The Escort

chapter 10

Angelina sat in what must have been one of the oldest trains the Northern Pacific ran. Light green paint peeled off the walls and the seats were nothing more than thinly disguised planks which bruised her backside, but what was that compared to her heart?

The car shuddered and swayed from side to side as it crept along, as if being hit by a strong side wind that alternately changed direction much like the wayward course of her own emotions. The injured sat everywhere, bandaged and bruised, looking pained and uncomfortable, like battle weary soldiers. She fit right in, though most could not see that her heart suffered more than her person. The smell of rubbing alcohol permeated the air, perfume of the wounded and anesthetic to the senses but not enough to numb her completely.

Angelina found herself amazingly wakeful. Calm. Numb. She allowed her thoughts to wander, trying not to think about Tonio, but every path seemed to lead back to him. To the passion and the ecstasy of being one with him. To the feel of his kiss on her lips that would have to last forever. She tried to push the thoughts away, fearing she would fall into an abyss of depression and self-recrimination, neither of which she could afford as the train rushed her to meet the man she had betrayed.

She leaned her head against the window. She'd made it through a night as long and cold as her empty heart and survived. Tonio had chosen to stay behind, along with a group of men, to help the railroad rescue the buried engine. Thank goodness. Seeing him would have been too painful.

She'd risen early and bathed in snow fed water so cold that as soon as she'd waded in her ankles went numb. She would have tumbled into the water, enticed by the idea of being numb all over, but some shred of logic kept her still. Instead, she splashed her legs and body with the icy water, scrubbing with a rag to remove the crusted blood, retreating from the water as soon as her toilet was complete. She dried with another piece of rag and tossed it far away under a clump of bushes where she would never have to see it again. Then she dressed quickly and wound her hair into a prim knot.

At last she sat on the bank and remembered Maria's instructions on acting the virgin. She pulled her bag close and tucked her bloodied pantalets inside. She would use them as proof the morning after her wedding night. She could arrange a switch.

As she sat on the train lost in her thoughts, time raced by. Before she knew it, the Northern Pacific Flyer released a mighty puff of steam and pulled into Wallace's depot, nestled snugly against the mountainside on the outskirts of town. Behind it loomed nothing but raw wilderness climbing the stiff slope up the mountains bracketing the Valley.

Angelina peered out the window at blankets of evergreens. High above, clouds pockmarked the sky's bright spring blue. Rain threatened. The Silver Valley looked anything but silver.

By reputation Wallace was the heart of the North Idaho mining community. The bustling town packed itself tightly into the valley floor sandwiched between two steep mountainous hills on either side. The South Fork of the Coeur d'Alene River flowed east to west on the northern side of the valley, further limiting the availability of suitable building land, creating a northern boundary and an even more compact space for the ambitious, growing town. The railroad depot was on Sixth Street, the only outpost north of the river.

Angelina was on the wrong side of the train to see the passenger platform where scores of people waited to greet the weary travelers. The view from her window showed nothing more than towering evergreens with small buttercups cuddled in their shade. She gathered her things together and checked her appearance as the train came to a final stop. The gash on her face swelled red and angry against her skin. She hoped that Mr. Allessandro would not be put off by the way she looked. Maybe he would take pity and treat her kindly.

"Wallace!" the conductor called out in that tone of voice that only conductors used.

The townspeople had gathered to welcome the wounded and the heroes. They cheered as railroad men and volunteers carried injured passengers off the train. Apparently, a train full of wounded crash survivors was an event almost akin to a President's visit. The cheering continued as the less seriously injured detrained. By the time Angelina reached the platform the crowd began dispersing.

She carried a bag in each hand and surveyed the depot for signs of Mr. Allessandro, rehearsing her greeting to him, trying to recall every detail of how Papa had described him. She saw no one matching his description, no one who appeared to be waiting for her, although the man from the train, the one Tonio had called Clell, watched her with narrow, sharp eyes and lewd interest that sent a chill down her back. She stood to the side until, except for Clell, who openly stared at her, the depot was almost entirely deserted. Still no Mr. Allessandro.

Do not panic, she told herself. True, she was alone in a wild town and something must have happened to Mr. Allessandro to delay him. But there was no use imagining the worst. She must remain calm.

She walked to the window to get a view of Wallace, hoping that her husband would come riding up like a knight to save her. No husband in sight but to her relief, right across the street was a building with a sign advertising it as a ladies' boarding house. She had only a few dollars left but surely she could afford a night or two there. By the time her money ran out, either Tonio would be back in town or Mr. Allessandro would show up.

A tap on her shoulder gave Angelina a start.

"Tonio desert you, did he? You look lost. Let old Clell help."

Angelina spun to find herself face to face with him. He stood no taller than she did, but he looked every ounce tightly coiled muscle ready to spring. Though his words were benign, his gaze undressed her. Before she could upbraid him, they were interrupted.

"Leave her alone, Clell. She's not one of your harpies." A woman spoke.

"I was just offering my assistance like a gentleman."

"Mighty kind of you, I'm sure. But I'll take over now."

A plain, heavy-set woman with a kindly expression and lively, snapping eyes came toward her. The woman wore her hair twisted up on her head in an unattractive knot with tight pin curls bracketing her face that did little to soften her double chin and manly features. Yet the woman inspired confidence. She dismissed Clell with a wave of her hand.

Clell reluctantly tipped his hat and moved off.

"So what can I do for you?" the woman asked. "No one showed up to meet you, is that the problem?"

Angelina spilled her troubles. "I have just arrived from New York. I came from Italy to join my husband here. He was supposed to meet me at the depot. But I do not see him anywhere."

The woman nodded. "I see."

Angelina couldn't tell whether skepticism or pity ruled the woman's emotions. But unlike the immigration official in New York, this woman had no power to send her back. "Maybe," Angelina continued, "with the train wreck and being off schedule, he did not know when to come."

The woman looked kindly but doubtful. "The whole town seemed to know when to show up, honey. Is he from around Wallace or does he live in one of the smaller mining camps?"

"He is a miner at the Bunker Hill mine. His name is Franco Allessandro." Angelina hoped that the woman might know him, but she shook her head.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

Angelina pointed at the building across the street. "Do they have very good accommodations at the ladies' boarding house?"

That's when the woman laughed. "Oh, honey, I see you are new to the area. You can't stay there. That's a house of ill repute. The poor creatures who work there need our help, not a house guest."

Angelina felt foolish and overwhelmed, suddenly young and very homesick. Almost certainly she would unwittingly get herself into trouble.

"Come," the woman said. "Stay with me. I'll turn up that husband of yours. My husband works for the railroad. He knows just about everybody around here."

Angelina hesitated.

The woman extended her hand. "May Hall."

"May Hall! Oh, thank goodness!" Angelina had never felt such relief.

"Didn't know I was all that famous." May laughed.

Angelina reached out to shake her hand. "Angelina Allessandro. We have a mutual friend, Tonio Domani."

May seemed taken aback. "Tonio?"

"Yes, he escorted me from New York." Angelina told May her story. "So I am afraid that something is wrong. There must be a reason why my husband has not come to meet me or why he has been silent this winter."

May nodded. "Well now, you really do have to come stay with us. Otherwise, Tonio would never forgive us. Once we get you settled and rested, we can check at the Bunker. They may know something about your husband. But don't get your hopes up. Lately, with the trouble brewing, miners have been transitory creatures. Coming and going and showing up irregularly for their shifts. Here, let me carry one of those for you." May grabbed one of Angelina's bags. "It's a fair walk to the house."

May's home turned out to be a modest house located on Pine Street between two undistinguished neighbors. After the walk through town and up the hill, Angelina vowed that she had never felt more relief at the sight of a dwelling. Hipped roof. Second story bay window above an inset porch. Gabled ells at front and side—so very quaint and welcoming.

"Be it ever so humble," May said as she led the way inside and set Angelina's bags down. "This way. Let me get you something to eat. You must be famished."

May's kitchen was as warm and homey as one would expect from the street view of her house. She put a pot of coffee on to boil then set out a plate of muffins and sliced breads, fresh butter and jam. Angelina found that she had an appetite she thought she'd lost.

May watched her eat. "You can stay in Tonio's room until we find that husband of yours. Tonio won't mind. I have half a notion he'll be itching to get to the Hole and his room up in Burke. Town isn't a safe place for the likes of him right now anyway. There are those that would like to use his talents for extreme measures." May frowned.

Angelina felt too tired and overwhelmed to ask what May meant. They made small talk until Angelina finished eating, then May showed her upstairs to a small bedroom. "You just lie down and have yourself a good rest. There'll be plenty of time to go looking for your husband when you're up to it."

Angelina thanked her. As May pulled the door closed, Angelina collapsed onto Tonio's bed, disappointed that it smelled only of freshly washed linens, not him. In fact, nothing about the sparse furnishings of the room gave any indication that Tonio had made it home. But it was his, May had said so, which gave Angelina some comfort as she pulled off her shoes and cuddled up to sleep.



Tonio got off the train in Wallace with the intention of heading straight to the Halls for a shower and meal, but he changed course as he walked down Sixth Street. The town hummed with activity.

It feels good to be back, he thought, striding along.

This town suited him. Its wild, boisterous nature matched his. The town itself aspired to greatness and wealth. What better place for a man with his ambitions? No one thought less of him for being an immigrant, a foreigner. The town's citizens ran the gamut from the whores at the Lux building, to the mining elite in their comfortable two-story homes. It was hard not to fit in with such a varied crowd. But one man would be looking for him. Tonio had no intention of talking to Ed Baker. Better to get something to eat and head out on the last train to Burke before Baker realized Tonio was back.

Tonio turned into the Fuller House. The large, partially stuccoed brick building was the finest hotel in the region and served the best food east of Spokane in its plush dining room. A day of scant rations and heavy work digging out the train engine left him with an almost bottomless appetite. And a desire to satiate it with the best food available. He was the son of a wealthy Italian aristocrat, he was used to the best or so many believed. They didn't know about the modest fare he ate during his years in the monastery, his wartime in Ethiopia, the years he barely survived as a miner in South America, or his years on the railroad crew…

As Tonio walked into the dining room, Colonel Steward Fuller, the colorful owner of the establishment, looked up from his cup of coffee. "Tonio!" he called out. "You're back. How was New York?"

"Excellent, as usual, Colonel."

"You didn't run into any of the Fuller clan while you were back there, did you?"

"Colonel, you know better. I run with a different crowd. A decidedly foreign crowd in Little Italy. We're all blackguards you know. We have nothing to do with the elite of the upper city."

The Colonel smiled. He claimed Mayflower ancestry and great military renown, maintaining that many of his relatives remained in the East as the upper crust of society.

"Well, son, it's good to have you back just the same."

"Have you seen Nokes?" Tonio asked.

"Should be here anytime." The Colonel signaled to a waitress who escorted Tonio to the best table in the house.

Moments later, Nokes walked in and spied him. "Tonio, you son of a bitch, you're back!" he called out as he made his way to the table and seated himself opposite his friend. "How was my hometown?"

Charles "Charley" Nokes was from a wealthy New York family.

"Same as always." Tonio signaled a waitress and they ordered.

The waitress drifted off to the kitchen. Charley's eyes followed the girl until she disappeared. "I must be getting desperate; that girl is definitely not a looker, but she is single. We bachelors have a sorry plight; what we need out here is more women."

"You could go back to New York. I'm sure there are plenty of society beauties out there just dying for your return."

"Go to hell, Tonio. The last thing I'm going to do is go back and rot in some stuffy old bank."

"Tell me what's gone on in my absence, Nokes. Anyone strike it rich?"

Nokes shook his head. "No, but the miners are ready for blood, my boy. Word is they will strike, but first, they'll give the mine owners something to think about."

Several hours later, completely briefed by Nokes, Tonio caught the last train to Burke, determined to stay out of trouble by avoiding the union chiefs, determined to forget Angelina by working night and day in the Hole. He clenched his fist until his knuckles bulged white. He had the nearly uncontrollable urge to blow something up. To have the satisfaction of witnessing the utter surge of power and total destruction, anything to relieve the frustration at not being able to have Angelina. Anything to blot out the thoughts of her with another man, an older man who did not deserve her.



May's husband, Al Hall, turned out to be a thin, kind man. May seemed inordinately fond and proud of him. "Al's an engineer for the railroad." May's smile reflected her love for him.

"You'll get to recognize Al's train when it drives through town soon enough. He's modified his whistle to have a sound all its own and he toots in his own distinctive way." May gave Al a pat on the arm as he drove them to Bunker Hill Mine offices the day after Angelina's arrival.

The mine offices were located in the town of Kellogg, a few miles west of Wallace. The sun shone and a mild breeze blew in from the west as they pulled up to the office. Al waited with the horses as May led the way into the office. May, bold and friendly, quickly found a clerk willing to help them, explained the situation and inquired about Mr. Allessandro.

"Allessandro, you say? Let me check the log book." The clerk disappeared into a back room. When he returned, he brought another man with him, introducing him as his boss.

The man extended his hand. "Mrs. Allessandro, I'm Jacob White, personnel manager for the Bunker. Won't you step into my office where we can talk in private?"

Angelina turned to May.

"Mrs. Allessandro is new to this country, Mr. White. I'm here to look out for her interests and help her understand the situation. I'd like to come in with her."

Mr. White ushered them into his office and shut the door. Angelina's heart pounded in her ears. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Mr. White seemed too somber, gave her the kind of solicitous attention that always comes before bad news. Angelina and May took chairs opposite the desk from Mr. White, who cleared his throat several times before speaking.

"Mrs. Allessandro," the throat clear, "I hate to be the one to deliver bad news when you have evidently just arrived. But you seem unaware of your husband's condition." More throat clearing. "He's dead, ma'am. I'm sorry. I don't know how to break it gently."

"Dead?" The word seemed to echo off the walls. Only in Angelina's worst fears had Mr. Allessandro ever been dead.

"Killed in a mining accident?" May's tone issued a challenge.

"No, ma'am. He collapsed on the job. Bad heart, the doctor said. We summoned help immediately. There wasn't anything our doctor, or any doctor, could have done." Mr. White cleared his throat again. "He was owed two weeks' pay. I'm glad you've come to claim it. Had no idea who to send it to. Let me count it out for you."



Sunshine streamed into the tiny one room log cabin that served as the on-site offices of the Jupiter mine as Tonio walked in. Gus Preston, former dairyman, now one of the partners, sat behind a decidedly unofficial-looking desk, a sheaf of tunnel diagrams and supply orders spread in front of him.

"Tonio! Welcome back!"

"Gus, good to see you. Where the heck is Harry?"

Gus shook his head. "In Boise ruling the state. Legislature's in session."

Tonio nodded. He'd have felt a lot better if Harry had been running the mine instead of hanging out with that bunch of yahoos in Boise who made nonsensical laws for the common man. Harry claimed having him in the Legislature gave them some representation.

Harry Scott was a bright, intelligent man with a receding hairline. Reared in an entrepreneurial, politically active household, the huge task of turning a small hand worked hole in the ground into a major mining facility left him undaunted. His vision kept the venture going. Conversely, Gus was a digger, a worker, not a visionary.

"Heard you had a little excitement," Gus said.

Tonio smiled at the understatement. "You could say that."

Gus arched an eyebrow and smiled back. "Lucky no one was killed. Sorry about your uncle. Got everything taken care of, I trust?"

"All closed up and taken care of. What's been up in my absence?"

"We started working a second level, an adit on the Firefly claim." He shuffled through the papers on his desk, finally pulling out a diagram of the new tunnel.

"A new level. We're a big time operation now?" Tonio jested, trying to contain his excitement. "Have we hit ore?"

"Not yet. We've barely begun to tunnel. It's good you're back. We really need an explosives expert right now."

"That reminds me. I brought a present back with me." Tonio stepped outside the door and returned with a large crate.

"Explosives?"

"The best. Got a good deal on them from a railroad friend of mine in Chicago. High grade nitroglycerin with an excellent dope for a nice clean blow. Same stuff the railroad uses to blast mountain tunnels. The rest of the shipment is back in Burke."

"Not too near the tracks, I trust?" Gus teased.

"As far off the tracks as that one-street town allows. Might be a faster way to get our tunnel, though. The amount of dynamite I bought could take away half the hillside." Tonio laughed.

The tiny town of Burke was something of an anomaly as far as towns go. Built in a narrow canyon, there was barely room for the one street and the businesses that lined it. The town existed solely to support the Hecla mine and consisted of those businesses that best suited the Hecla—a refining mill and two train depots. No mine could operate without the use of the railroad to haul ore. Since there had not been room for both a main street and a set of railroad tracks, the railroad tracks ran straight down the middle of the street. The space for the town was so small that when the town merchants heard the whistle, they lifted their awnings to prevent sparks from the passing train from setting them on fire.

"You know," Tonio commented, "We could use a better road up here. I had to haul this crate on my back."

Gus sighed. "Yeah, that and several thousand dollars. And while we're wishing, a better social climate for orderly mine development."

"H.L. still having problems?" Tonio asked.

H.L. Scott was Harry's father and the current county commissioner, as well as a Jupiter partner. He'd made a controversial decision the previous October that seemed to favor the unions. Sentiment ran to two extremes. The mining unions applauded the decision, but many politicians and mine owners were up in arms. Consequently government bureaucracy stalled. Permits were hard to come by. And confident that they had an official on their side, the unions openly rebelled against the owners.

"H.L.'s got his problems. But he'll overcome them. You've heard the latest slogan coming from Baker and the Western Federation of Miners. Every union should have a rifle club."

Tonio nodded in affirmation. All the Jupiter partners were torn. Ed Baker, President of the Federation, was a friend of Harry Scott's. But Harry didn't advocate violence.

Gus tossed Tonio a key. "When you bring up the rest of the dynamite, you'd better lock it up. No use courting trouble. We've always dealt fairly with the union, but when men's tempers flare, you never know what they'll do."



Angelina felt shaky and cold, clammy to the core as Al helped her up into the carriage. Neither May nor Angelina had spoken since leaving the Bunker offices. Angelina was stunned into muteness, unable to decide if this new turn was more blessing or curse or curse or blessing. She would not have to live with an old man she did not love. She was free. Free to do what? She was stranded in a foreign country without enough money to go home. And her parents were far too poor to give her any help. Her head felt like a child's spinning top. She must find Tonio. He would know what to do. May had other ideas.

"Al, drive us directly to the Colonel's. Angelina needs a job and I need help in the kitchen." She turned to Angelina. "You did say you could cook?"

Angelina nodded. "I apprenticed in a very fine household doing mostly baking."

"Baking is good. Keeps a woman in shape. Don't care much for it myself. I could use an assistant. You can make bread?"

"Yes, with a very hard crust, the best kind. And all kinds of desserts. Profiterole and panna cote and—"

"Good." May sounded firm. "Miners down bread like they drink beer—almost too fast to keep up with." Clearly, May had no intention of letting Angelina wallow in pity and despair.

"Do you think I can earn enough money for passage home?"

May gave her an incredulous look. "Home, child? Where there are no men and the convents are full? You don't want to go back there. Here in Idaho we have the vote. Women have rights. You have rights. A woman on her own can do just fine, thank you very much. You'll work with me. We'll win the vote for our sisters all over the country. We'll be heroes, you and me. Famous.

"You can be our poster girl. Oppressed foreign woman comes to the States to an arranged marriage only to be left widowed and on her own. But she overcomes tragedy and becomes a successful businesswoman. You keep dreaming of that, Angelina. Just keep dreaming." May looked like she was dreaming herself.

"Someday that mine will pay off and…" May patted Angelina's hand. "We'll just see if we can't get you in on that deal."

"I need to talk to Tonio." Angelina wanted the feel of his arms around her. The future was open now but would Tonio want her?

"Of course, you do," May said. "But there's time for all that later. When things settle down a bit. Now's not the time to be getting yourself mixed up in the dangers." She winked at Angelina. "Trust old May. Things will work out in the end."

They pulled up in front of the Fuller House. Less than half an hour later, Angelina had a job and went directly to work in the Colonel's kitchen.

When she arrived home at May's, exhausted after baking bread and pies all day, a bag of hard candy waited for her tied with a pink ribbon with a note attached. Her heart leapt. Tonio!

The note was typed and said, "Be my sweet little piece." It was not signed. And it was not from Tonio; this she knew. Tonio didn't play games.

The words, sweet little piece, seemed insulting and made her vaguely uneasy. How did anyone know where she lived? This made her nervous, too, like a bird being stalked by a cat, watched unawares.

She took the candy outside and questioned several children who played in their yard several houses down. No one had seen whoever delivered the candy.

"For your trouble." Angelina gave it to the children, ruffling their hair. "Do not eat too much at once or you will get sick." She was sick already.



Tonio worked sixteen hours a day in the Hole, as long as the sun lasted, not that it mattered in the depths of the mine. Time was measured there by the cadence of water dripping off dark rock walls. May days were warm and dry in North Idaho. At ground level temperatures reached into the seventies. Beneath the surface in the depths of the mine shafts, the air was cool and moist. Tonio labored with his shirt unbuttoned, hanging open. The humidity caused a man to break a sweat easily. Ground water dripped on him from the walls, mingling with the sweat that poured off him to pool in half circles beneath his arms. By day's end he was completely soaked.

At the end of each day he emerged into the twilight to shed his clothes and bathe in a nearby stream. He camped just outside the entrance to the mine in the shade of a large cedar, which was much more convenient than his room at the boardinghouse in town.

The idea of finding the mother lode and making a fortune consumed Tonio and made a convenient diversion from his tortured thoughts of Angelina. He'd always worked hard, would have worked seven days a week. But Harry Scott, who managed the mine, insisted he take a day off every now and then.

Harry insisted because Tonio's job was more a matter of mind and nerve than of manual labor. The explosives expert had to be alert and well rested to avoid mistakes. A slip on his part could cost lives or at the very least the accidental destruction of a valuable tunnel. Tonio planned where to set the charges, how much dynamite to use, and more often than not, he set the blast off himself. The best dynamiters were those who had learned the craft early in life, while they were still young enough to feel invincible. A skilled dynamiter could not be made of a novice much past the age of twenty-five, an age at which they had matured enough to recognize their own mortality and had become too careful. Fear immobilized the older man.

At thirty, Tonio had been practicing the art for eleven years, since learning how to blow up Ethiopian troops while serving in the Italian army. He further perfected his skill dynamiting for the railroad. He was practiced enough to be confident, mature enough to be cautious.

Tonio left his campsite late Saturday afternoon in time to drop his dirty laundry off with the laundress before she closed. Then he met Charley Nokes for a drink at one of the local bars. Charley kept him apprised of the comings and goings of the town. The news was most often unsettling.

The Western Federation of Miners had representatives in town stirring up trouble. Tensions mounted daily. Fist fights broke out. The two friends spent hours discussing the situation, each one speculating when new violence would erupt and what could be done that wasn't being done to abate the situation. Both men agreed that this was only the tip of the trouble.

"The Colonel's got a new girl working at the Fuller." Charley always had news of a new female face around town.

"I thought with the impending strike business had slowed. Did one of his waitresses quit?" Tonio took another swig of beer.

"Nope. This girl is helping May in the kitchen, living with her, too. Comely gal. Newly widowed. Foreign—Italian like you. Name sounds like Angel."

"Angelina?" Tonio nearly dropped his beer.

"That's it! Sad tale. Came out to meet her husband only to find out that he died of a bad heart a couple of months ago. Lots of hard luck here in the Valley."

Tonio gave a slight nod. His head spun with the implications. Angelina was free, but was he? He didn't need any connections that would give the thugs in the union a hold on him.

Nokes made the shape of an hourglass with his hands. "Dark hair and eyes. Fine, a very fine woman. Even though she hides back in the kitchen, she's been attracting all sorts of attention. I've thought about throwing my own hat in the ring." Nokes chuckled. "What would my old man think if I brought home a sensuous, feisty little Italian bride?"

"You don't have a chance in hell with her, Nokes. That woman is mine."