Ironhorse

81

When I woke up it was dark out. The Ironhorse was pulling away from a water drop. Berkeley returned from across the top of the slope-back tender and into the cab. There was a lantern burning in the cab, and up ahead there was light shining on the trees passing by from the engine’s mantled oil headlight that brightly illuminated the track ahead. Uncle Ted increased the throttle, and the Ironhorse built up speed. The cab glowed a bright golden yellow color as Berkeley opened the firebox and shoveled a scoop of coal into the boiler.

“Where are we?”

Uncle Ted turned and looked at me.

“I’ll be damn,” Berkeley said. “You’re awake. Marshal said you was the only person he knew that could fall asleep in a fistfight.”

I looked at Virgil. His chin was on his chest, and he was asleep.

“Said the blackbird to the crow,” I said.

I got up slowly to my feet and stretched.

“This is the stop before Standley Station,” Berkeley said as he shoveled another scoop from the tender and into the firebox.

“We got a ways to go,” Uncle Ted said, “but we are ahead of schedule.”

Berkeley took out a canteen from his carpetbag and handed it to me.

“Gracias,” I said.

“Got some hardtack, jerky, cat-heads, cans of beans, peaches, if you’re hungry,” Berkeley said.

I stretched some of the stiffness from my shoulders and back and drank some water from the canteen. I leaned out the cab and saw a small cabin pass by as the Ironhorse slowly built up speed. There was an aqueduct behind the cabin that trailed off into the woods toward the Kiamichi, but in a moment we were past it and there was nothing but trees.

“We been moving fast,” Uncle Ted said.

“We have,” Berkeley said.

“The old Ironhorse has got good goddamn giddy-up,” Uncle Ted said as he patted the throttle lever like a house cat.

“I believe we will be to Crystal Creek way before what Sam figured,” Berkeley said.

“Little woman ain’t so smart as she thinks she is,” Uncle Ted said affectionately, with a raspy chuckle in his voice.

“Like to hear you say that to her face,” Berkeley said.

“Not on your life,” Uncle Ted said. “Not on your goddamn life.”

“Give this old blackbird a drink, Everett,” Virgil said.

The three of us looked at Virgil as he lifted his chin from his chest and yawned real wide.

“You say we’re ahead of schedule?” Virgil said.

I handed Virgil the canteen.

“That’s what they say,” I said.

“We are,” Uncle Ted said.

“It’s because there has never been a fireman quite as capable as me,” Berkeley said.

He posed like a boxer.

“Never been one that smelled as good as you,” Uncle Ted said, “or who was a pimp with a fancy whorehouse, I’ll give you that.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m no pimp,” Berkeley said. “I’m simply the entertainment supplier for mining executives.”

“Pink paint on a pigsty,” Uncle Ted said.

Virgil grinned a bit and took a drink from the canteen. He swirled the water around in his mouth, spit it off the side, and got to his feet.

“So how long do you think it will be before we get up to Crystal Creek?” Virgil asked.

“Way I have it figured is we should be there before Sam said for sure,” Uncle Ted said. “We have been running good and we didn’t have to wait for the Southbound at the pass too long, so I’d say before five in the morning for sure.”

“Good,” Virgil said.

“That is, providing we don’t have no problems along the way.”

“And the next drop is Standley Station, you say?”

“It is,” Berkeley said.

“And how long will it be before we get to there?” Virgil said. “Standley Station?”

“Two hours, maybe less,” Uncle Ted said.

Virgil took a big drink from the canteen and looked out at the trees slowly passing by.

“Figure this is about the place where we looked for Brandice,” I said, “or not far from it.”

Virgil leaned out and looked back behind us. He turned and looked ahead of us.

“Ted,” Virgil said.

“Sir?”

“Let’s us stop at Standley Station, get off, move around a bit, check on the horses and such.”

“You got it,” Uncle Ted said.