I'll be go to hell.

He looked up and saw a rider approaching. The man eventually made it alongside. He nodded to Allingham and peered over the edge. He removed his hat to wipe his brow, revealing a head of curly hair, the kind most women like on a man. “I’ll be go to hell.” He looked on at Allingham and smiled as he put his hat back over his curly hair. “Bet there’s a fellar up there in Chicago puckerin’ pretty bad.”
Allingham ignored him, then had a thought. The man was intriguing. “What do you mean?”
“The dope up in Chicago who built the bridge too short.” He removed his hat once again and absentmindedly wiped his brow. “That’s what’s the hold up, you know.”
“No.”  
“Yep. That’s it. Some dope made the bridge too short, had it shipped all the way down, then all the way back up to make it longer. That’s why everyone’s sittin’ on their asses. They’re waitin’ for a new bridge to be built, and the railroad company doesn’t have enough money to pay them for it.” Allingham