Chapter 14 #2
The crate landed in the wagon with a thud. The horses startled, but a passerby grabbed the reins and calmed the beasts.
“Thank you, Mr. Cedric.” The bustling South Fork depot, though tiny in comparison, rivaled the operation of Washington’s Union Station platform with crates, barrels, and trunks delivered and loaded, some stacked two or three high.
Relief for the people of Johnstown was coming faster than folks could transport it down the mountain.
Passengers filled the waiting rooms for either a way into the town or for a way out.
Until the viaduct between Mineral Point and South Fork was restored, there was no way to get supplies into the heart of Johnstown by train.
The Pennsylvania Railroad crew worked around the clock to build a temporary bridge and restore the lines until they could repair the original viaduct.
They were close to finishing, according to the papers.
In the meantime, the South Fork and Sang Hollow depots were as close as anyone could get.
General Hastings filled the doorway of the station, scowled at the surrounding view, and then stalked toward a team of horses tied to a hitching post. Annamae intercepted the grumpy general. Upon seeing her, his face softened, and he tipped his hat.
“Good evening, General.”
His white mustache twitched. “It would be if I didn’t have to police all of Pennsylvania and could concentrate on the safety of Johnstown.”
She raised a brow in question.
“I must spare two of my men and leave them here to turn away anyone who doesn’t have a legitimate reason to be in Johnstown. Folks are coming from all over the country just to say they saw the disaster for themselves. Despicable souls.”
“Oh, my.” General Hastings, although the kindest of men, was not one to make an enemy of.
He unwound his horse’s reins. “And how is the Red Cross faring?”
His tone was considerably less aggressive.
“Doctor Hamilton, the surgeon general, has arrived with disinfectants. I’m to help with distribution and training on how to use the chemicals. With time, it should help eliminate typhoid cases.”
“Yes, I’ve heard it’s spreading rapidly. Hopefully, these disinfectants will help freshen the air as well.”
Now that the torrents of rain seemed to have passed and the early summer temperature was rising, the putrid smell of filth and decomposing corpses had gotten worse.
General Hastings placed his foot in the stirrup, swung his leg over the horse, and dropped onto his saddle. “Good day to you, Miss Worthington. I must go before it gets dark. Please send my regards to Miss Barton.”
“I will do that, sir.” Annamae smiled.
Clara and the general had formed quite the unique friendship since their arrival. In fact, if Annamae had to guess, she’d say the general was impressed with the little warrior. No doubt, her dedication and determination rivaled any he’d seen from his men.
Doctor Hamilton exited the depot and held up his hand when he spotted her by the post. She followed him to the wagon. He took the bundle of mail from her and assisted her up. She maneuvered her large skirt to make room for them both and Mr. Cedric.
“Miss Worthington.” The doctor squeezed in beside her, handing her the mail. “Are the stories of looting and lynching I’ve read in the papers true?”
“Most were sensationalized to sell papers. Captain Hart, General Hastings, and the military are doing their utmost to keep order and assure safety to the Johnstown residents and volunteers.”
Doctor Hamilton seemed satisfied with her answer.
“What of Washington?” she asked. “Is it true investigations have commenced regarding the dam and its property owners?”
The doctor glanced around to see if they had an audience.
He kept his voice low. “It’s true. The property used to be part of the Pennsylvania Canal but was sold to the man who started the South Fork Fishing and Hunting Club in ’79.
There’s speculation that the club members were warned several times over the last decade that the dam’s structure was no longer safe and would someday collapse. ”
Her mouth fell open. “You mean this could have been prevented?”
Doctor Hamilton shrugged. “I suppose that will be for the courts to decide.”
Mr. Cedric slapped the reins on the horses’ backs and set them into motion.
The path was rough and would take them much longer than the traditional way, but with all the debris and the railroad men laying new tracks, they were forced to travel the east side of the terrain to Johnstown that was comprised of flatter ground to withstand their heavy load.
Annamae clasped her hands in her lap, unable to keep from rocking into the men boxing her in. “Surely any wise and honorable judge will make certain the club members are held accountable if they are guilty of negligence.”
A wry smile curled one side of the doctor’s mouth. “One can hope. Unfortunately, it seems as if the club roster is a secret. The identities are held with lock and key by the most powerful men in the country.”
“How does keeping the identities of the club secret benefit the powerful men?”
“Because they’re the members.”
“If membership is secret, how do you know that?”
His expression was that of an adult speaking to a naive child.
“Simple deduction, Miss Worthington. The average working man can’t afford luxury or time away from work, and men of high ranking in the government or military rarely get time for sporting.
Only the kings of industry have the time and wealth for such devices. ”
The hairs on Annamae’s arms rose. The most powerful men in the country were men like Andrew Carnegie, Henry Clay Frick, John D. Rockefeller, the Vanderbilts, J.P. Morgan, and John Jacob Astor. Men who relied on others to build their fortunes.
Men who could afford to pay a judge to rule in their favor.
The wagon hit a rut, jarring her teeth. She clutched her small bundle to keep from losing it.
The horses shifted to brace the heavy load down the incline.
Anguish welled inside her as they passed the former towns of Mineral Point and Woodvale.
Areas just as devastated as Johnstown, but on a smaller scale.
Suddenly, she missed her father. Missed the comfort of her small apartment in Washington.
She even missed the mundane routine she got lost in when loneliness crept its fingers around her heart.
She thought of Monty and the sweet friendship she’d found in him but pushed the thoughts aside when she recalled Clara’s warning.
Her mentor was right. She must guard her heart.
There was no sense in forming an attachment when she’d go back to Washington once the Red Cross finished their work here.
It was almost dark when Mr. Cedric pulled the wagon to a stop at the warehouse.
She delivered the bundle of mail to headquarters and helped Doctor Hamilton and Clara catalog the various disinfectants in their logbook.
At a quarter to nine, Clara informed her that Pastor Childs had stopped by to offer his services as chaplain, and then dismissed Annamae to her tent.
Though Annamae had tried to elicit an indifferent attitude, Clara no doubt noticed the slight uptick at the corners of her mouth.
She’d never mastered the art of keeping her feelings off her face.
Annamae gazed at the full moon as she walked to her quarters. “Good night, Papa,” she whispered.
Holding back a yawn, Annamae undressed and slipped beneath the blanket. Tomorrow, the real work began.