'Then we'd better put the spurs to these ponies,' Longarm said, booting his tired sorrel into a gallop across the sloppy ground that paralleled the tracks.
The westbound train overtook them before they could make it all the way to Rock Creek. Longarm heard its eerie whistle blow, and reined his horse up to see the locomotive lumber toward them in the distance. The ground was rising toward Rock Creek and the train was moving slow, its stack spewing smoke into the sleet.
'What are you gonna do now?' the wounded man crowed. 'We lost the damned race.'
Longarm knew that there really was only one thing that he could do and that was to stop the train. 'Let's ride up on those tracks.'
'What?'
'I said come on!' Longarm ordered, dragging along the horses and scrambling up on the roadbed.
'That train won't stop!' Fergus shouted with rising panic in his voice. 'It'll think we're train robbers and it'll run us the hell down!'
'No one lives forever,' Longarm replied, dismounting and hauling Fergus out of the saddle. He ripped the man to his knees, drew his six-gun, and said, 'Lay down across the rails.'
'What?'
'Lay down!'
Fergus lay down on the wet tracks. He was at the end of his rope, hurt, confused, and weakened by loss of blood, his mental and physical reserves gone.
'You gonna let him run me over!' Fergus screamed as the train moved inexorably closer. It was close enough already that the tracks were shaking and the horses were snorting nervously.
'I want more names!' Longarm called over the sound of the approaching train. 'I want all the names or this train is going to cut you into three messy pieces!'
'Oh, Lord!' Fergus howled, his eyes wild. 'First you shoot me, now this!'
'Names!'
With one eye on the looming locomotive and another on Longarm, Fergus spat out the names like bullets from the muzzle of a Gatling gun. 'Big Tom Canyon. Hawk Jenkins. Two-Fingered Earl. Shorty Hamilton. Bob Orr. Indian Red Lopez! That's all I know. Please, don't do this!'
Longarm planted his boot firmly on the back of Fergus's neck and turned the horses loose to run a short ways off, where they stood heads down and rumps to the driving sleet.
Longarm raised his hand in the frontier signal of peace and said to his prisoner, 'Well, Fergus, we'll just let the engineer decide your fate.'
Fergus howled and screeched like crazy until the train began to slow. If it hadn't, Longarm would have let the man up, and then he'd have jumped on board and forced the engineer to stop.
The engineer looked frightened, and there was a rifle in both his and the fireman's fist when the big locomotive ground to a shuddering halt.
'What the hell is going on down there?' the engineer called out.
'I'm a federal officer of the law. I got a prisoner and a big need to get to Reno.'
'This ain't no damned way to board a train!'
Longarm ignored the outburst. 'Here's my badge!' he said, digging it out of his pocket to display to the two nervous railroad men. 'Can we load our horses?'
'Hell, no!'
Longarm shook his head. He looked to the young fireman and said, 'If my prisoner moves, you have my permission to shoot him again.'
The fireman was barely out of his teens, a tall, powerful young man covered with the wet muck and grime of coal dust. Only his teeth and eyes showed white when he said, 'You mean he's already been shot?'
'That's exactly what I mean. And I'll shoot you if you let him run away in this storm!'
The fireman raised his rifle, took aim on Fergus's chest, and said: 'You're coyote bait if you move, mister.'
Longarm hurried over to the horses and quickly removed their saddles, blankets, and bridles. He carried his own saddle, Winchester, bedroll, and canvas bag with provisions to the train, where a conductor helped him and his wounded prisoner climb on board.
'United States Marshal Deputy Long,' Longarm announced to the handful of startled passengers, most of whom had been sound asleep when the train had jarred them awake during its sudden and unscheduled stop. 'And this here is my prisoner, and don't go feeling sorry for the bastard because he's part of the same bunch that wrecked the train at Laramie Summit.'
The passengers appeared to be shocked by this announcement. Or maybe it was Fergus's deathly pallor that shocked them as well, because the wounded outlaw was trembling with cold and fear.
'Is he going to die?' an old lady asked.
'I doubt it,' Longarm said.
'If he does, it would serve him right for his role in killing so many innocent people up there on the summit.'
'I couldn't agree with you more.'
