Ironhorse

75

Richard III wrote back and straightaway confirmed two important facts. The first being that plum pudding was sure enough the answer to the governor’s inquiry, and the second was that the telegraph signal was still most certainly weak. The governor sat in the chair next to the desk. He pinched at the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“I suppose this provides us the necessary conclusion for you to get under way, Marshal?”

“Does,” Virgil said.

Virgil turned, looking out the window north up the rail.

“What about that?” Virgil said.

He looked back to me as he pointed up the track.

In the far distance at the top of the incline north of town, we could see the smoke from the Ironhorse as it came over the rise and started down the grade toward the depot.

I knew what Virgil was thinking.

“That Yard Goat got tender enough to travel between the water stations, Sam?” I said.

“Sure,” Sam said. “Well, of course, it depends.”

“On what?” Virgil asked.

“The load it’s pulling,” Sam said. “On its own, no problem, though. Won’t do too much too long; it’s only got a sloped back twenty-five-hundred-gallon tender.”

“Meaning?” Virgil said.

“Regular tenders for main engines are thirty-five hundred gallons; some are even bigger,” Sam said.

“So more than likely it would?” Virgil said. “Long as it’s not too heavy?”

“That’s right, long as it’s not too heavy.”

Virgil looked out the window behind us and pointed to the stock car sitting in the switchyard near the water tower.

“Let’s say the Ironhorse pulls that stock car there with some horses,” Virgil said.

“Don’t see why not,” Sam said. “It’s got smaller drive wheels, ya know, so you ain’t gonna go fast like a regular running engine, but it will sure enough move.”

“Faster than a horse, though,” Virgil said.

“Covering distance,” Sam said. “You bet, faster than a horse.”

Virgil turned back looking north, watching the Ironhorse getting closer.

“Not gonna snug that mule to a redbud tree tomorrow early, Everett,” Virgil said.

“No,” I said, “they won’t.”

“They’ll do that late afternoon.”

“What are you thinking,” the governor said, “in regard to the locomotive?”

“We try and contact the lineman, LeFlore, to show us the line’s in, figure what is active and what is not active. We go up tonight in the Ironhorse. They won’t be expecting us to be getting up there in that short amount of time. We find out where they are hiding out, surprise them.”

“No,” the governor said. “I want the money delivered, and I want my daughters to be returned to me. I’m sure you can understand my concern, Marshal?”

“Understand your concern completely, but there is no guarantee, money or no money, he will honor this arrangement.”

“Agreed,” Hobbs said. “This man is mad. A goddamn mule? I tell you, simply mad. And there is absolutely no knowing what he might be capable of.”

The governor stared at Virgil with a contemplative expression and started pacing again. His hands were behind his back this time, like an officer’s. He made three turns across the floor of the telegraph office before he spoke up.

“What would be your move, your strategy, in this scenario?” the governor said.

“Just what I said, get to the lineman LeFlore. He will know what lines are active and what lines are not.”