pistol to bear on Smoke, but it was too late. Smoke pulled the trigger and a black hole appeared in the train robber’s forehead. He fell back as women, and the conductor, screamed.
“Where is my gun?” Smoke asked the conductor.
The conductor’s eyes were wide open in terror.
“Garrison, what’s goin’ on in here?” another armed man shouted, coming into the car then. Seeing Garrison dead on the floor, he looked up. “Who did this?”
“I did,” Smoke replied.
With an angry bellow, the second train robber raised his pistol, but before he could fire, Smoke pulled the trigger for the second barrel. Like Garrison before him, the train robber went down, this time with a bullet hole in the bridge of his nose.
“Where is my gun?” Smoke asked again.
“I-I had it put into the baggage car,” the conductor answered, finally finding his voice.
Moving quickly, Smoke picked up one of the train robbers’ pistols, then stepped rapidly to the front door of the car. Standing on the plates between the cars, he looked around and saw two men on horseback alongside the express car. He leaned around the edge of the car and fired. One of the two men went down.
“It’s a trick!” one of the men on horseback shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”
Smoke saw the robbers turn away from the car. He tried to fire a second time, but the pistol he had taken from the robber misfired and the remaining three men galloped away.
In frustrated anger, Smoke threw the pistol away, then hurried back in to grab the pistol of the other would-be train robber. By the time he got back outside, though, the train robbers had disappeared into the night.
When Smoke returned to the train car, he saw that most of the passengers were out of their berths and were staring with morbid curiosity at the two dead men. The conductor was sitting on the floor of the car, up hard against the front right corner, with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around his legs.
The porter now came into the car.
“Anybody kilt in here?” the porter asked.
“Two,” Smoke said. “Neither of them passengers.”
“Where is Mr. Polosi?”
“Who?”
“The conductor. I been lookin’ for him, I ain’ found ‘im.”
“He’s up here,” Smoke said, stepping to one side and pointing to the figure who sat all drawn up in the corner.
The porter’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Mr. Polosi, you all right?” he asked. “Did you get shot?”
“He’s all right.”
“You sure?”
“He wasn’t shot.”
The porter stared at Polosi for a moment longer before speaking again. “Mr. Polosi, don’t you think you should tell the engineer to get us goin’ again?”
Polosi didn’t answer.
“What about these dead folks?” asked the porter. “We can’t just leave ‘em lyin’ here in the car. Don’t you think we should move ‘em into the baggage car?”
Polosi looked up at the porter, his eyes wide and his lower lip trembling. He tried to speak, but was unable to say anything.
“What’s your name?” Smoke asked the porter.
“John, sir. John Ware.”
“Any other porters on the train, Mr. Ware?”
“Yes, sir. Two more.”
“I expect you’re going to need some help getting the bodies out of here.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll get them to help me. Mr. Polosi, should we put them in the baggage car?”
Polosi stared at the porter, his eyes still wide with terror.
“Mr. Polosi?”
“You’ll find another body outside,” Smoke said. “You will need to get him picked up as well.”
“Yes, sir, we’ll do that,” the porter said. “Mr. Polosi?” he said again. “Is it all right to put them in the baggage car?”
“I doubt Polosi is going to be much help to you, Mr. Ware,” Smoke said. “It looks to me like you’re in charge.”
“Yes, sir. Well, in that case, I’ll move the bodies into the baggage car. Then I’ll tell the engineer we can go on. I ‘spect we’ll get rid of the bodies in Austin.”
