Shrouded In Thought (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 2) by N. S. Wikarski

was the master in his own place of business and that he would make the rules. Personally, I think he was more afraid of what Mrs. Allworthy would say if profits were down.”
    “Ah, yes, I’ve met Mrs. Allworthy.” Freddie thought back to Euphemia’s breadth and girth. “I understand she owns the company. Didn’t you tell her about this?”
    Tibbs looked down at the ground self-consciously. “If I’d had the nerve, I would have. As it was, Mr. Allworthy always said we shouldn’t trouble his wife with the day-to-day operating details of the company. It was enough if we showed a clear profit each quarter.”
    “Still, she’s bound to find out after this.” Freddie motioned to the strike scene behind them.
    “I imagine Mr. Allworthy will say we are a pack of insubordinate ruffians and should be replaced by a more tractable work force.”
    “A work force willing to slave for what he’s willing to pay.”
    “Yes,” Tibbs assented quietly.
    “Then why are you doing this?” Freddie was at a loss. “Of all of them, surely you can see you’re fighting a losing battle.”
    The bookkeeper sighed. “It isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about justice. Simple justice, that’s all.” He smiled ruefully. “Workers aren’t cattle, Mr. Simpson. Someone has to show the owners that. Someone has to make them see. Enough workers, in enough shops. They’ll have no choice but to see.” Tibbs turned to gaze out over the line of pickets—the line of men in blue.
    “What about Bayne?” Freddie broke into his thoughts. “I’ve heard it wasn’t just his salary everyone’s upset about.”
    “Yes, he’s indulged in some odd behavior since he started. I’m not sure what his duties are meant to be, but he’s taken it upon himself to nose around in every corner of the business. He asked me to turn the books over to him one night so he could study them.”
    “And did you?”
    “What could I say? He is supposedly Mr. Allworthy’s right-hand man. I allowed him free access to the company’s records.”
    “I’m surprised the fellow can read.” Freddie scribbled a few more notes about Bayne.
    Tibbs regarded the notebook with an expression of mild annoyance. “I said this was to be off the record, Mr. Simpson.”
    “And so it is,” Freddie hastened to reassure him. “I’m keeping a separate set of notes on Bayne for my personal reading.”
    “Ah, I see.”
    Freddie shifted his attention to more printable fare. “For the record, what do you expect will happen next?”
    “I imagine Mr. Allworthy will try to replace us with strikebreakers and reopen the shop.”
    “When?”
    Tibbs shrugged. “It could happen any time now. I hope the fellows can keep their tempers when it does.”
    The two men stood for some time contemplating the parallel human chains before them. The air was thick with tension but no violence had erupted yet.
    Freddie broke the silence. “I’m reminded of an observation recently made by a friend of mine.”
    Tibbs looked at him with curiosity.
    “She commented that it’s only when a man feels he has nothing left to lose that he becomes truly dangerous.”
    “Perhaps your friend should share her views with Mr. Allworthy.” Tibbs kept his eyes on the picketers.
    “She has,” Freddie responded, “but he seems to have a hearing problem.”
    Tibbs chuckled. “Well, I’m not surprised.” He mopped his forehead once more and turned resolutely back in the direction of Hyperion. “I suppose I should be getting back to my place in line.”
    The two strolled back to the front of the factory. The bookkeeper retrieved his placard and rejoined his fellow workers.
    Freddie was about to leave when he noticed something odd. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Bayne slip a folded bill into the hand of the cop he’d been conversing with. The cop dropped the bill into his pocket.
    Just at that moment, a canvas-covered delivery wagon drawn by a team of draft horses crossed the bridge