Book 9, page 13
“Well, my thought is to see what books are available for me to read on the way to St. Louis.”
“Please,” she said stepping aside and with an outstretched hand, “Step in and browse. Most of my books are first edition and many are signed copies. Feel free to look.”
Bill stepped in and after a minute or two he shook his head as he thought, My Lord! This is a treasure house! These books are so rare and as she said many are signed copies. After thirty minutes, he was back at her desk with three books.
The Liberian handled the books with tender hands as she said looking at his selections, “The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells, The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde and The Time Machine by H.G. Wells.” She looked at Bill with a smile, “Sir, these are works of art. I should know as I read every book that comes into my humble library. You will enjoy them. I promise.”
“I’m sure I will,” said Bill as he filled out the library lend list. “Tell me, do you own these books or are they the property of the ship?”
“Sir, I purchase every book that I put in the library so they belong to me.”
Bill pursed his lips in thought and asked, “Would it be possible to purchase them from you? Where I live there are no such books as these. If so, please name your price.”
She thought for a moment and then said, “While I am not in the bookstore business, sir, you are one of the very, very few who have shown a love of books, so in this case I say, yes! And as for the price, I would ask for the same price that I paid and I shall restock them once we are back in New Orleans. Seventy-five cents each.”
Bill placed three dollars in her hand and said, “Please keep any change and put it to another book that you fancy.”
She was happily humming a tune as he walked away.
The rest of the trip went much the same: Walk the deck before breakfast, eat and walk the deck smoking a cigar then sit in his cabin and read until it was time for lunch. Come back and read some more before his evening walk around the deck, have dinner, do his walk-around and early bed.
It was on the last night of the trip that the band had everyone up and dancing as the wine flowed. Bill watched for a while and then did his walk-around. He turned a corner and saw the woman with the long curls standing at the rail as the elderly man with the white beard and long ponytail faced her. They were speaking in a low tone of voice and Bill was embarrassed that he might have interfered. He had no recourse but to continue on past them. He tipped his hat and both nodded back. Bill once again felt uncomfortable as the man’s dark eyes followed him.
Glad the trip is almost over, he thought as he entered his cabin for the night.
After breakfast the next morning the passengers stood on the deck. Bill smiled at the transformation as most were now dressed in everyday clothing. The ship nudged the muddy bank and the long gangway was lowered. Before any passengers could go down the walkway a group of men and boys ran up to help them with their baggage. The fastest of the group got the lion’s share and soon the low dock was full with people getting into carriages or just walking away as cabbies tried to fill their cabs. Bill hefted his light valise and walked towards a cab.
“Sir,” he asked squinting his eyes as he looked up at the driver, “will you take me to the St. Louis/Nevada Railway Lines?”
The man tipped his tall hat, “Sho nuf, sir, get on in.”
The carriage ride was mostly on dirt roads and as there were others going to the same place, the dry dust was picked up and deposited in every carriage that had an open window . . . and that included Bills. Too hot to keep the window closed and too dusty to keep open, he thought as he covered his mouth and nose with his handkerchief. He looked out the window and when the cab driver finally drove along cobblestoned streets, Bill was surprised to see a city that resembled New York City in many ways. Children played the same games in the streets, garbage was piled high against the sides of buildings and the smell of horse waste took the place of the ocean breeze he had come to like so much. Oh well, he thought with a smile, I can’t gripe, I’m right where I want to be: back in the 1800s! Any member of the 1800 Club would do anything to take my place. He held tight as the cab went through an older part of the city where many of the cobblestones were chipped or missing, overpowering the carriage’s old suspension system. He removed his hat as his head came close to the cab’s ceiling during one particular section of bad road. Finally, the driver slowed and pulled over to the curb as he shouted down, “Railroad station, sir.”
Bill exited the cab, paid the man and walked to the train station. Once inside he grinned, thinking, Boy, all of the stations look the same. He looked at the small man reading a newspaper behind a window with bank-teller like bars on it. Even the clerks look the same, Bill thought as he took out his ticket and went to him. He slipped it under the bars and said, “Good morning, sir.”
The man nodded and said with a smile, “Sonny, your train will be leaving from track 4 in twenty minutes. Snack car is the second car and as you have a sleeper, I’d suggest that you take the second sleeping car as it’s further away from the dining car, which gets downright noisy at night.”
“Thank you for your advice, sir. I shall do that.”
He took his ticket and went out to the platform where two trains were sitting with smoke and steam coming out of, what seemed to Bill, every inch of the giant machines. Going to track 4, Bill climbed up the wooden step that was placed in front of the higher steel step of the last car. He knew there were two sleepers and he settled into a seat near the last of the two, which was further away from the dining car. Seeing other passengers sitting in the same car he thought, Looks like everyone has the same idea: stay as far away from the dining car as possible. He tried to not look like an out-of-towner as he checked out the train’s interior. The walls were a tan and yellow colored wallpaper with pictures of locomotives, crossing gates, iron rails, watering towers, bridges and other items pertaining to the railroad on them. The windows were on the small side and etched from the hundreds of hours of soot, sand and burning embers from the locomotive hitting them. Each window had a pair of short red drapes that could be pulled over so a passenger without a sleeper ticket could sleep. The ceiling had vents that were usually closed as once again the soot and burning embers were usually sucked into them and then into the car. There were a small number of gaslights that went down the middle of the ceiling and they were fed the combustible gas they needed, from holding tanks attached to the bottom of the train. A steady hissing from them told Bill that they were on. The seats’ dark brown corduroy fabric covered the combination of horsehair and springs, which provided a minimal amount of comfort. At each end of the car was a notice above the doors that stated: IF YOU MUST SMOKE PLEASE DO NOT PUT IT OUT ON THE FLOOR, RATHER OPEN THE WINDOW AND DISPERSE OF IT. SHOULD YOU FEEL THE NEED TO EXPECTORATE PLEASE USE THE CUSPIDOR LOCATED NEAR EACH EXIT. THANK YOU. Looking at the burn marks on the dark brown runner down the middle of the aisle, Bill knew that many did not heed the note. He also noticed a brass spittoon next to the door on either end of the car.
Fifteen minutes later the train started its journey and Bill tried to find a section of the window that wasn’t scratched from the elements that flew up from the tracks and etched the glass. For twenty minutes he watched as the city of St. Louis went by. It was residential at first but quickly became flat, green fields of undeveloped land.
The door to the car opened and the sound of the steel wheels going over the steel rails almost drowned out the conductor as he called out, “All tickets, please.” A portly conductor with a long droopy mustache that was a brilliant red in color walked through the car checking tickets.
“Sir,” he said as he looked at Bill’s ticket, you are assigned berth number 2.” He tilted his head towards the next car and went on, “It’s the first lower berth in the next car. I suggest that you place your billfold or any valuables you may have with you under your pillow. Dinning car is the third car from here and the better food gets eatin’ early in the trip.”
Bill smiled, “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that information.” After the conductor moved on, Bill walked through the rocking train and entered the dining room, which was serving lunch. On the right side were booths designed for four people to eat at a time and on the left were single tables and seats, which Bill took.
As usual on his train rides back in these times, the men all seemed to light up a cigar after they ate and it was no different now. His timing was perfect as the door on the front end of the car opened and a long line of passengers entered, all looking for seats. In less than one minute every seat was taken. He picked up the small menu and selected a beef sandwich on brown bread with Horse Radish and a mug of beer and then rubbed his eyes as he thought, Boy! I have to eat and run because the car is more like a smoking car rather than a dining car.
The waiter was fast and efficient and Bill was finished and out of the car in twenty-five minutes. He walked back to the sleeper car and checked the washroom. It was better designed than the last time he rode the train west but looking down the toilet bowl he grinned as he saw the ground rushing by. So, it’s still the ‘look out below’ system. The small sink had a gravity feed system, which meant that there was a water tank on the roof and when the tap was opened the water trickled out and as the sun constantly beat down on the roof-tank, the water was usually warm.
“Still,” he said to himself, “it’s exactly the kind of trip that I love. The early wooden train chugging past farmhouses, blowing its whistle at the brave farmer out in the middle of nowhere. This is what the club is all about!”
Bill sat back and alternated between watching the scenery go by and reading his books. Just finishing one, he thought, Glad I decided to purchase a few more books from the ship’s librarian. He looked over the three he had paid four dollars for: Pudd’nhead Wilson by Mark Twain, The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells and The Awakening by Kate Chopin. He picked The Invisible Man to read next and grinned as he remembered his encounter with the original man himself. He looked at his pocket watch and thought, Six o’clock. A bit early but better to have an early dinner then have to wait for a seat later. He went through the cars again and found out that he wasn’t the only passenger that decided to eat early.
Once again a smiling waiter passed him a menu and he went over it before finally ordering: Pork Chops, mashed potatoes, cabbage and roasted pickle. Although he usually ate around eight o’clock, Bill devoured everything then ordered coffee and vanilla cake with chocolate cubes on it. It must have something to do with the time travel, he thought as he laughingly sought an excuse for his over-eating.
Finished, and seeing a steady flow of passengers entering the car, he put off having a cigar and decided to have one back at his seat. He tipped the waiter, walked out of the dining car and into the next car on the way to his. As he walked down the swaying car he suddenly saw the ponytailed man and the woman with the long curls from the ship. She was sitting in the outside seat with her eyes closed while he sat next to the window. Bill was momentarily stunned and stopped for a fraction of a second before realizing that the man was using the dark windows as a mirror to look directly in his eyes. He quickly walked back to his seat a few cars away.
Bill lit his cigar and noticed that his hands shook slightly. Whoa, Bill, he thought to himself as he inhaled the cigar smoke, this guy is just another traveler that happens to be going the same direction that you are. Relax and enjoy the time travel aspect of the mission.
Forty minutes later he decided to turn in early and went to the sleeper car. All of the unoccupied berths had their curtains opened and as his was on the bottom of the over and under bunk bed, he sat and removed his shoes then slid them under the bed. The only thing Bill had removed from his valise before it was packed away in the baggage room on the train was his small leather bag for his books, toiletries and hairbrush. He placed the bag at the foot of his bed. Next he removed his jacket and folded it across the bottom of the bed and slid in. The mattress and feathered pillow were fairly soft and although there was a thick blanket available he found that he didn’t need it. He pulled the two wide curtains closed and tied them together. Bill set his pocket watch to wake him at seven in the morning and was sound asleep in a few minutes thanks to the slow sway of the train rushing across the 1892 countryside.
The tingling sensation of the vibrating alarm woke Bill and he lay there listening to the sounds of the train. No human noises, just train noises, he thought as he listened, just the way I like it. Go to bed early, get up early and be the first passenger in the men’s room. He untied the strings of the curtains and opened them, sat up and put his shoes on, grabbed his jacket, toiletry bag and left the sleeper. He walked down to the end of the swaying car and rapped on the washroom’s door. Hearing nothing he went in. An overhead gaslight and a small window, which was scratched up like the other windows, illuminated the small room. The time traveler brushed his teeth, washed his face and dried it with a small towel from his toiletry bag. Bill used a barber’s razor and shaving-jell to get rid of his whiskers. Finished, he left the room and went to the dining car and had a breakfast of two sunny-side eggs, bacon and brown bread with jelly. Sipping a mug of coffee he knew the end of the trip was approaching by the smaller and smaller list of food available from the cooks as the ice that kept them fresh was melting.
Bill went back to his seat and felt a twinge in his back as he sat. He stood and stretched as he thought, Man oh man. These trips can get to a guy. Once again the traveling time on a mission is ninety-five percent and the actual ‘save’ is five percent. Fingers crossed. He sat back and took out the book his was reading.
The rest of the trip went the same and Bill didn’t see the man with the ponytail or the woman with him again. It was on the last night that he was woken by a sudden screeching as the train applied its brakes. He quickly joined other passengers as they climbed down to see what the problem was. By lantern, the train’s crewmembers saw some of the steel tracks and wooden ties pulled up.
“Buffalo,” one said.
“Buffalo?” asked a passenger, “Why would buffalos do this?”
“Mister,” the engineer said, “them animals don’t do it to get even for us killin’ ‘em off, they just scratch when they get an itch and when a young male is getting’ his horns they like to rub against the rails. Problem is, they don’t know their own strength.”
“True,” added another crewmember, “they tend to pull up the rails and ties.”
“So, what do we do now?” asked another passenger.
“Nothing for you passengers to do but climb back inside while me and the crew try to fix the rails.”
One of the trainmen said to the engineer, “At least they didn’t bend them. Some of the wooden ties are cracked, but we should be able to fix that.”
“So,” asked one of the passengers, “how long do you think it’ll take?”
The engineer answered as the rest of the crew brought up some sledgehammers and spikes, “Couple of hours.” He wiped his face with the back of his hand and added, “Let’s just hope that this is the only place they used as a scratching post.”
It was dark and Bill did his best to sit and read as the sound of steel meeting steel could be heard through the now opened, windows. I’m going to be late, he thought as he gritted his teeth, I can’t believe this! I’ve never missed a mission deadline and this is one of the missions that must be completed. The 1800 Club depends on Matt more than anyone knows.
It was four hours before the whistle from the engineer alerted the passengers that they were about to leave. The train started out cautiously over the repaired tracks. They went ahead slowly with one of the crewmembers standing at the front of the engine, his arm out with an oil lamp as he checked for more damaged tracks. Twenty minutes later he shouted to the engineer, “Damaged track ahead!”
The train stopped and the engineer and other crewmembers came forwarded once again with sledgehammers and spikes.
Bill paced his car and decided to get some coffee in the dining car. As he walked through the car that he had seen the ponytailed man and women, he sneaked a peek. They were in their seats. He got his mug of coffee and after nursing it for twenty-minutes, walked back through the cars. As he got close he saw the man’s eyes in the dark window. They were penetrating! Suddenly the curly haired woman grabbed his arm. He stopped and she said, “Sir, do you know when we shall enter Independence? We have a very important meeting and must not be late.”
Bill was momentarily stunned and just stared at her before answering, “Ahh, no, I don’t know.”
She let go and he stepped away quickly and took his seat, Bill, he thought as he clenched his fists in rage, what the heck is your problem? So the old guy stares at you. He probably stares at everyone. Get over it and concentrate on your mission. He decided to change on the train rather than waiting to change in Independence as he had originally planned. Taking his valise into the washroom, he locked the door. Boy, he thought as he tried to stand and open the valise in the tight space. He finally got his jeans on, then his boots followed by a light blue shirt and black neckerchief. He then put on his gun belt and slid the two pistols into the holsters. He took out his black collapsible hat and put it on. Suddenly the train’s whistle sounded and any of the passengers who were out of the train climbed back on and five minutes later there was a lurch as the locomotive slowly passed over the newly repaired tracks and Bill was back in his seat.
The crewmember at the front of the engine called out once more and again the crewmembers had to do a repair. As they started out again they were twelve hours behind schedule.
The door to his car opened and the conductor walked down the aisle saying, “Sorry for the delay, folks. We lost some time on this trip, but we will pull into Independence in three hours. Once again, sorry for the delay.”
