THE IMPERIAL ENGINEER (42 page)

"Folks were getting mad. They'd get a call, and when they answered, nobody
would be on the line. So they'd hang up. All the calls came from stores, but when I called
them
back, they said they hadn't called anybody. I don't think I had a minute's rest
all day, starting just after you left in the morning. Didn't Eph tell you?"

"He had troubles of his own." A tree had come down on the line to Broadford, its
root system weakened when the rising river had eaten away the soil that supported it.
They'd had to shut down the switchboard long enough to go out, untangle the wires, and
reconnect the broken ones. Tony finished testing and sat back on his heels. "Did Lew say
anything about problems between here and the dynamo when he came in last night?"

"Not a word," Jack said. "There
is
something wrong, then?" He looked
almost relieved, as if he'd been afraid Tony would blame him for the low battery
charge.

"Yes, and I'm going out there to see if I can figure out what it is." As he put on his
coat, he said, "Keep an eye on every line. If anyone stays on more than five minutes, cut
'em off. We'll make it good later, when we figure out what's going on."

"We've got more problems," he told Lulu when she answered the telephone in the
apartment. "I'll probably be late for supper again." This was the third time this week he'd
failed to go home at a reasonable time. The first night she'd waited. After that she'd made
up a plate for him and left it in the oven.

Wise woman that she was, she only said, "Be careful." In another minute, Tony
was running toward Nelson's Livery Stable.

Once he'd picked up a horse, he headed east, toward the dynamo site. The trail
alongside the wire was well worn, having been ridden twice a day for the past two weeks.
There were old and new hoof prints, but nothing unusual about any of them. Only one set
looked fresh. Lew O'Bannion's, he imagined, made earlier this morning.

The waterwheel and dynamo house were just below the sharp bend in Quigley
Creek. They'd narrowed the creek and built a low dam, setting the waterwheel in a side
channel to which they could regulate water flow. No sense in letting the spring floods
destroy their work. On the rock wall beside the channel stood the small log house in which
the dynamo sat. It appeared undisturbed. The waterwheel was turning smoothly, if a little
fast. But the creek was running high, and the current was probably swifter, even in the side
channel.

Dismounting, he climbed the slope to the dynamo house. Yes, the shaft from the
waterwheel to the dynamo was turning freely. He looked through the small hole in the side
of the house, but could see nothing in the unlit interior.

The key didn't want to work. He checked. Yes, it was the right one. He tried again,
wiggled the key. Swore. The padlock stayed stubbornly closed.

Was there something fouling the keyhole? Tony bent to look closely. Something
about the lock...

It took him a moment to see what was different. When he started carrying almost a
dozen keys, he'd used a die to mark the padlocks and keys to all of Eagleton's various
enterprises, because he got tired of sorting through them all every time he needed into
anywhere. This padlock bore no mark.

Because he'd chosen the best lock on the market for the dynamo house, he had to
ride back to town to get a crowbar and sledge. On his way in, he stopped and reported the
changed lock to the sheriff.

"I'll be along in a bit," the sheriff said, "soon's I finish up dinner. I imagine
whoever did it is long gone."

"Not much doubt about it," Tony agreed. "I'll meet you out there." He was having
a hard time holding on to his temper. While it would do no good to shout curses so the
whole world would hear them, or to smash the sledge against the nearest solid object, he
wanted to. Great God, how he wanted to. He could just imagine what he would find inside
the dynamo house when he got it open.

The door, built sturdily, yielded reluctantly to the sledge. Pausing only long
enough to grab and light the lantern sitting on the top step, he pushed through the wreckage
of the door. He held the lantern high. In its golden light he saw why the batteries hadn't
stayed charged.

The dynamo, the beautiful, finely made dynamo, with its shining copper wire, was
smashed. The field magnet coils had been split like so many overripe melons. The
windings on the armatures were cut and dented, with short stubs of wire sticking out in all
directions. Deep gouges in the brass fittings showed that a heavy ax or a maul had been
used. Even the substantial timber on which it was mounted was gashed and split.

Tony picked up one of the copper knife switches, still attached to a shard of its
mahogany base. The switch itself was surprisingly undamaged.

Filled with a vast rage, he turned and walked out of the dynamo house.

Something struck his ribs an awful blow.

As he fell, all he could think was
Now I'll never see my son
.

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~~~

A knock at the front door pulled Lulu from the story.
Good grief! I've read the
afternoon away.

She peeked through the window and saw a strange man on the step. About to
open the door, she hesitated, then stepped back and to one side. "Who's there?"

"Deputy Goode, ma'am. From the sheriff's office."

The shotgun Tony had brought home from the office was in the bedroom. Should
she go get it? No, because if he meant her harm, he could break in while she fetched it.
"Step to the left so I can see you."

He stepped into sight. A tall man, perhaps thirty-five, and wearing a silver star on
his chest. "Just a moment." As she unlocked the door, Lulu realized he could have kicked it
in easily.

He came only one step inside. "Mrs. Dewitt?"

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid I've some bad news, ma'am. Your husband--"

"Tony? Is he hurt? What hap--"

"He's been shot, but--"

The world turned gray and her knees gave way. She staggered to the rocking chair.
I will not faint. I will not!

"Tell me," she demanded, after a few, steadying breaths. "How badly?"

"The doc says he'll be fine. The bullet hit a rib, left a furrow where it went under
the skin. He lost some blood, and the doc wants to keep him quiet overnight."

Thank God!
"Which doctor? I'll go to him."

"No, ma'am, you won't. He's just fine and dandy, honest. Sheriff says he don't
want nobody to know where he's at, just in case whoever did it means to kill him."

"But he's my husband! He needs me." As soon as she said it, Lulu regretted the
words. Tony didn't need her. The doctor could do far more for him than she could. She
needed him. Needed to see that he was indeed alive, that he was only injured, not
dead.

Forcing herself into a semblance of calm, she said, "I'm sorry. Of course he's
better off hidden from whoever is trying to harm him." She looked down, saw that she was
wringing her hands. She sternly commanded them to clasp themselves gently in her lap.
"Thank you for telling me. I gather the sheriff is investigating?"

"Yes'm. He had tracks to follow, but he lost 'em at the edge of town. They was
comin' thisaway, though, so he wants you to be watched over tonight. Sheriff says you're to
go next door, but leave a light on like you're still here. I'll stay here, in case he comes after
you."

"Go next door? Are you out of your mind? It's enough that this...this desperado
might be after me as well as my husband. You're saying you want him to be a threat to
Mrs. Graham, too?"

Goode scratched his chin. "Well, Sheriff says..."

"Deputy, I don't care what the sheriff said. If you are supposed to stay here and
watch over me, then you're perfectly welcome to. I will even feed you supper. But I am not
going anywhere. Why on earth should we put someone else in danger?"

Unable to even think about sitting still and reading, Lulu went into the kitchen.
Goode followed.

She opened the range, poked at the fire. Lifted the lid from the stew Xi Xin had
fixed for dinner and gave it a stir. Opened the cupboard and stared inside, then slammed
the door so hard the dishes rattled. "Do you have to just stand there? Can't you go in the
parlor and sit down?"

"Sheriff says not to let you out of my sight."

"Deputy, you are not going to...to hover over me all evening." Turning her back,
she stared out the window in the back door. "Look," she said, turning back, "if you want to
protect me, do something about the locks. Good grief, even I could break in here. All it
would take is one good kick."

He went to the back door and rattled the knob. Opening it, he inspected the lock.
"You're right, ma'am. This lock is about as useless as ti...about the most useless thing I
ever did see. You got a hammer and some nails?"

"No, I don't. We took them to the other house." All of a sudden, tears clogged her
throat. For the first time since she and Tony had come home to destruction of all they
owned, she wept. Refusing to let Deputy Goode see her tears, she went into the parlor and
on to the bedroom. Its lack of anything beyond bare necessities only made her weep the
more. Even the bedspread was borrowed, one Mrs. Graham had intended to give to charity.
She pushed the door shut and leaned against it, letting the tears flow freely down her
cheeks.

The door vibrated as he knocked on it. "Mrs. Dewitt, you gotta open this door. I
have to watch you."

"In a minute," she said. "I have to...just give me a moment's privacy."

"Oh...uh. Sure. Yes, ma'am."

She heard his footsteps recede, but only a little way. He was probably standing
three feet from the door, never taking his eyes off of it.

Lulu stood there until she felt calm and in control of herself again. She wiped her
face and blinked several times to clear her vision. When she opened the door, she knew he
could see the traces of her tears, but she didn't care. She had always prided herself on her
strength of will, and now was the time to show it. Giving him a smile she knew looked as
fragile and as uncertain as she felt, she said, "I'm sure Mrs. Graham, next door, has a
hammer and nails. Perhaps you could get them and fix the windows so they can't be
opened from outside."

As he was about to open the back door, she added, "Warn her to stay indoors and
keep Xi...her servant inside, until you let her know it's safe to go out. It would be just like
her to rush over here to protect me."

He returned in a few minutes, carrying the hammer and a stack of sheets. "She
says to put these over the windows." Frowning he looked around. "How come you ain't got
curtains?"

"It's not important. Let's get started." The gingham curtains she had sewn for the
parlor windows here had been hanging in the kitchen of Tony's house. They still hung
there, in shreds.

Once she and Goode had covered all the windows, Lulu dusted her hands together.
"Well that's that. We'll have supper shortly, and then--" She looked at him, so solemn and
earnest. "Do you play cribbage, Deputy? Perhaps after supper we might have a game or
two."

She'd be darned if she'd let him see her fear. For Tony and for herself.

* * * *

When Tony woke, he was lying in a dark room that neither smelled nor sounded
like his own. He started to sit up and something stabbed him in the left side. Something
sharp and painful, that robbed him of strength and breath, so he fell back, panting. When
his head landed on the pillow, pain flared behind his left ear. Cautiously he touched the
area and found a good-sized lump.

Where the hell am I? And why?
He tried to think back, but the last thing
he could remember was...
Great God, somebody shot me!

So who'd brought him here? He turned his head, saw a faint line of light under a
door some feet to his right. Cautiously he rolled to his side, got himself up on one elbow,
then into a sitting position. The wound grabbed at him again, but now he was expecting the
pain, it wasn't so bad. He was dizzy though, so he sat still for a minute or two, just making
sure he was going to stay upright.

There wasn't a sound from beyond the door, yet he could hear a far-off growl, as if
many people were talking at once. Even as he cocked his head, trying to make out
individual sounds, he heard a gunshot, then a series of them. The growl swelled, then
subsided.

The door opened and he blinked at the sudden light from a kerosene lantern.
"You're awake. Good. I need your help."

Tony recognized the sheriff's voice, even though his face was in deep shadow.
"Need me?" he said, feeling as if his every thought was caught in thick, clinging mud.
"Why?"

"To talk to those damn Chinamen. Some of the boys got liquored up and decided
to burn them out. We managed to stop 'em before they'd done more than scorch the side of
one building. But now the Chinamen are convinced they have to defend themselves.
They've blockaded the streets and are standing out there with pitchforks and clubs."

Tony shook his head, wondering why "What makes you think they'll listen to
me?"

"That laundryman, Yu? He looks to be their spokesman He asked for you. Says
he'll talk to you and nobody else."

Well, hell!
There went any hopes he had of keeping secrets.
I guess I
owe it to Mr. Yu. He's helped me out.

Although he occasionally had to lay a hand against the wall to steady himself,
Tony got his clothes on. The wound in his side stabbed sharply a couple of times, making
his breath hiss between clenched teeth. He was sitting on the side of the cot, wondering
how he was going to bend to tie his boots, when the doctor came in.