Stories of the RailroadHill, John A. (John Alexander)
General
Stories of the Railroad
Hill, John A. (John Alexander)
Fiction; Railroad stories; Short stories
Along late in November, Jim had to make an extra one night on another
engine, which left me at home alone with "mother" and the boy--I had
never seen the girl--and after swearing me to be both deaf, dumb, and
blind, "mother" told me a secret. For ten years she had been saving
money out of her allowance, until the amount now reached nearly $2,000.
She knew of Jim's life ambition to own a farm, and she had the matter in
hand, if I would help her. Of course I was head over heels into the
scheme at once. She wanted to buy the farm near M----, and give Jim the
deed for a Christmas present; and Jim mustn't even suspect.
Jim never did.
The next trip I had to buy some underclothes: would "mother" tell me how
to pick out pure wool? Why, bless your heart, no, she wouldn't, but
she'd just put on her things and go down with me. Jim smoked and read at
home.
We went straight to the bank where Jim kept his money, asked for the
President, and let him into the whole plan. Would he take $2,100 out of
Jim's money, unbeknown to Jim, and pay the balance of the price of the
farm over what "mother" had?
No, he would not; but he would advance the money for the purpose--have
the deeds sent to him, and he would pay the price--that was fixed.
Then I hatched up an excuse and changed off with the fireman on the
M---- branch, and spent the best part of two lay-overs fixing up things
with the owner of the farm and arranging to hold back the recording of
the deeds until after Christmas. Every evening there was some part of
the project to be talked over, and "mother" and I held many whispered
conversations. Once Jim, smiling, observed that, if I had any hair on my
face, he would be jealous.
I remember that it was on the 14th day of December, 1863, that payday
came. I banked my money with "mother," and Jim, as usual, counted out
his half to that dear old financier.
"Uncle Sam'd better put that 'un in the hospital," observed Jim, as he
came to a ragged ten-dollar bill. "Goddess of Liberty pretty near got
her throat cut there; guess some reb has had hold of her," he continued,
as he held up the bill. Then laying it down, he took out his pocket-book
and cut off a little three-cornered strip of pink court-plaster, and
made repairs on the bill.
"Mother" pocketed her money greedily, and before an hour I had that very
bill in my pocket to pay the recording fees in the courthouse at M----.
The next day Jim wanted to use more money than he had in his pocket, and
asked me to lend him a dollar. As I opened my wallet to oblige him, that
patched bill showed up. Jim put his finger on it, and then turning me
around towards him, he said: "How came you by that?"
I turned red--I know I did--but I said, cool enough, "'Mother' gave it
to me in change."
"That's a lie," he said, and turned away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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