June 12, 1871

The train departed Albany promptly at noon. Hale was with me until I boarded, and wished me safe travels. Dinner consisted of Cabernet, mashed potatoes, and meatloaf. I am pleased to have met my bunk-mate, Robert O'Hedge—a young and lively Irishman who develops real estate in Ohio. However, I write this entry not to entail my journey, but to describe a conversation I shared with Robert. We were in the lounge car, and I was reading Verne. He was at the bar talking the ears off the bartender until he noticed my lonesome self.

"Aye, Charles, my friend, to-night we shall indulge in a tang of Irish whiskey straight from the bosom of Ireland herself," he loudly asserted.

"What is the occasion?"

"To celebrate, of course! I read in the Chicago papers that Mr. Ratigan has come to Ohio to acquire land for his mills! 'Tis only a matter of time before he finds his way to my desk. I own most of the property around Cleveland!"

"Mr. Ratigan? Never heard of him."

"Aye, that be the famous Renfield T. Ratigan, the southern noble and entrepreneur. I know, I know, the south these days has a wee bit of bad reputation, but I assure you Mr. Ratigan fights in our favor."

"What are his enterprises?"

"Pardon?"

"What does he acquire land for?"

"Ah, too many to name. He worked in Montgomery with that Breshears fella." I almost dropped my book. "Thankfully, though, he has not fallen into that dreadful as Mr. Braxton has." He threw back a swig of whiskey.

"You know Eli Braxton?" I asked.

"Aye, who in my profession has not?"

"He is in real estate?"

"Not at first. He inherited his family's plantation. Made his fortunes in tobacco and sugar cane. Last year, his spree of acquiring hundreds of acres of Louisiana swampland and Oklahoma floodplains sparked jealousy in all his doubters, but not me. I say, good on him! Take what you can get! That explosion in Washington? Happened on a train yard that he owned. Before that, he had his eyes set on property up in Chicago and California. Said he wanted to build a summer home for his blushing bride-to-be."

"He was engaged!"

"Aye, to the greatest of all belles, the young lass, Mrs. Flora von Twinkle—the first daughter of the German Confederation, one might suppose. Damn shame this whole scandal." He took another swig. "What be your interest in all this, fella, if you do not mind me askin'?"

"Just curious, I suppose."

"Ah-ha! Fair enough, but what be that age-old Shakespearean expression? Care killed the cat!"

He smiled and raised a bottle to our well-being. I humored him but kept quiet about my misdeeds. My mind, however, was consumed by thoughts. Another pawn in his web of conspiracies has presented himself. All these land acquisitions indeed serve the ultimate purpose, but I waver their use for arsenals or distribution facilities. Something grander and far more awesome is underway. It strikes me with an uncompromising malaise that with every second I sit here on this train, unflinching in my silence, that insidious plot with that unnamable monster grows larger and larger.

I found solace in the flashing landscape of the American Midwest, and what a sight it is. The sky, now, is a colorful array of violet, blue, orange, yellow, and red. I have all but surrendered to its beauty, and for the time being, I am at peace.