“You men take care of things here,” Smoke said. “Sally is coming back today, and I’m going to meet her at the train station.”
“I’ll go get her,” Cal volunteered.
Pearlie chuckled. “I’m sure you would, Cal. We’ve got calves to brand and you’ll do anything to get out of a little work.”
“It’s not that,” Cal said. “I was just volunteering, is all.”
“Thanks anyway,” Smoke said. “But she’s been back East for almost a month and I’m sort of anxious to see her again.”
When Smoke reached the train depot in Big Rock, he checked the arrival and departure blackboard to see if the train was on time. There was no arrival time listed, so he went inside to talk to the ticket agent. The ticket agent was huddled in a nervous conversation with Sheriff Monte Carson.
“Hello, Monte, good evening, Hodge,” Smoke said, greeting the two men. “How are you doing?”
“Smoke, I’m glad you are here,” Sheriff Carson said. “We’ve got a problem with the train.”
“What kind of problem?” Smoke asked. “Sally is on that train.”
“Yes, I know she is. We think the train is being robbed.”
“Being robbed, or has been robbed?” Smoke replied, confused by the remark.
“Being robbed,” Sheriff Carson said. “At least, we think that it what it is. The train is stopped about five miles west of here. There is an obstruction on the track so that it can’t go forward, and another on the track to keep it from going back.”
“How do you know this?”
“Ollie Cook is the switch operator just this side where the train is. When the train didn’t come through his switch on time, he walked down the track to find out why, and that’s when he saw the train barricaded like that. He hurried back to his switch shack and called the depot.”
“And I called Sheriff Carson,” Hodge said.
“I’m about to get a posse together to ride out there and see what it’s all about,” Sheriff Carson said.
“No need for a posse. Deputize me,” Smoke suggested. “Like I said, Sally is on that train.”
“You are already a deputy, Smoke, you know that,” Sheriff Carson said.
“Yes, I know,” Smoke said. “But I don’t want people thinking I’ve gone off on my own just because Sally is on the train. I need you to authorize this, in front of a witness.”
“All right,” Sheriff Carson said. “Hodge you are witness to this. Smoke, you are deputized to find out what is happening with that train, and to deal with it as you see best.”
“Thanks,” Smoke said.
Hurrying back outside, Smoke jumped into the buckboard he had come to town in, and slapping the reins against the back of the team, took the road that ran parallel with the railroad. He left town doing a brisk trot, but once he was out of town, he urged the team into a gallop. Less than fifteen minutes later, he saw the train standing on the railroad. Not wanting to get any closer with the team and buckboard, he stopped, tied the team off to a juniper tree, then, bending to keep a low profile, ran alongside the berm until he reached the front of the train. Hiding in some bushes he looked into the engine cab and saw three men, the fireman and engineer, who he could identify by the pin-stripe coveralls they were wearing, and a third man. The third man had a gun in his hand, and he waved it around every now and then, as if demonstrating his authority over the train crew.
Smoke moved up onto the track, but since he was in the very front of the locomotive, he knew that he couldn’t be seen. He climbed up the cow catcher, then up onto the boiler itself, still unseen. He walked along the top of the boiler, then onto the roof of the cab. Lying down on his stomach, he peeked in from the window on the left side of the locomotive.
The man holding the gun had his back to that window so he couldn’t see Smoke, but the engineer and the fireman could, and Smoke saw their eyes widen in surprise. He hoped that the gunman didn’t notice it.
“You two fellas are doin’ just fine,” the gunman said. “As soon as we collect our money from all your passengers, why we’ll move the stuff off the track and let you go on.”
Smoke leaned down far enough to make certain that the cab crew could see him, then he put his finger across his lips as a signal to be quiet.
“You got no right to be collecting money from our passengers,” one of the two cab crew said.
“Well, the Denver and Rio Grande collects its fees, and we collect ours,” the man said with a cackling laugh.
In mid-cackle, Smoke reached down into the engine cab, grabbed the man by his shirt, pulled him through the window, then let him fall, headfirst, to the ground.
“Hey, what ...” was as far as the man got, before contact with the ground interrupted his protest. Looking down at him, Smoke could tell by the way the man’s head was twisted that his neck was broken, and he was dead.
Smoke swung himself into the engine cab.
“Who are you?” one of the men asked.
“Smoke Jensen, I’m a deputy sheriff,” Smoke said. “How many more are there?”
“Four more,” one of the men said.
“Five,” the other corrected. “I saw five.”
“Where are they now?”
“Well, sir, after they found out we wasn’t carryin’ any money in the express car, they decided to see what they could get from the passengers, and that’s what they are doing now.”
“How about the two of you going down to move the body of the one who was in here with you? I don’t want any of the others to happen to look up this way and see him lying there.”
“Yeah, good idea. Come on, Cephus, let’s get him moved.”
As the two train crewmen climbed down to take care of their job, Smoke crawled across the coal pile on the tender, then up onto the top of the express car. He ran the length of that car, then leaped across to the baggage car and ran its length as well. Climbing down from the back of the baggage car, he let himself into the first passenger car.
“One of your men has already been here,” an irate passenger said. “We gave you everything we have.”
“Shhh,” Smoke said. “I’m on your side. I’m a deputy sheriff. Where are they?”
“There was only one in here, and he went into the next car.”
“Thanks,” Smoke said. Holding his pistol down by his side, he hurried through the first car and into the second one. He saw a gunman at the other end of the car, holding a pistol in his right hand and an open sack in the other. The passengers were dropping their valuables into the open sack.
“What are you doing in here? You get back in the other car and stay there like you were told!” The gunman said, belligerently.
“I don’t think so,” Smoke said. He raised his pistol. “Drop your gun.”
“The hell I will!”
Instead of dropping his gun, the train robber swung the pistol around and fired at Smoke. His shot went wide and the bullet smashed through the window of the door behind him. Smoke returned fire, and the gunman dropped his pistol and staggered back, his hands to his throat. Blood spilled through his fingers as he hit the front wall of the car, then slid down to the floor in a seated position. His head fell to one side as he died.
During the gunfire women screamed and men shouted. As the car filled with the gun smoke of two discharges, Smoke ran through the car, across the vestibule, and into the next car.
The gunman in the next car, having heard the shot, was looking toward the door as Smoke ran in.
“Red! McDill! Slim, getin here quick!” the gunman called.
Smoke and this gunman exchanged fire as well, with the same result. The gunman went down and Smoke was still standing. When he ran into the next car, he saw the robber dashing out through the back door. He chased him down as well, but he didn’t have to shoot him. When the gunman went into the next car, he was brought down by a club wielded by the porter. “Good job,” Smoke said.