Ironhorse

11

Dean was thinking hard about why he wasn’t being counted when Virgil interrupted his thought process.

“Turn around, face that door,” Virgil said. “Pull the shade, put your hands above the door.”

Dean did as he was instructed.

Virgil walked down the aisle and picked up the Orbea Hermanos pistola Dean had dropped.

“Don’t think about nothing but keeping your nose to that door, Dean,” Virgil said.

“I won’t.”

Virgil looked to the passengers.

“Anybody here good with a gun and not afraid to use it?”

A sodbuster sitting with a frail woman lifted off his seat slightly and removed a floppy-brimmed hat from his head.

“I don’t got no gun, but I ain’t afraid to use one, ’specially on them,” the sodbuster said, pointing at Dean.

“What’s your name?” Virgil said.

“Ness,” the sodbuster said.

Virgil looked at the young woman by his side.

“This your wife?”

“She is.”

The frail woman offered a nervous, thin-lipped smile.

Virgil checked the chamber of Dean’s pistola. He spun the cylinder to see if it was full, then handed the pistola to Ness.

“That skinny fellow at the door,” Virgil said. “Shoot him if he moves.”

“Yes sir,” Ness said.

An older, dandy-looking gentleman wearing a finely tailored suit stood up from his seat toward the rear of the coach.

“Marshal,” the dandy said. “I’m heeled.”

The dandy pulled a .38 plated short-barrel from his vest pocket and showed it to Virgil.

“I’m a retired veteran of the Army,” the dandy said. “I’ve killed before, and I’m not afraid to do it again.”

“What’s your name?” Virgil asked.

“Cavanaugh,” the dandy said. “Captain Lowell Cavanaugh.”

Virgil pointed to Dean.

“Do the same, Captain,” Virgil said. “Point that short-barrel at him. He makes a move, pull the trigger.”

“That I will do,” Cavanaugh said.

“Hear that, Dean?” Virgil said.

“I do,” Dean said with his nose to the door. “I ain’t moving.”

The locomotive was working hard, chugging up a long, gradual grade. Virgil reached down with one hand, grabbed the collar of one of the dead robbers. He dragged him out of the doorway and slid him off the side of the platform. I followed suit, and a big elderly man gave me a hand. We dragged the dead men out of the doorway and discarded them off the side of the platform and onto the hardscrabble earth passing by.

Virgil stood tall, looking at the passengers.

“Everybody just remain calm. My deputy and I will be best suited if you stay seated and don’t fret.”

Abigail and Emma were standing together in front of the first row of seats, holding hands. Abigail was still shaking. She took a deep breath.

“Marshal,” Abigail said. “What about our mother and father?”

Her voice was much different from her sister’s. It was husky, yet she sounded like a little girl.

Virgil tipped his head to the seat.

“Why don’t you and your sister have a seat,” Virgil said.

Abigail did as Virgil asked and lowered herself onto the seat with her shoulders held back and her chin up, as if she were royalty. Emma stayed standing for a moment, then sat next to her sister.

“We’re gonna do everything we can to get everyone off this train safely,” Virgil said. “Including your mother and father.”

“Thank... thank you,” Abigail said with a trembling voice. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I... I’m just frightened.”

“I know,” Virgil said. “But me and Everett are here now, and we’re not.”

Abigail lowered her chin. The small move made her eyes appear bigger than they already were as she looked up at Virgil.

“We have been doing this kind of work a long time,” Virgil said. “We are good at it. It’s what we do.”

Emma looked at me.

“These men have broken the law,” Virgil said. “Going against the law is the same as going against me and Everett. We don’t take kindly to notions like that. Understand?”

Abigail dipped her head slightly.

“Also,” Virgil said, “I don’t like them. None of them. Neither does Everett.”