Shootout of the Mountain Man

Smoke read Cutler’s article, then nodded.

“I think you have too,” he said. “So, what do you want to do now? Do you want to go back to Cloverdale?”

Bobby Lee drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, then shook his head.

“No, not yet,” he said. “This maybe the best opportunity we will ever have to get Dodd. I started out to get him and I intend to do just that.”

“What was that date again?” Smoke asked, checking the article.

“The third of September,” Bobby Lee replied. “Wait a minute. That’s—tonight,” he said, just realizing it.

“Yes,” Smoke said. “What do you say we walk over to the depot and get a map and a schedule?”

“Good idea,” Bobby Lee said.

Five minutes later, the two men were at the Lunning depot, perusing the train schedule and studying the railroad map.

“You know how Dodd works,” Smoke said. “Do you have any ideas how he’ll plan to do it?”

“From the look of this map, I would say he will try it at Hawthorne,” Bobby said.

“Hawthorne?”

“Yes, look here,” Bobby Lee said, pointing to the map. “It is forty-five miles from Cleaver to Hawthorne, with no water tanks in between. Forty-five miles is just about the limit an engine can go without refilling its tank, so the train is going to be awfully thirsty when it gets there. And because it will come through at eleven p.m., most of the town will be asleep. Dodd will wait until the train stops, then he’ll hit it.”

Smoke nodded. “That sounds reasonable,” he said. “How far is Hawthorne from here?”

“Twenty-five miles according to the map.”

“If we want to be there by eleven, we had best be going.”

* * *

The Mountain View Special consisted of the Baldwin engine, a four-four-two named the Eric McKenzie, a wood tender, an express car, a baggage car, two sleeper cars, and two day cars. With a full head of steam, it hurtled south through the night on the Virginia and Truckee Railroad as sparks flew from the smokestack and glowing cinders fell between the tracks. By sight and sound, the behemoth made its presence known to man and animals alike.

“You’ve got a good fire stoked there, R.A.,” the engineer said to his fireman, having to shout to be heard over the hiss of active steam, the clatter of steel pistons, wheels, and couplings, and the gush of wind. “We’re making near thirty miles to the hour! ”

“I’ll keep the pressure up as high as you want it, Clyde,” R.A. said as he threw in more chunks of wood. “There’s not an engine on the line that can top the McKenzie.”

In the express car behind the tender, Eddie Murtaugh and two other agents of the Western Exchange Security Agency sat on the floor against the wall of the car. The door was open slightly. Murtaugh stood up, then stepped over to the open door to look outside.

“Whoowee, those boys up front have us going lickety-split,” he said.

“I wonder how fast we are going,” one of the other agents said.

“I don’t know, but it’s fast.”

“Mr. Murtaugh?” the railroad express man said.

Murtaugh turned toward the express man.

“You wanted to know when we came to Hawthorne? According to my watch, we will be there in about five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Murtaugh said. “All right, boys, get ready.”

“I hear the train,” Smoke said. “Get ready.”

Smoke and Bobby Lee were behind the feed and seed store that was directly across the tracks from the water tower. They were on the same side of the track as the door to the express car. That way, they would be able to observe any approach to the car.

“I haven’t seen anything, have you?” Bobby Lee asked.

“No, I haven’t.”

“I know they are here, though,” Bobby Lee said. “They have to be here. There is no other place where they will have the train stopped like this.”

The train approached the water tower, its speed already greatly reduced, the wheels and couplings squealing in protest as the brakes were applied.

“We had better get mounted,” Smoke said. “We may have to move fast.”

Smoke and Bobby Lee swung into their saddles as the train rumbled by, then came to a complete halt. It sat there for a moment with the engine issuing loud, rushing sighs as the relief valves opened and closed, emitting large clouds of steam. The steam clouds were so white that, in the dark, they looked almost iridescent.

The fireman came out of the engine cab, climbed up on top of the tender, brought the great water spout down to the tank opening, then pulled on the rope to lift the gate and start the flow of water. Even from here, and even above the puffing sounds of the engine at rest, Smoke and Bobby Lee could hear the splashing of water into a tender that was nearly empty. As Bobby Lee had pointed out, the demand for water at this stop was at its maximum.

“See anything?” Bobby Lee asked.

“Not a thing,” Murtaugh answered the same question that had been put to him by one of his men.