'If I don't find it,' Danner replied, 'I'll tie the knot myself.' Then he whirled his mount and galloped eastward along the track. He should have ignored Tuso, instead of shooting off his mouth like a schoolboy afraid of any other kind of fighting.
Gradually the humiliation subsided and he put the matter from his mind as he reached the dry creekbed where McDaniel and Gustafson had been dumped from the train after they were shot.
He examined the ground without results. Any sign that might have existed had been erased by the possemen who found the bodies. But it wasn't much of a loss, he thought. The two bodies had undoubtedly been tossed from the train. The sign couldn't have told him more than that.
It has to be somewhere between here and Spaulding, Danner told himself, gazing eastward along the tracks. In this flat country there just wasn't any place a train could be hidden, even if an improvised track could be constructed. Leading his horse, Danner moved slowly across the dry creekbed and along the tracks for about twenty feet. Then he stopped in mid-stride.
Wainright had mentioned the theft of some steel rails—and rails were useless except for tracks. Browder was cunning enough to have built a spur line for hiding the train. But that would have taken a lot more trackage than had been stolen. Wainright said two flatcars, but he didn't say how heavily loaded. It was a remote possibility, Danner knew.
Mounting, Danner rode eastward. He'd soon find out if a spur line had been built. By riding between the rails, he could scan the ground along both sides of the track. Even temporary tracks would have left some indentations in the ground.
By noon Danner reached the spur line to Crossville without spotting anything worth a second glance. He checked the rails leading south. The heavy coating of rust lay undisturbed; no train had been over the tracks for several years. In the scant shade of a few scrub trees, Danner unsaddled and let his mount roll in the dust. Then he nibbled on cold beef and biscuits. While eating, he noticed a small dust cloud far to the west. One or two riders seemed to be riding parallel to the tracks along the same course he had been following. Probably some ranchhands, he thought. The Flying Cross ranch was only a few miles to the north.
Saddling again, Danner continued on eastward. The sun beat against him with a vengeance now, bringing the sweat from him, then drying it out. At one point the tracks curved slightly to the north, and as Danner moved around the curve he glanced over his shoulder to see the two riders about three miles back and holding to the course of the tracks. They dropped from sight as Danner moved around the curve.
The Velma spur line appeared the same as the Crossville tracks. A train couldn't have passed over the rails without disturbing the coating of rust. There wasn't much point in going on to Velma, Danner thought, especially since Brant's posse had already been there. Roadbeds on both the main line and the spur stood about eight feet above the level of the prairie at this point. Danner noticed some indentations in the soil near the foot of the embankment and he led his horse down the slope for a closer look.
Inspecting the sign carefully, he decided that the wheels of a handcar had rested here recently. He climbed back to the roadbed and spotted two new crossties, only recently replaced, which explained the handcar tracks.
Movement to the west caught Danner's attention. The two riders he had seen earlier now galloped toward him from less than a mile away. Ducking, Danner moved over to the side of the Velma line roadbed. He drew his Colts and waited.
Hoofbeats on crossties and cinders told him the pair rode between the rails now. When he judged the riders to be not more than twenty feet away he started a rapid climb to the top of the roadbed, his six-gun ready. At sight of him, the two horses reared in panic and the riders fought for control. Surprise washed over Danner and he dropped his gun to his side.
Tom Wainright and Melinda Richfield gained control of their mounts, then stared wide-eyed at him. The unexpectedness of the meeting seemed to hold them speechless.
'Riding up on someone like that is a good way to get yourselves killed,' Danner said.
'I don't doubt it,' Wainright snapped.
Melinda gazed at Danner impassively, face shaded by a flop-brimmed hat. Danner holstered his Colts and stared back at the two of them. Wainright's nervous horse turned then, exposing the rider's right side. A carbine sling, draped from Wainright's left shoulder to his right hip, held a sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun, its twin muzzles hanging down. The regular stock of the weapon had been replaced by a wooden handle shaped like an oversized six-gun handle, making it possible to hold and fire the weapon with one hand.
'If that cannon goes off,' Danner nodded at the shotgun, 'you'll be missing a leg.' He stopped himself from adding,
Wainright flushed, his mouth setting in a tight line. 'If it goes off,' he grated, 'it will be pointed at something besides my leg.'
Danner pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'You've been following me all the way from Richfield. Why?'
'It's pretty obvious by now that I was right about you from the first day,' Wainright said, accusingly. 'I think you'll lead us to that train and I intend to take you into custody at that time.'
Danner killed the beginning of a grin.
Temper surged to Wainright's face again. 'What do you find amusing?' he demanded.
'You two,' Danner said. 'You're just about the strangest
'A cripple and a female? Is that what you are thinking, Danner?'
Danner looked at the dangling shotgun again. 'With that cannon, I don't suppose you are exactly helpless.' He turned and skidded down the sloping side of the roadbed to his horse. He caught up the reins and turned to look up at them.
'If you are coming along you might as well ride with me, instead of miles back.'
Wainright nodded grudging agreement. Melinda remained silent. The huge, shapeless hat made her appear even smaller than she was. It must have belonged to the Colonel. Danner searched her face for some indication of how she felt about all this, but he saw nothing except a polite interest. Danner felt more amused than angered by their foolishness, although Wainright's cannon wasn't exactly a humorous matter. He just hoped Wainright could fire the thing with some degree of accuracy.
Danner stepped into the saddle and reined around. 'When you talked to me about returning to my old job, you mentioned the theft of some rails.'
Wainright nodded curtly.
'Do you recall how many rails were stolen?'
The ill temper faded while Wainright thought it over. Finally he said, 'Four dozen sections, I think it was.'
With some swift mental arithmetic, Danner estimated the stolen rails wouldn't build enough double track to even hold all the cars of the missing train, much less take it to a secure hiding place.
Danner kicked his mount into a jog. Within a half-mile the roadbed dropped down to the near-prairie level again. Danner reined his mount over into the middle of the tracks, scanning the ground on both sides as he rode along. Wainright and Melinda followed him silently, seldom drawing closer than twenty feet. They had to quit the roadbed when the late afternoon eastbound whistled by and Danner decided to rest his horse. Neither of his silent companions had come prepared for an extended trip, so he offered them water from his canteen. Wainright nodded reluctant thanks and Melinda murmured a soft 'thank you.' They both sank down against the sloping side of the roadbed, dejected and weary.
Danner drank deeply, then hung the canteen on his saddle horn and studied the line of tracks to the east. They wouldn't be able to reach Spaulding before dark, and he wanted to check every inch of the roadbed in daylight. That meant camping out tonight with only his bedroll for all three of them. He considered taking Melinda on to Spaulding to spend the night with Ma Grim, but shrugged the idea aside. Melinda had asked for any discomfort she might have to suffer. She called to him then, breaking into his thoughts.
'You've implied that those stolen rails might have some bearing on the missing train,' she said. 'Would you mind telling us in what way?'
Wainright snorted.
Melinda cast him a reproving glance, then eyed Danner with a quizzical lift of an eyebrow. She seemed sincere enough and he was tempted to explain his suspicions. Instead he shrugged indifferently. When she spoke
