His father always seemed to know what he was thinking.
“Me too.” He motioned his head toward the door. “Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
Not that coffee could fix the anvil-sized weight that had landed on their shoulders. Was Dad just covering up his own worry over the matter?
They headed out from the meeting and made their way to a small café at the end of the block. Carter’s father ordered not only coffee but two pieces of apple pie.
“We might as well enjoy something sweet with our coffee.”
Of course. Carter had never known his father to pass up a chance for dessert. The man had a terrible sweet tooth and was even known to walk around with candy in his pockets. It made him very popular with the children.
Apple pie wasn’t an answer to their dilemma either, but Carter slapped on a smile and played along. “So long as it doesn’t spoil your dinner. Mother wouldn’t be happy if that happened.”
His father grinned. “Have you ever known me to miss ameal?” The robust man patted his stomach. “I do just fine. Now, what do you think about our situation?”
There it was. Carter placed his hat on the chair beside him. “It’s bad news to be sure. A lot of folks are reliant upon that railroad.”
“There’s not a businessman in the area who doesn’t need it. Remember when we first got here? Getting up here was a peril at best. Bless your poor mother’s heart, she was a brave soul to be sure. Coming by train from Kansas was hard enough, but then to have to take wagons and that long steamboat trip across the lake and then more wagons ... well, she earned my deepest respect on that trip.”
Carter shook his head. “Like she didn’t already have it.”
“True enough. She’s always been a brave soul. She wanted to settle in Demersville, but never said a word. And I pretendednotto know, which worked to our benefit in the long run.” Dad took a sip of his coffee, his eyes distant for a moment, as if back on that difficult ride out west. He shook his head and set down his mug. “My point is, however, the route wasn’t easy. You were eleven, and it was hard enough on you.”
“I remember it well.” He swirled the coffee in his cup and stared at him. “Truth is, I doubt we can change the minds of anyone based on how hard it is to get in and out of here. Usually by the time the lowest folks hear about changes, plans are already set in motion. I would imagine James Hill has already signed our fate and has his new route completely planned out. I don’t know what good a visit from his son is going to do. Except maybe create more trouble.”
The chipper demeanor his father had worn faded. “I’m afraid that’s probably true. He’s probably none too pleasedwith the judgment against him handed down by the Supreme Court regarding his monopoly.” Dad shook his head. “If anything, it has probably motivated him to take control of whatever he can.”
The waitress arrived and put two pieces of pie in front of them. “It’s fresh from the oven, so it should still be warm.” She refilled their coffee before heading off to take care of other customers.
Dad picked up a fork and offered a blessing before digging in.
Taking up his own utensil, Carter cut into the dessert. “I’ve tried to figure out how we’ll move forward at the flour mill once the trains aren’t running. Granted, I haven’t had much time to think about it, so my math could be wrong, but”—he shoved a bite into his mouth and chewed, not really wanting to say it aloud—“it doesn’t bode well. The roads north are barely passable so there will have to be a great deal of improvement to them before they are reliable. The roads south to Ravalli and the rails there are better but take longer.”
Carter chased the pie down with coffee while his father did the same.
“I know. It’ll be the same for grain shipments. Unless I leave it all with you to turn to flour. But that doesn’t make sense for our customers far away. Their mills need the business too.”
Dad finished his pie and leaned back in his chair. He stroked his chin with one hand, the frown on his face deepening. Then his eyebrows lifted and he raised a finger. “Maybe ... maybe we need to go into the freighting business.”
“Or road buildin—” Carter stopped himself. Sarcasm wasn’t going to help. “We don’t know the first thing about either and would need a great deal of capital to get started.”
“True.” Dad grimaced. “Wheat has been my whole life. There has to be a way to keep Hill from doing this.” Dad lifted his cup to his lips. “Jerod McVey suggested we all file a lawsuit against them, but that won’t do any good until well after the fact. We’d have to show the damages they did us and by that time a lot of businesses will have folded. People will be gone. And is that honoring to God? Even though the railroad might kill the town, it feels like too much of a nasty attack for us to sue.”
Carter wrapped his hands around his coffee mug, the lingering warmth seeping into his skin. “I know.” He twisted the cup back and forth between his hands. “There are a couple of questions that still need answered, though. Will we still have the spur line to Somers?”
Dad arched an eyebrow. “Hmm. Good point. What are you thinking?”
“If we still have that spur, we could use the steamboats—at least for everything going south. Then we’d have to figure out something once it’s across Flathead Lake.” Carter rubbed his face, exhaustion starting to weigh his mind down. There was so much to consider. “I also wonder if we will have a spur or branch line here off the main line? If so ... how often will it come to Kalispell? You heard the men—the biggest fear is that we’ll end up like Demersville.” Anxiety burned in his chest, but he took a deep breath.Lord, help me stay calm.“God brought us this far, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what He has in mind.”
“I know, son.” Dad scraped the last bits of pie from hisplate. “It’s hard to believe they’d cut us off. With more people moving into the Flathead Valley and the battle cry to make a national park near here, you’d think the railroad would be expanding rather than cutting lines.” He tipped back the last of his coffee. “Not to mention the Czar just created his Whipps Block. He’ll be needing to ship in all sorts of goods. So let’s presume that we’ll still have the spur lines.”
Ah yes. William Whipps. The man actually seemed to like being called the Czar. True, he’d served as mayor several times. And he founded The First National Bank in Kalispell. Of late, he’d formed a mercantile business with his son and built one of the largest and most modern buildings in the area to house it. And then there was his Kalispell Liquor and Tobacco Company. Neither of which the Brunswicks had any use for. But there were plenty in town who did.
With all those accomplishments, perhaps the moniker was appropriate.
Carter leaned back in his chair. “All right, we can be hopeful about the spur lines and that the railroad tracks will still be in place. Maybe we can encourage them to find a way to make the tracks safer—especially headed west. Hill’s protest hasn’t been about lack of usage, but rather the dangers of the grades and what it takes to keep the tracks in good working order. Anything coming from the east is still going to have to go over Marias Pass to get to Whitefish rather than here. The pass to the west is even worse and what they’re trying to avoid. Maybe the folks in Kalispell could hire someone to survey the situation to the west and make it safer? At least help the Hills see why it’s necessary for us to keep a train coming into Kalispell?”
“Now that has some merit.” His father leaned forward.“I’ll mention that to the Judge. Could be he’s got some friends who could figure out the particulars and make a presentation to Hill’s son when he gets here.”
