train which had appeared so tiny before, appeared huge. It ground to a squeaking, clanking halt with black smoke pouring from its stack. Tendrils of white steam, escaping from the drive cylinders and limned in gold by the rays of the setting sun, wreathed the huge wheels.
The engineer’s face appeared in the window. “What do you want, mister? Why’d you stop us?” he called down to Matt, raising his voice over the rhythmic sound of venting steam.
“My horse stepped in a prairie dog hole and I had to put him down,” Matt said. “I need a ride.”
The engineer stroked his chin for a moment, studying Matt as if trying to decide whether or not he should pick him up.
“What’s going on here? Why did we stop?” another man asked, approaching the engine quickly and importantly from somewhere back in the train. The man was wearing the uniform of a conductor.
“This fella needs a ride,” the engineer said. “His horse went down on him.”
“I’m not in the habit of giving charity rides to indigents,” the conductor said.
“I can pay,” Matt said. “I need to get to Pueblo.”
“You can pay, can you? Well let me ask you this. Does this place look like a depot to you? Do you think you can just flag down a train and board it anywhere you wish?” the conductor asked in a self-important and sarcastic voice.
“I don’t know about you, Mr. Gordon, but I wouldn’t feel right just leavin’ him out here,” the engineer said. “I mean, him losin’ his horse and all, kind of makes it like an emergency, don’t it?”
The conductor stroked his chin and spent a long moment studying Matt. All the while the pressure relief valve continued to vent steam, giving the engine the illusion of some great beast of burden, breathing heavily from its exertions. Some distance away a coyote barked, and closer in, a crow called.
“Hey! What’s going on? Why have we stopped?” a passenger called, walking toward the engine.
“Get back in the cars, sir!” the conductor shouted.
“You’ve got a trainload of people wondering why we stopped. We’ve got a right to know what is going on,” the passenger said.
“Please, sir, get back in the cars,” the conductor repeated. “I will take care of the situation.” The conductor waited until the passenger re-boarded the train, then he looked up at the engineer.
“All right, Cephus, have it your way,” the conductor said. He turned to Matt. “I don’t like unscheduled stops like this, but I don’t want it said that I left you stranded out here. It is going to cost you two dollars to go to Pueblo.”
“Thanks,” Matt said, taking two dollars from the poke in his saddle bag and handing it to the conductor.
“Sorry about your horse, mister,” the engineer called down from the cab window.
“Yes, he was a good horse.”
In an elaborate gesture, the conductor pulled a watch from his vest pocket, popped open the cover, and examined the face. The silver watch was attached to a gold chain making a shallow U across his chest.
“Cephus, we are due in Pueblo exactly one hour and twenty-seven minutes from right now,” the conductor said to the engineer as he snapped the watch closed and returned it to his vest pocket. “I do not plan to be late. That means I expect you to make up the time we have lost by this stop.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Gordon, don’t worry. If Doodle keeps the steam up, we’ll be there on time.”
“Don’t you be worryin’ none about the steam,” Doodle, the fireman said, stepping onto the platform that extended just behind the engine. “You’ll have all the steam you need.”
“Come along,” the conductor said to Matt. “You can ride in any car. There are seats in all three of them. They are all day coaches.”
“I’d rather ride in the express car, if you don’t mind,” Matt said.
“No, I’m sorry, I can’t let you in there,” the conductor replied.
“Maybe you haven’t heard,” Matt said, “but the bank in Pueblo was robbed this morning.”
“Yes, I heard. What does that have to do with anything?”
Matt held up the canvas bag he had taken from Cyrus Hayes’ body. “This is the money that was taken from the bank.”
“What? What the hell, mister? Are you telling me you are the one who held up the bank?”
“No,” Matt said. “I’m the one who is taking the money back to the bank. I would just as soon not be riding in one of the passenger cars, while I’m carrying this.”
“Oh,” the conductor said.
At that moment the door to the express car slid open, and the express messenger looked down on them. “He can ride in here with me, Mr. Gordon. It will be all right.”
“I’ll let him in there, but remember, it was your idea, not mine,” Gordon replied.
“I’ll remember. Hi, Matt,” the messenger said.
Matt smiled up at a friend with whom he had played cards many times. “Hi, Jerry,” he greeted.
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
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