“We’ll find someone to buy ’em,” Red said. “We won’t get as much money for ’em by sellin’ ’em that way, but we will make enough for this to be worth our time and effort, that’s for sure.”
Onboard Special Train Number One, November 14
In the cab of the 2-4-2 Baldwin locomotive, Engineer Clem Beale and Fireman Jerry Kelly were illuminated by the yellow cabin lights. Beale looked at the steam-pressure gauge, then checked the water level.
“I’m glad we’re comin’ up on the Lajunta tank,” Beale said. “We’ve been keepin’ a lot of pressure and we’re using water like it’s passin’ through a sieve.”
“Ahh, we’re in good shape to make it to the tank,” Kelly said. He opened the door to the firebox then tossed in another few shovelfuls of coal. Slamming the door shut, he leaned back against the side of the cab, pulled out a large red bandana, and wiped the sweat from his face.
“Say, Clem, have you ever heard of Santy Claus?” Kelly asked.
“Of course I’ve heard of Santa Claus,” Beale replied. “Why would you ask a question like that?”
“I wasn’t sure whether you had, seein’ as you ain’t married and don’t have any kids or nothin’,” Kelly said. “But my two kids is just full of it. I told ’em, it’s more than a month ’till Christmas, it ain’t time to be worryin’ about anything like that yet. But that ain’t quietened ’em down any.”
Beale chuckled. “What are you goin’ to do, Jerry? Get yourself one of them red Santa Claus suits?”
“Nah, I’ll just wait ’til they’re both asleep, then tell ’em they didn’t wake up in time to see him.”
“Ha, I’m glad I don’t have any kids to worry about with Santa Claus and such things,” Beale said.
“It ain’t really that big a worry when you think about it,” Kelly said. “I kind of like it.”
Beale smiled and nodded at his friend. “That’s because you are a good Pa.”
Thirty cars back from the engine, the only other car that was illuminated was the private car owned by the Union Pacific Railroad, but on temporary consignment to Smoke Jensen. Sally was in bed in her nightgown, but not asleep. Smoke, who was not in bed was sitting in a large, overstuffed reclining chair. His feet were propped up on the footrest, and he was looking through the window at the moon-silvered landscape they were passing through.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have our own private car?” Smoke asked. “That way, anytime we wanted to go somewhere, all we would have to do is arrange to have it attached to the end of some train and we could go anywhere we wanted as comfortable as this.”
“We can do that anyway,” Sally said. “I mean look at us now. We don’t own a private car, but we aren’t exactly riding in a cattle car either, are we? If we wanted one, we could always rent one.”
“Yes, but wouldn’t it be neat to sort of drop into a conversation, something like—‘Next week Sally and I will be taking our private car to New York, or Philadelphia, or Madagascar.’”
Sally laughed. “Madagascar is an island. How would we get there?”
“By ship.”
“Then we wouldn’t need a private car, would we?”
“You are too practical for your own good,” Smoke said. He reached for his boots, then set them beside the chair.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m just making my boots handy. I figure we’ll be taking on water pretty soon,” Smoke said. “When we do, I’m going to take a walk up one side of the train and down the other side, just to make certain everything is all right.”
Lajunta, Colorado
It was only a quarter moon, but that was enough to cause the tracks to gleam silver as they stretched out before Red and the three men with him. Far to the west they could see the Rocky Mountains, rising like a huge black slab against a somewhat lighter sky. A few minutes earlier, Burgess had climbed up onto the water tower, and now he climbed back down.
“Did you see it?” Red asked.
“I saw the light.”
“How do you know it was the train’s light?”
“Because it was in the right place,” Burgess replied. “It’ll be here in about another ten minutes.”
“Remember,” Burgess cautioned. “Nobody does anything until after the train has taken on water. We’ll be needing that water ourselves.”
The men heard a distant whistle.
“I hear it,” Woodward said, excitedly.
“We all hear it,” McDill said.
“All right, let’s get down out of sight,” Red Coleman ordered.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The car passed over a rough section of track, then Smoke felt the train beginning to slow.
“We must be coming up on that water tank now,” Smoke said. He started pulling on his boots.
“Want me to go check with you?” Sally asked.
“No need for you to get out in the cold,” Smoke replied. “You stay inside here, warm and comfortable. I’m just going to walk up to the engine and back and look into all the cars. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Smoke pulled on his sheepskin coat. He saw his pistol belt hanging from a hook but started toward the door without it. He got as far as the door, then turned around and came back for his pistol. He had no idea why he thought he might need it in the middle of the night, but he just didn’t feel dressed without it.
Even above the venting steam and the snap and pop of cooling journals, Smoke could hear the sound of water rushing into the tank, and, in the moonlight, he saw the fireman standing up on the tender, directing the flow of water. Smoke continued to walk down the side of the train, in the shadows of the cattle cars. He could smell and sense the cattle that were packed in the cars and he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for them. Crowded together as they were, they would be unable to rest for the two days of the journey. Also, they would have very little food and water to sustain them for the trip. They would be much better off when they got out on their own with plenty of room to move around, and plenty of grass to eat.
Despite the quarter-moon, Smoke couldn’t be seen as he walked along the side of the train, because he was so close to it that he was in the shadow of the cars. He had not detected any problems when he reached the first car, which was the next car behind the tender. There, he turned and started back, but stopped when he heard someone call out.
“Fireman! You, up on the tender! Get your hands up, and climb down here!”
“Who are you?” the fireman asked. “What are you doing here?”
A gun roared, its muzzle-flash lighting up the night. The fireman slapped his hand over the wound, staggered to the edge of the tender, then pitched forward off the car. He landed hard on his back and Smoke knew that even if the bullet wound hadn’t killed him, the fall did.
“Get up there! Get the engineer!” someone yelled from the darkness.
Smoke saw someone put his hand on the mounting ladder, then start to climb up into the engine cab.
“Hold it!” Smoke shouted.
“What the hell! Where did you come from?”
The man who yelled at Smoke fired his pistol at the same time he yelled. Smoke saw the muzzle-flash, and felt the puff of air as the bullet whizzed by his ear. Smoke returned fire and one shot was all it took to drop the man who had been shooting at him.
“Burgess! Burgess!” someone shouted from the dark.