing at Kirby, Ian could see the cold, calculating look on his face. Instinctively, he knew that it was just as well that Brogan and Murphy were locked up in Emerson. When word of what they had done became widespread, their lives would be in danger.
Maggy arose from the table and turned to Susan. "Help me get supper on the table for the men. You and Ian eat with us tonight. It'll save you cooking at home." She turned to the men. "Now that we know that everything is under control, and there's nothing further we can do tonight, let's relax."
1 - In this same book is a very cool story about how the last spike, although driven by several VIP's (all men) and even some women from the crowd, was driven home by Mary Sullivan, the section crew boss' daughter. The passage, written by the daughter whose parents were witnesses to the event, says:
Standing among the group of ladies who had been too shy and modest to come forward and take a tap at the spike was a stalwart looking young girl, Mary Sullivan. She was the daughter of the section boss Sullivan, the referee. She was eighteen years old and had been closely watching and enjoying the last spike driving. Like some of the other ladies, however, including my mother, she had been too shy to come forward before the huge gathering and take a whack at the spike. SHe loved section work and used to help her dad pump the hand car, drive spikes, tamp ties, and do any track work she could.
The spike had still over an inch more to go and the ladies were about ready to give up and let the men finish the job when Charlie Lynne, who had worked on the section and knowing Mary quite well, also knew of her ability at railway work, notced her among the ladies and shouted out, "Hey Mary, come on over and show them how to drive a spike."
Mary, blushing from head to toe, quickly ran over. Her dad very proudly handed her the spike hammer and the crowd roared approvingly. She stepped back the proper distance, spit on her hands (like her dad always did) and with a mighty over hand swing drover the spike home and right down to the rail. At her mighty feat, the crowd set up a tremendous roar! The trains blew their whistles making a din that was heard for miles around. Mary, of course, had stolen the show!
The drinks were passed around again, but this time the toast was to Mary Sullivan, "The Hero of the Day." The crowd ignored the bigshots and everyone huddled around to congratulate Mary and shake her hand.