Fools' Gold

[Elk Creek LeMieux]

"Cody'll be a big fat target sittin here wounded, whether we stay and fight or go and attack, he'll be safer out of town. I vote for puttin him on a train north at the least, whether he likes it or not. None of us can be spared to keep watch on him, and one of us wouldn't be enough if they get past y'all..."

 

"Let's see what these boys have to say before we make any decisions. Could be they was waitin out of town for the other group to join and make 24. If that's the case, we've only got one more squad out there." I finished.

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

That high-and-mighty deputy thinks he's such hot stuff!

The recently fired telegrapher hobbled slowly (and painfully) back into what used to be his office.

He knew the badge packer intended to leave after a night's stay -- last night -- he knew only one train was scheduled -- due at noon -- and he knew the deputy's family owned enough of his railroad to make good the promise that he'd have to find another job.

He smiled mirthlessly.

He knew just how to cause a railroad a great deal of grief.

He seated himself in what used to be his chair, reached for the telegraph key.

 

The bar was dirty and coarse and looked like what it was: wagon bed planks laid over barrels.

The Silver Jewel, back home in Firelands, was clean and well-kept, with a black-mahogany bar top, smooth and burnished and polished lovingly by the attentive Mr. Baxter, or had, until his recent demise: the mirror in the Silver Jewel was large, tall, broad -- the mirror here was the size of a schoolbook, but at least it had only one crack, unlike the mirror in the room Jacob occupied the night before.

Jacob stopped in front of the mirror.

It wasn't much ... matter of fact it was so little he turned more than halfway, so he was slouched one elbow on the bar ... he didn't like his back exposed.

"Beer," he said quietly to the scowling barkeep, who sneered and brought him a bottle of something with a hinged wire stopper.

Jacob paid two prices for it, knowing that although it was warm, it was wet, and likely would be a safer drink than the nearest well's water.

The only clock in the place had three holes, closely spaced, in its face; the pendulum had a hole in it as well, and naturally the hands hadn't moved in the past better than twelve hours, so Jacob drew out his watch, pressed the stem and took a look at the time.

Enough time to finish his beer, collect his mounts and head for the depot.

[Blackwater 53393]

"Why don't we send Cody south on the train?" I asked. "The tracks are complete to within a little ways from Santa Fe. My place is just outside of there and he can rest up and heal up there!"

 

"He should be able to ride the train in the morning." Tom added, "I don't know if he can sit a horse though."

 

"I'll go talk to the doctor when we get through here." Flint sai flatly. He turned to our captives, "I want to know the name and whereabouts of this 'general' you're workin' for!" He drew out the big knife he carried and shaved off a little hair from his forearm, grinning menacingly.

 

Hawk withdrew his scalping knife from his boot, "Nah! Let me, colonel!" bloodlust rising in his eyes.

 

"Blackwater!" J. Mark turned and said, "Find that deputy Keller. Ask him if that offer still stands."

 

As I left the livery, i heard Bill say, "I wanna' know what this jasper was doin' goin' through our wagons!"

 

"Keep a lookout, Bama!" I said as I stepped into the street.

[Elk Creek LeMieux]

I looked at Blackwater. "South would be better, didn't know you had a place down there" I said.

 

"Might be a good idea for one of us to go with him, just to make sure he gets there as healthy as he leaves here. And though I'm not volunteering, I'll ride the rails with him if no one else volunteers. I'd sure hate to be on my own headed somewhere I ain't ever been if I was in his condition." I looked around at the others as Blackwater left to find the deputy. "I'm the youngest man in this group though, and the newest addition. So I'll let y'all decide on that matter."

[Tyrel Cody]

The good Lord was shining down on me when Tom kicked open those saloon doors and kept that Lazy S Double D feller from finishing me off. I was fairly out of my head last night but now awake and ANGRY. When I moved I felt the pain where the bullet had passed through my right shoulder. As I was getting up to put on my clothes the doc must have heard me and came running into the room, "Mr. Cody you need to stay in that bed and rest!" he said. "I'll be d@mned if I will," I replied, "I've been hit a whole lot harder and not been stopped. Now get outta my way." Danged if my shoulder didn't hurt like hell as I put on my shirt though; probably won't be able to shoot a rifle right handed for a spell. I then walked across the street to the saloon and kicked open the doors, "Barkeep! A glass of rye whiskey, the good stuff! You know where any of the fellers I rode in with are?" I said.

[Blackwater 53393]

I saw Cody stomping down the street and into the saloon. He wasn't entirely steady, but he sure looked determined to have at it with someone or something. I detoured from my search for Deputy Keller to cover my companion.

 

When he asked the barkeep about his cohorts, I spoke up from behind him, "I'm right here! You oughtn't to be!" I stepped up to the bar beside him. "You orta be in bed! You got some fever and you look like you're burnin' up!"

 

"I'm fit as a fiddle!" Cody declared as he downed the shot of rye. He demanded another drink from the bartender and when it came he turned to me with drink in hand, "I've been worse than this from fallin' outa bed!"

 

"Let's grab us a table and you get a little somethin' 'sides liquor into ya'!" I said, pointing my chin toward a table at the back of the barroom. He downed the second shot and nodded. We walked back to the table and sat down. "We've been talkin' it over amongst ourselves about turnin' the tables on these LazyS Double D hombres. I've gotta find that deputy and talk to him." I looked Cody in the eye, "You get somethin' to eat before you do any more drinkin', and then you get yourself back over to the doc's and rest a mite longer!" I looked around and then continued, "You ain't gonna be left out of anything, but right now you're not in any shape to take on a war. You get back over to the doc's and we'll come get ya' when we know a little more about what we're up against!"

 

Cody ordered some breakfast and coffee. "I can hold up my end," he said when the bartender left to get his order.

 

"I know that," i replied as I got up to leave. "By the way," I said, "Culpepper decided to pull out. He marryin' up with that Mary gal and they're headed to Denver as far as I can tell." I headed for the door. As I reached it i turned again and Cody gave me a nod. I stepped off the boardwalk and into the street. "Now where's that deputy?"

[Bama Red]

So Blackwater wanted me to keep an eye on our prisoners? That was fine with me - I could keep lookout and mebbe get some information outta them at the same time. That set me to thinking.....what kinda information could we expect to get out of these desperadoes? Did they really know anything at all about what was really going on on the levels above them or were they just expendable gunslingers hired 'cause they were fast with a sixgun and didn't ask too many questions?

 

If we were gonna carry the fight to their home ranch, it sure would be nice to know as much as possible beforehand. With that in mind, I took one last look up and down the street before walking into the barn. "Boys," I announced in a loud voice, as I drew my green river skinner, "today just ain't gonna be a good day fer y'all."

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

"Hello, Blackwater," Jacob said quietly.

"Hello yourself and see how you like it!" Blackwater snapped, then grinned, and the two men shook hands.

"You look like a man with a question."

"You look like a man with an answer."

"You want a beer?"

Blackwater considered for a moment, then frowned a little.

"I'd best not. Flint asked if that offer was still good."

Jacob set down his empty beer bottle.

"Yep."

He pulled out his hunter cased watch, pressed the stem, looked around before he looked at the watch face.

"Is that your wife?" Blackwater asked, peering at the hand painted miniature inside the front cover.

"That's her," Jacob affirmed. "Younger, smarter and better lookin' than me."

"Sho'!" Blackwater exclaimed. "Better lookin' than you?"

Jacob closed the watch, slipped it back into its pocket.

"You ain't never seen me in a gown."

"You got me there."

There was an echoing whistle and Jacob smiled tightly.

"The Lady Esther is right on time," he declared. "My complements to Brother Flint, and yes the offer still stands." Jacob twisted his back a little and Blackwater heard a muffled series of pops and crackles from the lean deputy's spine.

"Damn now, that hurts to listen to!"

"Then don't listen," Jacob deadpanned.

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

I headed back to the barn and saw Red with his skinning knife. I hurried over and grinned-"Someone's about to have a real bad day, it looks like."

 

With that I gave instructions "Each of you men has an opportunity to survive this with all your major parts still attached-but I am only giving you one opportunity before I let Red and Hawk get the information their way. My way can be pain free and over in the next hour."With that I directed each of the prisoners to an empty stall of their own. I handed each a pencil and a pad and explained their opportunity. "Each of you men is to draw me a map of the Lazy S DD spread with as much detail as possible and to list every man on the spread along with their job description. You stay where you are until it is done and no one speaks a word. If you do as I ask and your answers agree, I give you my word you'll walk out of here free, if not, then we'll carve you up and skin you alive one by one until we have what we want, or there is nothing left of each of you but a bloody pile of scraps."

 

I looked at Bama Red and Hawk and we took positions observing the men. Soon one began writing, and then another. I looked at the holdout and spoke softly "Son, why don't you cooperate? I don't want to kill you."

 

He looked up at me embarrassed. "Can't read nor write."

 

I nodded understanding "Can you draw me a map?"

 

He began to draw as I watched "When you are done will you tell me every name you can remember and explain the map to me?"

 

He nodded agreement and I told him to be quiet and draw and I would talk to him when he was done.

 

After 30 minutes the first man put down his pencil and it was a few minutes more before the next was done. I took the illiterate one into the office and made his list of names and labeled the map.

 

Hawk and Bama retrieved the other men's maps and handed them all to me and I looked down to compare. The illiterate man's map was easily the most detailed and it agreed with the first man's map, but the second man had simply wrote obscenities. I looked at the list of names and job descriptions and they matched pretty well mostly.

 

I pointed to the man that had chosen to write obscenities rather than cooperate. "Mister, I gave you a fair honest chance." I brandished a pair of pliers "Hawk, open his mouth for me if you please."

 

Hawk kicked the back of the man's knee and dropped him to the ground with an audible snap. kicks to the stomach knocked out his wind and as he gasped for breath Hawk took a bailing hook and lifted the man with it by his crotch. I grabbed his hair in one hand and his tongue with the pliers and Bama Red came over with his skinning knife.

 

"Just the tip" I said. "We're gonna take our time with this one.

[Chickasaw Bill SASS #70001]

On most occations I would try to avoid undue bloodshed , but I was kinda in the mood to cuase some

 

I figured I would let Red and Hawk , have some fun , I had some unfinished busness to attend to over at the hotel

 

I gathered up the money Cody and I had found hidden , we had decided to split it between Mary and Mattee

 

I found them and handed it over , Mattee started in on me , Why don't you pull out of this mess ? Cul Pepper is gonna marry , Mary

 

He is pulling out , you could too . She finished up with , If you don't , I am leaving , at that point all to be said was , WELL BYE

 

I had rode with these men and could not pull out on them , they needed my help until Cody was healed up at least

 

I headed back to the liverly , with a bad case of mean coming on .

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

Now torture probably doesn't get you the best of answers, but it sure influences the witnesses into understanding your resolve. Bama Red came over and hesitated a moment before slowly drawing the skinning knife across the man's tongue. Let me tell you, that knife was sharp, under it's own weight it sliced into ole smart asses tongue and he struggled, but there was no getting out of my grip. With the pliers pulling I soon had the tip of his tongue separated.

 

"Now I'll call the doc to stitch you up if you do as I asked." I held up the pencil and pad and he reached for them eagerly.

[Chickasaw Bill SASS #70001]

when I got back , the Col , was getting the information he wanted , I ask him for a word in private

 

Col , I have a little suprize in that wagon , there is a Bulldog Gattlin gun in there , ya think it might come in handy ?

 

without a wagon , I ain't got a clue , on how to take it on the raid , y'all be planning

 

if ya hang around long enough ,to get the rest of em, to chase y'all , ya could lead em into an ambush , reform behind the gun , then mop em up

 

sure would increase the odds a tad in our favor

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

"Let's take a look at her" I said to Bill as we headed to the wagon

 

"She's something alright!" I said eagerly as I looked over the gun. As we looked at the gun an idea began to form. "Bill have you ever seen a chariot?"

 

Chickasaw Bill looked at me funny "You mean those two wheeled contraptions the Romans used back in the day?"

 

I smiled "That is exactly what I mean, a man could maneuver pretty well with such a thing, don't ya think?"

 

Chickasaw BIll rubbed his chin "He could at that, but where in the heck are you going to find one; or are we going to make one?"

 

I handed him a flyer for Pawnee Bill's Wild West Show currently playing in Denver "Nah, I think we'll just buy or borrow one"

[Blackwater 53393]

"Deputy Keller says the offer stands!" I told the colonel. "The train pulls out in an hour though. You think we can get loaded what we want and all be ready in that time?"

 

"We can load the horses on the freight car and what gear we can get onto the flat car," Bama said, looking at Bill for confirmation of his thoughts.

 

"The two wagons'll fit on the flatcar loaded if'n you want 'em," Bill agreed. "if they have a loading ramp at the siding."

 

"What about Cody and the girl, Mattie?" Tom asked. "We can't leave 'em just hangin' around here."

 

"Cody's spoilin' fer a fight!" I said. "He ain't in no shape for a fight, but he's itchin' for some payback!"

 

"What's the doc say?" Flint asked, "Can he travel?"

 

"Ain't had words with the sawbones yet." I told him "Cody was over in the saloon. He's feverish and he's drinkin' rye. I told him to eat somethin' and wait for me at the doc's place."

 

The colonel looked around. The train was pulling into the station and had almost stopped. "Hawk! Would you help Bama and the boys get the wagons and horses on the train?" He turned to me, "How about you see about the girl and I'll check on Cody." He started toward the saloon and I turned toward the hotel.

 

I paused for a moment, "Bill! Is Mattie still at the hotel?" He studied my face. "I reckon if she's willing, she can go with us, at least as far as the train takes us."

 

He nodded toward the hotel. "She's in my room," he said. "I s'pose it's up to her!"

 

"Why don't you go talk to her," I grinned and tilted my head toward the wagons. "I'll stay and give them a hand with the wagons and horses."

[Tyrel Cody]

Blackwater was right, the food and the coffee did make me feel much better, I thought, as I walked down to the doc's house. "Hey doc, sorry about earlier, guess there's something about being shot that makes me act a bit funny and just makes me all around grumpy." The doc said, "It's ok, let's look at those wounds." He peeled the bandages off and examined. "Well, there isn't any infection anywhere. The graze on your head is fine and the hole in your shoulder should heal just fine; just keep those bandages changed pretty regular. Do us all a favor and stay off the liquor how about it?"

he said. "Thanks, doc," I said "If the fellers come lookin for me let em know I'm down at the mercantile buyin some clothes that don't have holes in the shoulder and a new hat!" He nodded and said, "Alright, take care of yourself and try not get shot anymore."

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

I saw Cody step into the Mercantile and followed him in. "If your fit to travel we pull out in less than an hour." I said

 

Cody looked at me "I've had girls do worse than this to me on a first date-and that's when it went well. I'll be there as soon as I get some fresh clothes.: I stepped up to the counter and the clerk looked at me. "What can I get you. . . .Sir?" he asked nervously

 

"Dynamite" I replied

 

He looked at me, "How much do you need . . . Sir?"

 

"All of it and get moving, we're racing the clock-now don't ask anymore fool questions and fetch the dynamite" I snarled

 

He raced in back in a few minutes returned pushing a hand cart with 14 cases of dynamite-I handed Cody a large stack of bills-"settle the account while I get us a wagon to haul this to the train." I headed to the station as quickly as I could and caught Red with the last wagon loaded on the flat car. "Crap!" I muttered "Red, we need a driver for a load of supplies, probably best it be you-come on while I borrow a wagon."

 

At the side of the depot, by the freight master's office were several wagons I knocked on the office door and went in "I need a wagon for about 15 minutes, What's it gonna cost?"

 

The freight master looked at me-"Only my men drive my wagon's they aren't for hire." I drew my coltwith a practiced hand bringing my barrel down across his head before he could blink. He hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. I stepped over his sprawled body and wondered if I'd killed him-best not to linger either way-I stepped out of the office into the sun.

 

"He said take the red wagon and just bring it back when your done and he'll see to the horses-let's get to mercantile."

 

"Hyah!" Red shouted as we took the wagon and crossed back to the mercantile, I looked at my colt and pulled a bit of scalp and hair off of the ejector as he set the brake and looked at the wall of dynamite cases stacked out front

 

"J. Mark you are one crazy son of a bitch; I like the way you think"

 

With that he and I loaded the wagon and retrieved Cody as well-Red moved out a bit gentler this time. That's about when Cody handed me a flask.

 

I raised an eyebrow and began to reach to open it when Cody motioned for me to stop "Easy! It's Nitro!"

[Elk Creek LeMieux]

As each of us departed to pack our things or complete assigned chores, I went to the wire office. Finding it empty yet again, I sighed and headed to the hotel. I was gonna have to find money sometime... Maybe if we spent a day or two in Denver it'd be enough time.

 

Packing my few things into my saddlebags, and rolling the few extra clothes up in the bedroll, I heard Bill and Mattie having an argument a few rooms down. I couldn't hear what was said, but after a while it seemed that Mattie relented, and when I finished packing and moved out of the hotel through the hall I saw them arm in arm, coming out of Bills room with their things.

 

I headed back to the livery and saddled Hoss, much better off now that he'd rested, and retrieved the indian pony J Mark had given me, and took them to the train. When I come back out of the cattle car, with an eye toward stashing my things in the passenger car, I nearly ran headlong into that deputy, and a railroad man. I didn't have time to duck my head, and both looked me full in the face.

 

I walked on by and swung up on the passenger car we'd been pointed too earlier, and as I opened the door I stole a glance over my shoulder. The deputy was looking after me with a slight grin on his face, and the railroad man was walking back up the track shouting at a brake man. I nodded my head to the deputy and turned back into the passenger car, hoping he wasn't ambitious enough to try for a trip back to Missouri with me.

 

Mary and Pepper had found seats already, and though Mary didn't even look at me, the nod from Pepper acknowledged I could leave my things on the bench near them and he'd keep an eye on 'em. I could see Bama comin down the road with a wagon loaded with something, and I figured they'd need help moving it all to our wagon on the flatcar. I thought it time to ride light, but I guessed the older men in the group must have their reasons for taking on supplies now so I hopped out of the car and started walking toward them.

[Bama Red]

A bright red wagon, loaded to the gills with fourteen cases of dynamite, rolling slowly down Main Street, with one dry wheel hub squeaking like someone was twisting the devil's tail. Yep, that Col. J. Mark Flint sure was one subtle SOB!

 

We made it to the freight yard and I positioned the wagon to make it as easy as possible to transfer the dynamite to our wagon on the flat car. With help from Tom, Hawk and J. Mark, we made short work of transferring the cases and they were quickly secured and tied down three ways from Sunday. "I sure hope we have good track on this run. I'd sure hate to bounce this dynamite and nitro around too much. I got a feeling we'd make a pretty good-sized crater smack in the middle of the tracks."

 

"Boys, I'm gonna go see to my gear." I said. "I want to make sure everything's there and change my shirt - I've still got blood and bits and pieces of those poor bastards in the livery stuck to me and it stinks."

 

I pulled the wagon around to the end of the depot, set the brake and was just about to leave when the freight clerk came staggering out of his office, screaming bloody murder about how I stole his team and wagon and calling for the law. I met him just as he reached the edge of the freight dock and stuck the butt of the ten gauge in his teeth as hard as I could. Funny, I could actually hear his teeth snapping off as he folded like a deck of cards. He rolled right off the dock and into the bed of the wagon I'd just left. I covered him with a tarp and tied it down tight. "That oughta hold ya for a while.", I mumbled, and headed for the train for a quick wash up and a change of clothes.

[Chickasaw Bill SASS #70001]

the ruckus Tom had overheard , was Me, telling Mattee , the crew was pullin out , and I was going with em

 

She was still as mad as old wet hen . I had told her if she wanted to stay around , go to Ft Smoth and wait there

 

if I got put down , someone would get word to her there , But , she had to get out of town , without the crew to provide securty , she was in danger

 

If she waited or not did not matter to me , my attention had turned to, the other matters at hand Culpepper and Mart had already headed to the train

 

once she was on the train , she could make up her mind , we had the wagons , but , the chairot idea , still needed design work to be useable

 

maybe mount , the tripod on a skid , the recoil was likely to shake it apart , if mounted to the floor its self

 

we still could use some help on the wagons , might have to draft Tom into bein a teamster while Cody healed up some more

 

we hit , the train , so I sat Mattee , close to Mary , she might decide to go with them , wemen , who can understand em

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

Jacob Keller was a lawman, and lawmen are generally suspicious sorts, especially when the fur on his neck started doing the Hootchie Kootchie.

He went into the telegraph office and found out why.

The telegraph set was missing.

He looked out the open door.

The Lady Esther huffed quietly on her rails, the triplet of roses painted under the cab window standing out bright and lifelike against the green cab wall: it, the coaling tower and the water tower were painted the same green, and offered the only real colors in town, all else being grey, brown and otherwise weathered and dessicated.

Jacob went to a hidden panel, kicked it and slid it aside, pulled out a second telegraph set mounted on a board: he set it on the desk, connected the wires -- at least these are still here! he thought -- and he tapped out a quick identifier.

Jacob listened to the reply, sent another inquiry.

His eyes went dead pale, winter pale.

He looked outside, judging Flint's load to be pretty much aboard.

He wasted no time.

 

*** AUTHORITY ROSE 1 ***

ACCEPT NO FURTHER TRAFFIC TRINIDAD STATION

TRIN AGENT FIRED NOW WANTED ATTEMPTED MURDER AUTHORITY FIRELANDS COUNTY SHERIFF X ADVISE FIRELANDS SHERIFF X ADVISE FIRELANDS COURT AGENT SL ROSENTHAL X *** AUTHORITY ROSE 1 *** END

 

Jacob's "fist" -- his cadence on the key -- was known and recognized even without the priority authorization.

Rose One was the highest authorization from the Z&W Railroad and carried the authority of the owner herself.

As the Z&W also owned controlling interest in the short line that ran through Trinidad, it held as much weight there.

Jacob disconnected the spare set, returned it to its secret hide and slid the panel closed, then he strode to the edge of the platform, threw a leg over his stallion and rode the few steps to where Bill the engineer was oiling the connecting rod bearings.

"Bill," he called, "how fast can you get up steam?"

As if in answer, the popoff valve let go and a finger of pure-white steam hissed into the cloudless blue overhead.

"How much do ye want?" Bill asked; he looked beyond the deputy to the fireman, who was just swinging the water spout away after filling their reservoir.

"There's a freight, a special, he's on the high ball right for us. Can you get enough speed to keep him from rammning us?"

"Where is he now?" Bill snapped, his air of near-lethargy dropped like a bad habit.

"Just passed the last switch."

"I got time," Bill declared, swarming up the ladder into the cab: "Miz Esther trusted me with this engine and I ain't lose one piece of rollin' stock yet! Jake! Get in here!"

The fireman half-slid down into the tender and into the cab.

Jacob turned the Appaloosa with his knees.

Apple-horse clattered the bit between his teeth, impatient; Jacob let him -- he'd known horses who'd grab the bit and run off with the rider, but his Apple-horse was knee-trained, and though Jacob routinely installed the bit, he seldom used the reins.

They flowed easily to the passenger car, where Jacob put two fingers to his lips and whistled.

Annoyed, the conductor thrust his head through an open window.

"Washout box! NOW!" Jacob shouted, and the conductor appeared to be yanked back inside by his belt, so quickly did he disappear.

Jacob continued back to the activity on the flatcar.

"Colonel!" he called, waiting until Flint turned to look at him before continuing.

"Colonel, there's a freight bearing down on us right now. My engineer believes he can outrun 'em if we start out now!"

The conductor ran back, a red box in his arms.

"Highball freight behind us," Jacob said, his syllables clipped, precise: "torpedoes here and back!"

The conductor didn't waste time with an answer.

He ran awkwardly to the rear of the train, behind the last flatcar; grounding the box between the rails, he pulled out two small, flat, square, varnished torpedoes, turned and slapped one on the near rail: he wrapped lead straps around the rail, turned, placed the second emergency signal torpedo ten feet down-track; he snatched up a handful of the devices, ran a hundred paces rearward, set two more, staggering these by ten feet as well: another two hundred yards and the uniformed, panting conductor bent once more, placed one, then another, turned and sprinted back.

Jacob walked Apple-horse into the side door Pullman with the others.

 

Bill was the Z&W's most senior engineer.

He'd overseen The Lady Esther's every refit; he tended her like a man tends a favorite lover, and he knew exactly how to get everything possible out of her.

His had been the hand on the throttle when Duzy Wales was shot, on board, and he'd disregarded every speed limit into Firelands, and in so doing, saved her life: he tapped the steam-gauge, reached up for the second whistle's lanyard.

Normally when The Lady Esther whistled, it was with a tuned, harmonious cluster, musical and pleasant to the ear.

Bill had it made and tuned to his personal preference, and it was the audible signature for the Z&W Railroad.

He had a second whistle made, and mounted; it too was tuned, and to his specification, and this was the whistle whose lanyard he hauled on, hard.

The Lady Esther screamed like a damned soul, a wail of agony and of defiance, as if the red-headed Valkyrie herself shook a mailed fist at oncoming Doom and dared it to do its worst.

He opened the sanders and threw steam to the cylinders.

The Lady Esther, manufactured by mistake with an oversized freight boiler and oversized pistons, thrashed at steel rails, throwing sparks and agony until she got hold, then she shouldered into her load and pulled, hauling out of station and picking up speed.

 

[Blackwater 53393]

I'd just settled the sorrel and the dunn into the stock car when I heard the deputy shouting something to the engineer and I stepped out onto the platform and rolled the door shut. When he gave the conductor his orders I knew what might be about to happen. They gave similar orders in the steamship world and on river boats. The wording was different, but the urgency was the same.

 

I headed toward the rear of the train and grabbed the hand rail to haul myself into the caboose just as the whistle screamed it tortured note. Keller was still mounted on his horse and he stood in the stirrups looking back down the rails. I had no idea what I could do from this position. If the trains collided all I could do was hope to jump clear, but as the conductor struggled to overtake the now accelerating train I reached and offered him my hand.

 

"We need to signal that freight somehow!" the conductor panted. "It will be coming any minute and those signals won't stop it. they can only warn it of what's ahead!"

 

I pulled open my vest and pulled out my signal mirror. Looking up I could see that from the platform of the caboose I couldn't get an angle that would reflect the sun back down the tracks. I swung out and grabbed the ladder that ran up to the roof and climbed quickly. Once I reached the roof I could see the smoke from the speeding freight gaining fiercely on our struggling train. I positioned myself so that the flashes from my glass sent beams of sunlight streaking behind us. The whistle shrieked again! The station shrank from view faster and faster as Deputy Keller now waved a red signal flag franticly from the back of his mount. The pursuing freight flashed into sight through the trees on the other side of town and then swung into view, charging headlong up from behind. I could see sparks begin to fly from the wheels of the engine and one by one the cars behind followed suit. The engineer had seen the torpedo signals! I flashed the mirror rapidly hoping to give him some idea fo the shrinking distance. "Get forward!" I shouted at the conductor, "Nothing more for you here!"

 

I climbed onto the raised section of the roof and then forward again to the lower front level. i turned to look and it seemed that the distance had shrunk by half. I flashed the mirror again and then jumped down to the deck of the flat car. The conductor had just reached the ladder of the stock wagon and started to climb. I would have no time to do the same. i peered around the caboose.

[Yellowhouse Sam # 25171]

CC Slaughter was livid and Dan Waggoner was no less so. The fencecutting war in central Texas was basically a remnant of a larger problem that extended from the Concho Valley to the Big Pasture in Oklahoma Territory and that was rampant horse and cattle rustling.... especially across the Red on leased land belonging to the Comanche and Kiowa reservation. These two giants of the west were especially vocal in the presence of Frontier Battalion Captain Hughes and Sergeant Sam (Yellowhouse) McAlister. Thousands of stock had been stolen from the Big Pasture, brands obscured or run, and the herds driven to New Mexico or Colorado Territory. Slaughters Lazy S brand had been compromised by several but seemingly more often by the addition of a Double D. Not so much the the new 3-D brand of Waggoner which was reversed and difficult, but not impossible to alter. Waggoners most pressing problem was the theft of horses that were branded with a D71 prior to the recent partnership with his son.

 

To add to the urgency, a popular Ranger and friend of McAlister had been shot down not far from Doans Crossing on the Red as he was in pursuit of suspected fence cutters and rustlers. Word was that it was the work of a young Pate Blevins or his ilk who moved borrowed cattle from the Plains to New Mexico but had expanded north with his operations. Primarily, the stolen stock was pushed up the Salt Fork of the Red on the old California Trail across the Territory to No Mans Land. From there, it was distributed to any number of nefarious ranching operations located around Las Vegas, Raton, Trinidad, Denver, and further north to Julesburg.

 

Sam had tracked Blevins from near Comanche, TX to Doans Crossing and then to Mobeetie and over west to Tascosa, a brawling little town that provided New Mexico outlawry a foot in the door to the vast Texas herds of horses and cattle. An old pastore there, and honored friend, listened to Sams concerns and desire to bring Blevins to ground. After describing him, old Robles gestured to the NW, "Si compadre! The man you seek and his amigos are driving a horse herd toward Tucumcari or on to Las Vegas. Mebbe so from there to Colorado! Quein Sabe?

 

"Well damnit", I just came from there and here I go in circles!" Sam had his saddle and pack horse reshod and then purchased what needed trail fodder to make the trip to Tucumcari. With that he shoved a new rifle he'd purchased from T. E. Jackson in Ft. Griffin into a saddle scabbard. Not a Winchester carbine or a heavy Sharps....it was a trim Ballard Pacific in 40-90 Sharps caliber. No flatter shooting cartridge existed at the time and plenty powerful to drive through buffalo, horses, or anything else for that matter. Normally, a savvy hostile or outlaw could almost always evade being shot at long distance by the goverment rounds or from the old Henry 44 rimfire by throwing themselves to the ground at the instant gunsmoke was sighted. The speed of the 40-90 negated much of that advantage except at extreme long range. That said he still packed a 73 Winchester for sheer firepower at close distance. It made sense when he was a hide man and it made sense now. Some carried more ammo than needed that most always took away the stamina of your horses when you might need it most. Balance between weight and firepower was the key and Sam was always a believer that marksmanship made up for a trunk full of ammo.

 

Be a long ride he mused as he cleared Tascosa town. "I wonder what in thunder Flint and Blackwater got themselves into by now? Probably bored out of there minds I imagine"

[Chickasaw Bill SASS #70001]

I was headed back to check on the wagons , and the gear , when I heard the whisle scream .

 

I was between the stock car and the flat car , suddenly , I was thrown off the cat walk ,

 

I was barely able to catch myself from falling to the track under the train , as I pulled myself , up onto the flat car

 

I saw Blackwater at the other end , there stacked between the wagons was the 14 or so cases of dynamite

 

if that takes a solid hit there is gonna be a big hole , where the track used to be

[Apache Hawk 60642]

As the train jolted, I was throw back in time, back to the battle of the Wilderness and the Turnpike. I lay flat on my belly and with my spy glass I looked out over the road and the clear field below where the Federals had just marched up and was now reforming to march up again. "By Gawg, they mean to have this hill and I mean for 'em to have to fight me to take it !" I thought to myself . Private Colleen agreed so I guess I wasn't thinking but talking.

 

The movement looked like little blue ants in the smoke and fog as the sun cut through the pines and brush. The blue ants got bigger against the red clay as they marched, and then the sent out their skirmishers . "SKIRMISHERS !" my 1st sergeant called out from the brush........DARKIES TOO ! BOYS GIT READY ! FIX BAYONETS !" That's when I heard the first volley fire from the Federal musket rifles and the minnie balls sent limbs flying in all directions. In seconds I had my bayonet fixed but Colleen was having trouble fixing his. That's when I noticed he wasn't a "he". "He was a "she" ! She was shaking a bit and I said, "We'll talk about this later ! "

 

The first column had reached the knoll just down from where we where and leveled their muskets and with parade ground drill, they fired into the brush where we had taken cover. A few groans and moans and cussing could heard, but as they re-loaded, my captain shouted, "GIVE ' EM HELL BOYS !" That's when the whole of our brigade opened fire with our Springfield rifles, cutting them down like weeds before the scathe . As we where doing that I saw a flash from down in the field below and knew in a instead what was happening and shoveled Private Colleen to one side and then the blast of a shell in the tree tops raining down death on us from above.

 

But as sudden as it had started , it had stopped. The bugle sounded with drawl but not retreat . Damn.......another fight on another day ! I rolled over onto my back and listening to moans and groans of our men, then and occasional scream of the negro being bayonetted , the I went to find Private Colleen. When I found her, she had been wounded in the hand by a flying limb from the cannon shot, and yet she had managed to have a small fire going.

 

"Private Colleen.....what's you're company ?" I demanded. "1st Texas, Sargent !" she said with pride. She was with my company and yet I didn't even know it. She must have know what I was thinking and she beat me to it. "Sargent ......I have been with this company since it was first formed and in every battle it has fought. I have fought beside men, bleed beside men, seen our men die and killed men. Even if you send me back home, I'll come right back and fight agin."

 

She was right and trouble was, I knew it. "Hello the fire.........what company are y'all ?" was a hush from the brush that one could not see through. "1st Texas.....what about you ?" I asked. "Same !" came the reply. Damn......it was Caudell ! He had made it through and was more than welcome. I made the introductions and he knew right off the bat that Colleen was a women, but didn't a word. Then Jefferson came in. And the best part was he had a frying pan and each of us and some hard tack and corn bread and maybe some salt pork. Jefferson had that and he broke out his frying pan, which was nothing more than a small canteen that had been beaten flat. He sat it in the edge of the fire and the sizzling meat smelled good.

 

Then there came a crash there the brush and every one put their Springfield's on that noise and was mad as hell because they knew it was going to be a Yankee that had gotten lost. Most likely hungry and there wasn't even enough for themselves much less a captive. But it was the captain. "Stand down boys ! Just looking for the 47th Carolina......y'all seen 'em ? " I spoke up and said "No Sir, we aint. Think maybe they are further that way." pointing to the east of our position. "Got to find them boys.....General Lee wants to charge Mead's main body tomorrow to take pressure off our position here, and they need to know it, so I gotta find 'em."

 

"Sir , ya be hungry ?" Caudell asked, offering up our only piece of salt pork that had just finished frying. "No thank you private, but if you would like I could leave you this." and he sat down his canteen and picked up one of ours. I picked up his as he left, tearing through the undergrowth again looking foe the 47th Carolina. "What's that, Sargent " Colleen ask me. I poured some into my cup and sipped it and said, "Taste bad........like a boiled grain or something." "Yup....that's as close to coffee as we have." Jefferson said.

[Elk Creek LeMieux]

I was still on the flatcar with the wagons as the engineer opened up the engine and the train jolted forward. As we came off the side track we all saw that freighter coming up on us and I looked around at that dynamite nervously...

 

Getting shot was one thing, getting blown the hell up scared me worse than I'd have admitted to anyone. I wondered if the caboose would be enough to dampen the impact of the freighter, then Blackwater was jumping down from the caboose, and the conductor was already climbing the stock car ahead of our flatcar. Bill was staring at the dynamite...

 

I grabbed a wagon to anchor myself and leaned out again, looking back down the track around the caboose. The freight was gaining on us, not so fast as he had been, but still faster than I was comfortable with. It was gonna be awful close between us pulling away or him hitting us, and we didn't have much time.

 

I ran back to the coupler between the flatcar and the caboose. If we could turn the caboose free from our train, the weight of it on the nose of the freight might slow him just enough to keep him off the flat car, and the dropped weight might help our engine pull faster. I doubted the weight of the caboose on the nose of freight would hurt him much. But I looked down at the coupler, and realized I had no idea how to turn the caboose free...

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

I grabbed Tom by the shoulder and pulled him away from the coupler. "You can't uncouple that link and pin system while the train is pulling-Get away from here, I've got this!"

 

Using my bandanna I tied the small flask of nitro to the underside of the coupler and backed off to the cases of dynamite, lifting one and moving it to the very forward edge of the car so that the wagons were between it and the Nitro. Tom grabbed another and in a minute we had made as much space as possible. I climbed up into a wagon and drew my pistol.

 

"Best head forward Tom, I'm not sure if this is going to be safe."

 

Tom did as I asked and I distantly heard him say "God's speed" I muttered "Wrong deity. But thanks" then I pulled the trigger.

 

The nitro explosion lifted the tail end of the flat car and flipped the entire caboose into the air flipping it end over end. The flatcar coupler ripped loose and I was only able to take two steps and leap off the side before the car began to tumble rolling sideways and throwing dynamite cases in every direction. I hit the ground and covered my head as I heard the first explosion.

[Elk Creek LeMieux]

As J Mark climbed into the wagon and aimed his pistol, I was reaching from the flatcar to the ladder of the stock car. Bill was on the roof of the stock car looking down at us and hollering something, but the fear of the explosion I knew was coming was on me, and the blood in my ears was rushing too loud for me to hear him. Just as I got a hold and and began to climb, a pistol report dimly pierced the fog on my ears, then a roar as the bottle J Mark had tied to the coupler exploded.

 

My left foot on the ladder, I lifted my right from the flat car just as something beneath me broke with an angry shriek of tearing steel. The fear had a grip on me now, and I could feel my body going clumsy, my hands feeling wooden and slow to respond. I tried to climb as I dimly heard the flatcar leave the track just feet behind me, but as I reached for the next rung another explosion close behind me sounded, and the force of it slammed me into the back wall of the stock car.

 

I felt my feet slip as my body rebounded from the force of the explosion, and my fingers start to tear loose from the rung above me. Another explosion sounded and flattened me against the car again, and this time there was no holding on, though I was only dimly aware that I was slipping free of the ladder. I felt pressure on my wrist however, and through a long tunnel I saw Bill's hand grabbing hold. Also through that tunnel, ever lengthening, Blackwaters head appeared, his hat gone and his hair blowing wildly in the wind. I was falling down that tunnel, though I felt weightless the sensation was unmistakeable.

 

Then I knew no more...

[Chickasaw Bill SASS #70001]

I managed to grab hold of Tom , Blackwater grabbed me , and , we hauled him up to the top of the railcar with the stock in it

 

the Col , at last look was hitting the ground and rolling , lucky for him , it was a sluce ditch , full of water and mud , about as soft as ya can get

 

given the speed we was going , good thing , he had been thrown clear of the road bed

 

all the time spent , getting the wagons , guns , and supplys sorted out , had just been blown all over the place

 

we were at least keeping some distance from the other train , not gaining much , but not closing as fast , as it was

 

there was a good sized shop in Denver , I could replace most of the firearms , but the gattling gun was gonna be hard to replace

 

even though it was packed well , I figured it would take , quite a bit of fixing , to be operational again

 

It appears , we have , lots to sort out , if the raid is gonna be carried out as planned

 

we still had the horses , replacing the wagons , should not be that hard , but , I doubt , they will be set up as well , as what we lost

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

The brakeman stopped, his jaw hanging.

Two men were struggling up over the edge of the stock car, but behind them ...

Distance was hard to judge in the high, clear air, but there was no mistaking the blunt, black freight engine thrusting aggressively through the opaque brown cloud, driving into the derailed flat car still rolling sideways across the tracks, the other flat car a-tumble beside: its end dug in, the rest of the car flew high in the air, hesitated as it almost balanced on end, then fell, slowly at first, part of its cargo still securely lashed to the deck, at least until it fell, upside-down, to the rocky ground.

There was a flash and a moment later a giant slapped the brakeman's ears with both hands, just as another massive detonation lifted the freight engine a man's height off the iron rails.

It, too, blew up, the cough of its death deeper, more powerful, and more deadly.

Iron, rivets, scrap metal flew for an amazing distance as the highballing freighter's energies were released in a moment: the brakeman clapped a hand to his head, his hand came away bloody, and the rest of his life he'd be known as One- Ear Malone.

Deputy Keller thrust his head out the open side door just in time for something to whizz past his ear, the vicious rumble of a Brombindanigan bee, for all the world like the musket-balls his father described on one of the very rare occasions when he spoke of battle during that damned War: Jacob jerked back reflexively, then looked again, his stomach falling about twenty feet inside him, settling finally about his boot tops.

"Dear God in Heaven," he whispered, then gathered a great breath: COLONEL! COLONEL FLINT! ARE ANY YET ALIVE?"

 

Sheriff Linn Keller considered the telegram, tapped it thoughtfully with gentle fingertips.

He knew his son and he knew the man was not given to hyperbole -- nor to a waste of good money on excessively long missives, as a telegram was an expensive communication.

Even if the Keller family owned the railroad and the telegraph as well.

Judge Hostetler will be in town today, he thought.

I'll swear out the warrant.

He looked at the telegram again.

I'll put Lightning to getting the man's name.

He looked up, at the opposite wall, his eyes pale.

Meanwhile ... I will just go speak with Agent Rosenthal.

The Sheriff stood, twisting his back a little, listening to his vertebrae crackle and complain; he reached up, plucked his Stetson off its peg, and picked up his engraved '73 rifle, a wedding gift from his wife.

He turned it a little, read the graven message on its sideplate:

To my beloved husband

Sheriff Linn Keller

Firelands County, Colorado

From your loving wife Esther

He closed his eyes for a long moment and remembered how her hair smelled, and how her green eyes glowed with pleasure when she watched their son cantering down the dirt street on his stallion, he remembered how she looked the day before she ...

He shook his head.

He remembered his wife, great with child, her face glowing the way a woman will when she is near to birthing her young.

"It is a girl," she whispered to him, her hand gently on her great belly, "and we will name her Dana."

The Sheriff took another long breath.

She's dead now, he told himself.

Let her go.

He squared his shoulders, paced off on the left, reached for the door latch.

[Linn Keller, SASS 27332, BOLD 103]

I can reach that.

Jacob swung a leg out, reached, grabbed: he had a grip on the rung, kicked with the boot still in the stock car, hung in space for a moment, then found the rung with his other foot.

He climbed.

There were men atop the car, men shaken and pale but alive, and if they were alive, they would know more than the deputy.

"How many are lost?" he shouted.

"Flint" -- a hand raised -- "he's in the ditch, I think alive."

The deputy turned to the brakeman.

"Make for the engine," he shouted. "Back up!"

"What?" the brakeman blurted.

Jacob seized him by his shirt front, left handed, stood up and brought the brakeman up with him: "MY FATHER DID NOT LEAVE A MAN BEHIND AND BY GOD! I WILL NOT EITHER!"

Jacob's eyes were the color of a glacier's heart, his face pale and tight-drawn across his facial bones, and the brakeman doubted not for a moment that the deputy would as soon toss him overboard and deliver the message himself if he showed any hesitation.

A moment later the brakeman was working forward, toward the engine.

Jacob followed him with his eyes, a phrase coming unbidden to mind:

He has his sea legs, he thought. I could not do as well.

 

The explosions shivered the cracked windows in the Trinidad saloon and shook the long-dead clock off the wall: it fell behind the bar, broke a couple of the floor boards as it hit, then fell face-down.

The barkeep picked it up and it began to tick, the pendulum picking up momentum behind its window.

"Well I'll be damned," he muttered. "Here, Pete, gimme a hand, willya? I'm puttin' this back up!"

 

Patrons, idlers and shopkeepers ran to open doors, to flyspecked windows, wondering at the sudden noise.

When the freight came screaming through town -- screaming, for the engineer recognized the sudden ba-bang, ba-bang, ba-bang! of torpedoes detonating under his wheels, and laid on the whistle as a warning to whatever lay ahead, while his own brakeman scrambled atop the nearest car, thrust his brakeman's club through the cast-iron wheel and began frantically, desperately, tightening down the hand brakes, cursing the railroad for not adopting the Z&W's innovative new Westinghouse air brakes.

The lead straps holding the brown-varnished, sand-bottomed torpedoes to the rail, flew whistling through the air; most went harmlessly, two struck a shed near the depot and one barely missed the saloon swamper who was pouring a can of smoking ashes into the street outside.

An old man, half blind, crippled up and living with his daughter and her young son, jumped and dropped the ancient newspaper he was reading for the hundredth time: "Jehosapaht," he shouted, "cannon fire! All hands on deck! Battle stations, the enemy is upon us! Gun crews to guns, powder monkeys get out!"

His daughter, a worn-looking woman whose hair was prematurely gone to grey, reached for the bottle she kept on a shelf near the stove: she poured a shot of the stuff into a glass she kept beside the bottle and took it quickly in to the old man in the wood-and-wicker wheel chair.

"Here, Father," she said, "the Navy prescribes grog for all hands," and the old man knocked it back, swallowed, grimaced.

"God Almighty that's bitter," he swore, handing it back.

A young boy stood in the doorway, watching.

"Well don't just stand there, sailor," the old man shouted, "sound general quarters and be quick about it! Up the halyards, you lot, crack on sail and prepare to come about!"

He seized the chair's big front-mounted wheels and thrust himself toward the front door, and the young boy, skipping quickly ahead of him, yanked the door open before he could collide with the closed portal.

"Tommy, don't humor him --" the woman called as the old man ran full-bore off the edge of the low porch.

For a miracle he neither dumped the wheelchair over nor did his wheel-spokes collapse; shouting, he wheeled himself out into the street, pulling a bugle from the pouch on the side of his chair.

The boy ran beside his grandfather as the old man bugled General Quarters and began bawling orders, as if he were on the deck of a man-o-war once again.

 

The brakeman hung on the side of the stock car, a red flag in hand.

The Lady Esther was backing now, and he was the engineer's eyes: when need be he would flag the engine, and The Lady Esther would throw the air, and her Z&W rolling stock would stop.

Jacob watched from atop the stock car, his eyes dead pale and cold as the winter's sky.

Whether he found the missing telegrapher first, or the Agent found him first, mattered little.

The telegraph agent's days on this earth were numbered, and the number of his days was very small.

Very small.

[Blackwater 53393]

I climbed down from the stock car when the train came to a stop. Deputy Keller was shouting orders to the brakeman, but all I could hear was a buzz and a whistle like a giant tea kettle. The blasts had deafened me. I headed back down the track toward the wreckage looking for Flint and surveying the damage and loss. I spied my hat and picked it up, examining it as I continued to where I thought the colonel had landed. "No worse than the battle of Franklin," I thought aloud, brushing it off and putting it back on my head.

 

The momentum of the freight engine had carried it past the point where J. Mark had been thrown from the flatcar before it had exploded. The cow catcher and front truck lay upside down on the rails. The boiler was split nearly half it's length and the firebox, though still attached, hung by only a few remaining rivets. The cab was laying on it's right side along with the rear truck and drive wheels, the coal tender still attached. there were several cars all accordioned behind the tender and five cars still on the track.

 

I could see a man in overalls, still on his hands and knees, several yards past the main pile of wreckage and I hurried to see about him. Chickasaw Bill caught up with me about the time I reached what turned out to be the brakeman from the freight. The man was stunned but only slightly injured. "He'll be alright!" I said to Bill and signed as well, figuring he probably couldn't hear me either. He nodded and pointed further down track. There, beside where the caboose of the freight stood, was a man entirely covered in mud and slime. He had no hat and one of his boots was missing, his vest was torn and there were no buttons remaining on it, but his colt was still in it's holser and he was trying to light what remained of a cigar.

 

"Here! Try one of mine!" I offered a small cheroot from a case I kept in my inside vest pocket. "They're a little less the worse for wear." I struck a lucifer I'd taken from the case.

 

"That was a helluva wreck," he said, "I wish I'd been able to see it from a distance!"

 

"I can't hear a thing!" I said and signed to him.

 

He nodded and repeated what he'd said in sign. We both began to laugh almost hysterically.

 

About the time we had finished howling with laughter, Bill, Red, Cody, and Hawk joined us. "Tom was knocked out," Bama said, "He's coming around now and looks like he'll be all right in a little while."

 

"See if we can find my other boot and my hat," the colonel said as he took another puff on the small cigar, "and then we'll see what we can salvage."

 

"Your other man's gonna' be okay!" Deputy Keller said as he walked up to us. "This was all caused by the telegrapher in Trinidad, and I'll have his head on a pike for it!" He looked over the scene of destruction as he climbed aboard his Appoloosa and the anger in his face seemed to grow cold and deadly. "I'll ride back to town and get some help out here. We'll have a crew down here by morning to clear the track." He kneed his horse around and headed for Trinidad.

 

Bill and the colonel made sign to tell me what the deputy had said. I was beginning to hear their voices, although they were still only muffled mumblings to me. I nodded and stood up. "Let's get too it." I said and turned to check out what was left. "We need a wagon!" I said to whoever could hear me.

 

"If we can get a team off of the stock car, I'll go and fetch us a wagon," Bama said confidantly. He and Bill went to see about the horses while Hawk and I helped the colonel look for his missing boot and hat.

[Elk Creek LeMieux]

Something cold and wet pressed on my forehead.

 

I opened my eyes and had a brief vision of an angel, but the light that my open eyelids let in woke up a tiny miner with a chisel and a hammer, and he started trying to make his way out through my skull.

 

I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, then shifted, and tried to easy up to a sitting position. When I opened my eyes again the world was swimming, and I felt the small lunch I'd had before we boarded the train begin to rise in my throat. I quickly turned my head to the side and rolled over to my hands and knees as my stomach began to evacuate it's contents. The miner in my head increased his efforts tenfold and I have no idea how much time went by while I gagged and coughed.

 

A hand pressed a cold canteen into mine and the cold wet feeling returned to my forehead. After a few minutes the dwarf eased off a bit and I felt a little steadier.

 

I settled back on my haunches and eased an eye open. I'd never seen the small blond woman who was attending me, but she was a vision of beauty a corner of my mind would no doubt appreciate were it properly arranged.

 

We were on the ground near the edge of the tracks, the train was stopped, and there was splintered wood and twisted steel everywhere. I could see a group of men standing down the tracks a little way, and someone riding off on a horse. There was more wreckage down the track there, where they stood. I sipped a little more water with the blond womans help, and after a few minutes two of the men began walking back toward us. Looking forward up the tracks I could see some of the passengers making their way toward us and down the track to others.

 

I felt no pain anywhere but my head, so I decided to stand up and meet the men walking toward us on my feet. Just as soon as I got straitened out though, the world started swimming again, and the water I had sipped came back up. I felt my knees giving out and a small hand reached out to steady me, then strong hands had me by each arm and a voice I didn't recognize was telling someone else to get me into the car where I could lay still and not move for a while. I expected a short trip to the cattle car, and moved my feet toward it, only to be steered up the track toward the passengers cars.

 

A small female voice spoke up, "put him in my cabin, my Mother used to help Pa with his patients."

 

The walk was a challenge, but I was determined that my legs would carry as much of me as they could, and in short order I was laying on a small bed in one of the forward cars. The miner in my head had gone back to work and I was only dimly aware of a heavy built older woman pushing everyone out of the tiny room and pulling a small bottle out of a bag. She gave me a spoonful from the bottle, and the pain in my head began to ease, though the last bit of focus in my vision left soon after.

 

"You just lay back and be still son," she said. "You ain't gonna feel up to doin much for a day or two, unless you had all that swelling on your head before the explosion."

 

I tried to explain that I had only been pushed against the back of car by it, but she hushed me like the impatient mother I suspected she was. As she laid a new cold cloth on my head she repeated herself, "Just lay back and be still. It's gonna take us a minute to get moving again and I don't reckon you'll be any use to anyone right now." She followed this with another spoonful from that bottle, and I felt my body going slack. The heavy old woman was sitting beside me squeezing my hand and talking about something that wasn't making any sense to me. Something about not sleeping even though she'd just told me to lay back. About how her brother had gone to sleep after a near miss by a shell in the war and had never woken up. But that didn't make any sense, right now I needed sleep and I was comfortable, and on a bed again... A sharp pain in my hand brought me back, the old woman was telling me to stay awake.

 

I don't know how long I listened to her talk about her brother, her husband, her children... Some time had gone by when someone knocked at the door and she stood to open it. I heard a voice that I recognized asking questions, and hers refusing to let the man in until he'd cleaned himself up. I lifted my head a little but all I could make out was a tall figure coated in mud and dirt. The man left with the older woman telling him she'd send her daughter when it was time for them to come get me, and the small blond woman came back into the room and quietly took a seat somewhere out of my vision. It took me some time to work it all out but I decided the man covered in mud must have been the Colonel, checking on his troops. That was good... He hadn't been hurt when that flatcar tore loose I reckoned...

 

The small room smelled good, and some part of me down deep inside, missed the mother I'd lost shortly after returning home wounded and weak, all those years ago. I liked listening to this older woman talk, I decided, steady and soothing, and I drifted off to a place not quite asleep, but not quite awake.

 

The light was fading when I hear our engine begin to wake up, and shortly afterward the cars jolted and began to move.

 

The door opened and someone handed food to the small blond, but her mother wouldn't let me eat any of it, though it smelled good.

 

It wasn't long after we were clipping along down the tracks that the old woman announced I was out of danger, another small spoonful out of that bottle followed, and the light outside the windows was nearly gone. Someone lit a small lantern, but now it was time for me to sleep.

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

We walked through the wreckage looking for anything that might have survived. I chuckled when I found the first of several shattered dynamite case. It laid upon a pile of sticks on dynamite all of which were intact. I found a full case and picked it up, hoisting it on my shoulder and making my way back towards the train.

 

Blackwater spotted me and waved to get my attention, pointing to the dynamite. I pointed back to where I had found it and limped on-missing my boot as my foot found every sharp stone along the way. Before I reached the train I set the crate down and used it as a chair. I was tired and walking lopsided wasn't helping. I pulled off my right boot and sock, finding both soaked in blood. With each heartbeat there was a little spray out of the top of my foot. I inspected my boot and found a small sliver of steel had sliced through the top just barely jabbing into my foot. I looked around for anything clean to tie it up with, but I was doing a fine impression of a buffalo, just out of the wallow. Bama Red came by and handed me a folded bandanna and a flask. I looked at him and signed "Damn, even the angels are ugly." He shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands up in the universal sign of not understanding. I spoke, the sound of my own voice heavy and muffled. "Thanks."

 

with a swig of whisky and a half a shot for a wash, I saw the little hole from which the blood was squirting. It was about a 1/4" long, but deep, more a puncture than a cut, I chewed up the end of the cigar and bit off the damp tobacco pressing it against the cut and holding it there for a bit before tying on the bandanna. Blackwater and the boys had retrieved all that was salvageable. around. I removed the bandanna and the tobacco and found the blood was no longer squirting out. I applied a fresh wad of tobacco and wrapped it back up.

 

I returned to the train and retrieved my saddle bag and from it I retrieved a pair of moccasins and some clean clothes, tossing the rags I was wearing out on the ground as the garbage they now were. I rinsed out the bandanna in a pan of water and did my best to clean myself up a bit,

 

I said a few words aloud and to no one, finding the echoes to be dissipating and the ringing in my ears to be lessened greatly. Cody took the seat across from me and spoke "You sure escaped the grim reaper today" He said, sounding more concerned than anything else. I replied "I'm gonna miss that hat. And at best, I put off till tomorrow what he wanted to do today."

[Bama Red]

After helping J. Mark with his foot, I decided I'd better take a survey of myownself. I'd seen some blood spots here and there on my shirt and pants, but thought they was from other folks. Turned out most of 'em were wood splinters and small slivers of steel. My front side looked like the backside of a kid caught stealing watermelons and peppered with rock salt!

 

'Bout this time, Bill came back with a team and the two of us hitched 'em up to a wagon that had survived the blast and wreck without too much damage. The side rails was gone where the wagon had rolled and snapped them off, but most of the stake pockets were intact, so we could cobble together some new sideboards, should it be necessary. A quick check of the wheels and axles and we were off to gather up what could be salvaged.

 

I was beginning to rethink this marvelous adventure in search of lost Confederate gold. More and more it seemed to me that it was a group of cowboys on a fool's errand in search of fool's gold! "Well, in for a penny, in for a pound", I muttered under my breath. "A pound of what?", asked Bill. "Bill, it's a pound of 'I don't care' and a peck basket full of 'I feel a powerful need to kill someone!".

[Chickasaw Bill SASS #70001]

Bama , I hope ya is up to some heavy liftin , these here boxes , AIN'T gonna be light ,

 

we came upon the ammo and the gattling gun , the box , it was in was still mostly intact , and the ammo was scattered over about 1/2 an acre

 

the Spencer shotguns , were mostly in one pile , a bit, of parts swappin , some could be rebuilt from the mess

 

most of the food was ruined , there was some canned stuff to be found , the coffee was all gone , scattered to the winds

 

DANG , gonna have to do an almost total resupply , before much else happens

 

lucky , for me all my carryin guns were in the stock car , with the string of Grays , had some ammo , but would need to get more

 

I found the saddle bags , that had been under the seat of the other wagon that was destoryed , with everything still in em

 

Bama , we gotta put together some kinda sideboards , for this , peice of a wagon , might be able to salvage em from the other one

 

BAMA , ask , ya gonna do anything , xcept , dig through the piles and sort out stuff ?

 

YEP , I said , as I handed him a jug of whiskey , I is gonna have a drink