“No!” Mrs. Dobbs called. “Don’t take her away from me!”
“I’ll bring her right back, Mrs. Dobbs, I promise,” Matt said.
“Louise, I need his help if I’m going to fix your arm,” Dr. Presnell said.
Mrs. Dobbs nodded. “All right,” she said.
Mrs. Dobbs did not take her eyes off Matt as he wandered around through the strewn items of clothing, all the while carrying the dead child. Finally, he found a shirt, which he ripped into strips. Then he took the strips of cloth back to the doctor. By now, Jerry had returned with several pieces of wood, gathered from the wreckage of the train.
“Good work, Jerry,” Dr. Presnell said. Selecting two pieces that most suited his purpose, and using the strips of cloth Matt gave him, he made a splint. As soon as he was finished, Mrs. Dobbs reached for Suzie and, gently, Matt returned the child to her.
“People, listen to me!” Dr. Presnell shouted. “I’m a doctor! If any of you are injured, let me know! I’ll do the best I can for you.”
“Doc, somethin’s wrong with my wife,” someone said and, almost immediately on top of his comment, several others began calling out as well.
“Would you help me, young man?” Dr. Presnell asked Matt.
Matt shook his head. “I’m not a doctor.”
“Maybe not,” Dr. Presnell replied. “But you do have common sense, and in a situation like this, common sense is more important than any medical degree.”
Farther up the track, in Sentinel, the people who were waiting to meet the train were beginning to grow nervous. The train was already forty-five minutes late. Boomer, who was waiting to meet Doc Presnell, was listening in to the various conversations of those who were expecting people on the train. They were growing increasingly more concerned.
“Deputy Foley, have you heard anything?” an older woman asked. “My daughter is supposed to be coming in on the train and I’m growing very worried.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry that much about it, Mrs. Anderson,” Boomer said, trying to ease her concerns. “The train’s been late before.”
“Yes, sir, I know it has. But if you go over there and look at the blackboard that has the schedule on it, you’ll see that the train left Purgatory on time,” Mrs. Anderson said. “It should’ve been here a long time ago now.”
“It does seem a little odd, doesn’t it?” Boomer said. “All right, I’ll go talk to the station agent and see what I can find out.”
“Would you? Good, I appreciate that, and I’m sure a lot of other folks will appreciate it just as much.”
As several others, by their comments and nods, indicated their concurrence with Mrs. Anderson’s request, Boomer went inside the depot, then walked back to the ticket cage. There, he saw the station agent standing over the telegrapher. The telegraph instrument was clacking away madly.
“Mr. Cooley?” Boomer called.
The station agent held up his hand as a signal for Boomer to be quiet for a moment, so Boomer complied.
The telegraph key stopped clacking; then the telegrapher put his own hand on the key and sent a short message back.
“Now, Deputy, what can I do for you?” Cooley asked.
“Mr. Cooley?” Boomer said again after the instrument was quiet. “All the folks here that are waitin’ on the train are beginnin’ to get a little worried.”
“Are they, now?”
“Yes, sir, they are,” Boomer replied. “And I don’t mind tellin’ you, I’m somewhat worried myself.”
“Why are you worried, Deputy, you don’t have any people on the train, do you?”
“No, sir,” Boomer said. He pointed toward the platform just outside the depot. “But there’s lots of folks out there who do have people, even family, and they got a right to know what’s happening. And it just so happens that Doc is on that train and, Doc being a friend of mine, that gives me cause to worry as well.”
Cooley sighed, then ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Boomer,” he said. “I had no right to act like that. The truth is I’m worried as well.”
“Has somethin’ happened? I mean, that you know?”
“What I know is that we got a telegram that the train left Purgatory Station one hour and forty-seven minutes ago,” Cooley said. “The normal time it takes the train to get here is just over an hour.”
“You think somethin’ has happened?” Boomer asked. “Or could they have just stopped somewhere?”
“There is no place to stop between here and Purgatory,” Cooley said. He shook his head. “No, sir, Deputy, I’m sure something has happened.”
“A wreck?”
Cooley shook his head. “I think so.”
“Then you’re goin’ to have to tell these folks,” Boomer said, pointing to the crowd out on the depot platform.
“I’m afraid to.”
“Afraid to?” Boomer replied. “Why on earth would you be afraid to?”
