Liam stamped the initials JH, for Joseph Hennigan in the Cornish Pastee and then wrapped it in waxed paper. The smell of hot dough stuck to his fingers. He looked over at the door as a delivery boy burst inside with a sack of flour on one shoulder and vegetables over the other.
‘How far west have they gone now?’ Liam asked him, and had done so for the past three weeks. He hungered for news on the competing railroad companies—the first had started in Sacramento, the other in Omaha, and they would meet in the middle.
The boy dropped the sacks at the edge of the bench and stretched his back. ‘Layin’ track halfway across Wyoming from last summer, I hear.’
Liam packed another lot of Pastees for the field workers into a sack and pushed them into an increasing pile.
‘What about the west?’
‘Central Pacific Railroad with all those Chinese got through the mountains, I think,’ the boy said. ‘A lot of those Coolies have died, but they aren’t stopping.’
Emma came through from the back and clapped her hands and told them to hurry along, the sun would be up and the first customers would be through the doors soon. Liam only half heard her, his mind was already on getting to Wyoming to join the rail gangs. Then he hoped to buy farming land of his own, something his family never dreamed of doing.
He counted off how many dollars he had saved and decided it was around 32, plus what he would get for the end of this week. It wasn’t enough to get him all the way to Wyoming, but he would probably get more work while he traveled. Initially, when he had asked for refuge at Emma’s home he had intended on staying just the night, now he was getting paid and had his own place. If he was smart, his uncle would say, he would stay, do an honest man’s work and take a good Irish wife. But that wasn’t the life he wanted right now, not until he had seen the west, anyway.
It was dark when Liam managed to eat some left over soup and take a few rolls for the short walk to his home amongst the slaughter houses. It smelt bad, it was dirty, but it was cheap. Plus he would get off-cut meats from time to time for barely a few cents.
Liam called out to Thomas, a field worker, also heading home. They talked in the street and Liam asked him if he still wanted to come along when he went west at the end of the week. Thomas was about to answer when Liam’s name was called in a shrill bark. Liam turned and saw a man he never thought he would ever see again. In all the streets and in all the cities, how had he been so unlucky to come across Mr. Brown, butler of the Westerly home.
Mat Clarke (AUS)
Comments
I think the term “pastee” may be a bit of showing off. I tried to find some information on the goodies and only found it referred to as “pastee” in an old Robin Hood ballad of the 1300’s. It was usually spelled “pasty” even in Shakespeare’s play In the Merry Wives of Windsor (1600). Am I missing something about pastee?
I have no problem with the butler showing up in any location since he is tracking the lad.
And as for location, I looked over the tracks back in those days and also took into account that he felt the train stop, so maybe it was the first stop? Then my research stated that trains only went a certain distance and another train would take over, and this was due to no signals in those days. So, to stop trains from crashing into each other the first train would carry a baton, much like a relay baton passed from one athlete to another. The next train was not allowed to leave until it had the baton from the first.
I thought of mentioning where the train had stopped, but I didn't want to limit the story for the next person... plus I was already at 500 words by the time I thought of it ;)
Still, I do understand that this should have been included.
And yeah, the southern route for the train - I thought anyway. Probably should have stipulated that in the story somehow.
And Raymond , you're correct, I should have described the kitchen a little more, or better - Emma I didn't care much about though.
Lastly, the Pastee! Raymond did pick up on that and questioned it. But I came across this and therefore called it pastee: http://alcoopershomecountry.blogspot.com.au/
And as for Shakespeare writings and other text recorded here and there; I guess text can always be entered incorrectly. Especially when going from paper to digital.
Just some thoughts.