“Good work, Jerry,” Dr. Presnell said. Selecting two pieces that most suited his purpose, and using the strips of cloth Matt gave him, he made a splint. As soon as he was finished, Mrs. Dobbs reached for Suzie and, gently, Matt returned the child to her.
“People, listen to me!” Dr. Presnell shouted. “I’m a doctor! If any of you are injured, let me know! I’ll do the best I can for you.”
“Doc, somethin’s wrong with my wife,” someone said and, almost immediately on top of his comment, several others began calling out as well.
“Would you help me, young man?” Dr. Presnell asked Matt.
Matt shook his head. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Maybe not,” Dr. Presnell replied. “But you do have common sense, and in a situation like this, common sense is more important than any medical degree.”
Farther up the track, in Sentinel, the people who were waiting to meet the train were beginning to grow nervous. The train was already forty-five minutes late. Boomer, who was waiting to meet Doc Presnell, was listening in to the various conversations of those who were expecting people on the train. They were growing increasingly more concerned.
“Deputy Foley, have you heard anything?” an older woman asked. “My daughter is supposed to be coming in on the train and I’m growing very worried.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry that much about it, Mrs. Anderson,” Boomer said, trying to ease her concerns. “The train’s been late before.”
“Yes, sir, I know it has. But if you go over there and look at the blackboard that has the schedule on it, you’ll see that the train left Purgatory on time,” Mrs. Anderson said. “It should’ve been here a long time ago now.”
“It does seem a little odd, doesn’t it?” Boomer said. “All right, I’ll go talk to the station agent and see what I can find out.”
“Would you? Good, I appreciate that, and I’m sure a lot of other folks will appreciate it just as much.”
As several others, by their comments and nods, indicated their concurrence with Mrs. Anderson’s request, Boomer went inside the depot, then walked back to the ticket cage. There, he saw the station agent standing over the telegrapher. The telegraph instrument was clacking away madly.
“Mr. Cooley?” Boomer called.
The station agent held up his hand as a signal for Boomer to be quiet for a moment, so Boomer complied.
The telegraph key stopped clacking; then the telegrapher put his own hand on the key and sent a short message back.
“Now, Deputy, what can I do for you?” Cooley asked.
“Mr. Cooley?” Boomer said again after the instrument was quiet. “All the folks here that are waitin’ on the train are beginnin’ to get a little worried.”
“Are they, now?”
“Yes, sir, they are,” Boomer replied. “And I don’t mind tellin’ you, I’m somewhat worried myself.”
“Why are you worried, Deputy, you don’t have any people on the train, do you?”
“No, sir,” Boomer said. He pointed toward the platform just outside the depot. “But there’s lots of folks out there who do have people, even family, and they got a right to know what’s happening. And it just so happens that Doc is on that train and, Doc being a friend of mine, that gives me cause to worry as well.”
Cooley sighed, then ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Boomer,” he said. “I had no right to act like that. The truth is I’m worried as well.”
“Has somethin’ happened? I mean, that you know?”
“What I know is that we got a telegram that the train left Purgatory Station one hour and forty-seven minutes ago,” Cooley said. “The normal time it takes the train to get here is just over an hour.”
“You think somethin’ has happened?” Boomer asked. “Or could they have just stopped somewhere?”
“There is no place to stop between here and Purgatory,” Cooley said. He shook his head. “No, sir, Deputy, I’m sure something has happened.”
“A wreck?”
Cooley shook his head. “I think so.”
“Then you’re goin’ to have to tell these folks,” Boomer said, pointing to the crowd out on the depot platform.
“I’m afraid to.”
“Afraid to?” Boomer replied. “Why on earth would you be afraid to?”
“If there has been a train wreck, and I suspect there has been, I don’t know how they are going to take it.”
“Mr. Cooley, it’d be my notion that they’d rather hear the truth than stand around worryin’ about it, not knowin’ one way or the other.”
“Would you tell them?”
“Well, yes, sir, I could, I suppose. But that’s more likely somethin’ the marshal should tell ’em.”
“Where is the marshal?”
“He’s…” Boomer stopped and sighed. He was sure Marshal Kyle was with Sally Fontaine, and he didn’t figure that was anybody’s business. “Never mind, I’ll tell them.”
Boomer walked out of the depot, then held up his hands and started calling for everyone’s attention.
“People, people, people!” he shouted. “Can I have your attention, please?”
The several conversations stopped, not all at once, but rather in a wave of silence that moved quickly across the crowd until everyone was quiet, and looking at the man who had issued the call.
Boomer cleared his throat.
“People,” he said. “The train left Purgatory on time—”
“Well, then, where is it?” someone shouted.
“Let me finish, please.”
“Yes, let the deputy finish,” someone else shouted.
“Like I was sayin’, the train left Purgatory on time,” Boomer said. “But as you can plainly see, it hasn’t made it here yet. That leads us to believe that there has been a train wreck somewhere between here and Purgatory.”
“A wreck?”
“What! No, my God, no!” some woman shouted.
“How bad is it? How many are hurt? Was anyone killed?”
“Hold on, hold on here,” Boomer shouted, holding up his hands. “The truth is, we don’t even know for sure that there was one.”
“But, you just said there was.”
“No, I said we believe there has been one. Given that the train ain’t here yet, and it should ought to be, well, it just seems most likely that a wreck is what has happened. And of course, the next thing is, if there has been a wreck, we don’t know how bad it might be.”
“Is it possible there wasn’t any wreck at all—that the train may have just broken down out on the road?” another asked.
Boomer turned to look at Cooley, who was standing beside him.
“What about that, Mr. Cooley?” Boomer asked. “Is it maybe possible that the train has just broke down out on the track somewhere?”
“Yes, of course that is possible,” Cooley answered.
“Well, then, maybe we don’t have anything to be worried about at all,” one of the men in the crowd suggested.
“It’s possible, but it’s not very likely,” Cooley added.
“What do you mean, it’s not very likely? Why not?” another asked.
Cooley sighed, giving pointed evidence that he was very uncomfortable with the situation.
“The reason I say that a simple breakdown is unlikely is because if that is what has happened, why, they have a little gadget on board that will allow them to clamp onto the telegraph wire so as to be able to send a message. Most of the time, when it’s no more than a breakdown, they’ll be able to get in contact with us, to let us know. But there hasn’t been any such message so—I hate to say this, but I’m afraid we have to assume the worst.”
“Well, I ain’t waitin’ around here to find out. I’m goin’ out there!” one man shouted. “My wife is on that train!”
“Mr. Zimmer, if there has been a wreck, we’ll need to organize a rescue party, so I hope several of us will be going out there,” Boomer said. “So if you’ll wait a bit, I’ll go get the marshal. I expect he’ll be puttin’ together a rescue party, and I’m sure you’ll want to be a part of it.”