handle.'
'Yes, sir!'
Longarm barely made it to the train. It was slowly rolling west toward the steep Sierra foothills when Longarm swung on board the caboose. Gasping and wheezing in the cold, thin air, he staggered into the mail car and collapsed on a bench with the heavy Winchester still clenched in his hand.
A railroad signalman with ruddy cheeks and an Irish smile said, 'Welcome back aboard, Marshal Long! Thought you'd left us for good. Glad to see you again.'
'Thanks. You wouldn't happen to have a little whiskey hidden about somewhere, would you?'
'Are there shamrocks in Ireland?'
Longarm laughed. 'I do believe there are.'
'Then,' the man said with a twinkle in his eyes, 'there is Irish whiskey to be found in this car!'
There was actually quite a bit of Irish whiskey stuffed into hidden places on board. And as the train struggled mightily up a steep grade built along the rushing Truckee River, Longarm and signalman Liam O'Neil enjoyed it to the fullest.
'How far are you goin'?' Liam asked as he passed the bottle to Longarm.
'To the wreck at Donner Pass.'
'Oh,' Liam said, with a solemn shake of his head. 'Now that was an awful thing! A terrible thing!'
'I was on the train that was blown off the tracks at Laramie Summit,' Longarm said. 'So I know how bad it is.'
'Oh, I hope you catch 'em! It would be a fine day for this railroad and we'd celebrate.'
'I'll catch them,' Longarm vowed, looking out the window at the rugged mountains that they were trying to crest.
He thought of the gang member he'd shot at the Laramie blacksmith shop, of Blake Huntington's dead and glass-cut body lying in an alley behind the Outpost Hotel, of the fella he'd killed in the shootout at the ranch house, and finally of Fergus in the mail car.
'Liam, I take no satisfaction in saying this, but I've already killed four men that were part of that train-robbing bunch. I'll never know exactly what role each played, but they were all somehow connected.'
'And were they also a part of the gang that did the evil work at Donner Pass?'
'I think so.' Longarm took a pull on the bottle of Irish whiskey. 'Do you live in Reno?'
'I do!'
'Then do you know the name of an important state senator that made a fortune on the Comstock Lode, but then lost it again on mining stocks?'
'That sounds like Senator George Howard. He's up for reelection and it's almost sure that we'll vote the bastard out of office.'
'He's incompetent?'
'He's a crook!' Liam's voice turned hard. 'He's got his hands into every dirty game in western Nevada. More is the wonder that he hasn't been hanged by the vigilantes before now.'
'Where does he live?'
'in Reno. Somewhere over in the fancy part of town.' Liam raised his eyebrows. 'And why would you be askin'?'
'I've got my reasons.'
'Is he in cahoots with this gang?'
'I didn't say that.'
'You didn't need to, Marshal. I can see the hunter's lust gleaming in your eyes. You're like an Irish setter hunting pheasants in the field. You've the nose for blood and the heart for the hunt.'
Longarm shrugged and took another drink. 'What do you know about this fella named Bruce Pettibone?'
'Oh,' Liam said, eyebrows lifting, 'there's a good man!'
Longarm was surprised. It was his experience that most railroad detectives and administrators were long on corporate politics and short on good sense. 'For a fact?'
'Sure! Mr. Pettibone is a fine man and a brave one too! He's tracked down and shot outlaws who tried to rob the Union Pacific. He has!'
'Well,' Longarm said, 'in that case, I'm looking forward to meeting Mr. Bruce Pettibone.'
CHAPTER 16
The trip up to Donner Lake was slow but picturesque. The lower, sage-covered hills gave way to Douglas fir and ponderosa pine and the air became even colder. From the sheltered comfort of a coach, Longarm watched freighters using oxen, mules, and horses as they struggled up the winding and muddy road toward Lake Tahoe.
The train passed through immense wooden snowsheds that jutted out from the mountainside to shunt off avalanches and keep the tracks open after the worst of the winter storms. A good thousand feet below Donner Summit snow blanketed the ground, and Longarm knew that it was going to be almost impossible to find any evidence around the wreck of the train. He knew that most of whatever new information he would learn would have to come from Bruce Pettibone.
