“This is officially the Rio Grande Division of the Santa Fe Railway,” Owen explained to Gary. “But most folks call it the Horny Toad Line, due to all the toads you find smashed to smithereens on the rails.”
“Boy, it sure is hot in here, just like you said,” Gary interrupted.
Owen overlooked his lack of attention for the moment. “It is, and this is morning. It will get ten times worse by late afternoon.”
“I heard all the Mexicans take a break in the afternoon. They call itsee-something.”
“Siesta. They quit during the hottest hours, then come back to work after the sun begins to set. But we’re not Mexicans, and on the Santa Fe, we keep working straight through. I like to arrange easier work to be done in the afternoon, if possible.”
“Owen, is this the new man?” a tall, beefy man asked as he approached with a determined gait.
“Yes, Mr. Payne. Gary, this is Timothy Payne, the supervisor for this part of the shops. Mr. Payne, this is Gary Ragsdale. He’s just moved here, and his folks are running the Grand Hotel.”
Mr. Payne nodded. “I watched it go up. Should provide some much-needed rooms. Gary, Owen tells me that you’ve never worked before. Railroad work isn’t easy, and there won’t be much in the way of second chances, since first mistakes often get you killed.”
Gary’s face paled despite the heat. “I understand. Owen told me the same thing. I know I’m not really cut out for this work right now, but I hope to prove myself.”
“I hope you do as well.” The older man looked at Owen andmotioned across the room. “We’ll need that boiler remade by Friday instead of Monday. Can we get it done?”
“You bet we can,” Owen assured him. “It’s been going well. Hopefully the next fireman will be better acquainted with problem gauges.”
“Yeah, you can hope.” Mr. Payne left them then, calling out to someone across the open shop. “Davis!”
“Are you sure you want to give this a go, Gary?” Owen asked. “It really is going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever tried.”
Gary nodded, but Owen could see the boy wasn’t convinced. Owen took him to one of the workstations where several men were working.
“These are some of the men you’ll be working with temporarily. We call them boomers. They like to move around the country and work various jobs, never really settling down to one shop or location.”
“That sounds adventurous,” Gary declared, extending a hand to the man nearest him.
Owen made the introductions. “That’s Hercules Monroe. We call him Herc. This is Gary Ragsdale, fellas. He’ll be joining us.”
Monroe nodded and shook Gary’s hand. “This is William Foxtail. He’s part Apache, but we just call him Bill.”
“A real-life Indian, eh?” Gary grinned.
Bill nodded and leaned closer. “Stay on my good side. My grandfather taught me to scalp when I was just a boy.”
Gary’s eyes widened, and he took a step back as the boomers laughed.
Owen chuckled. “There won’t be any scalping on my watch.”
A third man stepped up and put his hand in Gary’s. “Name’s Martin Thomas Clarmont. Folks call me Empty—play on my initials.”
“Empty.” Gary nodded. “I’m glad to meet you fellas. I’m pretty excited to see what you do here and learn all about it.”
“Well, the first thing I notice about you is your lack of muscle. We swing hammers in here and bend iron,” Empty said. “I’m guessin’ you’ve never done that.”
“No, I haven’t. But I’m willing to learn. This will be my very first job.”
Empty looked to Owen, who gave a nod. “We all have to start somewhere.”
4
The first of August dawned with a cloudless sky that promised no relief from the sun as the day wore on. Susanna got up at first light and began preparations for the day. There would be four guests checking out to catch the morning train, and she had no way of knowing if her father would be at the hotel in time to see to them.
Even more important, at least in Susanna’s mother’s opinion, was an invitation to a midmorning gathering of the Methodist Women’s Society. The invitation had come on Sunday, when Mrs. Payne stopped Mother on her way out of the church.
