'He's badly hurt all right. But he's not on the track-side and he isn't feeling a thing. We were passing over a bridge at the time. He fell a long, long way down to the bottom of a ravine.'
'You killed him.' Deakin could barely catch the husky words. 'But that's murder!'
'Every man needs a hobby.' Deakin tightened his grip on her shoulders. 'Or perhaps you'd rather I was lying at the bottom of that ravine? I damn nearly was.'
She was silent for a few moments, then said: 'I'm sorry. I am a fool.'
'Yes,' Claremont said ungallantly. 'Well, Mr Deakin, what's next?'
'We take over the locomotive.'
'We'd be safe there?'
'Once we've disposed of our friend Banlon we will.' Claremont looked at him without understanding. 'I'm afraid so, Colonel. Banlon.'
'I can't believe it.'
'The shades of the three men he's already killed would believe it all right.'
'To my certain knowledge.'
It took Claremont a very brief time only to come to terms with the fresh reality. He said in a calm voice: 'So he's armed?'
'I don't know. I think so. Anyway, Rafferty has his rifle with him. Banlon would use that – after shoving Rafferty over the side.'
'He could hear us coming? He could hold us off?' 'It's an uncertain world, Colonel.'
'We could take our stand in the train. In a passageway. In a doorway. I've got my revolver–'
'Hopeless. They're desperate men. With all respect, Colonel, I doubt whether you could match either Pearce or O'Brien with a hand gun. And even if you could hold them off there would still be an awful lot of gunfire. And the first shot Banlon hears he's on his guard. Nobody could get near his cab – and he'd drive straight through to Fort Humboldt without stopping.'
'So? We'd be among friends.'
'I'm afraid not.' He held up a warning finger, looked cautiously over the rear edge of the roof in time to see O'Brien crossing from the second to the first coach. He put his ear to the ventilator again. From the tone of his voice O'Brien's relaxed urbanity appeared to have abandoned him.
The Colonel's gone too! Henry, stay here, see no one passes you – either way. Shoot on sight. Kill on sight. Nathan, Governor – we'll start from the back and search every inch of this damned train.'
Deakin gestured urgently forward but Claremont, on his knees now, was staring towards the rear of the train.
The horse wagons! They're gone!'
'Later! Later! Come on.'
Soundlessly, the three edged their way along the centre line of the leading coach's roof. Arrived at the other end, Deakin lowered himself to the platform and peered through the coach's front observation window. Henry was clearly visible at the far end of the passageway, strategically placed with his back to the side of the dining compartment, where his constantly moving eyes could cover both the front and rear approaches. Cradled in his right hand in an unpleasantly purposeful fashion was a Peacemaker Colt.
Deakin glanced upwards, put a finger, perhaps unnecessarily, to his lips, pointed to the interior of the coach, reached up and helped both Marica and Claremont on to the platform. Still silently, he reached out a hand to Claremont, who hesitated, then handed him his gun. Deakin made a downward patting motion with his hand to indicate that they should stay where they were, climbed over the safety rail, reached for the rear of the tender and transferred his weight to one of the buffers. Slowly he hoisted himself upwards until his eyes cleared the stacked cordwood at the rear of the tender.
Banlon was peering ahead through the driving window. Rafferty had the glowing fire-box open and was busily engaged in stoking it. Leaving the door open, he turned and made for the tender: Deakin's head swiftly disappeared from sight. Rafferty lifted two more baulks of cordwood and had hardly begun to move forward again when Deakin pulled himself upward until he was in full view of either of the two men who cared to turn round. He made his way quickly but with great care over the stacked cordwood, then lowered himself noiselessly to the floor of the tender.
Banlon had suddenly become very still. Something, almost certainly a fleeting reflection or movement in his driving window, had caught his attention. He looked slowly away from the window and glanced at Rafferty, who caught his eye at the same moment. Both men turned round and looked to the rear. Deakin was four feet away and the Colt in his hand was pointed at the middle of Banlon's body.
Deakin said to Rafferty: 'I see your rifle there. Don't try to get it. Read this.'
Reluctantly almost, Rafferty took the card from Deakin's hand, stopped and read it by the light from the fire- box. He handed it back to Deakin, his face puzzled and uncertain.
Deakin said: 'Colonel Claremont and Miss Fairchild are on the first platform. Help them over here. Very, very quietly, Rafferty – if you don't want your head blown off.'
Rafferty hesitated, nodded and left. He was back within twenty seconds accompanied by Claremont and Marica. As they moved from the tender to the cab, Deakin moved towards Banlon, caught him by the lapels, thrust him back violently against the side of the cab and pushed the muzzle of the Colt, far from gently, into Banlon's throat.
'Your gun, Banlon. Vermin like you always have a gun.'
Banlon, who looked as if he were about to be sick at any moment, fought for breath against the pressure of the pistol. Under the circumstances, his attempt at outrage did considerable credit to his histrionic ability.
'What in God's name is the meaning of this? Colonel Claremont–'
Deakin jerked him forward, twisted him around, pushed Banlon's right hand up somewhere between the shoulder-blades and thrust him towards the steps and the open doorway on the right-hand side of the cab.
'Jump!'
Banlon's staring eyes reflected his horror. Through the driving snow he could just see a steep-sided rock- strewn gully rushing by. Deakin jabbed the Colt's muzzle hard against Banlon's back. 'Jump, I said.' Marica, shocked disbelief registering in her face, made to move towards Deakin; Claremont put out a restraining arm.
'The tool-box!' Banlon shouted. 'It's under the tool-box.'
Deakin stepped back, allowing Banlon to move into the safety of the cab. With his gun Deakin motioned him into a corner and said to Rafferty: 'Get it, will you?'
Rafferty glanced at Claremont, who nodded. The soldier felt beneath the tool-box and produced a revolver which he handed to Deakin, who took it and handed Claremont back his own gun. Claremont jerked his head in the direction of the rear of the tender and Deakin nodded.
'They're no fools. It won't take them long to figure that if we're not in the train we must be on top of it and if we're not there there's only one other place we can be. Anyway, the marks we left on the roof will give us away.' Deakin turned to Rafferty. 'Point your gun at Banlon and keep pointing it. If he moves, kill him.'
'You wouldn't try to just
'Me? The rope!' Banlon's face twisted. 'I don't know who you think you are, Deakin, but the law says–'
There was no warning. Deakin took one long stride forward and struck him viciously, backhanded, to send him stumbling against the controls, blood welling immediately from his nose and mouth.
'I am the law.'
EIGHT
Banlon dabbed ineffectually at nose and mouth with a wad of very unhygienic waste. His selfministrations had no noticeable effect, the blood continued to flow copiously. Banlon's normally wizened face now looked even more scraped and drawn, the brown parchment of the skin was several degrees paler and his eyes darted continuously from side to side, a trapped wild animal looking for a means of escape that did not exist. Mainly his eyes flitted from Deakin to Claremont and back again but he found no comfort there: the faces of both men were devoid of pity.
