ABSENT OF

DAY FIFTEEN

Cuddy and Brick Hands hold the record for most pins driven in a single day. As the tracks are laid, they need long pins, or spikes, to anchor the wooden slats and iron rails into place.

The heat on the Grade is a living thing. It is a heavy and wet blanket of dust that smells of dirt, iron and man sweat. Here at the End of Track the frontier is not a map. It is a physical battle against the earth.

Brick Hands wipes a slurry of grit from his eyes. He does not remember a life before the Bright Road. No memories of where he comes from. The man does not even know his real name. He only knows the weight of the steel and the hypnotic rhythm of the line. He is part of a machine. He is a human cog in a rhythmic dance designed to shove the iron across the desert.

To his left the Gandy Dancers move in unison. Their long handled tools pry the rails into alignment with a grunt that sounds like a prayer.

His partner Cuddy is a man built of square angles and calloused skin. Cuddy is a powerhouse with a Maul who usually hits with the precision of a clock. But the work is grueling and even the best steel driving men have their limits. Cuddy has already unintentionally ended the careers of three Nippers. One slip of the hammer or one exhausted twitch and a pin setter's hand becomes a memory of crushed bone and purple meat.

But Brick Hands is an enigma that the rail workers have not solved yet.

The sun beats down on the Grade. It turns the iron rails into branding irons. Cuddy swings the Maul with a rhythmic and murderous grunt. He is a machine of muscle and sweat but even machines slip. The hammer whistles through the air. It is off target. It screams toward the knuckles holding the spike.

It hits. The sound is not the thud of breaking bone. It is a dull and heavy clack like two stones meeting. Brick Hands does not flinch. He does not even blink. He just sets the spike back in the hole and nods for Cuddy to go again. The other Gandy Dancers go silent. The rhythm of the line breaks just for a second as they stare at the man who refuses to break. After a moment of awe the rhythm continues. There is a deadline to meet.

Later after their grueling day of track laying the workers unwind in the local saloons. Fifty rail workers call West Bend home. They will be here less than two months before they get close enough to Bitter Creek to station themselves there.

Brick Hands nurses his beer. He never has more than one. But locals and rail workers line up each night to meet the man or try to squeeze his hand until he cries Uncle. None make him tap out. All howl in pain once he gives them a little squeeze. They all brag about the encounter to their buddies, showing their aching hands to all as if the President of the United States had just shook their hand.

Cuddy always stays close to his companion. Neither man talks much but they have grown into a tight-knit duo. Cuddy finishes his eighth beer and hums his light-headed tune. Brick Hands squeezes his twentieth hand. The next step is grub then much needed sleep.

As the cafes and restaurants fill the bellies of the rail workers the next morning, the school bell rings three times. This signals the kids to start lining up in front of the school for roll call and the men to get to the tracks.

Brick Hands and Cuddy, revered by townsfolk and rail workers alike, always get served first. By the time the school bell is ringing they are already set up for the day. Brick Hands wears his makeshift belt with pouches that hold hundreds of spikes. The team waits for the others to show. It is no fun gloating about how many spikes you drive if you get a head start.

Next to the two most popular rail workers is a set of overacted grunts. Tommy and Timmy Fuller mimic their heroes. Tommy holds a twig to the dirt ten feet from where the rails lay. He has a dozen spare twigs tucked into his pants. Timmy swings a stick with his boot tied to the end of it. The two boys plan on keeping up with Brick Hands and Cuddy today.

As the rest of the rail workers show, the school bell rings for a second time. This signals any child not present is tardy. It is something most children strive to avoid because they will have to clean the chalk boards after school. Tommy and Timmy do not care. They are part of the rail workers now.

"Ouch!" Tommy rubs his head. "That's the second time you've hit me in the head with your boot!" Tommy quickly looks over to the entertained rail workers. "I mean your maul!"

Brick Hands addresses the boys between chuckles. "Hey guys, isn't it time for school?"

Timmy stands proud, holding out his maul. "School's for babies. We're going to get just as big as you two by, I dunno, next week if we keep working."

All the rail workers in earshot laugh lightheartedly. Then they all see her. They straighten up and focus on their work.

She means business and her stride alone gives the men pause. Brick Hands is silently thankful he is grown.

"I knew you boys would be over here again. Get your boot back on, Timmy. Tommy, get rid of those sticks in your pants. Both of you GET TO SCHOOL NOW!"

She is pretty for a lady in her late forties. But she is stern and gets the boys' attention in an instant.

In unison the boys answer. "Yes Mrs. Manning!" As they hustle towards the school they shout out to the rail workers. "See you guys later!"

A few giggles escape the workers nearby. Mrs. Manning shoots them all a daring look. All cower except for Brick Hands. He stares at her curiously.

As Mrs. Manning storms after the boys and heads back to her school, Cuddy snaps his fingers in Brick Hands' face. "Hey daydreamer. Isn't she a little old for you?"

"What? Oh. No. I mean yeah. Sure she's pretty, but she's married. It's just. I think I know her from somewhere."