Midnight Rider

Chapter 17

As the four severed rail cars slowed to a halt and began rolling backward down the long grade, the Stillwater Giant and Pres Casings hurried into the freight car that housed the soldiers’ horses. The animals were rested, saddled and ready to ride.

“Holy Moses,” said the Giant, “there’s a posse on the train. They were aiming to ambush us! How’d they know about this job?”

The two stood staring, stunned for a moment at their discovery. Finally Casings pushed his hat brim up and grinned at the Giant, looking relieved.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but let them wait.” He nodded toward the far end of the car.

Leaving the freight car, the two hurried down the aisle of the loaded mail car and out the rear door. They stood for a moment looking at the big Treasury car swaying along behind them.

“You can bet there’s guards waiting for us in there,” Casings said in a whisper.

“You suppose Grolin figured on it?” the Giant asked.

“If he didn’t, he’d better,” said Casings. “Come on. Watch your step.”

The two crossed onto the Treasury car platform and climbed the iron brakeman ladder to a catwalk running the length of its roof. They hurried in a crouch along the swaying walkway and climbed down at the other end as the separated cars continued gaining speed, rolling backward.

Nearing the bottom of the grade, the two saw a lantern wave back and forth slowly in the air, where another set of iron rails intersected with the track. The intersecting rails ran seventeen miles north to a siding depot at an abandoned trade settlement.

“Looks like Grolin’s right on time,” Casings said to the Giant. Then he glanced at the rear of the Treasury car and said, “Keep your gun on that door, in case anybody inside wants to give us some guff.”

The Giant drew a big Army Colt from under his coat and turned facing the back door of the car. The large Colt looked like a child’s toy in the Giant’s enormous hand.

“Anybody inside there better stay inside, until we tell them otherwise,” the Giant said, loud enough to be heard by anyone listening on the other side of the thick railcar door.

As the cars coasted into a wide swing onto the siding tracks, a young thief named Lionel Sharp ran forward with the switchman’s lantern and rifle in hand.

“Going my way?” he said, joking as he swung himself onto the platform beside Casings and the Giant. The Giant grabbed the young man’s shoulder and steadied him until he secured his footing.

“Depends on where you’re going,” Casings replied, recognizing the man.

The Giant gave his big grin and said, “And what you’re going to do when you get there.”

Casings looked him up and down, took the lantern he was holding and hung it on an iron hook beside the rear car door.

“Well, Sharp,” he said, “it looks like you finally landed yourself work with some real long riders.”

“Yeah, and I can tell you, I’m damned grateful for it,” said the young outlaw. “I’m so sick of working with rubes and pumpkin busters.…” He leaned forward and looked around Casings at the Giant. “You must be the Stillwater Giant. I’ve heard so much about you,” he said.

“What tipped you off?” the Giant asked with a flat, harsh expression.

Sharp stared up at the huge man, not knowing what to say.

Finally he managed “I—I didn’t mean nothing—”

“He’s funning with you, Sharp,” Casings said, cutting the young outlaw off before he embarrassed himself.

Sharp looked relieved. “I’m mighty glad of that,” he said.

“Tell me, Sharp,” Casings said, “how many of you Denver City boys did Grolin bring in on this?”

“I don’t know. Seven, eight maybe?” said Sharp, estimating. He shrugged. “I see some faces here that I’ve never seen before.”

“Jesus…,” said Casings, shaking his head, staring ahead into the darkness as the loose cars slowed to a crawl along the iron rails.

As the train rounded a long turn in the darkness, the Giant nodded toward a glaring headlight shining through a stand of pine.

“Here comes our ride now,” he said to the other two, even as they themselves spotted the huge outline of a train engine pushing a single freight car back toward them. Smoke billowed up from the engine’s stack.

“Watch the bump,” Casings cautioned the younger outlaw standing beside him.

“You don’t have to worry,” Sharp rattled on nervously. “I learned the hard way about holding on back last year when I was working with some of the—”

“Shut up,” Casings said, cutting him off. “Pay attention here.” He turned and took the lantern down from the hook and held it ready.

The three watched as an engineer backed the engine and its one car closer to the severed cars, slowing, judging as the three cars rolled forward at a snail’s crawl. By the time the sets of link pins met and touched against each other, the engine had actually braked and started forward just enough to make a smooth, easy connection.

“Way to go, hoss,” the Giant said to the engineer under his breath. He jumped down from the platform on the ground beside the railcars and stepped between them close enough to line up the link and stick the pin down to hold the cars together.

“All right!” Casings said with a gleam in his eyes. “Let’s get out of here and start robbing.” He held the lantern out sidelong and waved it up and down. From a rear door on the freight car, Grolin stepped out into the night, carrying a lantern of his own. In seconds the engine started pulling faster on the level terrain.

“Where’s Rock?” the Giant asked Grolin as he swung up from the ground and joined the others on the rear of the freight car.

“He’s close by, waiting safe and sound—itching to get to work as soon as we bring him this nice big Treasury car,” Grolin replied. Holding the lantern up and looking at Lionel Sharp, he said, “You’re Sharp, right?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Grolin, I’m Lionel Sharp,” the young gunman said proudly. He started to say more, but Grolin cut him off.

Behind Grolin two riflemen rushed out of the freight car and stepped over onto the Treasury car platform.

“Go with these men,” he said to Sharp. “The three of yas guard the rear door.”

“Come on, hurry up,” said one of the riflemen, already headed up the iron rungs toward the catwalk on top of the car.

Sharp hurriedly followed the riflemen.

As the three moved out of sight, Grolin gave a shrug and smiled in the glow of lantern light.

“These farm boys and guttersnipes are showing up younger all the time,” he said. “Crime is about the only thing that pays these days.” He looked at Casings and the Giant and said, “Did everything go as expected?”

“Yes, it did,” Casings said. “But I need to tell you, there were guards or lawmen of some kind waiting to ambush us. We’ve got their horses in a freight car behind us.”

“Well,” Grolin chuckled, “if we’ve got their horses, I fail to see them as a problem.”

“Just thought you’d want to know,” said Casings.

“You’re right. Good work,” said Grolin. “We’ll chase the horses away when we stop and unload the gold.”

Behind Grolin, Frank Penta and Bryce Shaner appeared out of the freight car, their rifles at port arms. They followed Grolin over to the rear door of the Treasury car. Grolin looked around at Casings, the Giant and the other two gunmen. He smiled as he took a piece of paper from inside his coat and unfolded it in the light of the lantern.

“I love this part,” he said, holding the paper up toward the car door.

“Hello, you two guards inside the car,” he called out loudly enough to be heard through the thick closed door. “Hello? Hello?”

When no one answered, he called out, “Don’t be bashful, now. Just answer right up when I call out your names.” He consulted the piece of paper, then called out confidently, “Peter Joseph Campbell. Husband of Barbara Mae Campbell, father of two sons and one daughter, whose names I can also give you…”

Inside the car, the gunmen heard a rustle and the frightened whisper of lowered voices.

Grolin grinned and continued, “Alvin Carter, husband of Lynn Ann Carter. Father of a—”

“Hold on, mister!” a voice said through the door, cutting him off. “We’re coming out!”

“Leave your guns on the floor,” Grolin called out. He pulled his bandanna up over his nose and stepped back, watching Penta’s and Shaner’s rifles cover the door as it opened slowly and two men stepped up, their hands raised in the air.

“Here’s where you get off, fellows,” Grolin said, shoving them toward the iron step on the side of the platform. “Hurry up now, jump, before we gain any more speed.”

The two men made their way down onto the step and leaped out, away from the moving train. They landed rolling alongside the track and came to their feet just before vanishing into the darkness.

“That’s how easy it is,” Grolin said, “when you have the right information at your fingertips.” He laughed aloud and said joyously, “Bless you, Inman Walker!”

“Who?” said Casings.

Grolin had made a slip of the tongue; he caught his mistake quickly and said, “Nothing, forget it!” He turned and called out toward the woods at the two fleeing men, “If we see you come out of there, you’re both dead!”

But the Giant and Casings had clearly heard the name, and they weren’t about to forget it. They looked at each other guardedly, on into a dark stand of timber and through the purple darkness as the train continued on.

Rochenbach sat with the other men inside the dusty, abandoned depot. They had arrived in the night after forcing the engineer to drop the rest of his train midrun and bring them and their freight car to the old trade settlement. On their train ride across a stretch of rolling plains, Penta and Shaner had kept watch on him, seeing to it that Dent Spiller left him alone.

But when they’d meet Grolin at the depot, and Penta and Shaner had both left with him on the engine to go meet the stolen Treasury car, Rock saw the gunman stand and start walking toward him with a dark look on his face.

But before he’d taken three steps, Doyle Hughes and another man stood up facing Spiller, their rifles at port arms.

“Put it out of your mind, Spiller,” Hughes said firmly.

“To hell with it,” Spiller said, turning away from Rochenbach, going instead to the depot door and looking out through the dirty broken glass. “I’m just restless, tired of waiting. I need something to do.”

“You can go sit in the woods with the Kane brothers, help them tend to the wagon,” Hughes said.

“Yeah, and you can go to hell,” Spiller said over his shoulder. “I steer clear of the Kanes.” He looked back out the dirty glass window.

Hughes lowered his rifle and leaned back against the wall.

“Here they come!” Spiller said, seeing the first glimmer of headlight show brokenly through the trees.

The men stood up, moved to the depot door, opened it and filed out.

“Everybody get their horses and get ready,” Hughes said. “I’ll signal the Kanes to bring the wagon up to the loading platform.” He looked at Rochenbach and said quietly, “Rock, you come with me.”

“Best watch him close, Doyle, in case he tries anything,” Spiller warned.

“Jesus…” Hughes shook his head. “He’s not going to try anything.” He looked at Rochenbach and gestured him toward the open door. “He wants to get paid just like the rest of us, right, Rock?” As he spoke, he picked up a glowing lantern sitting on the dusty floor.

“You know it,” Rochenbach said, walking out into the chilled night air.

Hughes raised the lantern and swung it back and forth toward the pines. In a moment, the Kane brothers rolled out of the woods in the freight wagon and came rolling up onto the loading platforms.

The four other men who’d waited inside the depot gathered around the empty wagon and stared toward the headlight breaking through the dark woodlands toward them.

The engineer slowed the engine and led the four-car train—the Treasury car, the car carrying the soldiers’ horses, the mail car and an empty caboose—to a soft stop, sidling along the freight platform.

Grolin stepped down from the engine with his bandanna still hiding his face, his right hand clasped on the engineer’s shoulder. He gave the engineer a shove.

“You did good. Now get out of here,” he said. “You can tell your grandkids you were robbed by the James Gang.”

“I—I can go?” the engineer asked in disbelief.

“That’s right,” said Grolin, “but if I look up and see you again before you get to those pines, I’ll put a rifle slug through your backbone.”

Without another word, the man turned and ran. Leaping down off the loading platform, he raced wildly toward the woods until the darkness engulfed him.

Grolin turned to Hughes and Rochenbach. Casings and the Stillwater Giant stepped down from the short train and walked toward them.

“Get started, Rock,” Grolin demanded, waving Rochenbach toward the Treasury car with his rifle barrel. “It looks like whoever you tried to tip off didn’t get your message.”

“I wasn’t tipping anybody off, Grolin,” Rochenbach lied. “The message I sent had nothing to do with this job. If I tipped somebody off, where are they?” He gestured all around.

Grolin chuckled and said, “It doesn’t matter now. If they do show up, it will be Thursday night. We’ll be long gone away from here.”

Casings and the Giant walked up in time to hear the end of the conversation.

“What’s he talking about, Rock?” the Giant asked.

“Your pal, Rock here, got caught trying to tell some friends of his about this job, Giant,” Grolin said. “Tell him, Hughes.”

“It’s true,” said Hughes. “Spiller and me caught him sending a message. I know Morse code.”

“I don’t give a damn if you know the emperor of China,” said the Giant. “I’ll rip your head off and roll it like a—”

“Hold it, Giant,” said Rock, looking around and seeing the men level their rifles toward the Giant as if Grolin had given them direction to do so. “This is no place for us to start fighting among ourselves. I came here to open a safe.” He turned quickly to Grolin. “Am I going to do it, or not?”

“You can bet you are,” Grolin said, lowering his rifle. He jerked a nod toward the Treasury car. “Go on, we’re right behind you.”