Savage

by Richard Laymon

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  He sat at the desk and started working on some papers. And near fell out of his chair when all of a sudden the train braked. “What in the nation!”

  Glaring at me like it was my fault, he popped to his feet.

  I shrugged, all innocent.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve no idea, really.”

  Well, he rushed over to a window and poked his head out. Then he cried, “Damn!” He shoved back from the window, snatched out his six-gun, and pointed it at me. “You dirty bastard, you tricked us!”

  “Don’t shoot! Please! I’m not one of them.”

  Some guns went off. The conductor, his eyes almost jumped out of his head. I’ve never seen a fellow so red in the face.

  He thumbed back the hammer and let it drop.

  I judged I was dead.

  The hammer landed with just a clank, not a blast. I didn’t wait for him to try again, but leaped off the bench and struck his gun hand. Not a moment too soon. I hadn’t more than whacked it when he got off a shot. The noise slapped my ears, but the bullet missed me. I threw a punch into his belly. His air whooshed out, and he tumbled back against a wall. Slammed it pretty hard.

  I twisted his hand till he dropped the gun, then used both my fists to lay into him. He didn’t seem to have much fight left, but I was sore. I kept on pounding him. “I’m not with them,” I shouted while I punched. “I told you that! Damn your bloody eyes!” Punch punch punch. “And yet you tried to shoot me!” Punch punch punch. “You’d no reason to do that!”

  I went on railing at him and hitting him. But pretty soon I realized he wasn’t in any shape to appreciate my efforts. I stepped back away from him, and he slumped to the floor and didn’t move.

  I picked up his revolver and aimed it at him. I had half a notion to shoot him. After all, he’d done his best to kill me and it was only pure luck that he hadn’t put a slug in my chest. But then I got hold of my temper.

  I was in enough trouble without plugging a railroad conductor. He’d mistaken me for one of the robbers, and I reckoned I could expect the same judgment from the engineer and fireman.

  If I stuck around.

  He got stirred up some when I commenced to strip off his duds, so I laid the barrel across his head. After that, he didn’t give me any more trouble. I shucked off my nightshirt and the ragged sleeves I’d been wearing on my feet. Then I got into his trousers, socks, boots and shirt. They fit snug, but I reckoned they would have to do for now.

  I buckled his belt around my waist and holstered the gun.

  He was moaning some by the time I finished. I restrained myself, however, and didn’t clobber him again.

  I emptied out the pockets, not wanting to steal what I didn’t need.

  He was still stretched out on the floor when I rushed out the rear of the caboose. I jumped to the ground. The gang was near the front of the train. They all had bandannas pulled up to hide their faces, but I could tell one from the next because of their sizes and duds and such. I just caught a glimpse of Chase and McSween and Breakenridge as they climbed into the side door of a car.

  Emmet, mounted, held the reins of all the horses. My friends the engineer and fireman were sprawled on the ground by the tracks, Snooker keeping them covered with his Winchester. He and Emmet were both watching the passenger cars, likely prepared to shoot at anyone who tried to interfere. They saw me coming. I waved to show I didn’t mean any harm.

  Between me and them were four passenger cars, most of the windows open. Nobody seemed foolish enough to poke his head out, but I heard a lot of commotion from inside while I hurried along. There were angry voices, scared voices, a few folks crying and taking on like they figured they’d be getting themselves massacred.

  I’d gotten past three of the cars when somebody stretched an arm out a window of the one ahead of me. The hand had a revolver in it.

  Snooker and Emmet were both looking the other way, trying to see what was happening in the express car.

  Ran through my head to shout a warning.

  Judged it wouldn’t help much.

  I shouted, anyhow, but didn’t leave it at that. All Emmet and Snooker got time to do was glance in my direction. By then, the conductor’s six-gun was already in my hand. I let fly at the passenger’s arm.

  This was my first try with a firearm. When it went off, it near jumped out of my grasp. Of course, I missed the target. My bullet went high and knocked a hole through the upper part of the window. But I might as well have hit the arm, for it dropped the gun and jumped back out of sight, never firing a shot.

  Emmet, he gave me a curious look with his head tipped sideways. Snooker winked at me.

  I hurried along and picked up the passenger’s revolver. It was a Colt .45 Peacemaker, the same as the conductor’s. I holstered it, and shoved the conductor’s gun under my belt.

  Then I hurried on and joined up with Snooker and Emmet.

  “Dang!” Snooker said. “Ain’t you the one!”

  “Yeah,” Emmet said. “Thanks.” Unlike Snooker, he didn’t seem too friendly.

  I couldn’t help but smile.

  In just the course of a few minutes, I’d been shot at, I’d beaten the conductor senseless, robbed him, and fired at a passenger. All those things shook me up considerable. So did knowing I’d joined in on the side of the outlaws. But I felt mighty pleased with myself, anyhow.

  “I’m delighted I was able to help,” I said. “The conductor was kind enough to loan me his weapon.”

  Snooker laughed from under his bandanna. “Appears he loaned you a sight more than his iron.”

  “He was quite generous, really.” I stepped past the two prisoners and nodded toward the express car. “May I?”

  “See what’s taking so long,” Snooker said.

  So I climbed aboard. Just in time to see Breakenridge fetch the strongbox a kick. He looked even bigger than I remembered him. Big and burly as a bear, but his kick didn’t even shake the safe.

  “Take more’n your boot,” McSween allowed.

  “Well, shitfire!”

  Chase had the drop on a fellow who looked scared and had a bloody hand clamped over his mouth. “Didn’t hardly recognize you, all dressed up.”

  “I was forced to subdue the conductor.”

  “Good for you, Willy!” McSween said.

  “We’ve run into some trouble here,” Chase explained. “The messenger, he won’t open the box for us.”

  “Can’t,” the fellow said from behind his bloody fingers.

  “That’s what he claims. Says it’s a through-safe, locked in Denver and can’t be opened till El Paso.”

  “I don’t reckon he’s lying,” McSween said.

  “Hey!” Breakenridge called from somewhere in the dark near the front of the car. “Here’s the ticket.” He came back with an ax. “Stand clear, buddies!”

  We gave him some room. He hefted the ax over his shoulder and swung it down. It chopped against the safe with a terrible clamor, and bounced off. The door stayed shut. The blow did little more than leave a scratch on the box’s steel top. He had another go, with the same result.

  “Too bad it ain’t made out of logs,” McSween said.

  Breakenridge paid no attention, but gave the box about ten more licks. He might’ve kept at it all day, but the ax handle finally broke. The head flew up and whistled past Chase’s face.

  “Lord sakes!” Chase blurted.

  “We ain’t getting into it,” McSween said.

  Breakenridge gave it another taste of his boot, then flung the ax handle off into the darkness.

  “We might take the safe with us,” I suggested. “Given enough time, we should be able to…”

  “Tried that once,” Chase said.

  “Let’s just see what we can get off the passengers,” McSween said. “Better than going off empty-handed.”

  Chase jabbed his gun into the express messenger’s chest. “You stay here. Poke your head out, and
we’ll oblige you by blowing a hole through it.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said between his fingers.

  We all climbed down. Breakenridge, who was winded and sweaty from his labors with the ax, slid the door shut.

  Chase explained the situation to Snooker and Emmet.

  “We could’ve got in it easy if we’d only just brought us along some dynamite,” Snooker said, sounding whiny.

  “Right,” Chase told him. “And got our own selves blowed to Kingdom Come.”

  “Farney never knew what-for about the stuff. He was the stupidest ass to ever…”

  “Don’t speak ill of them that’s gone,” McSween said.

  “He wouldn’t be gone if…”

  “Well, we don’t have dynamite, so leave it lie. Let’s just gather up what loot we can from the passengers and be on our way.”

  “I want in on it,” Emmet said.

  “You stay with the horses,” Chase told him.

  “Let him,” Emmet said, nodding at me. “I always gotta mind the horses. It ain’t fair.”

  “We didn’t come here to shoot people,” Chase said.

  “I won’t shoot a soul!”

  “So long as a soul doesn’t happen to cough behind you,” McSween said.

  That brought him a sharp glance from Emmet.

  “Y’all gonna hold that against me forever? It just ain’t fair. No fair! All I ever get to do any more is hang on to the reins and wait around while everybody else has the fun.”

  “Give the boy another chance,” Breakenridge said.

  “A feller already tried to plug us out a window,” Snooker added. “Willy took a shot at him and…”

  “Missed,” Emmet said.

  “Got close enough to scare him off. But what I’m saying, we don’t know but what we might run into a feisty passenger or two. If it comes down to gunplay, couldn’t hurt none to have Emmet along.”

  Chase seemed to think it over for a spell. Then he nodded his head. Looking at me, he said, “You’d have to watch our prisoners here. Think you can handle them?”

  “I managed the conductor, and he had the benefit of a firearm.” I patted the handle of the revolver I’d taken off him.

  “You might have a call to shoot one of these fellers,” McSween said. “Have you got the sand?”

  “They’ll either lie still, or meet dire consequences.”

  “Good enough for me,” Chase said. “All right, Emmet. But mind your weapon. Nobody’s to get ventilated without he pulls down on us and asks for it.”

  “You got my word.” Looking mighty happy now, Emmet climbed down off his horse and handed all the reins to me.

  Then the whole gang hurried off on foot. They stayed in a cluster, talking among each other, then split up alongside the first two passenger cars. When they were in position, they pulled their revolvers. All at the same time, they rushed up the stairs. Chase and Emmet entered the lead car, front and back. McSween and Snooker went in the front of the next, Breakenridge the rear.

  They hadn’t more than got inside when gunshots thundered. Some folks shrieked and others commenced to bawl. Then I heard Chase call out, “This is a holdup, friends. Settle down. We don’t aim to hurt you. We don’t want nothing but your money and watches. Just hand ‘em on over to my pal when he comes by. We’ll get done right quick, and you can be on your way.”

  I didn’t suppose they’d be on their way any too soon, not with the rail out. From where I stood, though, I could see that the engine had stopped short of the ruined section of track, and hadn’t derailed at all.

  “You’re starting down a hard road, son,” the engineer said.

  I looked down at him, sprawled there on the ground beside the fireman. They both had their heads turned, their eyes on me. Neither of them made a move to get up, but I switched the load of reins into my left hand and unholstered the Colt.

  “You don’t want no part of these doings,” the engineer told me.

  “If I’d taken no part in these doings, sir, your train would presently be a heap of debris at the bottom of the gorge. It was my idea to flag you down.”

  “If that’s the case, I’m mighty grateful.”

  “Your conductor took me for one of the outlaws and tried to shoot me down.”

  “That’s no call for you to turn to a life of crime, son. I ain’t asking you to let us go or nothing of the sort. All I’m saying is you shouldn’t ride off with this bunch. You ride with outlaws, you’ll wind up eating lead or swinging at the short end of a rope. That’s a plain fact. What you wanta do is bid ‘em a fare-thee-well and stay here. We’ll see to it you get a fair trial.”

  Up till he mentioned the fair trial, he near had me.

  “I do appreciate your concern, sir. However, I’d rather prefer to take my chances with the gang. They haven’t shot at me once, whereas your law-abiding conductor never gave me so much as the benefit of a doubt before he fired upon me.”

  “You’re making a bad mistake, son.”

  “Perhaps. Now you lie still and leave me in peace.”

  “Leave him in peace,” the fireman said. “He’s a dead man, but just don’t know it yet.”

  “Shut your mouth.” I pointed my Colt at it. He grinned, then rested his face on his crossed arms.

  Pretty soon, Chase and Emmet trotted down the stairs from each end of their car. Emmet had his gun in one hand, a valise in the other. He hadn’t gone in with the valise. I wondered if it might be full of loot.

  It looked a lot like Whittle’s leather bag. Whittle’s loot hadn’t been money and watches, but parts taken from Mary.

  Watching Emmet and Chase hurry on to the third passenger car, I remembered myself walking along the street so long ago on that cold, rainy night in Whitechapel. Following the Ripper. It came to me how, if I’d only just let him go and not rushed in to save that whore, I never would’ve found myself standing here in league with a band of robbers.

  If I’d let him go, the whore’d be dead. But Trudy and her father and Michael, they’d likely still be among the living. I never would’ve met up with Sarah. I wondered if the General and Mable might still be alive, but judged they wouldn’t be. Me being at the house probably hadn’t done them any harm. But Sarah wouldn’t have traveled west if not for me, so whatever might come of that would be my fault. Whatever Briggs might do with her.

  The ladies in Tombstone, and whoever else Whittle might’ve killed in America, they wouldn’t be dead if it weren’t for me. Maybe more women in London would be, though.

  Finally, it ran through my head that it was me who’d caused the train not to derail and crash. If I hadn’t interfered with Whittle that night, I’d be home with Mother right now and the train would likely be a heap of rubble at the bottom of the gorge, all sorts of passengers broken up and dead.

  It was enough to make me dizzy, thinking about all the folks whose lives had either been saved or lost, or only just changed considerable, for no other reason than because I’d taken a notion to follow Whittle and stop him from butchering just one whore.

  It’s mighty confounding, in life, how so much good and harm can get set into motion by just a single lad who only meant to do the proper thing.

  Now, I’d thrown in with a gang of outlaws.

  I couldn’t see much good coming of that, but it sure beat the notion of standing trial.

  Anyhow, I waited, bothering my head, but not completely lost in my thoughts. I stayed aware enough to make sure my prisoners behaved and the horses stayed put, and to kind of watch the train. Chase and Emmet weren’t in the third passenger car for long when the others jumped down and hurried along to the last car before the caboose. I was too busy with my other thoughts to wonder about the conductor. He never showed his face, though.

  When the bunch started heading back, all the deep thinking deserted me. They had my full attention. They carried three satchels among them, so they must’ve done rather well. They walked slow, keeping their eyes on the windows till they got past the passenger cars.


  “Any trouble?” Chase asked me.

  “Not at all. And you?”

  “It went slick as grease.”

  They emptied the satchels into their saddle bags, then took their reins from me and mounted up.

  McSween brought his horse over close to me. “You done a fine job, Willy. Climb on aboard.” He reached down to give me a hand.

  “Don’t do it, son,” the engineer warned. He seemed a good fellow who wanted to save me from a bad end.

  Emmet laid a bullet into the dirt no more than an inch from the engineer’s nose. It threw up dust into his eyes.

  I grabbed hold of McSween’s hand. He swung me up behind his saddle.

  As we galloped toward the bridge, every last one of the band pulled his gun and took to firing into the air. They shouted out whoops and banged away at the sky. Hugging the steed with my knees, I unlimbered both my Colts and let fly.

  It was simply bully!

  But part of me was listening and counting.

  The six-gun I’d taken off the conductor, it fired four times.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Shooting Lessons

  We went charging to the bottom of the slope and didn’t stop when we came to the water, but raced downstream, staying in the shallows near the shore. We splashed along right quick for a while, then slowed and took it easy.

  McSween and I were at the rear. Some of the others were laughing and talking up ahead, but what with the rushy sounds of the water and the hoofs plopping and such, I couldn’t make out a thing they said.

  We must’ve put quite a few miles between us and the train before we finally rode up onto the bank and dismounted. I untrapped my feet from the tight boots, waded into the water and helped myself to a drink while the others tied their horses to some bushes and pulled off the saddle bags.

  By the time I joined them, they’d dumped the loot into a heap. They were sitting on the ground, busy separating the watches from the money. I sat down by McSween.

  Well, looked like they had enough watches to open up a shop. They had a good big pile of coins, too, and a bundle of greenbacks.

  “It don’t appear we’ve struck it rich,” Breakenridge said.