The Iron Dragon Never Sleeps Page 4

  Winnie nodded. “I know. My father says Crocker will fine you for keeping his other men and equipment idle.” She paused. “He’s used to getting his way, I think. Well, let’s not talk about that for now. I brought you some muffins. And more apples. And a sandwich, too. Mrs. Swanson made it for me.”

  She indicated the sack at her side.

  “Help yourself.”

  Lee examined the contents.

  “There is too much here,” he protested. “You will eat, too?”

  “Oh, I had a big breakfast,” Winnie lied. “You go ahead.”

  Lee bit into a corn muffin. “Very good,” he said.

  Winnie looked relieved. “I didn’t know what you liked,” she admitted.

  “I like salted cabbage, dried seaweed, bamboo sprouts, and mushrooms,” said Lee.

  “We didn’t have any vegetables or cuttlefish. I don’t like vegetables much.”

  “The way Americans cook them, I would not like them either. But I eat other things, too.”

  He turned his head. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  Lee frowned. “Perhaps it is nothing. But three men were walking not far behind me. They moved as I moved. And they were carrying clubs.”

  “Oh.”

  “I tried to run ahead and hide my way. I do not know if I succeeded.”

  “I don’t hear anything now,” said Winnie. “You said you went to a meeting this morning. Did it go well?”

  “Not so good, I think. Many workers are angry. They came to this country to make money. It is money they want to take home.”

  “Home?” Winnie was surprised. “You mean back to China?”

  Lee nodded. “Most who come do not wish to stay. The ones who do not gamble can save twenty dollars a month. That is a lot of money in China. My father always planned to return home to Kwangtung Province and buy a farm.”

  Winnie could not imagine leaving her own country just to find work. And then to go back afterward! The Chinese must love their country very much to do that.

  “And your mother came with him?” she asked.

  “No, no,” said Lee. “It is not a trip for women. He met my mother here, in San Francisco.”

  All the time Lee had been talking, Winnie had been sketching. She always had trouble doing people because they moved too much. But Lee remained still while he spoke.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Winnie blushed. “Just drawing.”

  Lee got up to take a look. “That is me!” he cried. He touched the paper gently.

  “I’m glad you think so,” said Winnie. “Would you like to have it?”

  Lee looked surprised. “To keep? It would be a special gift.” He paused. “I do not have anything for you in return.”

  “That’s all right. I like to give away my drawings.”

  They both heard the twigs crack.

  “Quick!” whispered Winnie. “Behind the trestles.”

  “What about you?” whispered Lee.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “It’s not me they want.”

  Winnie started sketching quickly as three men came over the ridge. They stopped at the sight of her.

  “Hey! What are you doing there?”

  “Just drawing,” said Winnie. She held up her drawing paper. “Why, is something wrong?”

  “We were following one of those Chinese boys. He got loose from their camp.”

  “Yeah,” said another, shouldering his club. “We wanted to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble.”

  Winnie recognized their voices. These were the men she had heard on the stairway.

  “You seen anyone hereabouts?”

  Winnie scratched her head. “I did hear a noise—off to the left there.”

  “Much obliged,” said the third man, tipping his hat. “If you see anyone, though, just holler.”

  They turned off the path and scrambled down the hill.

  Winnie waited two full minutes, barely daring to breathe. Then she walked up to the ridge for a look.

  “They’re gone now,” she said.

  Lee emerged from the shadows. He brushed the dirt from his pants.

  “I owe you much,” he said.

  “Let’s call it even,” said Winnie. “After all, I’m the reason you’re here in the first place.” She let out a long breath. “But maybe we should be going. If you like, we could meet somewhere else tomorrow. Maybe closer to your camp.”

  Lee sighed. “I do not think so,” he said. “It could be dangerous for you.” He grinned abruptly. “And for me, too. But thank you, Winnie Tucker. This is a morning I will not forget.”

  EARLY MONDAY MORNING the Celestials all returned to work. The strike had lasted only a week. But it had been seven long days for everyone concerned.

  As Eli Tucker had predicted, few of the Chinese demands were met. They received another two dollars a month for their trouble, but nothing else changed.

  The weeks passed quickly after the strike was settled. On some mornings Winnie found ice already creeping around the edge of the snow ponds. And the squirrels began to gather nuts constantly, except when afternoon rains pelted the ground like hail.

  Winnie saw even less of her father than before. He was almost always busy. The strike had cost the railroad time. The loss was a luxury they could not afford.

  “We’re cutting a fair number of corners,” Eli remarked more than once at dinner.

  “You must be careful,” said Marjorie.

  “Is it dangerous digging in the tunnel?” Winnie asked.

  Her father paused. “The railroad doesn’t think so,” he said, and was silent after that.

  One late afternoon Winnie and her mother went to pick up her father on the mountain. The buckboard clattered along the bumpy dirt road. The ride rattled Winnie’s teeth.

  “I wish Papa didn’t work late so often,” she said.

  “It’s not his choice,” said her mother. “The railroad’s in an awful hurry.”

  “I know, I know. I don’t think the Celestials even get time to breathe.”

  “How is Lee, by the way?” asked her mother. “Eating better, I hope.”

  Winnie glanced at her mother, but she kept her face forward.

  “I haven’t talked to him lately,” said Winnie. “I’ve seen him passing at times. He always looks tired.” She paused. “Isn’t that Flap Jack over there?”

  It was. The old miner waved to them from the far side of a meadow.

  They stopped the wagon.

  Flap Jack hobbled over. “I twisted my ankle,” he said. “Stepped in a gopher hole.”

  “What are you doing up here?” Winnie asked.

  “Sometimes even Cisco seems a bit crowded,” he replied. “I was getting some air.”

  “We can give you a ride back to town,” said Marjorie. “But first we have to pick up Eli.”

  “I’m a rich man where time is concerned,” said Flap Jack. “As long as I can sit down, I’ll be fine.”

  Winnie moved into the back of the wagon to make room for Flap Jack up front. He settled in, and they continued on their way.

  Their route followed the train tracks heading for Donner Lake. Much of the track was not visible, though. It was covered by half-completed wooden sheds.

  “Look how they’re covering up the tracks,” said Winnie. “I wonder why.”

  Her mother smiled. “Those are snowsheds.”

  “Snowsheds?”

  “To keep the track from getting covered with snow in the winter.”

  “Can’t they just plow the snow off?” Winnie asked.

  Her mother shook her head. “Not always. Last winter, your father told me, it took five locomotives to push one plow through a fifteen-foot drift. And even at that, the plow couldn’t always get through. So the railroad is building these snowsheds to keep the tracks clear.”

  “Look!” cried Flapjack.

  They could see fire and smoke rising from the mountain ahead.

  “It�
��s like a volcano,” said Winnie. She had never seen one in person, but she had seen pictures in a book.

  Mrs. Tucker pulled the buggy to a halt. Thunderous explosions were shaking the air. Tons of rocks and dirt were shooting skyward. The sound echoed down the canyons like a string of firecrackers.

  “What’s going on?” asked Mrs. Tucker.

  “They’re hurrying the blasts in before sunset,” said Flap Jack.

  “Whoa!” said Mrs. Tucker, steadying their horse.

  Suddenly the blasts stopped.

  Flap Jack frowned. “Now that’s odd,” he said. “They don’t usually stop all at once like that. Generally one spot or another needs clearing up. Unless …”

  “Unless what?” asked Winnie.

  Flap Jack didn’t answer.

  “Someone’s coming,” said Winnie.

  “And fast,” said her mother.

  A moment later a rider came cantering around the bend.

  “What’s wrong?” Flap Jack shouted.

  “Been an accident,” said the rider as he went by. “Got to fetch the doctor.” And then he was gone.

  Winnie and her mother shared a worried glance.

  “Giddyup there,” said Marjorie.

  THE FIRST THING THEY SAW was the collapsed tunnel entrance. Where a large hole had stood minutes before, there was now only a jumble of rocks and dirt.

  The air hung heavily with dust. Most of the shouting had stopped, but the foremen were still trying to organize the crews into long lines.

  One foreman saw the Tuckers pull up in the buggy. He rushed over to them.

  “Mrs. Tucker?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get here so soon?”

  She looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “I mean, it’s only been minutes. How did you know that Eli—”

  He stopped abruptly, seeing the change in her expression.

  “I didn’t know,” she said slowly. She pointed to the tunnel. “Eli? Eli’s trapped in there?”

  “He came over this afternoon,” said the foreman. “We needed his help.”

  “What happened?” asked Flap Jack.

  “Someone set a charge too close to the support beams. The explosion knocked several of them out. Some men are trapped inside. About eight, I think.” He gulped. “But don’t you worry, we’ll get Eli out. We’ll get them all out.”

  Marjorie nodded dully.

  Winnie looked at the huge pile of rubble. The crews were digging frantically at it, but they didn’t seem to be making much of a dent.

  Winnie felt dizzy. Her father was trapped behind that small mountain. She wanted to be brave, but she only felt frozen. It was easy to read about courage in a book. It was different when it was really happening.

  “Step aside! Make room!”

  It was Mr. Strobridge. His beard looked even darker in the lengthening shadows.

  Winnie was glad to see him. He was in charge, wasn’t he? He was sure to do something.

  He started by shouting orders. Some men brought up more pickaxes and shovels. Others tied ropes around some of the fallen timbers.

  Come on, thought Winnie. Faster! Faster!

  “What’s going on?” her mother asked. “It looks as if some things are being done twice. Why isn’t everyone working together?”

  “White crews won’t work with the Celestials,” Flap Jack explained.

  “Why not?” asked Winnie.

  The old miner sighed. “Because they’re Chinese. That’s all the reason they need. White workers are willing to boss the Celestials, but they won’t work as a team,”

  But this is an emergency, thought Winnie.

  Winnie looked around anxiously. It was then she saw Lee standing quietly beside her.

  “Oh!”

  “I am sorry, Winnie Tucker. I did not mean to frighten you.”

  You look pretty frightened yourself, thought Winnie. Then she remembered what the foreman had said. Eight or nine men were trapped in the tunnel. Was one of them Lee’s brother?

  “My father is in there,” she said quietly.

  “And Tom,” said Lee.

  What if they never get out? thought Winnie. What if they’re already—

  “Listen up, men!” Mr. Strobridge called out. “Digging will take hours or even days. We have neither. We may not even have minutes. Who knows how much air they have?” He sighed. “We’ll have to risk blasting.”

  “That might just seal them in,” said a foreman.

  Mr. Strobridge tugged on his beard. “It might. Or it might blow them to kingdom come. But what other choice is there?”

  No one answered him.

  “Bring on the nitroglycerin,” he ordered.

  Workers carefully carried the explosive from the back of a nearby wagon.

  Flap Jack whistled softly. “That’s tricky stuff,” he whispered. “A lot more powerful than gunpowder.”

  The miners carefully put down the explosive. Winnie watched them closely. They seemed very calm as they dug holes for their charges. The nitroglycerin itself was an oily yellow liquid. It did not look like much.

  “Hold on, Papa,” she whispered. “Hold on.”

  When the miners finished, they lit the fuses. Everyone ducked for cover.

  The explosion rocked the canyon. Winnie had covered her ears, but they still ached from the sound.

  Marjorie Tucker peered through the dust. “How long?” she whispered.

  The crews were scrambling up the rubble.

  “They cleared away a good bit with that first blast,” said Flap Jack. “Now they’ll—”

  Suddenly another explosion rocked the landscape. Three men were tossed into the air. They landed hard and didn’t move.

  “Confound it!” Mr. Strobridge shouted. “I’ll have Howden’s hide!”

  “Who’s Howden?” Winnie asked.

  Flap Jack brushed the dust from his coat. “He makes the nitroglycerin for the railroad. But blaming him for the explosion is like blaming the candy maker for giving you a toothache.”

  “What went wrong?” asked Marjorie.

  “One charge did not explode on time,” said Lee. “We use nitroglycerin to bite the mountain. Sometimes it bites us back.”

  “The fuse may have been set wrong,” said Flap Jack. “Until somebody jarred it.”

  Other workers stepped forward cautiously with stretchers for the injured men.

  “I don’t see anything,” said Marjorie.

  Flap Jack squinted through the dust. “That first blast just got things started,” he said. “Now they’ll dig for a while before blasting again.”

  Lee was wringing his hands. He wanted to help, but the foremen had already shooed him away twice.

  Winnie looked down. Her own hands were shaking.

  “I hate all this waiting,” she said.

  “Waiting is hard,” said Lee. “It is a thing my father talked much about. The worst waiting for him came on his trip to America. The ship was so full the men could barely lie down. There was fighting over food and space. There was much sickness everywhere.

  “But worst of all, he said, was the waiting. Days and days and more days to come. Men died all around him. The smell was terrible. The food was so bad he closed his eyes while he ate. Still, there was more waiting.

  “He wondered if he had made a good choice. He had been poor in China, but China was home. Leaving had been hard. This voyage was harder.

  “Finally he reached San Francisco. So much remained unknown, but at least the waiting was over. He would never forget it, he said.”

  It took an hour of digging before they were ready to blast again.

  It’s an upside-down day for sure, Papa, thought Winnie. But it’s not over yet.

  As the fuses were lit again, Winnie squeezed her eyes shut and looked away.

  The next explosion peppered everyone with pebbles and dirt. When the dust cleared, there was a small opening into the tunnel. Two crews rushed forward and enlarged the hole.
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br />   “We’ve found them,” they called out. Everyone hushed, waiting for news from inside the tunnel.

  “And they’re all alive!”

  “Hooray!” shouted Winnie. She felt happy and excited and relieved all at once. She gave her mother a big hug. Then she hugged Flap Jack. And then she hugged Lee.

  He even hugged her back.

  Then they realized they were hugging—and quickly jumped apart.

  The crews stepped aside as the miners emerged from the tunnel hole. One was limping. Another was favoring an arm. Several were carried out on stretchers.

  “Tom! Tom!”

  Lee rushed to the side of a man on a stretcher. He was so covered in dirt that Winnie couldn’t get a good look at him.

  “Eli!”

  “Papa!”

  Her father was being helped out of the tunnel. “Careful there,” he said as they rushed forward. “I think I busted something.”

  The next few minutes were filled with hugs and kisses. Before they were done, it was hard to tell who was wearing the most dirt.

  Winnie had tried to say something, but the words kept getting stuck in her throat. But now she looked at her father, covered in smudges and grit—and she laughed.

  “I think you’re going to need a bath,” she said.

  Eli Tucker smiled—and then clutched his side. “I think we all will,” he said, wincing.

  For once Winnie didn’t mind the idea of a bath at all.

  WHAT WINNIE ALWAYS REMEMBERED afterward was the doctor’s office. It had a few chairs, a table, and a sink in the corner. There was an imposing cabinet with a glass front. It had bottles inside. Winnie couldn’t read the labels.

  The room had a funny smell. It made Winnie glad she hardly ever got sick.

  Still, she was happy to go there with her father. She had to wait while the doctor changed his bandages, but she didn’t mind. He was going to be all right soon enough.

  One time Winnie asked the doctor about Lee’s brother, Tom.

  “Tom?” the doctor had replied. “Tom who?”

  “Tom Cheng.”

  “Oh, one of the Celestials.” The doctor shrugged. “Did he die?”

  “Well, no.” Winnie had once seen the bodies of two Chinese workers who had died. They had been laid out and covered with a rice mat.