Mistah Gray By John Ritchie
Clarence called him Mistah Gray. Not to his face of course, Clarence knew better than that. Suh was the word to use and don’t go looking at him or acting out or nuthin’. No Sir, you mind your Ps and Qs round Mistah Gray. Mind you, behave aroun’ Mistah Gray and he could be as generous as you could wish. Clarence had returned the gold pen Mistah Gray had left in the Club Car one night, on one of his regular trips down from Baltimore, and Mistah Gray had given Clarence a whole twenty dollar bill, right there in front of folks, and said he was a credit to the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Every time he thought of it, and Clarence thought of it most every time they passed through Baroque, ‘cos that was were it happened, Clarence would lift his Conductor’s cap, rub his tight white curls and whisper ‘Who’d a thought it?’ then he would make his way to the Club Car to see if there was anything Mistah Gray wanted.
“Bourbon rocks.” Clarence knew what the order would be, but he always asked, and he always asked as the train negotiated the long bend out of Indian Falls. That was where Mistah Gray had first ordered a drink and that was where he had always had one ever since. Clarence was not about to forget the man who gave him twenty dollars. When Clarence brought the drink Mistah Gray would hitch the pants of his pearl gray suit, tug at the waistcoat and stretch his arms so that the diamond links in his shirt cuffs would catch the light and twinkle. The man has class, real class, Clarence would tell himself as he returned to his cubbyhole outside the Club Car door. There he would stay until the next stop when he would put out the steps for any folks getting off or on the train.
One rainy night as Clarence was placing the steps back on board after the regular stop at Tanquery, he noticed two men boarding further down the train. There was nothing obvious about them to arouse suspicion, but nonetheless Clarence felt an uncharacteristic twinge of concern and hurried to stow his steps and get back on board.
“Suh.”
Mistah Gray looked up from the paper he was reading.
“Yeah, what is it boy?”
Clarence suddenly realised he didn’t know how to tell Mistah Gray about what he had seen, ‘cos in reality he hadn’t seen nuthin’. Yet in his heart he knew he had.
“Suh”
“Spit it out, boy. I ain’t got all night.”
Suddenly Clarence knew that this was true. Mistah Gray was in danger and he had to tell him so.
“Suh, there is two men got on the train at Tanquery and…”
No matter how many times he played it in his head, Clarence could never entirely explain, even to himself, what happened in the next few minutes.
Mistah Gray came to his feet so fast Clarence would swear he had been standing all along.
“Where did they board?
“Car G, Suh”
“Very well, come with me.”
Mistah Gray turned and walked down the car towards the exit. A fellow passenger looked up, but quickly looked away again, an expression close to fear on his face, as he made eye contact with Mistah Gray. Clarence followed the tall slim figure and tried not to speculate about what the man might be planning.
As soon as they were both in the vestibule next to Clarence’s cubbyhole and the internal door to the Club Car had closed behind
them, Mistah Gray took a folded leather case out from under his jacket and handed it to Clarence.
“Take care of this for me, will you?”
Clarence nodded, accepted the case, and tucked it out of sight behind the seat in his cubbyhole. Mistah Gray nodded, then reached up and pulled the Emergency Brake handle. The two men stumbled against one another as the train decelerated rapidly. There were shouts from the Club Car, the sound of a door slamming and running feet. Clarence felt the drop in temperature and realised one of the doors from the carriage had opened and closed and that Mistah Gray had gone.
As Clarence turned towards the door into the Club Car, it flew open hitting him in the face. Two burly men in overcoats and fedoras
crowded him against the side wall of the car.
“Where’d he go?”
“Gennelman got off the train.” said Clarence, blood from his lip, smashed by the door, splashing on the tweed coats.
“Jezzus.” Snarled one of the men reaching under his coat.
Clarence cringed, but the man merely pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his lapel. Then handed the stained linen to Clarence.
“Which side boy?”
“The left side, Suh.” Said Clarence, pointing.
One of the men lowered the carriage door window and looked out.
“See anything?”
“Nah, it’s as black as pitch out there.”
“Better get a wire back to the Bureau. J Edgar is going to chew our butts over this. Where’s the telegraph, boy?”
“In the baggage car, Suh. Right behind the locomotive.”
The carriage door opened and the guard stepped in.
“You pull the brake, Clarence?”
“No Suh. Gennelman, did it his own self.”
The Guard looked at the two men.
“O.K. Clarence, which one was it?”
“Wasn’t none of these gennelman. Was another gennelman who got off the train and high-tailed it.”
“Where’s the baggage car? That man is a fugitive and we’ve got to alert the Bureau.”
“Right this way, gentlemen.” The Guard released the Emergency brake with his key and as the Engineer acknowledged the brake’s release with a toot of the whistle, led the way through the connecting door into the next carriage and towards the front of the train .
As the train began to move again Clarence opened the door to his little cubbyhole only to find Mistah Gray sitting inside, holding up a
twenty dollar bill.
Copyright John Ritchie 2012
“Bourbon rocks.” Clarence knew what the order would be, but he always asked, and he always asked as the train negotiated the long bend out of Indian Falls. That was where Mistah Gray had first ordered a drink and that was where he had always had one ever since. Clarence was not about to forget the man who gave him twenty dollars. When Clarence brought the drink Mistah Gray would hitch the pants of his pearl gray suit, tug at the waistcoat and stretch his arms so that the diamond links in his shirt cuffs would catch the light and twinkle. The man has class, real class, Clarence would tell himself as he returned to his cubbyhole outside the Club Car door. There he would stay until the next stop when he would put out the steps for any folks getting off or on the train.
One rainy night as Clarence was placing the steps back on board after the regular stop at Tanquery, he noticed two men boarding further down the train. There was nothing obvious about them to arouse suspicion, but nonetheless Clarence felt an uncharacteristic twinge of concern and hurried to stow his steps and get back on board.
“Suh.”
Mistah Gray looked up from the paper he was reading.
“Yeah, what is it boy?”
Clarence suddenly realised he didn’t know how to tell Mistah Gray about what he had seen, ‘cos in reality he hadn’t seen nuthin’. Yet in his heart he knew he had.
“Suh”
“Spit it out, boy. I ain’t got all night.”
Suddenly Clarence knew that this was true. Mistah Gray was in danger and he had to tell him so.
“Suh, there is two men got on the train at Tanquery and…”
No matter how many times he played it in his head, Clarence could never entirely explain, even to himself, what happened in the next few minutes.
Mistah Gray came to his feet so fast Clarence would swear he had been standing all along.
“Where did they board?
“Car G, Suh”
“Very well, come with me.”
Mistah Gray turned and walked down the car towards the exit. A fellow passenger looked up, but quickly looked away again, an expression close to fear on his face, as he made eye contact with Mistah Gray. Clarence followed the tall slim figure and tried not to speculate about what the man might be planning.
As soon as they were both in the vestibule next to Clarence’s cubbyhole and the internal door to the Club Car had closed behind
them, Mistah Gray took a folded leather case out from under his jacket and handed it to Clarence.
“Take care of this for me, will you?”
Clarence nodded, accepted the case, and tucked it out of sight behind the seat in his cubbyhole. Mistah Gray nodded, then reached up and pulled the Emergency Brake handle. The two men stumbled against one another as the train decelerated rapidly. There were shouts from the Club Car, the sound of a door slamming and running feet. Clarence felt the drop in temperature and realised one of the doors from the carriage had opened and closed and that Mistah Gray had gone.
As Clarence turned towards the door into the Club Car, it flew open hitting him in the face. Two burly men in overcoats and fedoras
crowded him against the side wall of the car.
“Where’d he go?”
“Gennelman got off the train.” said Clarence, blood from his lip, smashed by the door, splashing on the tweed coats.
“Jezzus.” Snarled one of the men reaching under his coat.
Clarence cringed, but the man merely pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his lapel. Then handed the stained linen to Clarence.
“Which side boy?”
“The left side, Suh.” Said Clarence, pointing.
One of the men lowered the carriage door window and looked out.
“See anything?”
“Nah, it’s as black as pitch out there.”
“Better get a wire back to the Bureau. J Edgar is going to chew our butts over this. Where’s the telegraph, boy?”
“In the baggage car, Suh. Right behind the locomotive.”
The carriage door opened and the guard stepped in.
“You pull the brake, Clarence?”
“No Suh. Gennelman, did it his own self.”
The Guard looked at the two men.
“O.K. Clarence, which one was it?”
“Wasn’t none of these gennelman. Was another gennelman who got off the train and high-tailed it.”
“Where’s the baggage car? That man is a fugitive and we’ve got to alert the Bureau.”
“Right this way, gentlemen.” The Guard released the Emergency brake with his key and as the Engineer acknowledged the brake’s release with a toot of the whistle, led the way through the connecting door into the next carriage and towards the front of the train .
As the train began to move again Clarence opened the door to his little cubbyhole only to find Mistah Gray sitting inside, holding up a
twenty dollar bill.
Copyright John Ritchie 2012