The Spirit of Thunder by Kurt R. A. Giambastiani

Author:Kurt R. A. Giambastiani [Giambastiani, Kurt R. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Speculative
ISBN: 0739424572
Google: pmUpNAEACAAJ
Amazon: 1480032999
Goodreads: 16244398
Published: 2013-02-16T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Winter, A.D. 1887

Westgate

Yankton

Herron returned Shafer’s salute and pointed to an empty chair.

“Shut the door, Colonel, and sit down. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Lt. Col. Shafer pushed the door closed and dropped his gangly frame easily into the armchair. Herron returned his attention to the reports and messages on his worktable.

The wood burning in the wide cast-iron stove shifted with a muffled shump. A pot of water sat atop it, simmering, humidifying the air and building fantastic geometries of frost on the rippled glass of the unshuttered windows. Outside, the world was brown and white, mud and snow, dark wood and bright ice. The only exceptions were the river—a deep, dark flow of frigid, ice-lined water slowly moving downstream—and the equally dark stone and metal of the unfinished bridge, its skeletal frame beginning to arch across the black currents.

Herron put aside the official telegraph messages that had so displeased him and Shafer’s poorly-typed reports that had simply angered him.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” he said, and the chief engineer uncrossed his legs and sat a little straighter in his chair. “I have been reading reports on your progress and I am not pleased. Correct me if I have misinterpreted their content—and I truly hope that I have—but what I believe they are saying is that we are going to miss our target date by three months.”

He paused, waiting for the desired correction from Shafer, but the colonel only shrugged shoulders and eyebrows as if to say: c’est la vie.

Herron silently cursed all artists before he continued. “Allow me to put it this way, Colonel. Tell me how you are going to get us back on schedule.”

Shafer blinked. “Sir,” he said. “I’m not.”

“You’re not.”

“No, sir. I can’t. We’re behind schedule, that’s true, but there is no possible way to get us back on schedule.”

Herron stood and began to pace the length of the short carpet behind his worktable. He could feel his blood pounding in his ears. “Shafer,” he said, and held up a thumb and forefinger. “I’m this close to busting you to major and letting someone else build this God-damned bridge.”

He picked up the telegraph messages. Strong capital letters stood in straight, bold lines. “The President informs me that he will soon introduce his ‘Homesteader Act’ to Congress.” Herron read from the message on top of the sheaf. “‘I expect its passage to coincide with the official opening of your bridge in March.’ Do you hear that, Shafer? In March. Not June, not July. March.” He tossed the messages onto his table. “Good Christ. Come spring we’re going to have a hundred thousand desperate people out here wanting to cross that God-damned bridge in hopes of building a new life. I’ve got squatters out there already trying to preempt Custer’s act and I don’t have the men to protect them. I don’t have the men because I have to ferry supplies across the river. And why am I ferrying goods across a winter-swollen river instead of sending them across by train?”

“The God-damned bridge, sir?”

“Don’t be flippant, Colonel.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.