“I’d say we’re doing at least forty miles per hour,” the engineer replied.
“Don’t you think we ought to slow down a little?”
“Why?”
“If there has been a train wreck, we may not see it in time to stop,” Kyle suggested.
“Oh, damn, you’re right!” the engineer said, easing off on the throttle. The train slowed gradually until they were doing no more than fifteen miles per hour.
Then, ahead in the darkness, Kyle saw the golden glow of several fires.
“There ahead!” Kyle shouted. “The fires! Do you see them?”
“Yes,” the engineer said. “They were smart to light some fires.”
“I hope they are fires that were lit, and not a burning train,” Kyle said.
The engineer reached up to the pull cord, and the whistle let out a long, melodic, wail.
Back at the site of the train wreck, Matt worked with Dr. Presnell and the others pulling out the injured, freeing the trapped, and removing the dead. He wanted, with everything that was in him, to run away now that he had the chance. But when the train caught on fire, he knew there was no way he could leave all the people who had been so badly injured trapped in the burning wreckage.
Working with the others, he managed to get everyone out of the train, including those who had been killed on impact, so that even as the train burned down to the truck and wheel assemblies, there was no smell of burning bodies to add to the horror of the occasion.
In the distance, Matt heard the two-toned sound of a train whistle. He wasn’t sure he heard it the first time, but when it sounded again, he knew exactly what it was.
“Listen, do you hear that? That’s a train! They are coming for us!” someone shouted, though by now everyone had heard it and several cheered.
“We’d better get up to the track and wave it down!” someone shouted.
“Yes, get one of the lanterns and wave it,” another suggested.
“They don’t need to wave the train down,” Matt said to Dr. Presnell, who even then was doing the best he could do toward cleaning a wound. “I’m sure the train was sent here just for us.”
“I am sure as well,” Dr. Presnell said. “But right now, they need to feel like they have some input into their own fate. Let them yell all they want.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean, Doc,” Matt said.
By now, several of the uninjured and those not seriously injured had moved up to the track, where they began waving at the oncoming train. They were shouting as well, though it was obvious that no one on board the oncoming train could hear them.
The train, now with the bell clanging, continued coming, now moving no faster than a slow walk. Finally, it screeched to a stop no more than a few feet from the compromised track.
“God help us, look at this, Marshal,” Boomer said, his voice almost reverent as he and Kyle stepped down from the train, even before it had come to a complete halt. “The last three cars of the train has burned completely to the ground. Only the coal tender, the express car, and baggage car ain’t burned up. I wonder how many have been killed.”
“We’ll figure that out later,” Kyle said. “For now, we need to get busy helping those who are still alive. I just hope—”
“Marshal! There’s Doc Presnell!” Boomer said excitedly, answering Kyle’s concern before it was even spoken.”
“Hello, Ben, Boomer,” Doc Presnell said, greeting his two friends as they came toward him. Doc had a black eye and a cut on his face. Otherwise, he appeared to be all right, though there was blood on his hands and clothes. It didn’t take but a moment to see that it wasn’t Doc’s blood—it was blood from the many injured passengers he had been working with.
“What happened, Doc?” Boomer asked.
“I’ll be damned if I know,” Doc replied. “One minute I was enjoying my dinner in the dining car. The next thing I know we ran off the track. Since that time, it’s been all chaos.”
“The prisoner!” Kyle said.
“What prisoner?” Doc asked.
“According to a telegram I received, this train was supposed to be carrying a prisoner,” Kyle said. “I’d better check on him.”
“Boomer, can you give me a hand here?” Doc asked.
“Sure, Doc, I’ll do what I can,” Boomer said.
Leaving Doc and Boomer, Kyle started looking through the gathering of shocked, frightened, and injured people until he saw someone wearing the blue jacket and hat of a railroad conductor.
“You the conductor on this train?” Kyle asked.
“Look, mister, I don’t know any more about what caused the train wreck than you do,” the conductor answered defensively.
“No, no, it’s not about the train wreck,” Kyle said quickly, holding up his hands to calm the conductor.
“Then, what is it about?”
“I understand you had a prisoner on this train, someone who was being taken to Yuma prison,” Kyle said. It was a statement, not a question.
“You’re talking about the murderer we picked up in Purgatory?”
“Yes. Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you seen him since the train wreck?”
“I didn’t see him before the wreck.”
“You didn’t see him when they put him on the train?”
“No. I was told he would be in the express car,” the conductor said. “But I didn’t see them put him on. As far as I know, Lon Kingsley is the only one who saw him.”
“Lon Kingsley?”
“The express man,” the conductor said.
“Can you point him out to me?”
“I can point him out, all right, but it won’t do you any good to talk to him.”
“Why not?”
“He’s dead. Him and the deputy that was ridin’ in the car with him. We found ’em both dead in the express car.”
“What about the prisoner? Did you find him dead, too?”
“No, the only two people we pulled from the express car was Kingsley and the deputy,” the conductor said. “They’re both lyin’ over there if you want to see them.”
“Like you said, they’re both dead, so it won’t do me any good to see them, but I am going to take another look inside the express car.”
Walking back toward some of the railroad officials who’d arrived with the rescue train, Kyle borrowed a lantern, crawled upon the side of the express car that was facing up, then let himself down through the open door into the car. It had not burned, but it had turned over onto its side so it was badly damaged. He moved around inside the car, having to be very careful to pick his way about, since what had been the left wall was now the floor.
“Hello?” a voice called from the open door. “Anyone in here?”
“Yes, I’m here,” Kyle answered.
The person who called started to climb down into the car.
“No need to come in here, the car is empty,” Kyle said.
“Who are you?”
“I’m United States Marshal Ben Kyle. And you are?”
“I’m Hodge Deckert with the United Bank Exchange,” Deckert said. “We are responsible for transferring large amounts of money between banks, and we had a shipment on this train. I’ve come to retrieve the money.”
“Good luck,” Kyle said.
“Good luck? What an odd thing to say,” Deckert replied as he started looking. “Oh, oh,” he said after a moment. “This isn’t good.”
“What isn’t good?”
Deckert held up a small piece of paper. “Here is the transfer document,” he said. “This was in the bag with the money.”
“Maybe it just fell out in the wreck,” Kyle suggested.
“No,” Deckert said, looking around. “I don’t see the bag, and if the transfer slip just fell out in the wreck, some of the money would be here as well.” Deckert sighed. “The money is gone.”
“How much money are we talking about?” Kyle asked.
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Yes, sir, it is. And it was on this train, which means one of these passengers had to have come in here and took it.”