Ironhorse

65

The sun felt warm on my face. It was a new day, and sleep apparently was not an option, at least for the foreseeable future. Virgil and I had been in many sleep-deprived situations before, situations in which we had to operate on gumption and get-go, and this was shaping up to be one of those very situations. We walked down the street, heading to meet Sam and figure out what important information young Charlie was talking about regarding Abigail and Emma. The air was crisp, and there was not a cloud in the morning sky as Virgil, Berkeley, Hobbs, the governor, and I followed Charlie as he hurried ahead in front of us. Virgil and I lagged behind, out of earshot of the others.

“What do you allow, Virgil?”

“Hard to speculate.”

I didn’t say anything else as we continued walking.

“You?” Virgil said.

“Don’t know,” I said. “Been sort of expectant about it.”

“Sort of?”

“More than sort of.”

We walked on for a bit.

“I saw it right off,” Virgil said.

“What?”

“Feelings,” Virgil said. “The feelings that sprung up between the two of you. You and Emma. Short time as it was, I saw it.”

We walked a bit more.

“Like you surmised,” I said. “After we disconnected from the first coach, there was not a damn thing we could do about the fact Emma and Abigail were headed north and we were headed south but I’ve not for an extended moment stopped thinking about them, Virgil.”

“Nope,” Virgil said. “Me neither.”

“I hope to hell they are alive.”

Virgil rested his hand on my shoulder.

“Me too, Everett,” Virgil said. “Me too.”

Up ahead, the governor looked back to Berkeley.

“Just where is the boy headed, Mr. Berkeley?” the governor said. “Where is this Sam?”

“At the depot, sir,” Berkeley said. “Sam is the Half Moon Junction stationmaster.”

We walked by the tent encampments as we neared the depot. I did not need the aroma of coffee and bacon cooking to remind me I was getting hungry again. Just before we passed the encampment I heard the sound of a locomotive building up steam followed by two blasts of the engine’s whistle. When we cleared the last tent I saw the engine coming down the track. It was a Yard Goat, a heavy duty 0-6-0 locomotive, used for moving cars around switchyards. It was engineered by a burly man with his hairy arm hanging out the window.

“That Sam?” Hobbs said.

Berkeley shook his head.

“No, that’s Uncle Ted, Sam’s uncle in the Yard Goat,” Berkeley said. “Looks like he’s getting the track cleared.”

The Goat was connected to the coaches that had been left on the track and was in the process of pulling them into the switchyard.

Berkeley pointed to a little man walking next to the Yard Goat.

“That’s Sam there,” Berkeley said.

Sam switched the rails, and the Yard Goat whistle blasted two shorts and moved the cars slowly off the main track onto a side rail that dead-ended in the switchyard.

Sam said something to Uncle Ted and gestured up the track to the north. Uncle Ted nodded, saying something back, and throttled the Goat into the yard. Sam walked down the track toward the depot with his hands in the front pockets of his overalls.

As we neared the depot, the Yard Goat stomped past us, moving the coaches onto the dead-end section of track behind the water tower. Just below the Yard Goat’s window was a skillfully drawn chiaroscuro of a muscled horse running at a full gallop. Under the painting was the single word: Ironhorse.

When the coaches passed, Sam saw us walking toward the depot, and only then was it apparent Sam was in fact a woman dressed like a man. She wore a man’s shirt under her bib overalls and had a bowler hat snugged down low on her head.

We arrived at the porch of the depot at the same time as Sam. Sam’s skin was dark from the sun, and her eyes were sapphire blue.

“Burton,” Sam said.

“Sam,” Berkeley said. “This is the governor, Mr. Hobbs, Marshal Cole, Deputy Hitch. Charlie here said you had some information?”

“Charlie, go on and help Uncle Ted with them cars.”

“Okay, Sam,” Charlie said.

Charlie scampered off the depot steps and ran toward the Ironhorse.

“What is it, Sam?” Berkeley said.

“Yes, please,” the governor said. “The boy said you have information about my daughters?”

Sam removed her bowler, revealing her close-cropped blond hair, and narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, looking at the governor.

“Yes, sir, Governor, sir,” she said. “Let me show you.”