About thirty minutes later, the engineer, a small, thickset man, sauntered out of the cafe talking in a rapid-fire manner to the brakeman. When he got on an engine drawn up in front of a long line of cars, Easy said quickly, “Come on. This is the big break. One more ride and we’re home free!”
The two hurried down the track, keeping their eyes peeled for railroad detectives, but they saw no one. The sound of cars being moved by chuffing locomotives filled the air, and occasionally the shout of a brakeman would come to them faintly from a distance. Fortunately it was a long line of cars, over a hundred, as best as they could tell, but most of them were cattle cars. “I don’t want to sleep with no heifer,” Easy grinned. “Look, there’s some boxcars down the way. One of them is bound to be open.” After trying several cars that were locked, they found one with a door slightly ajar. Peter reached up, rolled it back and tossed his suitcase in, and Easy followed.
“Here, let me give you a boost,” Peter offered. He leaned over, cupped his hands, and laced his fingers together. Easy grinned as he stepped up, and Peter tossed him high in the air.
“Hey, don’t throw me over the car!”
Laughing, Peter put his hands on the floor and vaulted, hauling himself up with ease. He rolled and sat down, then grinned at his companion. “All aboard for Los Angeles.” At that moment a slight noise caught his attention, and he turned quickly, ready for trouble. Easy had heard the noise also and reached toward his bag, where he carried a short piece of pipe with tape wrapped around the end.
“Who’s that?” Easy asked.
Peter’s eyes were not yet accustomed to the darkness, but he did see someone standing at the end of the car. “Who are you?” he asked, fearing it might be one of the bulls.
“Just a bummer like you are.”
The figure came forward. With astonishment Peter saw that it was a young girl. She was wearing a baggy pair of men’s trousers and a bulky plaid Mackinaw coat. From underneath the toboggan cap on her head, black curly hair escaped, with several strands falling down to the girl’s shoulders. She had enormous eyes. It was impossible to tell the color of them, but they were dark and wide-set in a rather squarish face. She kept her head turned slightly away, but then she turned to face them fully. A scar ran down from her left temple across her cheek to the corner of her mouth. “I don’t want any trouble,” she said nervously. “Just leave me alone.”
“Why, sure. We’ll do that,” Easy said. “Where are you headed?”
“Just traveling” was all she said as she moved back into the shadows. “Just don’t bother me.”
Peter was shocked to find a young girl on a train alone. His sense of propriety shaken, he simply could not imagine a girl traveling as a bummer, roughing it among the hard men who rode the freights. He thought for one moment of how it would be if Priscilla had been forced to do a thing like this, and an impulse came to show kindness to the young girl. “I guess we’re all headed the same direction,” he said easily and held up the sack in his hand. “We just had our meal, but we got a few extra hamburgers for the road. How about helpin’ us eat ’em?”
“No thanks.” The answer was brief and unyielding, a hard voice for a young girl.
“Ah, come on,” Easy said and smiled at her. “Can’t make any coffee, but we’ve got some orange juice. Might as well pitch in. We can’t eat it all,” he said encouragingly.
A long silence followed his invitation, and then the girl came forward and stood closer to them. “Well . . . I wouldn’t mind something to eat.”
“Sure,” Peter said. He reached into the bag and handed her a hamburger while Easy fished in his bundle for the bottle of orange juice he had bought the day before. “Not cold,” he said, “but pretty good stuff.”
“Thanks.” The girl took the sandwich and sat down with her back to the side of the car and put the bottle down beside her. She unwrapped the hamburger and then looked at the two men who had sat down across from her, all the while keeping the scarred cheek turned away. “My name’s Jolie Devorak,” she said, as if in payment for the food. She took a bite and chewed it voraciously. When she’d swallowed that bite, she immediately tore into the rest of the sandwich.
Averting his eyes out of politeness, Peter was aware that she was eating the sandwich with a driving hunger he had come to recognize himself since he had started traveling. There was one more hamburger. He picked it up and looked at it, then said, “I never could stand cold hamburgers. Better eat it while it’s hot, Jolie.”
The girl shook her head. “I don’t want to eat all your food.”
“We’ll be in Los Angeles tomorrow. Be eating like kings,” Peter said, handing her the second hamburger. “My name’s Peter Winslow, and this here is Easy Devlin.”
The girl said nothing but accepted the hamburger. She was eating as fast as she could, but she stopped halfway through the sandwich to wash it down with long swallows from the bottle. “This is real good,” she said. “I was pretty hungry, I guess.”
“Been on the road long?” Easy asked.
“Not too long.” The answer gave nothing away, and as the girl finished the hamburger, the light that slanted in through the partly open door illuminated her face. Her hair was very black, with some curl to it. She had a European look about her, and her eyes seemed to be a deep blue. She finished the food and wadded up the paper, then rose and threw it out. “Do you want to keep the bottle?” she asked Easy.
“Nope. Chuck it out.” He watched as the girl threw the bottle out the door, then as she stood up, leaning her back against the side of the car observing them, he said, “Must be pretty tough for a young lady to be on the road.”
“I make out.”
“Anybody ever try to bother you?” Peter asked.
The girl’s hand flashed inside her jacket and drew out a three-inch blade that glinted in the ray of sunlight shining through the partly open door. “They don’t try it but once.”
Easy laughed with delight. “I like your spunk, Jolie. Just keep that knife handy and you’ll be all right. But you don’t have anything to worry about from us.”
A look of disbelief washed across the young girl’s face. “I’ve heard that before,” she said.
“You haven’t heard it from me,” Peter said testily.
“No, I haven’t heard it from you. Thanks for the food.” She retired to the far end of the car and sat down, her back against it, her wary eyes on the two men. Ten minutes later they felt the jerking of the cars as the engine lunged against them. An initial jolt almost threw them off balance, and then began the slow, steady pull forward as the sharp shrill of the whistle split the air.
“We’re on our way,” Easy murmured. “Should be an easy trip.”
“I hope so,” Peter said. “I’ve had about enough bumming to do me for a lifetime.” The two talked quietly for a while, and finally Easy glanced over at the girl.
“She’s asleep,” he said. “Hate to see a thing like that. Pretty rough for a girl. How old do you think she is?”
“Hard to say. Maybe sixteen. Seventeen.” Peter shook his head sadly. “It’s tough. Hard enough on a guy, but for a girl to be out here. I can’t even imagine how she’s made it this far.”
“Guess we better catch a little sleep,” Easy said, “so we’ll be fresh when we hit the big city.” He unrolled his blanket, wrapped it around him, and soon fell asleep.
Peter got his own blanket. It was cold in the car, and he welcomed the warmth of the wool blanket. As he lay down, he glanced at the girl. She was hidden in the shadows, but he had the feeling that if he advanced toward her, he would see the knife appear once again. He closed his eyes, and soon the rhythmic clickety-clack of the wheels over the seams in the track proved to be soporific. He dozed off, thinking of nothing except getting off the freight train and starting a new life in Los Angeles.
****
When the train slowed down, breaking the rhythm of the wheels, Peter awoke and sat up, throwing the blanket aside. “It looks like we
’re going to have a stop,” he said to Easy, who was already awake. “I hope they don’t check the cars.”
The girl made no comment, but had risen and was now standing, balancing with the sway of the cars. She gave Peter and Easy a cautious look but said nothing as the train pulled to a screeching halt.
“Must be a water stop,” Easy said, and then he cocked his head. “Listen to that. Somebody comin’.”
Peter heard it also and kept his eye on the door, which had been closed to a six-inch opening. It suddenly was thrust back, and the outline of a man appeared as he heaved himself into the car. He turned and stuck his hand down, and quickly two more men piled in. They sprawled on the floor but got to their feet at once.
“We made it, Satch.” The speaker was a big man with yellow hair and pale blue eyes. He appeared to be about twenty-five, and there was a bulkiness in his upper body that spoke of tremendous strength. He was wearing a rumpled pair of trousers, a bulky turtleneck sweater, and a soft felt cap pulled down over his forehead.
“Yeah, we made it, Max. Thanks for the lift.” Satch, the speaker, was a small man of about thirty, wearing the same dirty, wrinkled clothes as his companions. He turned and said, “Are you okay, Tony?”
The third man was a tall, thin fellow with a dark complexion and black hair and a pair of shifty eyes. He had spotted Peter and Easy across from him and was instantly on guard. “Hello, bos,” he said, which was short for “hobos.”
The other two newcomers turned quickly, and the big man named Max said, “You guys got anything to eat?”
Peter recognized at once the threat in the muscular man’s voice. They were a rough-looking trio, and he evaluated the chances of turning them down, then decided it would be better to show a little diplomacy. “Got a few cans of beans, some bread, and some bologna.” He glanced at Easy, who remained upright, his back against the car, staring at the three. There was a cautious look in his thin face, but he said, “Got a couple cans of fruit, too. Pears, I think, and one of peaches.”
“Well, let’s have ’em,” Max said and advanced on them. He seemed enormous in the shadowy light, and his eyes were a dull blue that appeared to have nothing behind them. He held his massive hands out, and as soon as he had gotten the food, he turned to his companions. “Dinnertime, guys,” and the three men proceeded to wolf down the food. They threw the empty cans and papers out the door and began to interrogate the two men.
“Where you headin’?” asked the large man called Max.
“Los Angeles,” Peter said, adding nothing to his remark.
Tony, the tall man, said, “You got any money?”
“Not much, and I’m keeping what I’ve got,” Peter said curtly. He was tense and expected an argument, but Tony’s white teeth flashed, and he tilted his head back and laughed harshly.
“You’re a pretty tough one, but I like that. Keep your check.”
“Hey! Who’s that back there?” The smaller man named Satch had sharp eyes. He had seen a movement at the back of the car and stepped forward, peering into the gloom. “Come out here! Who are you?” He advanced and then stopped. “Why, it’s a girl!”
“A girl?” Tony’s eyes narrowed and he moved to stand beside Satch. “Let’s have a look at you,” he said.
“Leave me alone,” Jolie snapped. She reached inside her coat but did not pull out the knife.
Tony saw the movement and laughed. “What you got under that coat, a gun?” He moved forward, and when the girl pulled out the knife and pointed it at him, he laughed with delight. “Look at that, guys! She’s feisty, ain’t she?” He reached inside his own coat and drew out a pistol. “Now that ain’t much good against a rod,” he said. “You better put that knife away.” When the girl did not obey, his hand shot out and he twisted her arm. She cried out sharply, and the knife fell to the floor. Tony kicked it over to the back of the car and dragged the girl out. “I said, let’s have a look at you!” He put the gun away, his hand shot out, and he jerked the gray toboggan cap off the girl’s head. Her black hair cascaded around her shoulders as she struggled to get away from him.
“Well, I always liked pretty black hair. A weakness of mine.” He winked at the other two and said, “How do you like my new lady friend?”
“Let me go!”
“Not a chance, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
Peter was not afraid of getting a beating, which he had no doubt he would get if he challenged the three, but the sight of the gun had sent a shiver of fear through him. He glanced at Easy, who shook his head quickly, and read in his eyes the message, Stay out of it! But it was hard to do, for the three men were gathered around the girl and were all touching her.
“Let’s have a kiss. I’ll show you what a real man’s like,” Tony said. He reached forward and took the girl in his arms. She fought against him silently, not asking for help.
Peter could see her face was pale, and her lips were drawn together with determination. She had no chance, of course, and Peter threw caution to the wind. “Let her alone,” he demanded, stepping forward.
The three men wheeled around, surprised at the interruption. Max laughed crudely. “We got a hero here, Tony. But I’ll sit on him while you have your fun with the girl, then I’ll take my turn.” He moved toward Peter, his body blocking the light from the half-open door. His hands were stretched out in the manner of a wrestler, his fingers curved like huge claws. There was a cool light in his dull blue eyes, and his lips were open in a sneer.
As the huge man advanced, Peter could only imagine how much the brute enjoyed using his strength on other men. The adrenaline rushed to his head as he heard Satch say, “Bust him up, Max!”
Knowing he had no chance at all in a barroom-style fight with Max, Peter stepped forward and delivered a powerful kick to the man’s kneecap. It succeeded, knocking the big man down. Without compunction Peter swung another kick that grazed Max’s head and stunned the big man. He did not hit squarely as he had hoped, and before he could recover, the other two men were on him. Fists beat his lips back against his teeth, and a powerful blow caught him in the temple, sending red sparks reeling across his brain. He struck out and hit something and heard a cry of pain, but it did no good. Tony was slashing at him, driving him back against the car. When he raised his hands to protect his face, Satch delivered a blow below his belt that sent unbearable pain through him. Without crying aloud, Peter threw himself forward, and the three went reeling across the car. The fight was a vicious, brutal affair with no quarter asked and none given. He had two fears—that Tony would pull the gun in his belt, and that Max would recover and join in the fray. Peter had little hope as he kicked and fought viciously in a style he had never known. There were no rules, no referee, and he knew that if he fell down, he would be kicked to death.
He bounced off the side of the car, and out of the corner of his eye saw that Max had risen and was reeling toward him, his lips twisted with anger. And then suddenly there was a sound of a clunk, as if someone had struck a melon with a hammer. The huge man fell face forward, rolled over to protect himself, and lay staring up. Easy had come up behind him with the pipe he always carried and hit the big man over the head with it.
“That’s all right!” Max growled, his eyes half glazed. He had a thick protection of heavy bone in his skull, and the blow that would have killed an ordinary man had merely stunned him momentarily. He got to his feet and lurched toward Easy, muttering, “That’s all right! I’ll get you!”
Meanwhile, Tony and Satch, seeing Max getting up and heading for the smaller man, redoubled their efforts. They drove Peter to the floor, and his brain went numb as a kick caught him high on the temple. They grasped his arms, and he felt himself being dragged across the floor. He heard Tony saying, “Open that door wide! We’ll give him a toss!”
Across the car, Easy dodged between Max’s heavy hands again, but the blow was deflected. With a backhand he caught Max across the temple and saw his eyes dull. As he staggered from the blow, Max was still
muttering, “I’ll get you!” Easy turned and saw the two men were about to throw Peter out the door of the car. He yelled and advanced toward them.
Seeing the small man come toward him with the uplifted pipe, Tony loosed his hold on Peter and shot his hand under his coat. He came out with the pistol, but just as he did Easy swung the pipe and caught the gun, driving it into the back of the car. Tony yelled, “Get him!” Dodging the pipe, he threw himself on Easy, who collapsed under his weight. Tony and Satch pummeled Easy to the floor, then picked him up and started dragging him toward the door.
“All right! Throw ’em both out! Come on, Max, give us a hand!”
Both Peter and Easy fought back, but the combined strength of the three forced them to the door. They both grabbed at the edges of the car door opening. Seeing the ground rush by, Peter could picture his skull shattering if he were thrown from the car.
“Throw ’em out! Throw ’em out!” Tony yelled as he got a hammerlock on Peter and thrust him forward.
Just as Peter felt one foot slip out and his fingers on the door giving way, a loud shot suddenly rang out, and a yell went up from one of the three hoodlums.
Taking advantage of the moment, Peter struggled back. He managed to get his foot back on the floor and shoved Tony aside. He was dizzy, and when he looked up, he saw Jolie standing there holding the gun with both hands, pointing it straight at Tony.
Tony grinned. “You won’t shoot.” He started toward the girl, but he took only one step and another shot rang out. Tony stopped and wheeled to one side and grabbed for his shoulder. He held it with his hand, then looked at the blood on his hand, and rage seemed to flow through him. “You won’t kill me!” he said. “You ain’t got the nerve!” He took another step forward when suddenly the gun rang out again. The shot caught him high in the shoulder and drove him back. With a scream he grasped for the door, but his fingers missed and he disappeared through the opening.
Instantly, Easy jumped toward the girl and whispered, “Give me that gun.” She handed it to him, her dark eyes hollows of fear, and Easy said, “All right you two. Out!”
The Silver Star Page 8