Read Murder in Burnt Orange for Free Online

he’s fought for the rights of the workin’ man for years. Last month he went to Chicago to try to make both sides see reason and settle the strike, but it’s still goin’ on, last I heard.”
    â€œThey are not still killing people on the streets?” Hilda’s tone was horrified, and Patrick hastened to reassure her.
    â€œNot that I’ve heard, darlin’ girl. Why are you all of a sudden so interested in Gompers, and strikes, and all?”
    â€œPatrick! Do you not read the newspapers?” She flung his taunt back at him with a mischievous grin that reminded him of his beloved Hilda, the one who had seemed to be missing for the past several months.
    He beamed back at her. “That I do, darlin’, but I still don’t see what you’re gettin’ at. My brain never did work as fast as yours.”
    â€œJa , I am smart, but you are smart, too. You know it was a strike that began the riots in Russia, and strikes have begun riots in Chicago, and where there are riots other things may happen, things like train wrecks.”
    He frowned. “You’re not sayin’ union men—”
    â€œNo! I believe in unions. But when there are crowds and riots, things can happen that were never meant to happen. Things get—what do you say when there is no control? Gone from the hand?”
    â€œOut of hand?”
    â€œYes! That is what I meant. Things get out of hand, and then angry men can get ideas to use the confusion and turn it into madness.”
    â€œHmm. Somethin’ in what you say.” Patrick thoughtfully cut up his ham.
    Hilda smiled again. “Yes. So tell me now about Mr. Debs.”
    â€œNow him you should know for sure, me girl. Eugene Debs is—”
    â€œOh! Eugene Debs. I did not think of him—Andy just said his last name. Of course I know who he is. He wanted to be president!”
    â€œStill wants to, is my guess. He’s not made the grade in two elections, so far—barely made waves, in fact. But he’s a sticker; he’ll try again. And he’s a union man, too, and a pretty fiery one. Has a lot to do with the railroads—Hilda! With the railroads!”
    Hilda’s eyes widened. “But he would not—not a man who could maybe be president—would he?”
    â€œDunno, darlin’ girl. I don’t think he’d go so far, but...wait, let me think a minute.” Patrick put down his fork. “There was somethin’ a long time ago. I was only a boy, meself, and hadn’t been in America long enough to hardly know which way was up, but there was a strike or a riot or somethin’, havin’ to do with the railroads, and Debs was in on it. I’ll have to ask me mother, or Uncle Dan. They’ll know.”
    Hilda looked down at her plate and found it empty. “Patrick, I would like some of the slaw, please, and some more ham.” He passed her the dishes, and she helped herself. “I am wondering about Uncle Dan,” she said when she had swallowed another several mouthfuls.
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œHe is...Patrick, do not lose your temper, but he is a rich man with many people working for him. He is a very good man, but is he...does he...what does he think about unions?”
    Patrick had stopped eating in surprise. Hilda was not known for hesitancy in speech, or in thought or action, for that matter. “What d’you mean by that?”
    â€œPatrick! I mean what I asked! What does Uncle Dan think about unions?”
    That was more like Hilda. Patrick shrugged. “More or less what everybody thinks, I guess. He thinks they can do good where they’re needed, and harm when they get too big for their britches.”
    â€œDoes the store have a union? No,” she added as Patrick opened his mouth, “I mean, do the workers at the store belong to a union?”
    â€œNo need. Uncle Dan pays fair wages and treats the shop girls right. I guess the