The Trainmasters
Authors: Jesse Taylor Croft
The Barmen and Women Who
Seized the Future
and Rode It to Success
JOHN CARLYSLE
—Born to be a railroad man, this brawny and brilliant engineer led his steel-driving men across a wild country… to follow
his heart into a tumultuous era of deadly rivalries and blazing desires.
•
TERESA O’RAHILLY
—An Irish immigrant and stunning beauty, she would be forced by fate to leave the servant class to become the pampered courtesan
of wealthy men. Then one young gentleman dared to woo her and—if it was not too late—make her his own.
•
KITTY LANCASTER
—The vivacious daughter of a railroad magnate, she would be filled with Yankee fire and determination… and ready to challenge
desperate men and hardship to win the man she loved.
•
DANIEL DREW
—A robber baron of the Gilded Age, money was his god. A genius with a stock certificate and a balance sheet, he financed and
manipulated his way to the top. Yet he was never a man to resort to violence… he hired others to do it for him.
•
GRAHAM CARLYSLE
—John Carlysle’s son, a young man raised with the hammering of work crews echoing in his blood, he had dreams of a glorious
future in his heart… and terrible struggle in his future.
POPULAR LIBRARY EDITION
Copyright © 1988 by Warner Books, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Popular Library
®
and the fanciful P design are registered trademarks of Warner Books, Inc.
Popular Library books are published by
Warner Books, Inc.
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue
New York, NY 10017
Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
.
First eBook Edition: September 2009
ISBN: 978-0-446-56703-9
Contents
The Colorado Trilogy from DOROTHY GARLOCK …
OneApril 1852
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Mrs. Charles Lancaster was more than thrilled. She was exhilarated. In fact, her enthusiasm was so great she felt that the
top of her head might fly off.
She was about to christen a brand new, very beautiful, very powerful locomotive in front of Philadelphia’s most distinguished
citizens. It was perhaps the most exciting event she had attended in months. As the train moved slowly toward her, Kitty Lancaster
felt her heart beat more rapidly. Her hands, gloved in exquisite white lace, clasped and unclasped in front of her.
Such emotion regarding a locomotive was unusual for a woman in 1852, but Kitty Lancaster was more than just a little interested
in the power of iron and steam and speed; she was fascinated by it.
As the locomotive drew nearer, Kitty turned to the man standing next to her on the reviewing platform. “Mr. Baldwin,” she
said, “it’s lovely,
truly
lovely.” And then, taking his hands in her own, she added, “I congratulate you.” Her awe was quite evident.
The locomotive builder bent his head toward her and smiled. “I thank you, Mrs. Lancaster, for your glowing opinion of my new
machine. And I’m delighted that you will be the one to christen it. I pray that it will continue to perform as beautifully
as it appears in your eyes.”
The bright and gleaming new locomotive had recently been completed in Mr. Baldwin’s Philadelphia shops. Trailed by four equally
new, equally shining passenger cars, it pulled slowly to a stop in front of the reviewing platform where Mrs. Lancaster, Mr.
Baldwin, and a large number of other greater and lesser dignitaries stood. Huge gouts of steam erupted from the engine, and
there was a great grinding scream of metal on metal, followed by the clank and clatter of cars banging against their couplings.
And in a few moments the train came to a halt only five feet from the front of the stand.
The reviewing platform had been set up at the intersection of Broad and Market streets; the train had drawn up to the platform
on the Market Street tracks. A refreshment tent was placed beside the platform,’ and another, larger tent was set up opposite
it to accommodate the dignitaries should the weather change drastically. But it was a splendid, warm April Saturday with no
sign of a cloud.
Flanking the track was a large, noisy crowd; the throng spilled out into the vacant lots on either side of Market Street.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, cheering and clapping whenever the mood struck. In front of the refreshment tent,
a brass band had begun to play when the train stopped. The lively march had been composed for the occasion by Will Stewart,
a member of the faculty of the University of Pennsylvania Conservatory of Music.
The locomotive was indeed a wonder, perhaps the finest piece of equipment produced by the finest shop in America. It was,
first of all, massive, weighing nearly sixty thousand pounds, and it was powerful; it could easily pull the load now attached
to it up the steepest mountain grade. And it was splendidly decorated. The stack, the firebox, and most of the steam dome
were typically painted black, but the rest of the engine nearly exhausted the spectrum. The boiler was robin’s-egg blue; the
wheels and the pilot—what many came to call the cowcatcher—were vermillion red. The outside of the cab was made of polished
teak, covered with elaborate scrollwork in gold. Underneath the window was a realistic painting of a Bengal tiger stalking
unseen prey in an emerald-green jungle. The locomotive’s nameplate, which was set well forward on the boiler, was in great,
ornate brass letters:
TIGER
. Another jungle painting appeared on the side of the headlight. And American flags flew from bronze stanchions on top of
the pilot.
The locomotive’s tender was painted a delicate rose, with the railroad’s name—
PENNSYLVANIA RAIL ROAD
—inscribed on a flowing blue ribbon and surrounded by curlicues of gold.
“You are a truly glorious machine,” Mrs. Lancaster said under her breath.
“Excuse me?” Matthias Baldwin asked, not quite hearing her.
She laughed a most engaging and vivacious laugh. “Oh, I hope you didn’t think I was addressing you, Mr. Baldwin,” she said,
grasping his hands again. “I was thinking about your glorious engine.”
Matthias Baldwin smiled and raised his eyebrows.
“May I tell you a secret?” she asked.
“Of course. Please do.”
“I won’t shock you?”
“I doubt that,” he said and smiled.
“I want to drive that machine,” she said. “I want the steam to push up until the boiler’s near to bursting. I’d like to hurdle
down the track faster than any human has ever traveled, with the wind blasting my face, my hair streaming behind me. God!
What I would give to do that!” She looked at him. “Are you still not shocked?”
He laughed. “No. Not shocked. Though I have to admit that you are a
most
unusual and enthusiastic young woman,” said Matthias Baldwin, liking her and admiring her exuberance. “Which is matched only
by your great beauty.”
“I am enthusiastic for railroads, Mr. Baldwin,” she said, rushing by the compliment as if she had not heard it. “Nothing so
excites me as they do.”
John Carlysle, an Englishman who had arrived in Philadelphia from London only two weeks before, was not among those invited
to the reviewing stand. But he had stationed himself and his three sons as close as possible to it. Because he wanted them
to have the best view of the proceedings, he had found space next to the front of the locomotive, just to the side of the
pilot.
