The Trainmasters Read Online Free Page B

and from those on the stand, and not a few of the dignitaries’ faces registered embarrassment.
    A short, steep stairway led from the reviewing stand down to the street. Within minutes Kitty Lancaster had scrambled down
     it and pushed her way to the front of the locomotive. Then, lifting up her skirt, she pulled herself up onto the tiny platform
     at the top of the pilot, and raising die champagne high over her head like a torch, she shouted, “Such a powerful machine
     deserves to be christened right and properly by the direct and personal action of a human being!” She paused until the murmurs
     of the crowd stopped. Then she spoke again. “I hereby christen you Tiger in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, the people
     of Pennsylvania, and the directors and stockholders of the Pennsylvania Railroad.”
    With a powerful swing of her arm, Mrs. Lancaster smashed the bottle across the nose of the engine. Instantly a great cloud
     of champagne burst out, and for half a second, she was surrounded by a golden nimbus of champagne mist.
    She stood radiant and smiling, basking in the waves of cheers and applause from the crowd. Then she began to look for a way
     to descend from her perch.
    “Here,” said a voice, “take my hand.” It was a rich, pleasant baritone with an educated British accent. When she looked to
     see who the voice belonged to, she realized it was the man she’d been glancing at for much of the ceremony.
    “Thank you,” she said and gave John Carlysle her hand. His hand felt firm and solid, just like his voice sounded. But it was
     calloused and chapped from working outdoors. And this surprised her, for the man was well dressed and well mannered. She wondered
     if he was a soldier or perhaps a sailor. Yet she didn’t sense anything rakish about him, nothing that suggested an adventurer.
    She was much intrigued by this man. And with his help she carefully made her way down to safety.
    “Thank you again,” she said.
    “You are most welcome, Mrs. Lancaster.”
    She wondered for a second how he knew her name, but then she realized that it had been announced before she christened the
     locomotive. She realized that he was still speaking to her.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I missed your words.”
    He smiled. “That’s quite all right,” he said. “I was saying that you handled the champagne like a true expert.”
    “Why, thank you again,” she said, returning the smile, politely.
    “I think I should like you to christen a locomotive of mine someday. Would you?”
    “I don’t know,” she said, a little flustered. “I couldn’t say.”
    “When the time comes,” he said, “perhaps you will be able to give me an answer.”
    “Are you a railroad man?” she asked, hoping he was.
    “That I am,” he said.
    Well now, she thought, that’s better than a soldier! Better than an explorer! She gave him her most radiant, official smile.
     Then she started to make her way back to Matthias Baldwin on the reviewing platform.
    “Wait,” he said. “Before I let you go, I’d like you to tell me something.”
    “What is that?”
    “I’d like you to tell me why you’ve been staring at me … earlier, when you were up on the reviewing stand.”
    Mrs. Lancaster didn’t answer him. Giving him a look that she hoped conveyed how impertinent she thought him, she pulled away
     and quickly fled back up the stairs and onto the reviewing platform.
    When she reached the top, there was a great clatter of applause and cheering from the crowd. She turned and acknowledged the
     crowd, and then she looked at the Englishman below and gave him a nod. Finally, she smiled.

Two
    Along with more than seven hundred other Irish immigrant laborers, Egan O’Rahilly worked in the depths of the earth, digging
     the long summit tunnel for the Pennsylvania Railroad at the crest of the Alleghenies near the village of Gallitzin. Thousands
     of other Irishmen toiled on other sections of the line. Indeed every tie was laid