Ironhorse

77

A half-hour passed and there had been no response from Buck LeFlore. Jenny did receive a wire notifying us the Southbound Express was up and running again and on the move down the track en route to Paris. Sam told us she would have a better idea of where we would pass the Southbound Express once we were ready to leave, but she thought we would most likely have to use a pass track midway between Half Moon Junction and Standley Station somewhere around five and six o’clock.

In short order, Uncle Ted and Sam got the Ironhorse tender filled up with coal from the coal tower, Virgil retrieved the money from the crates in the freight car and transferred the loot to the stock coach, and I fetched the four horses from the jail.

It was half past noon when I walked the horses down to where Virgil was now standing with the governor and Hobbs in the switchyard with Sam and little Charlie. They were watching Uncle Ted maneuvering the Ironhorse.

Uncle Ted pulled the whistle cord, and three short loud blasts spooked the horses as the Ironhorse backed toward the stock coach.

I turned the horses away from the engine noise, circling them, getting their feet back solid under them, when I saw Berkeley walking toward me carrying a large carpet bag and wearing denim trousers and a barn coat.

“I’m your shoveler,” Berkeley said.

He reached out and took two of the horses’ leads.

“Packed us some rations, too.”

“Good of you,” I said.

“Least I can do.”

“Hard to know how this will play out.”

“One way or another, it will.”

“It will, indeed,” I said.

We crossed a dead-end set of rails just as the automatic coupler of the Ironhorse docked with the coupler on the stock car. Sam stepped up between the tender and the stock coach and connected the glad-hand coupler on the air line as we neared with the horses.

“Got us a fireman,” I said.

Everyone turned and looked at Berkeley.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Berkeley said. “Contrary to what makes perfect sense, I’m no stranger to hard work. Besides, you have a train station to manage, Sam.”

“Suit yourself,” Sam said.

She moved to the side of the stock car and uncleated the rope from the block-and-tackle system that lowered and raised the ramp.

“I don’t think Uncle Ted has bathed in six, maybe seven, years!” Sam said.

We lowered the ramp, and I got the two other horses familiar with getting up into the car and coming out of the car. The stud Cortez and the roan were knowledgeable train travelers and had no problem with the ramp, but the other two needed some encouraging. I loaded each horse a number of times and after a few smooth up and downs, making sure they felt comfortable, I removed their saddles and tack, set up the mangers with hay, and secured them in their stalls for the journey.

Uncle Ted got the Ironhorse and stock car onto the main track and let out three short whistles. He backed the tender under the water tank, where Sam and Charlie awaited. Sam swung out the spigot arm over the tender.

“Go ahead on, Charlie!” Sam said.

“Okay, Sam,” Charlie said.

Charlie jerked down on the chain and started filling the tender with water.