Pacific's relief road crew gape at the carnage and then slowly step off the rescue train and plod forward.
'What in God's name happened?' a tall man in a green flannel shirt cried, yanking off his railroad cap and wringing it in his big fists. 'Dear Lord, the telegraph lines between Cheyenne and Laramie went down yesterday afternoon. We just figured that maybe this train had returned to Laramie.'
'Obviously not,' Longarm said as more men came up. 'Did you bring a doctor?'
'Why, no!'
'You should have,' Longarm said quickly. 'We've got some badly injured passengers and more dead ones than I care to think about.'
'But what...'
'It was sabotage,' Longarm said, flashing his federal badge. 'Dynamite. They struck the line during the blizzard and we were all over the mountainside before we knew what hit us. I'm afraid that the death toll is very high.'
'What about Art Becker, the locomotive engineer? And Scotty Macintosh, the fireman?'
Longarm pointed toward the overturned locomotive at the bottom of the gulch far below. 'They never had a chance.'
The man choked with rage and sorrow. 'Who did this?'
'We can't say for sure,' Longarm hedged. 'I haven't had the time to do much investigating. Mostly, we're just trying to keep the worst of the injured alive. Mister, that should also be your most immediate concern.'
The tall man visibly reined in his emotions. 'You're right! We'll get everyone on board and off to Cheyenne, where there's at least three good doctors.'
Longarm and Martha joined the others to help the injured. Men with rifles were posted to watch over the train wreck, and it was decided that a second train would need to be sent up for the bodies.
'We'll be digging them out for a day or two and hunting for others scattered along this mountain,' the tall man, whose name was Jim Allen, said. 'I've seen a few train wrecks before, but nothing like this.'
'Me neither,' Longarm said wearily as he helped the last of the survivors on board the relief train.
It was a silent ride down the eastern slopes of the Laramie Mountains into the railhead town of Cheyenne. To their credit, when news of the train disaster spread across the city, hundreds of people rushed forward to offer aid, food, and shelter to the survivors. Newspaper reporters flocked around the injured, bedeviling them with questions that they could not answer.
'Deputy Long!' a newspaper man shouted, running up to join Longarm and Martha. 'Were you on that ill-fated train?'
'I was,' Longarm said, not wanting to talk to the man as he led Martha away from the train depot and yards.
'Can you explain what happened?' the newsman cried. 'Nobody seems sure!'
'I'm not sure either.'
'But you do agree that the train was robbed?'
'Yeah,' Longarm said. 'The train was robbed. The safe was blown from its hinges.'
'Then it was probably the same gang that has been doing that for several years now, right?'
'That would be my guess.'
The reporter's pencil scratched rapidly across his notebook. 'And I understand that you were bringing Eli Wheat back to face the hangman.'
Longarm sighed. 'It seems that you already know about as much as I can tell you. Will you excuse us now? The lady is very tired.'
'Miss Noble,' the reporter said, turning to Martha. 'I'm glad that you were not counted among the missing or dead.'
'Yes, Herb. I'm very, very fortunate. It was a terrible ordeal and without our deputy marshal, I doubt half as many would have survived.'
'Is that a fact?'
'No,' Longarm said, 'it is not. Everyone did all that they could to help those who were unable to help themselves. The survivors were those of us lucky enough not to be killed outright during the wreck.'
Pencil scratching furiously, the reporter began to follow Longarm as he led Martha away. 'Deputy, if Eli Wheat escaped-'
'I don't know that for certain,' Longarm said. 'He might be lying on that mountainside or even down in the gulch, covered with rocks, snow, and wreckage.'
'But you don't think so, do you?'
It wasn't a question, and Longarm had no compelling reason to answer in any event. However, if Eli could read a newspaper, Longarm wanted the man to know that he was going to be pursued to the very ends of the earth if necessary.
'No,' Longarm said, 'I don't think Eli is dead. And my hunch is that his escape did have something to do with the choice of this particular train to be dynamited. But since I can't be sure, I'll have to return to the wreck and do a thorough investigation.'
'I see,' the reporter said, flipping his notebook to a fresh page. 'And I suppose that, if Eli is alive, you'll go after him?'
'You can bet your life on it!' Longarm took Martha's arm. 'No more questions.'
