"Good afternoon," he said. "I'm looking for Mr. Bruce Pettibone. Is he around?"
"Yep. But you'd better hurry outside because he's about to board that train for Sacramento."
"He can't do that!"
The ticket man shrugged. "There are very few men that can tell Mr. Pettibone what to do. But it's a free country and you're welcome to try. You can see him through that window. Short, handsome fella in the red woolen mackinaw."
Pettibone was a round bundle of energy and motion. Barely five and a half feet tall, he was uncommonly wide-shouldered. Longarm's first impression was of a beer barrel with arms and legs. He was baby-faced, but obviously not young because his hair was shot with silver.
"Mr. Pettibone!" Longarm called, hurrying after the man.
Pettibone turned. "Yes?"
Longarm fumbled for his badge. "I'm a federal deputy marshal from Denver and I believe that the Laramie Summit derailment was committed by the same people that also derailed the train at Donner Pass."
"What makes you think so?"
"It's a long story."
"I'm sorry, Deputy, but I've got to return to Sacramento."
The man started to walk past, but Longarm blocked his path. "I need your help. The people who wrecked your train are the same ones that sent the train I was riding in over the edge of a mountain just east of Laramie Summit."
"My investigation tells me that is entirely possible. However, I'm working alone on this case."
"Do you have any suspects?"
"No, not really, but-"
"I've killed four of the men that belong to the same gang that you are hunting." Longarm looked Pettibone square in the eyes. "And I have names."
Pettibone blinked. "You have names?"
"That's right."
Pettibone glanced at the men as they finished loading the crates. The train blasted its steam whistle, and he and Longarm could hear the couplings strain as the big drivers that had pulled the train up the mountain began to roll forward.
"Give them to me!"
But Longarm shook his head. "I'll be damned if I'm going to help you or your railroad if you won't cooperate in this investigation."
Pettibone's face darkened with anger. The train began to move slowly. "If you have suspects, I can work from Sacramento while you operate out of Reno. We can use the telegraph and probably be more effective than if we worked together."
"We work together here or not at all," Longarm said bluntly. "And unless your career depends on you getting on board that train, I suggest you miss it and take me out to the wreck. I want to see it and hear everything that you know."
"Is that right?" Pettibone exclaimed with exasperation. "Well, when in tarnation would I get to hear the names of your supposed suspects?"
"Right afterward."
Pettibone was a man torn between exasperation, curiosity, and desire. Very likely he considered that Longarm could not deliver the promised goods or that the names he had were worthless. Very likely he also had someone waiting at the Sacramento depot for him who would be very disappointed if he did not show up.
"Give me just one of your suspects' names!"
Longarm balanced his Winchester across his chest. "All right," he agreed, "let's start at the top of the dung heap. The mastermind who planned and probably financed the derailment of both trains is no less than State Senator George Howard."
Pettibone gaped with astonishment. He seemed to have trouble finding words. Finally he stammered, "It's taken me thousands of hours of investigation to reach that same conclusion! How did you-"
"Your Sacramento train is leaving," Longarm said. "the question I have is, are you going or are you staying with me until we break this case?"
Pettibone took a deep breath. "I'm staying," he decided. "Let's go back inside where we can talk in my office."
On the way in, Pettibone called to the ticket man to locate the depot's telegraph operator. "Tell him to wire the Sacramento depot where my wife and two sons will be expecting me in about three hours. Tell him to say that I have been delayed and will come home as soon as possible."
"Yes, sir!"
"This way," Pettibone growled as he strolled across the depot lobby and used a key to unlock an unmarked door.
Pettibone's office was in a clutter, which was a credit to the man as far as Longarm was concerned. Show Longarm a neat lawman or detective and he'd show you a man that did not have enough to do.
"Sit down," Pettibone ordered.
"No," Longarm said, dropping his bags and leaning his Winchester up against a scarred file case. "I want to inspect the site of the derailment and then hear what you know before I tell you anymore."
"I'm in charge here!"
Longarm shook his head. "You know, that's exactly the same attitude that got Marshal Denton all banged up and admitted to the hospital."
"Denton is in the hospital?"
"Yep." Longarm massaged his bruised and skinned knuckles, and the meaning was very clear.
Pettibone's scowl melted and he even grinned. "Well, I'll be damned! I thought that I was the one that was finally going to have to take that big bastard down a peg or two."
Longarm said nothing.
"Listen," Pettibone continued, "any man that can whip Denton is a man that I can respect. Do you have any proof about Senator Howard?"
"Not yet."
Pettibone frowned. "All right," he said. "Have you ever worn snowshoes?"
"Once."
"Good! We'll strap on a couple pairs and go for a walk in the woods. It's just up the tracks about a mile, but you won't be able to reach the wrecked cars. They tumbled far down in a frozen gorge."
"That's what also happened at Laramie Summit," Longarm said. "These boys that are derailing the trains aren't delicate or fair-minded, are they?"
"No," Pettibone said, "they damn sure aren't."
It took the better part of an hour to reach the site of the train wreck, and there really wasn't a lot to see once they arrived, but then Longarm did not need to see much.
"The method of derailment is the same," Longarm announced. "They dynamited the track just as the locomotive passed over it."
"Not dynamite," Pettibone corrected. "They used nitroglycerine."
"at?"
"It's banned because of its instability and power. The Central Pacific had to resort to its use when they were building the Sierra summit tunnels. Nitroglycerine has so much power that it once leveled an entire city block over in San Francisco. The stuff is extremely unstable but very, very powerful. It would take several cases of dynamite to lift a locomotive off the tracks, but just a jar of liquid nitroglycerine."
"All right," Longarm said, "I'll go along with that. But so what?"
"I've been checking on every chemist in California and Nevada. One of them has to be mixing and handling that stuff. I'm expecting a telegram any day that will link Senator Howard to a criminal who also happens to be a skilled chemist."
"Why don't we just keep an eye on the senator?"
"Because he is too smart to ever get personally involved in this. He'll use intermediaries. The only way we nail him is to catch someone who deals with him and is willing to testify against the senator in court."
"So where do you suggest we start?"
"We start with your list of names. Are you ready to give them to me now?"
Longarm supposed he was. One by one, he reeled off the names that Fergus had given him, and as he did so, Pettibone's grin widened.
"You like what you've heard?"
"Damn right I do! Big Tom Canyon, Two-Fingered Earl, Shorty Hamilton, and most all the others are living in a cabin not twenty miles from here. They're at the north shore of Lake Tahoe."
it was Longarm's turn to grin. "You don't say!"
"I do say. But we'll never get them arrested without evidence."
Longarm patted his six-gun. "Evidence is usually found at the source. I'm going to that cabin and find it."
"Whoa!" Pettibone cried. "You can't just..."