The horse shimmied; Poltrock looked up at the sudden tremble. A distant, rising roar; then the tracks began to vibrate, and at last, the sound of a steam whistle.
Poltrock knew a train was coming. He guided his horse off the track bed, then steadied it at the tree line. “Easy, easy now.” He tried to calm the animal, all the while thinking,
The ground shook; it was all Poltrock could do to keep his horse from bucking. In moments, a very fast train tore by. It was back-riding; in other words, the engine was pushing the cars rather than pulling them. Poltrock had only a few seconds to count one coal hopper, five passenger cars, and a guide car up front. It was gone moments later in a great wake of dust and concussion, and in another minute he could hear its whistle blowing again as it slowed to stop at the work site.
He supposed he’d find out in due time. He let his horse calm down a few minutes more, then continued to count the last rails of their week of work.
The sun had just sunk behind the mountain when Poltrock got to the red-flagged stake he’d sunk exactly one week ago. He had to focus on his figures now, so he dismounted and tied his horse off. He lit an oil lantern he’d brought along, then sat down on the very first piece of rail that had been spiked last Friday.
It was just simple math, and by now he’d gone over the week’s numbers at least five times. Every single piece of rail was exactly twenty-two feet and six inches long. There could be no irregularities.
He was never aware of the figure looming over him.
“Working by lamplight,” the voice intoned. “A sign of diligence, I must say.”
Poltrock’s heart jolted. He looked up in shock.
It was Mr. Gast looking down at him from his great white steed.
“The rest of the men are preparing for revel, but you, Mr. Poltrock, are here working the numbers past dusk. I do not forget the men who give me their very best work.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gast,” Poltrock uttered.
“I feel great things, wonderful things tonight.” The low moon was rising just behind Gast’s head, cutting his features in blade-sharp blackness. The steed stood still as a statue. “Do you have the week’s account for me yet, or have I interrupted you?”
Poltrock stood up and dusted himself off. “No, sir, in fact you’ve arrived at the perfect time. I have indeed finished my account of this week’s work, and…”
“And?”
Poltrock sighed. “I don’t know how to say this, Mr. Gast, but unless the rail you’re buyin’ is shorter than it’s supposed to be, we done laid 3.1 miles of track this week.”
A pause. Gast’s high silhouette didn’t move. “That’s outstanding.”
Gast’s voice was like a low throb. “What does this mean, Mr. Poltrock?”
“It means several things, sir. For one, it means that each man workin’ for you is doin’ the job of two. And when you add it all up, since we started, we’re fifty or sixty miles ahead of schedule.”
More silence. Silence was how Harwood Gast showed his jubilation. All he said was: “Thank you, sir.”
Poltrock stowed his book back in the saddlebag. “Mr. Gast, what was that train I just saw flyin’ by here a little while ago? We ain’t scheduled for no deliveries anytime soon, and, besides, it looked like a passenger train.”
“It is. I just bought it from the yards in Pittsburgh. It’ll move thirty miles an hour, they say.”
“I believe it, sir. So you’ll be going back home tonight for a visit?”
“Yes, and so will we all. I’ve decided to give the men another respite. The men deserve it…as you’ve just verified with your spectacular account of their progress.”
“The train boards in a hour, Mr. Poltrock, and it will be takin’ us all back to Gast for a week of relaxation. Why, I haven’t even seen my own wife and children in several months. And as fast as that new steam car goes? We’ll be back home before noon tomorrow.”
“That’s great news, Mr. Gast. The men will be beside themselves.”
“So you best get back to the site soon, Mr. Poltrock. Oh, and here…A token of my appreciation for your work thus far.”
Poltrock took a small leather case from him. “Why, uh, thank you, sir.”
Gast looked to the stars. “Good things will continue to befall us, Mr. Poltrock. I can feel it down to the roots of my very soul. I can see it in the stars…”
“It’s the night for it, I can tell,” Gast went on with his obtuse talk. He looked once more down at Poltrock. “Yes!” he whispered. “Tonight!”
Gast turned his horse and trotted off.
Poltrock shook his head after the man.
When he looked inside, he couldn’t even speak.
The case contained five stout cigars, an ink pen studded with diamonds, and $500 in cash.
It was a fortune, added to the lofty salary he was already being paid.
He climbed back on his horse and headed back to the site.
A mile or so down, the horse stopped for no reason. “What’s the matter? Come on, I got a train to catch.” he said. But then he realized exactly where he was.
He was looking to the left, into a little clearing in the side brush.
Something compelled him to dismount, and he never even considered what it might be. Next, he was walking into the clearing, his oil lamp raised.
Morris must have already left; Poltrock could hear nothing within. When he entered farther, he stopped and stared.
He wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first. It was the girl, he could tell, but…
Something didn’t seem right.
The girl lay naked. He could see the backs of her legs, the bottoms of her bare feet, as well as her buttocks, which Morris had fussed about so.
But…Poltrock could also see her breasts…
He stepped closer. His cognizant mind shut off when he leaned over to see what had been done. Indeed, the well-endowed Indian girl lay on her belly. He need only lift her shoulder to realize exactly what Morris had used that fancy bayonet for.
She’d been skinned from collarbones to pubis, and it was an intricate job. Morris had managed to slough off her breasts and belly skin in one clean sheet, after which he’d flipped her over and laid the sheet across her back.
Poltrock stared at the strange corpse for untold minutes, and as he held the lamp higher, he noticed several more dead Indian women deeper in the clearing.
He couldn’t think for the loud drone in his head that suddenly threatened to push his skull apart from the
