The Union Read Online Free Page B

you have to separate yourself from me. And you'd better mail your own reports. The union men are getting suspicious of my evening walks to the post office in Wallace. And they aren't aware of over half the trips I've made."
    "You walk to Wallace? No wonder you're so damned thin. That's got to be close to four miles." Dietz shifted in the saddle. "What about the post office in Gem?"
    "No good. Samuels, the fellow with the store next door to you, runs the Gem post office from his store. He's a rabid union man."
    "But he won't be suspecting McCullough of treason against the union."
    "He reads all the outgoing mail. And his deputy postmaster, Big Frank, is also a member of the Gem Union." Patterson spoke matter-of-factly.
    "So what do I do?"
    "You'll figure something out."
    "What about maintaining contact with you?"
    "Nothing on a regular basis. We don't want to arouse any suspicion. We'll have to trust fate to give us opportunities as we need them. If you must leave me a message, you can trust Mrs. Shipley with a note. She and that five-year-old boy of hers are salt-of-the-earth people."
    "She knows about you?"
    "Hasn't a clue."
    Dietz nodded. They rounded a bend and the narrow town of Burke came into view. "What the hell? Will you look at that one street town."  
    Burke was built not so much in a valley as in a crevice between the mountains that allowed for only one street's width. Because the mining town relied heavily on the railroad to ship its lifeblood, galena, silver ore, the tracks and the street shared the same space.  
    Dietz stared at it in amazement. "What do they do when the train comes through?"
    "Businesses fold up their awnings so they don't catch fire or get scraped off." Patterson laughed, then slowed his horse to a near stop. "I ought to warn you. This isn't any common business meeting we're going to. They're going to use this meeting to plan their next act of violence. What that will be, only the bosses know right now. I haven't even been privy to it. Most likely they'll vote on which scab to beat up next, or who to run off. And they'll take care of it tonight. It won't be pretty."
    "You don't need to warn me. Coming over the Bitterroot Range I ran into a scab family the union ran off. The fellow was in bad shape, beat up bad, and the wife and this little kid were starving. I gave them food and money, and help back to within miles of Thompson's Falls."
    Patterson gave him a serious look. "I hope no one finds out about it. Wouldn't look good for McCullough."
    "Wasn't McCullough who helped them. It was Peter Sullivan." Dietz expected Patterson to chuckle, but he didn't.
    "Don't get any noble notions here, Dietz. Last fall, shortly after I came, I saw as fine a specimen of Irish manhood as God makes. Looked a lot like you—jet black hair, intelligent eyes, a mustache—real easy for the ladies to look at. He spoke up at a meeting, and condemned the violent approach, advocating negotiation. After the meeting, the leaders sat down on him so hard he couldn't get his jaws working all winter. There was even talk of branding him a 'scab.' He hasn't said a word since.
    "These men aren't interested in solving the differences between them and the owners. They just like to fight. Of course, they'll tell you different. They'll talk the talk. Fair wages for all. But does it make any sense for muckers and common roustabouts to receive three-fifty a day in wages, the same as skilled miners?"
    Dietz didn't get a chance to answer. Maybe the question was rhetorical anyway. Patterson was already looking ahead toward town.  
    "Looks like the bosses are starting to gather." Patterson pointed toward something in the distance. "I recognize Brown from here." He clucked to his horse. "Let's be going. We don't want to be late." He laughed. "Oh, and Dietz, if they deem you worthy of membership, cross your fingers when they give you the Molly Maguire oath and make you swear loyalty to the union on penalty of death."
    Patterson moved