Episode 77

New Arrivals

The arrival of a train was always cause for curiosity. Anyone idle or sober enough would make their way down to the station at the first sign of a steam cloud on the horizon. And a noisy crowd of kids always showed up to get a look-see at any passengers or off-loaded stock. A pack of recently arrived rail workers came out from their tent camp across the tracks to bear witness as well.

Ambrose Withers stepped from the telegraph office to blink in the unaccustomed sunlight as a mole might.

As part of his official position with the Texas & Pacific, it was his job to be prepared to see to the needs of new arrivals at Eagle Flat. And, in his unofficial position for the unnamed syndicate that paid him twice over his railroad pay each month, to report back to his masters the nature and identity of anyone making a prolonged stop.

And there were some odd ducks to report in this trainload. A gray-haired gent stepped off the passenger car to make his way to the cargo carrier. He was followed by a younger man with slicked down hair. Both wore tweed woolen suits that appeared to be tailored. Their boots came to mid-calf and looked like customs. The older gent made a fuss at the porters who were off-loading wooden crates onto the station platform.

Another fella stepped down from the passenger car and Withers watched him in disbelief. It looked to be a Chinaman though not like any celestial Withers had ever seen before. This fella was dressed in woolens like the first two passengers off the train though he favored black over plaids. And his jacket buttoned right up to the neck without a proper collar or lapels. The calves of his legs were covered in leather puttees. Unlike a usual Chinee, this fella wore no braided queue down his back. His hair was cut short like a white man. Atop his head he wore a flat-crowned hat held in place with a leather chinstrap that looked like someone had stolen the brim off it. Even more remarkable than the Chinaman’s choice in headgear was the knife that rested in a scabbard secured beneath his red sash. It was like no pig-sticker Withers knew of. It had a tapered handle and the blade appeared to be curved in a bow shape. The Chinaman stood on the platform, turned back to the steps of a passenger car as though waiting.

The white woman who stepped from the train caused Ambrose to catch his breath. A wasp-waisted young filly in a dress of deep blue trimmed in ivory-colored lace. Her face was partly hidden by a broad hat of yellow straw with a sheer white band that fell behind her shoulders like a train. She wore her blonde hair loose in a cascade down her back in thick tresses. The girl reached out a gloved hand that the Chinaman took in one of his to ease her off the steps and onto the platform. She turned to look about her, her gaze taking in the station house and the gawking lookie-loos gathered along the tracks. Her eyes fell on Ambrose Withers and he was startled by the shade of them, the deep blue of a lake surface about to turn to ice. The face was fine with a complexion a bit darker than he’d expect in a woman so obviously of quality. A fleeting smile, lips tilted, came and went as she turned away to the rear of the train where the two dudes in tweed were in discussion with the train’s conductor.

Withers thought of stepping forward to see if he might offer the newcomers some help with their stay. The look of the Chinaman and that wicked blade he wore caused Withers to return to the shelter of his office. Better that he bide his time to inquire about the strangers. From the amount of baggage the porters were hauling out of the freight car, this bunch would be in town a while. There would be time to employ his more oblique methods of inquiry to learn what he could about these odd ducks.

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