Ironhorse

82

The Standley station water tower was like most of the towers on the St. Louis and Frisco line; an aqueduct fed the water from the Kiamichi River. The tower stood about one hundred yards south of the small depot ahead. The depot was situated behind thickets of evergreens, making the building difficult to see clearly, but there were lamps burning, lighting up the depot steps and the train track in front. Two men stepped off the depot porch and looked down the rail in our direction. They started walking toward us as Berkeley finished filling the tender and raised the spigot back to its upright position on the water tank. Uncle Ted eased the Ironhorse forward as the men walked toward us, shielding their eyes from the bright headlamp on the front of the engine. One man was tall and heavyset, and the other was older and hunched over slightly. Uncle Ted poked his head out the window as we closed in on the two men.

“Evenin’, gents!” Uncle Ted called out.

He spoke loudly over the noise of the Ironhorse as he continued to ease us on up toward the depot.

The older man spoke up with a shout: “Who are you?”

“Theodore A. Thibodaux is the name!” Uncle Ted hollered, “I’m the hog head of this Yard Goat. We are outta Half Moon Junction.”

“Half Moon Junction?” the old man said.

“That’s right,” Uncle Ted shouted back.

“What are you doing up here?” said the heavyset man.

“We don’t have any Goat on the schedule out of Half Moon!” the older man shouted.

The two men turned back the direction we were rolling and walked beside the Ironhorse as it crept north toward the depot.

“We ain’t on no schedule!” Uncle Ted said.

“So what are you doing here, then?” the heavyset man asked.

“We’re just passin’ through,” said Uncle Ted.

“Passin’ through to where?”

“Got some unfinished business to take care of up ahead,” Uncle Ted said.

“What kind of business?” the old man said.

Uncle Ted looked to Virgil.

“These boys are nosier than my ex-wife, God rest her soul,” Uncle Ted said.

Virgil stepped to the edge of the tender behind Uncle Ted and showed the men his badge.

“Marshaling business.”

“Marshaling business?” the big man said loudly.

“What sort of marshaling business?” the old man said.

“This about last night?” the heavyset man said.

“I’ll be asking the questions,” Virgil said. “Once we get on up to the depot, you can answer what I might need to know.”

The heavyset man said something to the older man, who nodded his head. He spoke back to Virgil as if what Virgil said was a question that needed an answer.

“All right,” the heavyset man said.

Uncle Ted grinned, tucked his head back inside the cab, and moved the Ironhorse up to the front of the depot as the two men walked along beside us.