He pulled the door back shut until he had a couple inches to look past. For a moment he failed to see what caused the alarm. Then he heard a woman crying.
“You can’t take it! It’s a family heirloom. It belonged to my grandmother in Germany!”
“Gimme.”
Ike heard a dull thud as if a fist hit flesh. He pushed the door open and snaked past to stand with his back against the wall. The man he had tangled with earlier ripped the ruby necklace from the woman’s throat and then punched her. She huddled on the seat, face in her hands, sobbing.
“The rest of you. Put your jewelry, watches, money, anything worth a bucket of spit in the bag. Hold back and I swear I’ll fill you full of lead. Man or woman!” He tossed a cloth bag to one of the men Ike pegged as a gambler.
The robber stood with his back to Ike. Carefully drawing his six-shooter, he leveled it at the thief.
“Shoot him! Shoot the son of a bitch!” The gambler touched the headlight diamond in his cravat. His shouted command caused a reaction he hadn’t expected.
The robber pulled the trigger at point-blank range. The gambler cried out and grabbed his chest as he fell back. The headlight diamond vanished from a quick grab by the train robber. Ike saw the gambler’s vest sparking and smoldering from the burning gunpowder spat out by the close-range shot. He also saw that the wounded man wasn’t stirring.
“More, all of it. Gimme everything or you’ll end up like him!” The outlaw paid no attention to Ike. It took a split second for Ike to realize the robber thought the gambler had tried to distract him rather than ordering someone to shoot.
“Drop the gun,” Ike called out. Ike flushed when he realized his voice came out as hardly more than a croak. “Drop it!” This time he shouted and the robber heard.
The outlaw jerked around and blazed away wildly. He hit another passenger. Ike was more careful aiming. He jerked the trigger and missed a clean shot, but he hit the robber in the arm, spinning him around. For a brief instant, Ike thought the fight was over and done.
Then the outlaw dropped to his knees, twisted about and fired straight down the aisle. The bullet ricocheted off a seat and tore a hole in the wall between Ike’s legs. Ike took better aim. This time his slug blew the heel off the outlaw’s boot. This sent the man scuttling along like a crab between the seats.
They both fired at the same instant, the outlaw spraying lead everywhere and Ike trying to aim more judiciously. The hail of slugs caused the passengers to panic and flail about, making it harder for Ike to shoot without injuring an innocent bystander.
The outlaw scrambled to the front door and opened it. Ike had to push his way past passengers getting out of their seats. Where they thought they were going, he had no idea. He stopped beside the woman who had worn the ruby necklace.
“I’ll get it back, ma’am. I promise.”
She looked up through teary eyes and asked, “Are you a lawman?”
Ike answered, “Yes,” before he could stop himself. He dodged another woman filling the aisle and reached the connecting door to the forward car.
The only thought he had was to keep the outlaw from rampaging through the car where Lily waited for him. He had saved the actress a couple times. This time he might not be so lucky. The bandit was injured and frightened and as dangerous as a cornered rat.
Ike tried to open the door, but the outlaw clung to the handle and prevented it. Ike showed him his six-shooter. The man’s eyes went wide with fear, but he refused to release his grip on the door handle. Knowing it was dangerous and foolish, Ike pressed the muzzle against the dirty glass and pulled the trigger.
The hammer fell on a spent chamber.
Not even thinking about it, he slammed the butt into the glass. It shattered, forcing the outlaw away. Ike shoved through.
“Give up. You’re under arrest!”
The outlaw shot him a contemptuous look, then jumped. Ike saw the man hit the ground and roll. The train rattled on, not slowing. Not thinking about what he was doing, Ike grabbed the railing and leaned out from the train to catch sight of the outlaw. Even if his pistol had been loaded, he didn’t have a good shot. As he pulled himself back, his hand slipped. The outlaw had bled all over the iron rail.
Ike made a wild grab, but the blood turned the metal too slippery. His fingers lost grip, and he tumbled off the train. He hit the ground hard enough to jar him. The only thought in his head was to not pass out. He’d be at the mercy of the train robber.
Rather than stand, Ike rolled over and over. He winced as he wrapped himself around a cactus, then forced himself to sit up. He held his gun as if to shoot, even though he knew it was empty. All he had to do was bluff the robber for an instant.
He swiveled about, taking in the desert terrain. The train robber was nowhere to be seen. Before he stood, Ike reloaded his gun, saw that he ran short of ammunition, then carefully returned the six-shooter to his holster. Cactus nettles worried at him until he plucked the last of them from his clothing and made sure the leather gun belt was clean. Being distracted by a thorn if he had to throw down meant the difference between life and death, even if he wasn’t the fastest gunman in the West.
“Or the fastest anywhere,” he said glumly. Ike got to his feet and hunted for the robber. The man had evaporated like water spilled on a desert rock. Worse, the train had continued racing along the tracks and was out of sight now. He was stranded.
He hitched up his gun belt and searched for the robber’s tracks. If he was marooned here, he might as well accomplish something. Bringing the outlaw to heel was the best Ike could think to do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ike judged how far the train had traveled between him falling off and the outlaw jumping. As he trudged back along the tracks, he wiped his bloody hand on his pant leg. From the amount of blood on the iron railing, the robber was well and truly wounded. That ought to make it easy enough to find him.
The sunbaked ground proved harder and less susceptible to tracks than he’d hoped. Bent almost double, he made his way along the rail to better study the ground, then he turned suddenly and reversed his path so he walked into the rising sun. This caused the light to reflect off the ground and give a better chance of finding a trace than letting his shadow lead the way. All he had to do was keep his hat pulled down far enough to shield his eyes against the sun already rising a good distance above the horizon.
And in less than five minutes he found the tracks he wanted. One of his rounds had blasted off the robber’s boot heel. He found scraps of leather and a boot nail showing where the man had hit the ground and tumbled away from the train.
“You’re mine now,” Ike said aloud with some satisfaction. The fresh spoor showed him the trail. There was no call for the train robber to hide his tracks or do anything sneaky like cut off at an angle to decoy Ike into an ambush. He wanted the fastest path away from the railroad tracks as he could get.
When Ike saw a small dried spot being swarmed over by ants, he knew he was close. This puddle of blood was hardly dry. He picked up the pace, careful now so he wouldn’t fall into a trap if the man spotted him coming on like a persistent desert wind. Ike hiked to the top of a hill, then caught his breath when he saw his quarry painfully making his way down the far side, slipping and sliding in the shifting sand.