flowers, which stood out in strong contrast to the surrounding desert. He took two meals at the hotel restaurant, then at nine-thirty that night, walked down to the depot in time to make certain his horse was loaded onto the stock car for the last leg of his journey. Once his horse and tack had been seen to, he hurried back to the third passenger car to board, being the last passenger to do so.
“Hold on there, mister,” the conductor said as Smoke started to board the train. He pointed to Smoke’s pistol. “That has to go.”
“Go where?”
“Up to the baggage car,” the conductor said. “I don’t let armed men ride on my train.”
“There is no law that says I can’t wear a gun,” Smoke said.
“If you want to walk around the streets of any town in Nevada carrying a firearm, be my guest,” the conductor replied. “But you are about to board my train, and on my train I make the rules. You cannot wear a gun on my train. Take it off, now.”
Smoke thought about challenging him further, but needed to get to Cloverdale before it was too late to do anything for Bobby Lee, so he decided it wasn’t worth it. He unbuckled his pistol belt and held it out toward the conductor. “Take good care of this,” he said. “I will expect it back when I get to Cloverdale.”
The conductor took belt, holster, and pistol with a self-satisfied smirk. “If you ask me, it is all an affectation anyway,” he said. “Men like you wear guns for show. Am I supposed to be frightened by it?”
“I reckon not,” Smoke replied calmly.
Smoke walked midway through the car, then settled in an unoccupied seat. Shortly after the train got under way, the conductor came through the car, checking everyone’s tickets.
“What cretin made out this ticket?” the conductor asked irritably as he examined the ticket Smoke gave him.
“Is there something wrong with it?” Smoke asked.
“We have changed forms. We no longer use this.”
“It was issued in Big Rock, Colorado.”
The conductor held the ticket for a long moment as he looked at it. “If I had seen this ticket before you boarded, I would not have let you on.”
“It was good enough for the Denver and Rio Grande, and the Union Pacific,” Smoke said.
“Yes, well, you aren’t on the Denver and Rio Grande or the Union Pacific now, are you? This is the Nevada Central,” the conductor said with an ill-tempered tone. “Perhaps our standards are a little higher.”
“I’m sure they are,” Smoke said sarcastically, but the conductor did not pick up on his sarcasm.
“Never mind, I will let you pass, but I intend to send a message to the Denver and Rio Grande, reminding them of the change in forms.” With a sigh of disgust, he shook his head, punched a hole in the ticket, then gave it back to Smoke.
At that moment, a small boy came running up the aisle and the conductor reached out to grab hold of his shirt.
“Who is the mother of this child?” he called out.
“I am,” a young woman answered from the front of the car.
“Madam, please keep him under control. I will not have urchins running wild on my train.”
“Mister, you have about the biggest case of mean I’ve ever seen,” Smoke said. “If you’d ease up just a bit, you might have people thinking better of you.”
“I am not concerned about the opinion you or anyone else on this train may have of me,” the conductor said haughtily. “I am the conductor and that means I am in charge of this train. Surely even someone like you can understand that. I am concerned only that you obey my rules.”
Smoke chuckled. “The Emperor of Lilliput,” he said.
“I beg your pardon? Who is the Emperor of Lilliput?”
“Gulliver’s Travels?”
“Mr. Gulliver may travel, but as far as I am aware, he has never traveled on my train. And emperor or not, he would still obey my rules.”
Turning with a sense of self-importance, the conductor moved on through the car.
After the conductor left, a nice-looking and well-mannered boy came walking up the aisle, balancing himself against the jerk and roll of the train by putting his free hand on the backs of the seats. He was carrying a book.
“Sir, are you Smoke Jensen?”
Smoke was somewhat surprised to be recognized this far from home, and to be recognized by a young boy.
“Yes, I am,” he said.
A huge smile spread across the boy’s face.
“I knew it! I told Mama that’s who you was.” He held out the book and a pencil. “Would you please sign this book for me?”
The title of the book was
