Ironhorse

23

Virgil wasted no more time with words or thought. He started moving forward up the aisle at a quick pace, and I followed. He spoke to the undertaker as we stepped over the dead man: “Take care of this fallen fellow. And be diligent about it.”

We continued walking forward. When we crossed through the rain from one platform to the next, there was a hard jolt in the movement of the train.

When we reentered through the rear door of the uphill coach the passengers turned in their seats and looked back at us. They were wide-eyed watching us as we hurried up the aisle.

Virgil opened the front coach door, and when he did we quickly understood why the train had previously jolted.

We had been disconnected and were drifting away from the first passenger car and engine. Rain was swirling and it was dark, but we could vaguely see the silhouette of someone on the back platform. He was watching us as we faded away from the front section of the train.

“Hellfire,” I said.

Whoever it was, whoever had disconnected us, whoever had outmaneuvered us, was now traveling on into the distant darkness.

Virgil said nothing.

The train was now in three separate sections: the engine and first coach with Emma and Abigail on board, the second and third coach with us, and the fourth coach back to the caboose with Vince, the remainder of the bandits, Bloody Bob, and, if they were still alive, the governor and his wife.

I got down on my knees to check the air-line valve and quickly determined it had already been closed.

We were still moving forward from the momentum, but in no time we would soon be rolling backward.

“Looks like we’re now gonna be bumping into Vince and Bloody Bob sooner than we expected,” I said. “That’s a fact.”

I got back to my feet.

“And a hell of a lot sooner than they expected,” I said.

Virgil just shook his head slightly.

“They will roll slower than us,” I said. “With us in just these two coaches, we’ll be rolling downhill faster.”

Virgil didn’t say anything. He just remained looking forward.

“And when we do,” I said, “we’ll need to ride these handbrakes, controlling our speed.”

Virgil continued looking up the track as if he didn’t believe what was happening.

“They got a head start, but we’ll catch up to them,” I said. “Hopefully before they bottom out. They got more friction, more cars.”

I felt as though I was just talking so Virgil wouldn’t think what he was thinking.

“Vince and the others on those cars back there have to control their speed; otherwise, there will be a train wreck if they don’t,” I said. “Us too, we have to control our downhill speed or we will get to rolling too fast and lose control. We should turn off the lamps so we are dark. Don’t want them to see us coming up on ’em.”

“The fox got in the henhouse,” Virgil said as he continued looking up the track.

“The Yankee?”

“Might well be the Yankee,” Virgil said.

“You’re not thinking that sodbuster we left with my eight-gauge,” I said, “or the dandy had a hand in this, do you?”

Virgil stayed looking up the track.

“You didn’t see that preacher fellow back there, did you?” Virgil said.

“Preacher fellow?” I said.

“In this car. The preacher fellow that had been sitting row five, west side, aisle,” Virgil said.