Chapter 7
Meanwhile Uriah had reached the Pullman. Several Coates notables were already waiting, including Jefferson Davis Brent, Mayor of Coates, a man with a burning ambition to make something of the town, and himself, by linking it more closely with the outside world, Sheriff Wilkes, Edgar Harriman, proprietor and editor of the Coates Weekly Patriot-Examiner, Preacher Conover, chief luminary of the Coates Freewill Baptist Church, and Pastor Harvey Macdonald, from Coates� rival Methodist chapel.
The group stood close together, but Pastor Macdonald stood on his own, for his Methodist church counted one or two colored families in its congregation. Coates had no citizens of color, and had been strictly neutral in the war between the states. But Scottsville, not many miles distant, was home to a few families of former slaves, and possessed no church to welcome them. So Reverend Macdonald had been very glad to add them to his flock.� But this had in turn made the good people of Coates consider him pretty much an emissary from the nether world, for he had also been heard to raise Pope-worshiping Catholics up to an equal footing with good God-fearing Christians, and had once been seen associating with long-bearded Jews at a convention in Nashville. Furthermore he was known to harbor an altogether unholy sympathy for the Indians sent off by Old Hickory.
A small crowd of men and women had gathered around them out of curiosity, whilst a number of children chased hoops along the trackside, or pulled faces at the small crowd of dignitaries. Mayor Brent drew himself up to his full five feet six as a couple of railroad men bustled around the private car. He was dapper in his best ruffled shirt and black suit, with a new stovepipe hat, a chubby man of ambition. He had thought of calling on the local coronet band to strike up a welcoming fanfare. But Slew Grant, the bandmaster, or orchestra leader, as he liked to style himself, had demanded payment of a whole dollar apiece for himself and his ten brave men, with an extra half dollar for himself as musical conductor, and Brent had jibbed at this call on municipal resources.
�Coates should be proud to welcome an important new citizen,� he had commented acerbically, in a discussion with Grant the previous day. But Grant had just spat in the dirt, muttering that importance paid for no beer.
However Mayor Brent did have a little speech handy. He waited impatiently as the Pullman car door opened and a tall young man dressed in the latest East Coast tweed suiting and a smart imported Crombie coat, well polished lace-up boots, and a trim little gray Derby, emerged into the sunlight, and then cleared his throat importantly, raising his stovepipe hat a clear couple of inches above his head before replacing it firmly.
�Ahem, sir. Might you be the new railroad manager?�
The young man in the tweed suit paused, and smiled, raising his gray Derby by way of acknowledgement. �I am, sir, and you must be Mayor Brent.�
Brent swelled visibly. It is always a good thing to be recognized by a stranger, implying that one is well-known and of good repute � or at least well-known and of good repute in a wider world. But he also hesitated, because whilst he knew now he was speaking to the right man, nobody had told him the right man�s name, and in that the new railroad manager had him at a disadvantage.
The newcomer held out his hand. �I�m David Kingman, Mr. Brent.�
Mayor Brent cleared his throat again. He wanted to spit, in good Tennessee fashion, but he could see a woman carrying a child standing in the Pullman car doorway, behind the new manager, and he suspected that polite East Coast people might not approve of such country ways.
�Ahem.� He cleared his throat a third time, striking a speech-making stance. �We are proud to have you with us, Mr. Kingman, along with your family.� Here he beamed a mayoral smile at the woman and child. �We hope you bring good fortune and prosperity to our newly incorporated city. We are still a settler community, in some ways, for we cherish the values of those first settlers who crossed the Cumberland Gap to found this glorious state of ours. But we recognize the importance that becoming a railroad junction will bring, and we count on growing prosperity adding a polish and luster to our ways, leading us on to rank with the best and finest in our land.�
Sheriff Wilkes scuffed his feet audibly at this point, for Rebecca Wilkes was standing close behind him, in her best black silk, and she regarded herself as a good cut above Belinda Brent.� Belinda Brent merely smiled the smile of a woman whose husband dictates social precedence. She had secretly ordered a new walking-out dress and matching bonnet in a fetching shade of dark green from the Montgomery Wards mail order house in Baltimore, and was already making plans for a covered dish supper to be held at The Commerce Hotel, with dancing to follow. Slew Grant might or might not turn out with his band to welcome a new railroad manager. But she had already agreed plans for the supper with Bella Thornton, Bob Thornton�s wife, and Slew and his men had already accepted an invitation to entertain for a quarter a head, or half the total takings, whichever might prove the greater.
The other Coates notables began to fidget. Nobody could doubt the right of Mayor Brent to stand first in a reception line. But he was a sight too fond of his own voice.�
Preacher Conover pushed his way to the front, shoving Pastor Macdonald out of the way with a deft sideways jab of his elbow. �I would like to concur most heartily in Mr. Brent�s greeting,� he boomed. Preacher Conover was a large and powerful man, and he very much believed in making his presence felt. �We feel the Lord has sent your railroad to bless this town.�
David Kingman frowned. He was an Episcopalian himself. He surveyed the gathered notables with the impatient look of a man who, whilst he accepts a due regard to the niceties of politeness, also has work to do. �Well, gentlemen, I am grateful to all of you for such a heartwarming reception. But I think I must also bring my family down from the train, and then be busy about my company�s affairs.�
The Coates
notables hesitated. It was pretty much of a dismissal, and they felt deprived.
Each felt a need to make a contribution, but here they were being cut off. They
shuffled, and smiled, and shook David Kingman by the hand, and then they
drifted away, with a feeling that East Coast efficiency lacked a certain regard
for traditional Tennessee ways.
Their wives looked even more bereft, for here it was that they had turned out in their best new dresses, only for the reception to remain a purely male affair. Rebecca Wilkes, in particular, looked a little aggrieved, and scolded her husband, as they walked away, for not being more forward.
�� �You should hev spoke up, Joe.�
�� Sheriff Wilkes scowled. He was a big man, and an ambitious man, with a fine broad-brimmed black felt hat, white hair curling down on his collar, and a pair of fine waxed moustachios. He was also dressed in black, like Mayor Brent, this fine late summer day, with his sheriff�s star pinned to his silver brocade vest. But he considered himself a man of much greater significance, both because of his rank as a county officer, and his record of Indian War gallantry, and felt strongly that he should have been first to greet the new arrival.
However he certainly did not want his nose rubbed in the dirt by his wife. He made a face at her remark, and turned towards the small office he maintained in Coates. He had a good drop of confiscated �shine hidden along with a small glass behind some big dusty law books, and reckoned it was time to shut himself into seclusion for perhaps an hour or so. He must lay detailed plans for ambushing the Hitts when they brought their wagon into town.
. �I�ve got business to attend, wife.�
Becky Wilkes sniffed pointedly, and stalked off towards Jent�s Store. She had heard tell that several cards of new ribbons had come into town, and she needed consolation.
David Kingman was now shaking hands with a tall thin man who had been standing back a little whilst he acknowledged the notables of Coates. But this time the encounter held the warmth of a meeting of old friends. He turned to look up at the woman still standing in the doorway of the Pullman car, beckoning to her. �I think you are safe now, Franny. Come and meet Mr. Turner Evered, our agent here.�
Mrs. Frances Kingman was a fine-boned, golden-haired woman, in a warm blue woolen coat, with a big shawl gathered around her shoulders to shield her against chills lying in wait in the shadows, and a fine big picture window hat on her head. Yet she had a frail look about her, and big circles of shadow under her eyes, and from time to time she coughed a little, pressing a lace handkerchief to her lips. It was plain that she was in an advanced state of consumption. She held a small child against her, a little girl in a matching blue coat with a little fur collar,� and a matching hat in miniature, with her hands buried snugly in a matching fur muff, and two more small girls followed behind her, hand in hand, each with a coat in the same shade of blue, with the same fur collars, and hats and muffs. An older woman, dressed in a darker shade of blue, very much like Frances, but perhaps in her mid-fifties, followed the children, and a very plainly dressed girl of perhaps eighteen or nineteen, in a plain gray woolen coat and plain bonnet, with her hair in braids, brought up the rear.
�Mr. Evered will show you to your new home, Franny, whilst I busy myself at the depot.� David Kingman turned back to help his wife down from the car, as though handling a very delicate piece of china. �Perhaps you can walk with him. I don�t think it�s far.�
Evered shook hands with Frances Kingman, and smiled down at her children. �I�ll be glad to walk you over there, ma�am. It�s a fine property, maybe the best in our town.�
Frances Kingman smiled up at him. �That�s very kind of you, sir.�
The two little girls, perhaps eight and ten years old, smiled shyly up at the tall thin man, and then looked up at their mother, as though for her approval. They were both very demure little souls, the kind of little girls who never act without permission. But they surveyed Coates with an element of doubt in their eyes. They were accustomed to the cobbled streets and houses with marble steps of Baltimore, and Coates seemed to them to have something of the air of a village. The streets were nothing dust and mud, and all the houses seemed built of wood. Frances Kingman gently lowered the little girl she was holding, who looked to be about six years old, and turned to the woman behind her.
�Shall we go take a look, Mama?�
Her mother, Evelyn Iverson, smiled. �Do you feel up to it?�
Frances was silent for a moment, as though looking into herself. Then she nodded. �I think I can manage, Mama.�
�Then let us look at your new home.�
Frances held out her hands to her two elder daughters. �Come walk with me, Harriet and Jemma, and Mamma can take charge of Ellen.� She looked at the teenage girl in gray. �You�d better stay here, Doris, and see about having our things unloaded from the boxcar. See if the men can find the girls� things first.� I imagine Mr. Kingman will you find you help.�
Uriah was still waiting patiently at the trackside. He stepped forward at Mrs.� Kingman�s words, raising his hat politely, first to David Kingman, then his wife.
�Can I be any help, sir? Ma�am?�
David Kingman looked at him sharply. �Who are you, sir? Are you with the railroad?�
Uriah stared him straight back. �No, sir. My name is Uriah Hitt, and I don�t work on the railroad. But I surely would like to.�
�You mean you want me to hire you, Mr. Hitt?�
Uriah flexed his shoulders. �Yes, sir. I�m strong.� I come off a farm, and I know what it is to work hard.�
David Kingman was a shrewd man, and a shrewd judge of men. He looked Uriah up and down quickly, and held out his hand. �Right, I�ll take you. My name is David Kingman, and I am the new manager for the Chesapeake and Nashville. When can you start?�
�When you want me, sir.�
�Can you help my wife�s maid with our baggage?�
Uriah smiled slightly. �It�ll be my first work for the railroad, sir.�
David Kingman beamed. �So it will, sir. So it will.�
The railroad had commissioned a big house for the Kingmans on a slope behind the depot. The house, built by Filben Brent, first cousin to the mayor, and a successful timber merchant until his premature death after being hit by a toppling pine, boasted six good bedrooms as well as a fine drawingroom and diningroom set to either side of a large entrance hall, numerous smaller rooms for storing and preparing food,� facilitating all the tasks expected in a large household, and accommodating help, together with a small gardener�s cottage in the extensive grounds stretching up the hill behind the town. Evered had taken it fully furnished for the C&N, and it was a home worthy of a railroad manager.
Uriah hefted two large carpetbags and followed Evered and the Kingmans, with Doris bringing up the rear, so that they made a small procession as they walked down the platform. A number of Coates people, standing around doing nothing very much, stared at them with a mixture of astonishment, and admiration, and envy. The women all noted the stylish way Frances and her children and mother were turned out, and could see instinctively that they were rich. The men judged them to be far too fancy for their own good. The Coates children watched in awe.
Frances Kingman and her mother explored their new home and both greatly admired it greatly, whilst three little Kingman girls� doubts began to melt when they realized that they would have a room each to themselves, particularly as their mother promised them what had been a servant�s room, with a window high under the eaves looking down towards the railroad depot, as a playroom and schoolroom.
�But you must keep it very tidy, my dears,� she told them, with a mock-severe look. Harriet and Jemma curtsied together politely in gratitude, for they both thought rooms of their own, plus a playroom, would prove a real treat after having to share a room with Ellen in Baltimore, whilst Ellen, who was still a little wobbly on her curtsies, held tightly to her grandmother�s hand to prevent herself stumbling.
�We must engage a cook, my dear, and someone to clean house for you.� Frances� mother was prepared to stay for a while, to help out. But she was not sure she wanted to be in Coates for any great length of time. She was widowed five years now, and planned to sell out of the large Baltimore townhouse husband Travis had left her and move into something a little more convenient. She also dreamed of treating herself to a trip across the Atlantic. She was a woman with a fine eye for paintings, and dearly wanted to see some of Europe�s treasures before she grew too old, and it was said that a fine breed of gentleman criss-crossed the Atlantic on business. She sometimes felt - though she always tried to push the thought from her mind � that she was not really made for nursing, and Frances� condition had begun to worsen measurably. She had stopped going to see doctors, because they merely shook their heads regretfully, before pocketing their fees. She was sliding down a slope, that no-one could measure, but was plainly steepening.
Uriah brought up the last of a succession of large carpetbags, and stood waiting on the porch of the Kingman�s new home for fresh instructions. Doris had already vanished upstairs to prepare the children�s rooms for them.
One of Sheriff Wilkes� deputies came riding slowly past the house as Uriah stood waiting. He looked up, noted Uriah, and spat pointedly into the roadside dirt. He was some way from Uriah, but he seemed pretty much to be spitting in the direction of Uriah�s feet. At least Uriah very much gained that impression, and he bridled angrily. The deputy smiled, in an unpleasant sort of way, and tipped of the brim of his hat as he passed. It was not a gesture of respect. Normally Uriah would then have gone after him, and staged a showdown, and very possibly ended up embroiled in a tussle. But he was now a railroad employee, and did not consider brawling suitable to his position, so he turned his back.
Frances Kingman came out of the house with Turner Evered, her mother and her three daughters, and Evered looked at Uriah quizzically. �I guess you better now go and find Mr. Kingman at the depot.�
Uriah took off his hat. He was not accustomed to being in fine company, and he turned it awkwardly in his hands. �I got my wife up at the store, sir.�
�Is that the store up there?� Frances pointed up the slope of the hill towards Whiteside�s.
�Yes, m�m.�
She smiled. �Well, then, let us all go up, and you can introduce us.�
Uriah was not sure he welcomed the idea of traipsing along with two women and three children in tow, but he was now a railroad employee, and beholden to his duty and obligations, so he led the way. The three Kingman girls followed him with some awe, for they thought to themselves that they had never seen such a big, fierce creature, and Frances� mother was also a little doubtful. But Frances Kingman was a sweet-natured woman, given to seeing the best in everyone, unless and until she came to see the worst, and big brawny men held no fears for her, however uncouth they might seem. Besides, this man now worked for her husband.
Iris was still admiring Mrs. Whiteside�s gift of baby clothes, though she was now seated on a chair thoughtfully provided by Cornelia, with a cold Hire�s Rootbeer close to hand. She levered herself to her feet a little awkwardly as two fine dressed woman and three little girls came into the store, and then did a double take to see Uriah with another man enter close behind.
Frances Kingman held out her hand. �You must be Mrs. Hitt.�
Iris blushed. She felt she should bob a curtsey, but she was rather too far gone with child for intricate maneuvering.
�My husband has just engaged your husband for the railroad.�
Iris looked at Uriah. He smiled, and she was sure that she had never seen him quite so pleased with himself.
But
Frances Kingman had already moved past her to pounce on the baby clothes that
Cornelia Whiteside had set on out on her counter. �My, but aren�t these just
the cutest things?� She handed a little vest to her mother, and the three
little Kingman girls looked on with interest. The clothes seemed just right for
their dolls.
Uriah began to back out of the store. Turner Evered was already waiting outside on the boardwalk, and women�s talk was just about the last thing in the world he wanted to share in. He caught Iris� eye, willing her to follow him, and she smiled. Once, not long since, he would have just grabbed her roughly by the arm, and hauled her out. Maybe work on the railroad was already started to smooth a rough edge here and there.
Then he tensed, like a coon dog with a good scent in the air. A pair of Sheriff Wilkes� deputies were riding along the street, sitting very high and mighty, and one of them was the one who had spat in his direction earlier. He flexed his muscles. He would not start a fuss, but the man was looking� for a bloody nose if he tried the same thing again.
The two deputies slowed as they passed the store, riding close into the boardwalk, and tipped their hats to Turner Evered. Then the one who had spat in Uriah�s direction looked at his companion. �Ain�t that the shit boy?�
The play on �Hitt� was very plain. Uriah leaped at the man, hurling him straight out of his saddle. Iris screamed, and the second deputy unsheathed the carbine secured in a long holster just back of his hip. He brought the gun round very slowly and deliberately to bear on Uriah, his thumb pushing the safety catch forward.
Turner Evered stepped quickly between the two men. �Put that thing up.� He spoke crisply, the voice of a man expecting a command to be obeyed.
The deputy hesitated.
�I said put it up.� Now he had placed himself directly in front of Uriah. Iris had begun to sob. She had never felt such fear in her life, not even when she had once seen a cottonmouth lurking next to her privy.
Frances Kingman and her mother were standing in the store�s open doorway, with the three little Kingman girls peeping anxiously from behind their skirts. Several people had come out of Jent�s Store and The Commerce Hotel at the commotion.
The fallen deputy had picked himself up, and was now advancing on Uriah combatively. Turner Evered lifted his arm to point at the man.
�Get back on your mount, sir.�
The deputy scowled. �He hit me, in the execution of my duty.�
�You behaved ignominiously, sir.� Evered did not lower his arm. �I am the agent for the Chesapeake and Louisville in this town, and I shall raise this matter with Sheriff Wilkes.�
Joe Wilkes was already striding towards them, drawn by the hubbub. He looked at his two deputies. �What�s goin� on?�
The dismounted deputy scowled. �That there is Jed Hitt�s boy. He hit me.�� He spat blood and a piece of tooth for good measure.
Wilkes looked at the second deputy, still holding his carbine at the ready. �Is thet right, Saunders?�
The deputy nodded silently. The situation seemed to be developing complications, and he was not sure he wanted to be too closely involved.
Sheriff Wilkes looked at Turner Evered, almost as though noticing the railroad agent for the first time. �What are you doing here, Mr. Evered?
�Mr Hitt came with me to escort the Kingman family.�
Joe Wilkes hesitated. �Mr. Hitt?�
�He is a Chesapeake and Nashville Railroad employee. This man here insulted him gratuitously.� Evered gestured at the dismounted deputy, much as though he might have indicated something rather unpleasant.
��He works for you?�
�He works for me.� David Kingman stood behind the sheriff. He had walked up quite unnoticed, and Frances smiled at him. She knew that her husband was a good man at defusing difficult confrontations.
�Oh, I see.� Sheriff Wilkes looked discomfited. He had seen the deputies having a stand-off with the Hitt boy, and a rumpus fitted well in with his plans for ambushing Uriah�s father. But the railroad was a power in the land, with the ability to sway judges and whisper into senators� ears. He scratched himself, and thought of spitting in the dirt, but then changed his mind. �I guess that puts a different complexion on it.�
��Mr. Hitt has the protection of the Chesapeake and Nashville.�
�Well, then I guess that means we should all go away quietly.�
David Kingman smiled thinly. �I think that�s right.�
But Sheriff Wilkes could not allow himself to be deprived of the last word in this encounter, and he glared at Uriah. �But yo� better watch yo�re step, boy, when yo�re around these parts. Yo� mek trouble, and no power in the land will protect yo�.�
With that he tipped his hat the Kingmans and Turner Evered, and stalked off, leaving the dismounted deputy to remount.
Uriah made as though to step after him, but then stopped. He was now a railroad employee, and he owed respect and obedience to the two men who had come to his help. But� he made up his mind to tell his father about the confrontation as soon as possible. It seemed as though Sheriff Wilkes was spoiling up good and real for a fight, and he would be fighting with a bunch of deputies at his shoulders.