Bear Claws

by Robert Lee Murphy

Zzzzz.

  The rattlesnake’s head rose higher.

  Zing!

  Whap!

  An arrow zipped past Will’s ear and pierced the snake’s head, pinning it back against the timbered wall.

  The snake’s body jerked and flopped. Its tail flipped around and knocked the bottle of nitroglycerin off the shelf.

  “Grab it!” Will shouted.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting a loud explosion.

  He heard a loud sigh instead.

  Will looked down and let out his own breath.

  Lone Eagle cradled the bottle in his hands. His bow lay at his feet.

  Hanging beside Will was the largest rattlesnake he’d ever seen. With the head firmly affixed to the wall by the arrow directly opposite Will’s nose, the body continued to twitch its full length. The rattles still sizzled down by his feet.

  Will dropped to the floor of the tunnel. A final look around the entrance convinced him there were no more bottles. The two they had recovered rested on the large boulder outside.

  “Let’s bring the horses inside the tunnel and I’ll shoot the bottles. We can’t leave that explosive undetonated.”

  While Lone Eagle held the animals’ heads, Will peered around the edge of the tunnel entrance and fired a carbine shot at the bottles. The ear-splitting explosion threw chunks of rock clear across the tracks in front of the tunnel. The horses whinnied and reared, but Lone Eagle held on to them.

  Will stepped outside the entrance. Where the boulder once stood gaped a hole large enough to swallow both of their horses—and riders.

  CHAPTER 33

  Jenny, Homer, and Hobart Johnson raced into Benton on lathered horses. The conductor had borrowed a horse from the cavalry at Fort Steele after they’d crossed the river, allowing him more riding comfort than Ruby’s packsaddle. Homer’s mule trailed behind him on a lead rope.

  “Where d’ya ’spose I’ll find Mr. Corcoran and General Dodge?” Homer spoke to Conductor Johnson.

  “Probably over to the Casement warehouse. Come on, I need to go there anyway to tell General Jack to assemble a bridge repair team. And I need to talk to General Dodge because he’s the only one who has the authority to send a locomotive out to push the busted one into the ditch and clear the tracks.”

  “I have to find my sister,” Jenny said. “I’ll find you later to return Mr. Corcoran’s horse.”

  “Sure enough, Jenny,” Homer said.

  The three riders parted at the center of the one-lane, dusty road that served as Hell on Wheels’ only thoroughfare.

  Jenny didn’t have any trouble locating the Lucky Dollar Saloon. The tall, false-fronted structure occupied the center of the long row of shacks and tents making up the portable town, like it had in Julesburg, Cheyenne, and Laramie. Benton was just the latest iteration of ramshackle buildings the merchants and gamblers dragged along following the railroad west.

  Jenny guided the horse up to the hitching rail that stretched along the boardwalk in front of the saloon. She dismounted, looped the reins over the rail, and brushed the dust off her clothes. She’d put on a new pair of work pants and a clean wool shirt when she’d left North Platte Crossing this morning, thinking the ride would be a leisurely one and she’d be presentable when she met her sister. But the race to the site of the explosion, and then the fast-paced ride on to Benton, had played havoc with her appearance.

  She lifted her slouch hat and ran a hand through her hair, trying to gather the stray black tendrils back into place beneath her hat. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her trail grime besmirched her face. She could feel the grit on her cheeks with her fingertips. Unless a passerby noticed how her curves filled out the shirt she wore, she might be mistaken for a man—a boy, at least.

  She walked across the boardwalk and pushed through the bat-wing doors of the Lucky Dollar. She spotted Elspeth right away. Her older sister swayed from side to side on the end of a bench beside a piano player who banged away on the keys of the out-of-tune instrument. Elspeth’s blonde curls, shining in the light cast from the dozens of candles crowding the big tent’s chandeliers, brushed the tops of her bare shoulders. The half-dozen patrons in the dance hall at this midday hour clapped in unison, while Elspeth’s clear voice sang the familiar Stephen Foster tune.

  Oh! Susanna, don’t you cry for me;

  I come from Alabama,

  With my banjo on my knee.

  Jenny stepped down from the wooden floor of the narrow false-front onto the hardpacked dirt that extended from one side of the circus-style tent to the other. The music drowned out any noise her boots made as she walked to the piano, which sat against the back wall of the dance hall. She wished her sister would wear something that covered her shoulders—and bosom. From where she stood at the end of the bench, she had a more revealing view down the front of Elspeth’s dress than she deemed appropriate.

  It took a moment for Elspeth to realize someone stood beside her, she was so wrapped up in singing. She turned sideways on the bench. “Well, look who the cat dragged in.”

  “Hello, Elspeth.”

  “Jennifer, you look worse than the last time I saw you.” She wrinkled her nose. “And don’t you ever take a bath? Whew! You smell like a horse.”

  “I just rode in on one. Of course, I smell like a horse.”

  “What are you doing here? It’s a long ways from North Platte Crossing.”

  “I came to talk to you. Can we find a private corner?”

  “Sorry, Michael, you’ll have to carry on without me.” She touched the piano player’s arm, who nodded and kept playing.

  Elspeth led Jenny to one end of the long, wooden bar that stretched the length of the tent. “This is as private as it gets in here.” She leaned back against the bar and hooked the heel of a high-button shoe over the footrail.

  Jenny stood opposite her sister, her back against the wall of the tent, giving her a view down the length of the empty bar. What customers there were occupied tables, while the bartender stayed busy polishing glasses at the far end of the bar.

  “Well,” Elspeth said. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

  “We’re moving again. Pa’s being transferred to the Green River home station. We want you to come with us.”

  “Humph! I’ll bet Pa never even mentioned my name. This is all your idea.”

  Jenny didn’t want to tell her sister that she was right about their father never mentioning her. He’d given up on persuading her to rejoin the family. “He misses you, Elspeth.”

  “Why didn’t he come? Did he send you?”

  “No, he didn’t send me. But he knows I’m here. The family should be together. We’re working our way west slowly with Wells Fargo, and when the railroad is completed we’ll go on to California, where we were headed in the first place.”

  “You forget, little sister, that I never wanted to leave Virginia.” Elspeth’s southern drawl caressed the name of their old home state. “California wasn’t my choice. But as it turns out, I’m heading that way anyway. All I have to do is stay with Hell on Wheels and follow the railroad all the way to the promised land.”

  “What can I do to convince you to come home?”

  “Home? Pooh. This is my home . . . for now.” She swept an arm back, indicating the dance hall. “I’m socking away a nest egg that will let me eventually get away from that lecherous Mort Kavanagh. Once I do that, I’ll be able to live in style. And what will you have, dear sister? You still making a dollar-fifty per meal?”

  After buying the food, it was less than a dollar-fifty Jenny made selling meals to the stagecoach passengers. And she hadn’t saved much of that, either. She used her meager profits to buy essentials for the family, and an occasional treat for herself. She didn’t have a good response to Elspeth’s snide comment.

  “I’ve got to get back to work,” Elspeth said.

  Jenny suddenly ducked down and grabbed her sister’s waist.

  “What are you doing, Jenny? Begging won’t make me c
hange my mind. And get your dirty hands off my dress!”

  Jenny peered around Elspeth’s side and nodded toward the wooden front of the Lucky Dollar. “Is that Paddy O’Hannigan?”

  Elspeth looked over her shoulder, following Jenny’s gaze. “Yes. He’s going into Mort Kavanagh’s office in the corner there. He works for Mort.”

  “I don’t want Paddy to see me. He tried to kill me last year.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Will rode down the single street of Benton, Buck kicking up brownish yellow dirt with each step. Jenny stood on the boardwalk in front of Abrams General Store, next to the Wells Fargo station. She held a small parcel, probably containing something she’d bought in Benjamin Abrams’ store.

  Will reined in and stepped down from the saddle. “Been shopping?”

  Jenny held up her package. “Just some salt and pepper. Don’t want to have to haul a lot of supplies to Green River when we go.”

  “Did you see Elspeth?”

  “I saw her. She won’t come with me, though. Guess I didn’t really expect her to.”

  Will took off his slouch hat and slapped it against his leg. A fine reddish spray flew from his trousers. “This alkali dust gets into everything.”

  “It surely does.” She ran a hand down her cheek and held it out for him to see the deep ocher color staining the tips of her fingers.

  “You didn’t catch up with Paddy,” she said.

  “No. How’d you know?”

  “He came into the Lucky Dollar Saloon while I was talking with Elspeth. You need to be careful, Will. Paddy won’t hesitate to attack you . . . or me for that matter.”

  “You’re right. Lone Eagle and I did manage to dismantle the nitro bombs he’d left in the tunnel.”

  “Where’s Lone Eagle now?”

  “Headed back to his cabin . . . by way of a cave on Elk Mountain.” He told her about Star Dancer’s blanket shroud, and how upset Lone Eagle had been when he found out Paddy had desecrated it by using it to carry his chemicals.

  “Oh, that is sad. I can imagine how he must feel.”

  The Wells Fargo mud wagon rolled down the street and stopped in front of the station. “Whoa!” Butch Cartwright called down from the driver’s seat in her scratchy voice. “You going with us back to North Platte Crossing, Will?”

  “No.” He stuck his hat back on his head and smiled up at the driver. Now, of course, he could see she was female—but she’d fooled him for a long time—and she was still fooling everybody except Jenny and him apparently. He wondered how hard she had to concentrate on keeping the scratchy tone in her voice. Maybe she’d been masquerading so long it was second nature now.

  Butch held a hand beside her mouth and shouted into the station building. “Time to go, folks, if we want to get to North Platte Crossing before dark!”

  A half-dozen passengers came out of the building and tossed their luggage up to Butch, who stowed the pieces on the top of the wagon.

  “Jenny,” Butch said, “ride up here with me. I don’t have a shotgun messenger this run. Can you fill in?”

  “Sure.” Jenny laid a hand on Will’s forearm. “How long until I see you again?”

  He shook his head. “Probably not until the railroad gets to Green River.”

  She stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He felt his face flush under the soft touch of her lips.

  “I see you blushing, Will Braddock.” She laughed. “Until Green River, then.”

  Jenny climbed up the side of the mud wagon and settled on the seat beside Butch. Butch took her foot off the brake, snapped the ribbons, and the six-horse team rolled away from the station.

  Will waved once. Jenny raised the shotgun in a return salute. He watched until the coach disappeared from view where the narrow road turned south and dropped down a slope.

  Benjamin Abrams stuck his head out of the entrance to his store. “How do, Will. Haven’t seen you for a while.”

  “Hello, Mr. Abrams.”

  “Your uncle came into the store a little bit ago and bought some cigars. You want some candy today?”

  “No, thank you. I have to find my uncle right now. Maybe later.”

  “Hey, Will!” Homer hurried down the street toward him.

  “Hey, Homer. Where can I find Uncle Sean?”

  “He’s over to the Casement warehouse.”

  Will handed Buck’s reins to Homer. “How about taking care of Buck for me while I go report to Uncle Sean? Buck needs rubbing down, fed and watered.”

  “Sure thing. All the other animals are over to the livery stable. I’ll take him over there.”

  “See you later, Mr. Abrams.” Will and the storekeeper exchanged waves.

  Will headed down the street to where he could see the knockdown warehouse at the end of track, just beyond the western edge of Benton. He spotted his uncle standing with General Dodge, General Jack Casement, and Conductor Johnson alongside a work train. Grady Shaughnessy stood nearby directing workers in stacking timbers and other construction materials onto a string of flatcars.

  Will greeted the four men as he approached. The last time he’d seen the generals and Grady had been at the dedication ceremony at Sherman Summit.

  “Will.” All four men greeted him simultaneously and faced him with quizzical looks.

  “What’d you find beyond the bridge?” Johnson asked. “We heard an explosion.”

  Will told them about the nitroglycerin planted in the tunnel and how he and Lone Eagle had disposed of it. He informed them he believed it was the work of Paddy O’Hannigan. He didn’t mention the rattlesnake.

  “Good work,” General Jack said. “I’ll keep an eye out for O’Hannigan. Had to fire that rascal once. Guess it’s going to take more than that to put a stop to his conniving.”

  “I suspect there’s someone putting him up to these tricks,” Dodge said, “but proving it may be difficult.”

  General Jack turned to Shaughnessy. “You’re going to have to rebuild that trestle in record time, Grady. Can you do it?”

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. These timbers were already cut for the next trestle. We’ll just use them to rebuild the damaged one. The only thing that’ll slow us down is waiting to clear that locomotive off the track.”

  “Conductor Johnson has the authority to direct the engineer on this locomotive to push the other one into the ditch,” General Dodge said. He stepped back a pace and looked down the street. “Where’s that telegrapher? He’s got to go with you and hook up a wire so he can notify General Grant’s train to stop.”

  “Here he comes,” General Jack said.

  A short, balding man, carrying a carpetbag, limped up the dusty street and stopped in front of the assembled railroad men.

  “What’s this, Elmo?” Dodge pointed to Elmo Nicoletti’s leg.

  “Fell off a ladder trying to hook up the line to the new station building yesterday.”

  “How’re you going to climb a pole to make your connection?” Dodge asked.

  “I’m not. Somebody else has to. I can tap out the message, but I can’t climb the pole.”

  “I can do it,” Will said.

  General Dodge looked at Will, then at Will’s uncle, who nodded his approval.

  “All right, then. We have to act quickly. Better get started, Mr. Johnson.”

  “Yes, sir. Boooard!”

  Will and two dozen workers clambered onto the flatcars.

  A half-hour later Will stood on the west bank of the shallow ravine alongside Shaughnessy, Nicoletti, and Johnson, watching the damaged locomotive being shoved aside.

  “All right,” Johnson said. “Let’s get the telegraph working.”

  Nicoletti pulled a spool of wire and a telegrapher’s key from his carpetbag. “Will, take one end of this wire across that gully while I hook the spool up to the key on this side. Climb up that pole over yonder and twist your end onto that wire you see hanging up there.”

  Will grasped the end of the wire, scrambling down the embankment and up
the other side. He looped the wire twice around his wrist and shinnied up the pole. When he had the wire connected, he waved to Nicoletti, who rapidly tapped out a message on his key.

  After a pause, the key clattered a response.

  “Too late, Mr. Johnson,” Nicoletti said. “General Grant’s train has already departed Medicine Bow with enough fuel and water to make it nonstop to Benton. They’re highballing it . . . there’s no way Medicine Bow can notify them this bridge is out.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Even from where he clung to the telegraph pole, Will could see the disappointment on Conductor Johnson’s face. He shinnied back down the pole and crossed the gully to rejoin the conductor and the telegrapher.

  “The only way to stop that train now is to flag it down. Will, you’re younger than me . . . and a whole lot faster at running, I’d allow. Can you run down the track as far as you can and flag the engineer?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Johnson gave Will a red flag and instructions on what to do. “On your way, then,” he said. “Tell General Grant we’ll have the track back in operation in no time.”

  A few minutes later, Will trotted along the pathway between the railroad tracks and St. Mary’s Creek, the same path he’d ridden earlier in the day on his way to the tunnel. He glanced to the south, where Elk Mountain dominated the horizon. Had Lone Eagle gotten back to his cabin? Had Jenny reached North Platte Crossing?

  He’d have to think about when he’d get to see his friends again another time. Right now, he had to concentrate on how to get the engineer on General Grant’s train to heed his signal to stop. He wanted to get as far down the track as possible in order to give the engineer plenty of time to bring the locomotive to a halt, after he signaled the train to stop—if he could get the engineer to heed his signal.

  A whistle echoed from the distance. The train would be coming on fast. Conductor Johnson had said it would take some distance to stop, since it was highballing downhill toward the North Platte River.

  Will knew he didn’t have much time left. He climbed the embankment to get onto the tracks. He quickened his pace, staying between the rails, stepping on every other crosstie as he ran.