The Recorded Deed Put A Different Name Beneath Their Tracks

Leon met me at the Hill County courthouse with two folders and a travel mug.

"I brought the originals," he said.

"We should leave those with you."

"We will. Today we buy copies with stamps."

We went to the clerk and recorder's counter. The clerk found the deed by its recording number. I paid $18 for certified copies and took a receipt.

There it was: Spur Lot Six, 3.7 acres, conveyed to the Donnelly Retirement Trust, Leon Pike, Trustee.

The date was fifteen years old.

People liked to think a secret had to live in a locked room. Mine had lived in a public index under the letter D.

I had bought the parcel for $84,000 after the old landowner died. Her family wanted cash. The terminal had declined to buy it because the board wanted money for a new office front.

I had wanted steady income for retirement.

The parcel held the private spur, its bed, and the narrow strip under the track all the way to the main yard. The terminal owned the loading shed beyond it. Without our strip, a railcar could not reach that shed.

I knew the parcel by its joints and drains. The third rail joint east of the shed clicked louder in cold weather. Water gathered beside the curve each spring. Buying it had meant paying for those troubles, too. Leon kept a repair reserve, not just a rent book.

The trust collected $650 a month for use of the land and track. Each payment went into its own account. Each year, Leon mailed a statement.

"Their books will show the checks," I said.

"Unless nobody read the account name," Leon said.

I took my folder to Mara Keene, a lawyer whose office stood above a tax preparer's shop.

She asked me to tell the story without explaining what I thought the law meant.

That took some work.

Then she read page nine of the access agreement.

"Assignment, merger, or change of control," she said. "They covered all three. Good."

The agreement required the owner's written consent before any of those events. Existing trains could keep moving under the present company. A buyer could not simply take its place.

Leon signed for the trust. Under the trust papers, he needed my written direction for an assignment. Both steps had to be done.

I had no single magic key. I had a small chain with every link still attached.

"Can I ask them to pay the workers what they promised?"

Mara set the agreement beside the severance letter.

"You can propose a settlement. We keep the land terms clear and the employment claims clear. You won't touch a switch or stop an authorized train."

"I never planned to."

"I like hearing it."

She called Leon, checked his role, and asked him to approve sending the ownership records. He agreed. I signed her engagement letter and paid a $2,500 deposit.

That money hurt. So had watching a welder with a bad shoulder read a $1,200 offer after twenty-six years.

Mara sent notice to the terminal's lawyer and the buyer's lawyer before lunch. She attached certified records and offered a meeting the next morning.

At two, Sterling called.

"What kind of stunt is this?"

"A recorded deed."

"You worked for us when you bought it."

"The company declined the purchase. I disclosed mine to the old board. There's a letter."

"I haven't seen it."

"I can send a copy."

He breathed hard enough to fog the phone, if phones worked that way.

"You should have told me."

"Your finance office sends the trust a check every month."

"We own every improvement inside our fence."

"Read the deed and the track bill of sale."

He hung up.

Della called next. She was on her lunch break, sitting in her own car.

"You own the rail ground?"

"Through the trust."

"Well. That explains your boots."

"My boots?"

"You always stepped over that marker. Everybody else kicked it."

I told her Mara was checking the severance promise. Della said she could bring her own signed copy and ask the others to do the same.

"Only papers they're allowed to have," I said.

"Cormac, I'm a dispatcher. I know which car belongs to which train."

By evening, Mara had thirteen signed benefit schedules. The promise covered all twenty-four named workers, including anyone fired within ninety days before the sale. A separate line said a new job with the buyer would not reduce the payment.

Sterling's new offer would pay $28,800 in total. It would erase $439,200 of the signed promises.

I hung my grandfather's bob beside the desk and watched its cord settle.

At seven, Mara called again.

"The buyer sent its purchase schedule," she said. "They aren't just assuming they can use your land."

"What are they doing?"

"They're paying Alder Bend $1.8 million for your parcel and track."