The Railroad War (22 page)

The obvious choice for this second personal examination was, of course, Noah. And so here he was.

In fact, Noah was powerfully curious to find out what Will Hottel had discovered. But it was more than just curiosity that
fired him. He was beginning to see these locomotives as his personal contribution to the Confederacy. They were needed, he
knew, just as much as cannon and horses and regiments of soldiers. Fifty trains pulled by the fifty previously lost engines
could support an army of seventy-five thousand men.

Case in point: Lee’s army in Virginia was dangerously underfed—not because there was not enough in the South for those men,
but because the food could not be transported fast enough to make up for the near absence in the South of ordinary salt. Without
salt as a preservative, food spoiled. Fifty new trains would not only provide food enough for Lee’s army to survive, they
would provide other sorely needed materials that would allow him to rebuild it. If Lee had had those fifty trains at his disposal,
he would not have been forced to take his army north in June on the foraging expedition that was cut short near the town of
Gettysburg in Pennsylvania.

Noah Ballard couldn’t do anything about cannon or horses or regiments, but he could do something about locomo tives. If, that
is, they could be transported to a part of the Confederacy where they could do some good.

But that was not a problem Noah hoped to solve this day. First he wanted to see what Captain Hottel had come up with.

The train arrived at its destination, a spur of track just south of Okolona, at 12:15 in the afternoon. The engine crew had
done well to make such good time, and the major and the captain both congratulated them before they set off on the final leg
of their journey, which was to take them up the spur.

The spur itself was not serviceable to trains. It was overgrown with grass, bushes, and shrubs, and sections of track had
been ripped up for use elsewhere, or looted by Yankees.

“How far are we going to have to go like this?” Noah asked Hottel after they’d hiked perhaps a half mile.

“Another mile, as I recollect,” Hottel said.

“What you’re going to show me better be worth the trip,” Noah said.

“You won’t be disappointed,” Hottel said. “I guarantee it. It’ll seem like the best party you’ve been to in months.”

“Let’s hope,” Noah said doubtfully.

Noah and Hottel pushed their way through the thick, lush Mississippi summer growth for another forty minutes. At last, sweating
and beating off mosquitoes, they arrived at a large, tumbledown, weather-beaten shed.

“Is that it?” Noah asked, wondering how the thing was still able to stand.

“That’s it.”

Though they were hard to see in all the growth, the tracks entered the shed beneath wide, tall doors. These were chained shut.
Off to the side was a smaller door that Captain Hottel pointed out. The two men walked over to it, and Hottel did something
with the lock and chain at the door and pushed it open.

Inside it was dim and musty; the only illumination came from chinks and holes in the roof and walls. There was enough light,
though, for Noah to see what he’d traveled all day to look at: three grand, powerful black Baldwin locomotives and their tenders.
One of them stood just behind the wide double doors, and the other two were side by side behind the first one.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Noah exclaimed. “Will you look at those? I’ve never seen anything so beautiful! Three of them! How
do you like that? Just sitting there like panting virgins!” Though he wasn’t exactly surprised to find what Will Hottel had
led him to, he hadn’t expected three of them, nor had he expected the three to be in such pristine condition.

“I thought you’d find this place interesting,” Hottel said, with exaggerated understatement.

“It’s paradise,” Noah said.

“No,” Hottel said. “For that you need real virgins.”

Noah laughed, then took a quick turn around each of the locomotives. The name painted on the side of the cab of the one in
front was “Dart.” The other two were “Javelin” and “Perseverance.”

After making one circuit of the engines, he climbed aboard Dart and examined the cab. Hottel remained below.

“It’s in perfect shape,” Noah called down after a moment. “I don’t see much wear at all. The paint isn’t even baked off the
firebox door.”

“There shouldn’t be much wear on these,” Hottel said. “From what I could find out, that one was in service for not much over
a year. The others slightly longer.”

“And then they got hid?” Noah asked as he climbed down from the cab.

“Yeah,” Hottel said. “Walter Goodman kept only his old and tired locomotives in operation.” Walter Goodman was president of
the Mobile & Ohio. He was currently in Meridian working as a civilian adviser on General Johnston’s staff. “He ordered his
best and newest to be put out of harm’s way.”

“How’d you find these?” Noah asked.

“I asked around for a few days,” Hottel answered. “But that didn’t do much good. Anyone who knew anything about this kept
pretty quiet about it.

“When that didn’t work, I took a train out and drove slow up the track and explored every spur and siding.” He looked at Noah.
“These aren’t the only three. I’ve found twenty-three others hidden between Meridian and Tupelo; a lot of them were brought
down from Tennessee when the Yanks overran it.” Tupelo was about twenty-five miles north of Okolona. And Tupelo was, in turn,
about seventy-five miles from the Tennessee line.

Noah was having a hard time encompassing all that Hottel was telling him. Walter Goodman was a leader among the people of
Mississippi. No one had given more outstanding service in these trying times than he had. Thus Noah had a hard time coming
to grips with any reason why a southern patriot like Walter Goodman would withhold from his country the most valuable things
he was capable of giving to it.

“This is real hard to believe,” Noah said, articulating what was on his mind. “I can’t imagine somebody like Walter Goodman
keeping twenty-six prime locomotives from us.”

“The Ordinance of Secession did not repeal original sin,” Hottel said patiently.

“I guess not,” Noah said.

“Anyhow,” Hottel said, brightening, “I promised you a celebration, my young friend, and I’m prepared to deliver.”

Hottel had carried with him a leather satchel which he had slung across his shoulder. He slipped it off and set it on the
ground, then removed a jug of sour mash whiskey. “This is good stuff,” he said. “I know the man who makes it.” He handed the
jug to Noah. “You don’t mind if I didn’t bring glasses?”

“It makes no difference to me at all,” Noah said just before he lifted the jug to his lips. After he’d taken a long pull,
he handed it back to Hottel. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s good stuff.”

“I’ve got some bread and cheese and corned beef, too,” Hottel said. “You want to eat it in here, or outside under a tree?”

Hottel’s glance at the open door showed where he’d rather go, but Noah was perfectly satisfied to be where he was. Having
just gone through two hellish weeks trying to move an army with a handful of antiquated locomotives, he wanted to let his
soul feast on the sight of the three nearly new machines that Hottel had uncovered.

“Here’s fine,” Noah said, “if that’s all right with you.”

“If that’s what you’d like,” Captain Hottel said, a little grudgingly. He searched around the shed for a few minutes and returned
with a canvas tarp. “Let’s spread this out, and…” At that he paused, for another idea had come to him. He was looking at the
big doors in front of Dart. “Let’s open the doors and let some light in,” he said.

Soon they had the doors open, and bright midafternoon sunlight streamed in on them, as well as on Dart’s imposing, outthrusting
pilot and its high, bulbous smokestack. The two men sat comfortably on the tarp, eating their lunch and drinking William Hottel’s
good sour mash whiskey.

“Walter Goodman couldn’t have managed it if it hadn’t been for the confusion,” Noah said after they had finished with most
of the food. “Jesus, twenty-six locomotives are harder to conceal than twenty-six elephants.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Hottel agreed.

“It burns my ass that he tried it. It’s just the same as treason. If I had my way, I’d shoot him.”

“I take your point,” Hottel said carefully. “But you’ve got to look at it his way, too. He’s looking after his property. If
he doesn’t protect his investment, then chances are it’s lost forever.”

“I’d still shoot him,” Noah said.

“I’d probably treat him more gently than that,” Hottel said. “And, my young warrior, bear this in mind, too, as you go thirsting
for blood. Walter Goodman has plenty of influence among those who wield the scepter in our part of the world. You’d best treat
him with a measure of diplomacy, while never once forgetting that these locomotives, and the twenty-three others he’s concealed,
still belong to him. We’d be much better advised to court his favor and not his enmity.”

Noah thought on that. “I take your point,” he said after a time.

“The thing is,” Hottel said, “we’ve got to find some way to pry these and the others out of him. And be aware, too, that his
aren’t the only engines that have been hidden. There are more north of Jackson.”

“More? Where? On the Mississippi Central and the Mississippi & Tennessee?” Noah asked. “Are you telling me that Walter Goodman
wasn’t the only railroad man to hide his rolling stock?”

“You’re getting the idea pretty good,” Hottel said, then took another swallow from the jug. “There are forty-one more engines
up there.”

“Jesus! Forty-one?”

“It kind of takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

“It’s more like a dream,” Noah said, “when you’re falling down in pitch dark and you don’t know what you’re going to hit.
Or when.”

“Maybe so,” Hottel agreed with a sharp nod. “Maybe so. The way I see it,” he continued, “most of the railroad owners in Mississippi
got together when the writing got writ on the wall and decided on a plan of action. And when cars and locomotives came down
from Tennessee, they hid that windfall, too. They concealed the best of their stuff and the stuff from Tennessee, and they
left the rest for you, who couldn’t know any better. Like you said, they took advantage of the confusion and the magnitude
of the disaster that was going on all around.”

“I’d have them hanged, drawn, and quartered,” Noah said bitterly.

“You may be right, my friend. But like I said, we’ve got to play the diplomat.”

“Why?”

“If we work it all the right way,” he said, giving Noah a meaningful look, “and if you can contain your appetite for vengeance,
then we can maybe get hold of that equipment and put it to good use for the South.”

“That’s just dandy,” Noah said. His face was skeptical, but his soul longed for the outcome Will Hottel was hinting at. “I’m
glad we’ve begun to find this stuff, and I’m glad we’ve got the goods on Walter Goodman and the others like him, but I don’t
see how any of this is going to do us the slightest bit of good—not here in Mississippi. We need the stuff in Georgia and
Virginia and the Carolinas, and there’s no way to get it there.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Hottel said.

“Huh?” Noah said, reaching for the jug. He took a jolt, then set it down between himself and the captain. “What do you know
that I don’t? There’s no rail line that we can use that goes east—not unless General Johnston can make a miracle and retake
the Memphis and Charleston.”

“Not likely,” Hottel agreed.

“Well then?”

There was a pause while Hottel put his thoughts together. “You know, young Major Firebrand Ballard,” he said finally, “you’re
a pretty good man. I’ve seen you at work, and I like what I’ve looked at.”

“Thanks,” Noah said, screwing up his forehead. What’s he leading up to? Noah wondered.

“Do you know why I’m here now?” Hottel asked. “The real reason?”

“I know what your orders said,” Noah said.

“That’s right,” Hottel said. “But you could not have missed the fact that I didn’t spend a great deal of time attending to
the business detailed in my orders.”

“I did wonder about that,” Noah admitted.

“That’s because Colonel Sims gave me other orders, secret ones at the direction of the President himself.” Colonel Sims was
the head of the Railroad Bureau. “My secret orders have to do with the investigation that I’ve done, and will continue doing,
into the whereabouts of hidden railroad equipment in northern Mississippi.”

“Go on,” Noah said. “That does explain a few things I’ve been wondering about.”

“I expect it does.”

“And then?”

“That was the first part of the orders,” Hottel said. “Discovering the equipment. The second part concerns bringing the equipment
back east and the disposition of it there.”

“What happens to it there?”

“The Railroad Bureau gets to do with it as it sees fit. If we can bring those engines back east, they will all go to the Bureau.”
He looked significantly at Noah. ‘You know what that means?” he said.

Noah did know what that meant, and it sounded good to him. The Confederacy would have its own railroad instead of, as now,
having to beg equipment and rolling stock from what seemed like ten thousand petty railroad lords. The situation with railroads
was crazy and irrational. A nation of the midnineteenth century could not fight a modern war with a feudal system of railroads.

“And how do you propose to move it there?” he asked.

“What we’ll have to do is ferry it across Mobile Bay.”

“That can’t be done,” Noah said instantly. “We don’t have anything down there that can handle something as large as a locomotive.”

“Then we’ll make barges, or whatever it takes.”

“And then, even if you could get the stuff across the bay, the tracks between there and Georgia are all narrower gauge than
the five feet they use in Mississippi.”

“We’ll work something out,” Hottel said. “We’ll adapt.” He looked hard at Noah. “The point is, we need that equipment badly,
so I’m determined to get it there, no matter what it takes to do it.