got her run out of town. The thing that got her run out of town was having her picture taken when she was naked and sitting on the sofa with Governor Crounse.”
“Naked?”
“She claims, and so does the governor, that some men broke in to the sitting room and forced her, at gunpoint, to take off her clothes so they could get a picture of them together like that. The governor thinks some of his political enemies were behind it. Nobody has said so, but I’d be willing to bet Judge Briggs was in on it from the beginning. Briggs is the kind of crooked no-good that can be bought off. Everyone knows that.”
“If everyone knows that, why is Briggs still the judge? Isn’t that an elective position?”
“Elections can be bought, and there’s no doubt in my mind but that Briggs bought the election that got him there in the first place, and now just keeps on buying them. I wouldn’t be surprised if Briggs doesn’t find some way to take over Shardeen’s ranch while he’s gone.”
Matt smiled. “You seem to have your fingers on the pulse of the town. Are you a newspaper reporter? Or are you just well connected?”
Purvis laughed. “Well connected? I wouldn’t say that, exactly. But I do hear things.”
“What do you do in Pueblo?” Matt asked. “Not that it’s any of my business,” he added quickly. “I’m just making conversation, here.”
Purvis paused for a moment before he answered. “I suppose I’m what you might call a jack of all trades. I’ve done a bit of everything since I’ve been here, but I’ve seen the elephant now, and I’m going back to the ranch my family owns just outside Red Cliff.”
One of the other passengers called out to Purvis, and he excused himself, leaving Matt standing alone. Matt continued to observe Luke Shardeen and Jenny McCoy, finding the study more interesting, now that he knew a little something about each of them.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At the far end of the depot, Matt saw the conductor and a man he assumed was the locomotive engineer talking to the depot agent. Their conversation was quite animated, so Matt moved closer to see if he could hear them. He gave a quick smile, thinking about using the trick Smoke had taught him, a trick Smoke had learned from Preacher, who had learned it from the Indians.
Outside the depot, the fireman was still on board the locomotive, still keeping the steam pressure up. As a result the water in the boiler was gurgling and hissing. But the real noise was coming from the pulsating relief tube, opening and closing rhythmically, making loud rushing noises as as if the train itself was breathing.
Matt quickly eliminated that sound and concentrated on the loudest remaining sound, which was the buzz and chatter of those conversationalists congregated in the waiting room. Their noise was punctuated by periodic outbreaks of laughter and the sound of small shoes on the floor as a couple young boys ran about in play.
After eliminating the many conversations and the children at play, Matt heard only the sound of the clacking telegraph and the ticking of the large clock on the wall nearby. He pushed those sounds aside as well, and could finally concentrate on the conversation between the engineer, the conductor, and the station agent.
“Look,” the station agent was saying. “Last night a track inspector went up to the pass and checked it out. He said it was all right then, and a freight train went through after that, so the latest word we have, by telegraph, is that the pass is open.”
“What if we get up there and we are blocked? What if we can’t go ahead and we can’t come back?” the engineer asked.
“I don’t think that is likely to happen, at least not in the next twelve hours,” the station agent said. “On the other hand, if you don’t go now, and it does get blocked, you could be here for a month.”
“I can tell you right now, Don, if that happens, we are going to have a lot of very upset people,” the conductor said to the engineer. “Nearly everyone on this train wants to get somewhere for Christmas, and we don’t have that much time left before Christmas is here.”
“You’re the conductor, Mr. Bailey,” Don said. “So the decision as to whether to go on or stay here is up to you.”
Bailey looked at the station agent. “Mr. Deckert, what is the latest time you received a report on the condition of the pass?”
“Well, like I said, a freight train went through no more ’n two hours ago, and the pass was open then. Do you want to hear the telegram?”
“Yes, read it to me,” Bailey said.
Deckert pulled the telegram from his pocket. “Midnight. Trout Creek Pass open. No difficulty.” He handed the telegram to the conductor who read it again.
“Hmm, ‘no difficulty.’ I find it interesting he says that specifically,” Bailey commented. “That’s a good sign, I would think.”
“There has been no new snow since I received this telegram so my guess would be that the pass is still open.”
“Your guess,” Don quipped.
“It’s not just a wild guess,” Deckert reasoned. “It’s based upon that telegram and the fact that there has been no new snow.”
Bailey nodded, then stuck the telegram in his pocket. “All right, Don, I say we go.”
“Like I said, you’re the boss. How much longer before we leave?”
Bailey pulled out his pocket watch and examined it, even though he was standing right under the clock. “We shouldn’t stay here too long. I would think the sooner we get to the pass, the better off we will be. I’ll give ’em about fifteen more minutes, then I’ll get them back aboard.”
“All right, I’d better go tell my fireman.” The engineer went outside to return to the locomotive and the station agent went back to his position behind the counter. Having heard what he wanted to hear, Matt let the other sounds start drifting back in, and turning toward the waiting room, he saw that Jenny and Luke were engaged in quiet conversation.
Their conversation looked to be private, so he made no effort to overhear them. Instead, he concentrated on the cup of coffee he was drinking.
Don Stevenson hurried across the brick platform and through the cold to the big 4-6-2 engine sitting on the track, wreathed in its own steam. Reaching up to grab the ladder, he climbed up and into the cabin.
His fireman, Beans Evans, reached down to give him a hand in. “So what’s the story? Are we goin’ on?”
“Yep.”
“Then the pass is open?”
“They think so.”
“They think so? You mean they don’t know?”
“Nobody knows for sure,” Don said. “But the last report they got was a telegram from Big Rock. Freight Number Seven passed through at midnight, and said that it was open.”
“That was two hours ago, and it’ll be another three hours before we get there,” Beans pointed out.
“Yes. Well, if the pass isn’t open, we can always back down the hill.”
“Yeah, that is if there ain’t another train comin’ up behind us.”
“Well, you know what they say, Beans. Ours not to reason why, ours but to do or die.”
