Saddling again, Danner continued on eastward. The sun beat against him with a vengeance now, bringing the sweat from him, then drying it out. At one point the tracks curved slightly to the north, and as Danner moved around the curve he glanced over his shoulder to see the two riders about three miles back and holding to the course of the tracks. They dropped from sight as Danner moved around the curve.
The Velma spur line appeared the same as the Crossville tracks. A train couldn't have passed over the rails without disturbing the coating of rust. There wasn't much point in going on to Velma, Danner thought, especially since Brant's posse had already been there. Roadbeds on both the main line and the spur stood about eight feet above the level of the prairie at this point. Danner noticed some indentations in the soil near the foot of the embankment and he led his horse down the slope for a closer look.
Inspecting the sign carefully, he decided that the wheels of a handcar had rested here recently. He climbed back to the roadbed and spotted two new crossties, only recently replaced, which explained the handcar tracks.
Movement to the west caught Danner's attention. The two riders he had seen earlier now galloped toward him from less than a mile away. Ducking, Danner moved over to the side of the Velma line roadbed. He drew his Colts and waited.
Hoofbeats on crossties and cinders told him the pair rode between the rails now. When he judged the riders to be not more than twenty feet away he started a rapid climb to the top of the roadbed, his six-gun ready. At sight of him, the two horses reared in panic and the riders fought for control. Surprise washed over Danner and he dropped his gun to his side.
Tom Wainright and Melinda Richfield gained control of their mounts, then stared wide-eyed at him. The unexpectedness of the meeting seemed to hold them speechless.
"Riding up on someone like that is a good way to get yourselves killed," Danner said.
"I don't doubt it," Wainright snapped.
Melinda gazed at Danner impassively, face shaded by a flop-brimmed hat. Danner holstered his Colts and stared back at the two of them. Wainright's nervous horse turned then, exposing the rider's right side. A carbine sling, draped from Wainright's left shoulder to his right hip, held a sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun, its twin muzzles hanging down. The regular stock of the weapon had been replaced by a wooden handle shaped like an oversized six-gun handle, making it possible to hold and fire the weapon with one hand.
"If that cannon goes off," Danner nodded at the shotgun, "you'll be missing a leg." He stopped himself from adding, As well as an arm.
Wainright flushed, his mouth setting in a tight line. "If it goes off," he grated, "it will be pointed at something besides my leg."
Danner pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You've been following me all the way from Richfield. Why?"
"It's pretty obvious by now that I was right about you from the first day," Wainright said, accusingly. "I think you'll lead us to that train and I intend to take you into custody at that time."
Danner killed the beginning of a grin.
Temper surged to Wainright's face again. "What do you find amusing?" he demanded.
"You two," Danner said. "You're just about the strangest posse I've ever seen."
"A cripple and a female? Is that what you are thinking, Danner?"
Danner looked at the dangling shotgun again. "With that cannon, I don't suppose you are exactly helpless." He turned and skidded down the sloping side of the roadbed to his horse. He caught up the reins and turned to look up at them.
"If you are coming along you might as well ride with me, instead of miles back."
Wainright nodded grudging agreement. Melinda remained silent. The huge, shapeless hat made her appear even smaller than she was. It must have belonged to the Colonel. Danner searched her face for some indication of how she felt about all this, but he saw nothing except a polite interest. Danner felt more amused than angered by their foolishness, although Wainright's cannon wasn't exactly a humorous matter. He just hoped Wainright could fire the thing with some degree of accuracy.
Danner stepped into the saddle and reined around. "When you talked to me about returning to my old job, you mentioned the theft of some rails."
Wainright nodded curtly.
"Do you recall how many rails were stolen?"
The ill temper faded while Wainright thought it over. Finally he said, "Four dozen sections, I think it was."
With some swift mental arithmetic, Danner estimated the stolen rails wouldn't build enough double track to even hold all the cars of the missing train, much less take it to a secure hiding place.
Danner kicked his mount into a jog. Within a half-mile the roadbed dropped down to the near-prairie level again. Danner reined his mount over into the middle of the tracks, scanning the ground on both sides as he rode along. Wainright and Melinda followed him silently, seldom drawing closer than twenty feet. They had to quit the roadbed when the late afternoon eastbound whistled by and Danner decided to rest his horse. Neither of his silent companions had come prepared for an extended trip, so he offered them water from his canteen. Wainright nodded reluctant thanks and Melinda murmured a soft "thank you." They both sank down against the sloping side of the roadbed, dejected and weary.
Danner drank deeply, then hung the canteen on his saddle horn and studied the line of tracks to the east. They wouldn't be able to reach Spaulding before dark, and he wanted to check every inch of the roadbed in daylight. That meant camping out tonight with only his bedroll for all three of them. He considered taking Melinda on to Spaulding to spend the night with Ma Grim, but shrugged the idea aside. Melinda had asked for any discomfort she might have to suffer. She called to him then, breaking into his thoughts.
"You've implied that those stolen rails might have some bearing on the missing train," she said. "Would you mind telling us in what way?"
Wainright snorted.
Melinda cast him a reproving glance, then eyed Danner with a quizzical lift of an eyebrow. She seemed sincere enough and he was tempted to explain his suspicions. Instead he shrugged indifferently. When she spoke again it was with a cold preciseness he knew so well.
"You don't give people much reason to trust you."
"People don't give me much reason for wanting them to trust me."
"I keep trying to justify my father's faith in you," she retorted, "despite your past record for violence and the still unexplained circumstances of that Spaulding robbery. Yet you offer nothing in defense of yourself except that insufferable shrug. Is that your answer to everything?"
Danner looked steadily at her. "My answer to this," he said flatly, "is to find the train and the men who are responsible for its disappearance. I think that will clear up the Spaulding case also."
Wainright jumped to his feet, his mouth twisting scornfully. "Do you honestly expect us to believe that?"
Raw anger seethed inside Danner. "You keep pushing me," he grated, "and I'm going to forget that you have only one arm."
Instantly, Danner regretted the callousness of the remark. He turned his back on the wrath uncoiling in the slitted eyes of Wainright. Without another word he walked over to his horse, tightened the cinch, stepped into the saddle and trotted off.