The Iron Dragon Never Sleeps Read online

  “Then he’s probably all right.”

  “Well, how was he when you saw him?”

  “Me? I didn’t examine him.”

  “But he was in the tunnel with my father. He was carried out on a stretcher.”

  “Yes, yes.” The doctor was unconcerned. “I’m sure he was. But I don’t treat Celestials.”

  Winnie frowned. “Why not? They work for the railroad, too.”

  The doctor shrugged. “It’s just company policy. The Celestials have their own ways and medicines. I’m sure he’s doing fine.”

  Winnie wasn’t satisfied. She later asked her father about it. What was the railroad doing for the injured Chinese workers?

  “I don’t know, Winnie. You heard the doctor. They have their own ways. Probably something to do with vegetables.”

  Winnie might have smiled at that when the summer began. She wasn’t smiling now.

  “But they were hurt as much as you. Doesn’t the railroad care?”

  “The railroad”—Eli sighed—“has a lot of things on its mind.” He looked at her a little sadly. “I’m tired, Winnie. We’ll talk about it another time.”

  Her father was tired a lot that first week. But soon he was up and around again.

  “The way Mrs. Swanson is feeding me,” he said ten days after the accident, “my ribs are going to have to grow back bigger just to fit my stomach.” He patted his side. The strips of cloth were wrapped around his chest and stomach. “These bandages sure feel tight.”

  Marjorie allowed herself a smile. “It’s like a corset,” she commented.

  “I suppose so. I don’t know how women breathe in those things,” he said.

  “They don’t,” she replied. She looked into her sewing basket. “Winnie, I’m out of red thread. Run down to the store and buy another spool. I want to finish your dress before we leave.”

  The general store had changed little over the summer. Except for the appearance of a few winter goods, this could have been the day she arrived.

  The candy was still in the same place, too.

  “Try the peppermints,” said a voice behind her. “It tastes like winter in your mouth.”

  It was Lee who had spoken.

  “How are you?” said Winnie. She knew his face well from drawing the portrait. He looked a little thinner.

  “I am well.”

  “And how is your brother?”

  “He is better. Already back to work.”

  “But he must need time to—”

  “No work, no pay,” Lee explained. “Railroad always in a hurry. Summer is ending.”

  “I know,” said Winnie. “I’m going home in a few days.”

  Lee nodded. “You return to the house with the garden.”

  “Yes. And school …” She made a face.

  “I have always wondered about school,” said Lee. “I have never been.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  “Perhaps. I do not always feel lucky.”

  “My father says the railroad will be done in another year or two. What will you do then?”

  “There will be railroads to build for many years. I cannot think more than that.”

  “Hey!” cried the storekeeper. He stepped in front of Winnie and stared down at Lee. “I’ve warned you before. Stop bothering my customers.”

  “I meant no—” Lee began.

  “Excuse me,” said Winnie, tugging on the storekeeper’s sleeve. “He wasn’t bothering me.” She took a deep breath. “And as near as I can tell, he wasn’t bothering you or anyone else either.”

  “Now, see here, young lady—”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, deciding the spool would have to wait. “There won’t be any trouble. My friend Lee and I were just leaving.”

  The storekeeper stood there gaping while Winnie and Lee walked out the door together.

  THE TRAIN WHISTLE BLEW ONCE.

  Eli Tucker was helping Marjorie and Winnie up onto the train. Their luggage was already on board.

  “Time to go,” said Eli. He gave Winnie a kiss. “You take care of your mother, all right?”

  Winnie nodded. It was hard to believe she was going home. Rose and Julia were waiting. It would be good to see them. Still, her railroad summer had passed all too quickly.

  “Cheer up, Winnie! You’ll like school, I’m sure.”

  “Take care, Marjorie. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

  “Don’t forget to shave, Papa!”

  Her father cupped his hand to his ear. “What’s that?” he asked, smiling. “It’s hard to hear over the engine noise.”

  “Never mind,” said Winnie. “Just be careful.”

  The train shuddered.

  “Let’s go sit down,” said Mrs. Tucker.

  “I think I’ll watch from here,” said Winnie. “I’ll come in after we leave.”

  “All right, dear. But just for a minute.”

  The train started up.

  Winnie took a last look at Cisco. The row of low buildings hadn’t changed much during her stay. And soon the railroad would be moving its supplies.

  “To the other side of the mountains,” her father had said.

  Farther and farther, she thought. And with so many miles to go.

  Wasn’t that someone coming down the street? It looked like Lee. What was he carrying?

  He seemed to be running for the train.

  “Wait! Wait!” he cried.

  The train was still moving slowly, slowly enough that Lee could catch it.

  “What are you doing?” Winnie shouted.

  “I have brought you something,” he shouted back.

  He ran alongside the train car and handed her a package.

  “A farewell gift,” he said. Then he fell back, panting for breath.

  Winnie unwrapped the gift.

  It was a kite made of red paper and wood, a kite shaped like a dragon.

  “Thank you, Lee,” she called out. “It’s beautiful.”

  He nodded and waved good-bye.

  Winnie waved, too. As the train gained speed, she tied the string to the railing and released the kite behind the platform.

  The red dragon twisted and turned in the rippling wind. Then its wings steadied, and it rose high into the air. There it stayed, the paper dragon above the iron one, proudly flying over the train tracks that ran west to the mountains and east to the sea.

  THE IRON DRAGON NEVER SLEEPS is a story set during the construction of the transcontinental railroad. Almost all the characters are fictional. The major places and events, though, are true. The town of Cisco was a staging point for the Summit Tunnel construction in 1867. It was the only time during those years that a mining engineer like Eli Tucker might have stayed in one place long enough for his family to come live with him.

  For many years building a transcontinental railroad had been considered impossible. There were problems of transporting supplies. There were problems of assembling a work force. Most of all, there was the problem of crossing the Sierra Nevadas.

  In the late 1850s, though, an engineer named Theodore Judah surveyed a route through the Sierra Nevadas. Largely forgotten today, Judah laid the groundwork for the huge project that followed.

  This project required thousands of workers, and the Central Pacific Railroad quickly ran short of men. It was Charles Crocker who suggested trying out the Chinese. He was one of the Central Pacific’s four owners. The other three were Mark Hopkins, Leland Stanford, and Collis Huntington. They provided the money and political connections the railroad needed.

  Crocker himself oversaw the construction process. By 1867 Chinese immigrants made up much of his work force. They were paid less and treated more harshly than other workers. In protest the Chinese actually went on strike. This strike, in June 1867, ended a week later under the threat of heavy punishment.

  Crocker and the track supervisor, James Strobridge, did not take criticism well. They never admitted taking advantage of the Chinese. Instead Crocker claimed (without proof) that a
gents of the Union Pacific Railroad had encouraged the strike. Crocker respected the Chinese at work, but he did not respect them in other ways.

  He shared this attitude with most of his countrymen. Chinese immigrants received little credit for building the railroad. Contemporary reports were quick to mention their unusual (for the time) taste in food or bathing habits. Yet their dedication and hard work went unmentioned.

  The transcontinental railroad was finally completed on May 10, 1869. A gold rail spike was used to mark the final connection. Afterward officials of both the Central Pacific Railroad and the Union Pacific Railroad gave speeches. They were grateful for having reached such a milestone. They thanked themselves, and they thanked each other. They thanked God, and they thanked the United States government.

  Nobody thanked the Chinese. Yet without their contribution—their energy, their reliability, their willingness to undertake dangerous and thankless tasks—driving in that golden spike would have been delayed for many years.