The Holdup The train slid around a far-off bend, its chimney chugging out black smoke that hung above the whole train, thick near the front, spreading out some over the freight and pa.s.senger cars, rising higher and thinning out behind the caboose. In the distance as it was, the whole string seemed to be moving rather slow and quiet.

It got quicker and noisier, the nearer it came.

Pretty soon, the ground took to shaking under my feet.

I stayed between the rails and waved my arms. Well, the whistle howled and howled like it was shouting at me to get out of the way. The engineer, he leaned out his window and flapped an arm at me. Yelled, too, but I couldn't hear him.

The train kept on thundering closer and tooting.

Then it screeched. Steam hissed and spit from the locomotive, throwing out white clouds down low to the tracks. Sparks sprayed up from the wheels as they skidded over the rails.

I could see it wouldn't stop in time to miss me, so I jumped clear. Not a second later, the sun was blocked out by the great engine. I covered my ears to save them from the awful noise. Things got hot for my legs, but it didn't hurt too much. All wheezes and squeals, the train slowed to a halt.

I'd done it!

The engineer and fireman both jumped down. They came striding back past the coal car. They didn't look any too pleased.

"You hoping for an early grave, son?" the engineer asked. He was an older fellow dressed in overalls and a tall, striped hat.

The other fellow, the fireman, didn't say a thing. He stood in front of me with his fists planted on his hips, scowling. He was red and dripping sweat. He had more muscles than any man I'd ever seen before. His face had muscles.

"I'm afraid I fell from a train last night," I said.

"You fell fell?"

The fireman shook his head. His eyes were squinted so narrow I wondered how he could see with them.

"Actually, a bloke picked me up and tossed tossed me." me."

The fireman grinned.

If I'd had any notion to warn these fellows they were on their way to a stickup, I lost it when I saw that grin.

"My fare was paid all the way to El Paso," I explained. "I should be most grateful for a ride."

The engineer rubbed his chin and looked at my feet.

"Please, sir."

After letting out a sigh, he said, "I s'pose we can give you a ride to the next station, anyhow. Seeing as how we've already gone and stopped. I had half a mind to keep moving, but you looked so set on flagging us down, I suspicioned the bridge might be out. How's the bridge?"

"I shouldn't say that it's out. However, it did seem rather rickety. You'd be well advised to proceed with care."

I heard somebody huffing up behind me, and turned around. It was the conductor, a little fellow, holding his cap down tight as if to keep the wind from stealing it. There wasn't any wind, but he didn't let the lack of it interfere. The gold chain of a watch swayed across the front of his waistcoat. One side of his jacket was swept back behind the revolver holstered on his right hip.

"What have we here?" he asked, giving me the eye.

"Take him on back with you," the engineer said. "He claims he got chucked from the southbound last night."

"Natty attire," said the conductor.

"Hurry," the engineer said. "We're losing time."

With a crook of his finger, the conductor gestured for me to follow him. "I'm much obliged," I called to the other two, then hurried after the little man.

We were still walking along the right of way when the whistle blasted. A wave of rattles and clanks came running down from the front. The pa.s.senger car beside us jumped forward with a lurch. Then the one behind it did the same. Pretty soon, the whole string was creeping along.

The conductor stepped a bit closer to the tracks. We stopped and waited while the train picked up more and more speed. It still wasn't going particularly fast, though, when the caboose rolled by.

The conductor almost let it pa.s.s, then caught a handle and hopped onto the steps of the rear platform. As he scooted up, I grabbed hold and swung myself aboard.

We entered the caboose.

"Take a seat," he said. I pulled a chair away from the cluttered desk, but he snapped, "Not there. What's the matter with you?" Then he pointed me to a bench across from a potbelly stove.

I sat down on it. "I'm much obliged for the ride," I told him.

"Ain't my doing. I got work to do, so keep your mouth shut."

"Yes, sir," I said.

He sat at the desk and started working on some papers. And near fell out of his chair when all of a sudden the train braked. "What in the nation!"

Glaring at me like it was my fault, he popped to his feet.

I shrugged, all innocent.

"What's going on?"

"I've no idea, really."

Well, he rushed over to a window and poked his head out. Then he cried, "d.a.m.n!" He shoved back from the window, s.n.a.t.c.hed out his six-gun, and pointed it at me. "You dirty b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you tricked us!"

"Don't shoot! Please! I'm not one of them."

Some guns went off. The conductor, his eyes almost jumped out of his head. I've never seen a fellow so red in the face.

He thumbed back the hammer and let it drop.

I judged I was dead.

The hammer landed with just a clank, not a blast. I didn't wait for him to try again, but leaped off the bench and struck his gun hand. Not a moment too soon. I hadn't more than whacked it when he got off a shot. The noise slapped my ears, but the bullet missed me. I threw a punch into his belly. His air whooshed out, and he tumbled back against a wall. Slammed it pretty hard.

I twisted his hand till he dropped the gun, then used both my fists to lay into him. He didn't seem to have much fight left, but I was sore. I kept on pounding him. "I'm not not with them," I shouted while I punched. "I with them," I shouted while I punched. "I told told you that! d.a.m.n your b.l.o.o.d.y eyes!" Punch punch punch. "And yet you tried to you that! d.a.m.n your b.l.o.o.d.y eyes!" Punch punch punch. "And yet you tried to shoot shoot me!" Punch punch punch. "You'd no reason to me!" Punch punch punch. "You'd no reason to do do that!" that!"

I went on railing at him and hitting him. But pretty soon I realized he wasn't in any shape to appreciate my efforts. I stepped back away from him, and he slumped to the floor and didn't move.

I picked up his revolver and aimed it at him. I had half a notion to shoot him. After all, he'd done his best to kill me and it was only pure luck that he hadn't put a slug in my chest. But then I got hold of my temper.

I was in enough trouble without plugging a railroad conductor. He'd mistaken me for one of the robbers, and I reckoned I could expect the same judgment from the engineer and fireman.

If I stuck around.

He got stirred up some when I commenced to strip off his duds, so I laid the barrel across his head. After that, he didn't give me any more trouble. I shucked off my nightshirt and the ragged sleeves I'd been wearing on my feet. Then I got into his trousers, socks, boots and shirt. They fit snug, but I reckoned they would have to do for now.

I buckled his belt around my waist and holstered the gun.

He was moaning some by the time I finished. I restrained myself, however, and didn't clobber him again.

I emptied out the pockets, not wanting to steal what I didn't need.

He was still stretched out on the floor when I rushed out the rear of the caboose. I jumped to the ground. The gang was near the front of the train. They all had bandannas pulled up to hide their faces, but I could tell one from the next because of their sizes and duds and such. I just caught a glimpse of Chase and McSween and Breakenridge as they climbed into the side door of a car.

Emmet, mounted, held the reins of all the horses. My friends the engineer and fireman were sprawled on the ground by the tracks, Snooker keeping them covered with his Winchester. He and Emmet were both watching the pa.s.senger cars, likely prepared to shoot at anyone who tried to interfere. They saw me coming. I waved to show I didn't mean any harm.

Between me and them were four pa.s.senger cars, most of the windows open. n.o.body seemed foolish enough to poke his head out, but I heard a lot of commotion from inside while I hurried along. There were angry voices, scared voices, a few folks crying and taking on like they figured they'd be getting themselves ma.s.sacred.

I'd gotten past three of the cars when somebody stretched an arm out a window of the one ahead of me. The hand had a revolver in it.

Snooker and Emmet were both looking the other way, trying to see what was happening in the express car.

Ran through my head to shout a warning.

Judged it wouldn't help much.

I shouted, anyhow, but didn't leave it at that. All Emmet and Snooker got time to do was glance in my direction. By then, the conductor's six-gun was already in my hand. I let fly at the pa.s.senger's arm.

This was my first try with a firearm. When it went off, it near jumped out of my grasp. Of course, I missed the target. My bullet went high and knocked a hole through the upper part of the window. But I might as well have hit the arm, for it dropped the gun and jumped back out of sight, never firing a shot.

Emmet, he gave me a curious look with his head tipped sideways. Snooker winked at me.

I hurried along and picked up the pa.s.senger's revolver. It was a Colt .45 Peacemaker, the same as the conductor's. I holstered it, and shoved the conductor's gun under my belt.

Then I hurried on and joined up with Snooker and Emmet.

"Dang!" Snooker said. "Ain't you the one!"

"Yeah," Emmet said. "Thanks." Unlike Snooker, he didn't seem too friendly.

I couldn't help but smile.

In just the course of a few minutes, I'd been shot at, I'd beaten the conductor senseless, robbed him, and fired at a pa.s.senger. All those things shook me up considerable. So did knowing I'd joined in on the side of the outlaws. But I felt mighty pleased with myself, anyhow.

"I'm delighted I was able to help," I said. "The conductor was kind enough to loan me his weapon."

Snooker laughed from under his bandanna. "Appears he loaned you a sight more than his iron."

"He was quite generous, really." I stepped past the two prisoners and nodded toward the express car. "May I?"

"See what's taking so long," Snooker said.

So I climbed aboard. Just in time to see Breakenridge fetch the strongbox a kick. He looked even bigger than I remembered him. Big and burly as a bear, but his kick didn't even shake the safe.

"Take more'n your boot," McSween allowed.

"Well, s.h.i.tfire s.h.i.tfire!"

Chase had the drop on a fellow who looked scared and had a b.l.o.o.d.y hand clamped over his mouth. "Didn't hardly recognize you, all dressed up."

"I was forced to subdue the conductor."

"Good for you, w.i.l.l.y!" McSween said.

"We've run into some trouble here," Chase explained. "The messenger, he won't open the box for us."

"Can't," the fellow said from behind his b.l.o.o.d.y fingers.

"That's what he claims. Says it's a through-safe, locked in Denver and can't be opened till El Paso."

"I don't reckon he's lying," McSween said.

"Hey!" Breakenridge called from somewhere in the dark near the front of the car. "Here's the ticket." He came back with an ax. "Stand clear, buddies!"

We gave him some room. He hefted the ax over his shoulder and swung it down. It chopped against the safe with a terrible clamor, and bounced off. The door stayed shut. The blow did little more than leave a scratch on the box's steel top. He had another go, with the same result.

"Too bad it ain't made out of logs," McSween said.

Breakenridge paid no attention, but gave the box about ten more licks. He might've kept at it all day, but the ax handle finally broke. The head flew up and whistled past Chase's face.

"Lord sakes!" Chase blurted.

"We ain't getting into it," McSween said.

Breakenridge gave it another taste of his boot, then flung the ax handle off into the darkness.

"We might take the safe with us," I suggested. "Given enough time, we should be able to..."

"Tried that once," Chase said.

"Let's just see what we can get off the pa.s.sengers," McSween said. "Better than going off empty-handed."

Chase jabbed his gun into the express messenger's chest. "You stay here. Poke your head out, and we'll oblige you by blowing a hole through it."

"Yes, sir," he said between his fingers.

We all climbed down. Breakenridge, who was winded and sweaty from his labors with the ax, slid the door shut.

Chase explained the situation to Snooker and Emmet.