Throw the Devil Off the Train

by Stephen Bly

  “No.”

  Zane yanked at the handcuffs locked to the iron bar. “They had it coming. They connived themselves into millions with the railroad and land deals. It didn’t hurt them to be relieved of some of it.”

  “You cheated more than the wealthy. My brother lost every dime he had.”

  “Your brother? Who in hades is your brother?”

  Race felt his whole body stiffen. “Robert Hillyard.”

  “The Bible quoter from Houston? Hah . . . he was as greedy as the others.”

  “No, he wasn’t.” Race yanked at the handcuff, but they held him tight. “He was a kind, educated man with a Christian heart and vision.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have been speculating in western mining. You aren’t getting his money back. He sent you to try and collect?”

  “He didn’t send me. Robert’s dead.”

  “Well, I didn’t kill him.”

  “Oh, you killed him alright. You may not have pulled the trigger, but you killed him.”

  “You’re crazy. I was just a phony New York investor. It wasn’t even my deal. Get me out of here. This man’s insane,” Zane screamed.

  The door between the cells and the office flew open. Catherine Goodwin crept into the hall.

  “Catherine, why are you here?” Hillyard called out. “Did you talk to a judge? Did you raise bail?”

  She broke into sobs.

  “I know I look bad. I’ve been hurt worse than this. It’s alright. You don’t have to bawl.”

  “Yes, I do,” she wept.

  “Look, I’ve been thinkin’,” Hillyard said. “you were right. Killing an unconscious man would have destroyed me on the inside. I think with that telegram, if Croker and the bankers are willing to press charges, we can get Zane imprisoned for a long time. That’s okay, isn’t it?

  She shook her head and continued to cry.

  “What do you mean, it’s not okay? That’s justice. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  She reached into her purse as she attempted to catch her breath. “I . . . want . . . him . . . to . . . die!”

  “Good grief. Get her out of here,” Zane hollered.

  “Your life must be revoked, Matthew Zane, and I’m here to claim it.”

  Race tried to reach through the bars, but the handcuffs prevented it. “I told you. I’ve got it settled in my mind. It’s okay, Catherine. Now go back to . . . .”

  She yanked the Colt revolver from her purse. “I want him dead.”

  “Stop her,” Zane screamed.

  Race shook his head. “Catherine! You don’t have any bullets. Don’t play games. This isn’t funny.”

  She marched toward Zane.

  “She’s crazy. Get her out of here,” he screamed, trying to pull away from the iron bars.

  Race tugged again at the handcuffs. “She doesn’t have any bullets in that gun.”

  Catherine turned back to Hillyard. “It only takes one at this range.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a single .45 caliber cartridge.

  “Where did you get that?” he challenged.

  “Sheriff!” Zane hollered. “Deputy! Someone get in here.”

  “I bought it off an eight-year-old girl in Cheyenne,” Catherine explained. She opened the cylinder and shoved in the bullet.

  “You can’t let her do this. Sheriff, get in here right now!” Zane tugged at his handcuffs that kept him bound to the iron bars.

  “Catherine, don’t do this for me,” Hillyard said. “It’s not worth it. Robert wouldn’t want you to do it. Trust me on that.”

  “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Catelynn and little Marie.”

  “I don’t understand,” Hillyard pressed.

  She pointed the revolver a Matthew Zane. “He does.” Her hand shook. Her whole body trembled.

  “You can’t blame me for that,” Zane shouted. “Sheriff, for God’s sake get in here now. Hillyard, you’ve got to do something.”

  “Catherine . . . you pull that trigger and you will destroy yourself.” Hillyard strained to reach through the bars, but the handcuffs still restrained him. “Killing someone, no matter how justified, changes your heart forever. You have too sweet a heart to destroy it like that.”

  “You said I had no heart left.”

  “I lied. Don’t do it.”

  She jammed her hand through the bars and pointed the gun straight at Zane’s head.

  “Stop her!” he screamed. Even when he leaned away, the muzzle of the revolver quivered only inches from his temple.

  “Catherine, that’s cold blooded murder,” Hillyard shouted.

  “I don’t care. It’s justice. I will send him to hell. That’s where he belongs.”

  “This world needs women like you Catherine Goodwin!”

  “No one in this world needs me.”

  “Phillip does.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Hillyard’s chest heaved. He rattled at the handcuffs again. “I need you, Catherine. I need you with all your beautiful heart and soul intact. You are the only one that can keep me from going insane in this world.”

  She didn’t take her eye off Zane. “In twenty-four hours, we will say goodbye and never see each other again. It was never going to work. You and I both knew that.”

  “Miracles happens, Catherine. Don’t do it.”

  “I’ve already decided.”

  “But, if you murder him, they will hang you. You won’t get to see little Marie, and make things right with your sister.”

  She began to bawl.

  And pulled the trigger.

  Race screamed “No!” He didn’t hear the first click.

  But he also did not hear a gun report.

  She cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger again.

  No explosion. No fire shooting out of the barrel. No black powder smoke filled the room.

  Four more times she pulled the trigger with the same result.

  “No! No! No!” She sobbed as she collapsed to the floor.

  The sun first broke high up on the Sierra Nevadas as daylight raced down the Truckee River into Reno. Hillyard’s coat felt warm him against the chilly air. He wore a new shirt, but his wounded left arm throbbed as he carried the lady towards the train station.

  Her eyes clamped shut.

  Red cheeks.

  Crumpled silk dress.

  “I don’t have any tears left,” she murmured.

  “I know, darlin’. Just rest now.”

  She laid her head against his shoulder. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I was hoping you’d take me to a cliff and toss me off. I want to die.”

  “I know you do.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No. When you were conscious, you just blubbered and wailed. I can only guess.”

  She reached towards his belt. “May I borrow your gun?”

  He swatted the hand away. “No.”

  Catherine raised her head. “Then put me down.”

  “We’re not on the train yet.”

  “I don’t want to get on the train.”

  “Phillip will be waiting.”

  “I don’t want to see him.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “I want to die.” She flopped back down on his shoulder.

  “You already said that.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I believe you. That’s why I won’t give you my gun.”

  “Why are you taking me somewhere I don’t want to go?”

  Race hiked up the stairs to the train platform. “During extreme duress, someone who cares for you should look after you until you’re able to think clearly.”

  “Do you care for me, Race Hillyard?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why? I’ve been nothing but a bother to you since the moment I got on the train and before. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yes, it is. And I thank you for it. Taking care of someone else does
a soul good. It keeps self pity and anger from destroying a man.”

  “Some day I might actually like you, Race Hillyard.”

  “That would be nice.”

  “But today, I hate you.”

  “I know.”

  She kept her head down. “I’d like you, if you gave me your gun.”

  “The answer is still no.”

  Catherine peered over at the waiting train. “Are we riding in the coach?”

  “Yes. As far as I know, the compartment still belongs to Zane.”

  “Is he going to be on the train?”

  “I believe so.”

  “They let him out of jail?”

  “They let both of us out on the promise we would take you, leave town and not return during the tenure of Sheriff Walker.”

  She offered him a twisted grin. “I’ve never been kicked out of a town before, although I’ve gotten banished from a state. What was the charge against me?”

  “Reckless behavior in a public place.”

  “I thought they’d arrest me for attempted murder.”

  “I convinced them that you knew there was no primer in the bullet and did it only to frighten Zane.”

  “No primer? It was a genuine Stuart Brannon bullet. I bought it for ten cents from a little girl named Angelita.”

  “She sold you a bum bullet. I don’t think Brannon would make the mistake of leaving out the primer.”

  “Imagine being cheated by a little girl. You can’t trust anyone.”

  “Except the Lord.” Race cradled her on top of a crate, but didn’t turn loose. I don’t think He wanted you to kill Zane.”

  “I told you he deserves to die and go to hell. Put me down.”

  “Maybe the Lord wants to torment Matthew Zane here on earth a little more before judgment day.”

  “That’s a happy thought. Race, I don’t want to sit in the coach. I don’t want to explain what happened to Francine . . . or Nancy and Preston . . . or the Mormon girls . . . or the Chinese couple . . . or Mr. and Mrs. Elmo Parkington.”

  “Who are they?”

  “That old couple in the back seat that have been married sixty-seven years and call us ‘the young people up front.’”

  “Okay, we won’t sit in the coach.”

  “But, you can sit there,” she added. “I’ll just go back to the rear platform.”

  “I’m not turning you loose. You’d get up on Donner Pass and decide to fly over the railing into the boulders below. Get used to these arms around you.”

  “You can’t do this forever.”

  “I know,” he sighed. “I know.”

  Race sat on a Hudson’s Bay wool blanket spread on the cold painted wood of the rear platform. Catherine perched in front of him and leaned her back against his chest. A second wool blanket, emblazoned ‘Central Pacific’, was pulled up to her neck. His right arm cuddled her. His wounded left arm hung at his side.

  “Do you think they know we’re out here?” she began.

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “They can’t see us now, but I reckon someone spied us climb aboard.”

  “What did Francine tell you?”

  “She heard about what happened last night in the jail. Most everyone in Nevada knows by now.”

  She leaned tighter against his muscled chest. “Do you think anyone in Paradise Springs will be told?”

  “I’m not sure. Seems like the rumors involve several women . . . there is Catelynn Zane, Catherine Draper and Catherine Goodwin. But only one Race Hillyard.”

  “The world needs more Race Hillyards.”

  “You think so?”

  When she nodded her head, she bumped his chin. “And I’m not the only one.”

  “Who else?”

  “Mormon girls to start with.”

  “They are sweeties.”

  “Don’t ever tell them that. They are at the age they don’t want to be known as sweeties. Call them handsome ladies instead. That will do it.” She yawned. “I’m sleepy. Are you sleepy?”

  “I am, but I’ll take the first shift. You get some sleep and I’ll stay awake. Then we’ll reverse it.”

  “We will not. You will not close your eyes for a second if you think I’m going to harm myself.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes. I’m counting on it.”

  “Where did those clouds come from?” When Catherine sat up, the blanket dropped down to her waist.

  “From the condensation of evaporated moist air over the ocean, but I presume that was a rhetorical question.”

  She peered around at ponderosa pine trees next to the track. “Why are we stopped?”

  “I reckon the pass had a little more snow.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon.”

  Catherine stretched her arms. “I slept that long?”

  “Yep.”

  “I didn’t want to wake up. Did you ever want to sleep forever?”

  “Yep.”

  “When Robert died?”

  “Yep.”

  “I didn’t wake up and tell you why I tried to shoot Zane, did I?”

  “No, you didn’t. Are you going to tell me now?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s fair enough.”

  “When will we get to Sacramento?”

  “The conductor said we have to go real slow over the top. Threats of avalanches. We’ll reach Dutch Flat by daylight tomorrow and Sacramento before noon.”

  “One more night on the train? Can we stay out here?” she asked.

  He pulled the blanket back up to her shoulders. “As long as we don’t freeze.”

  “I’m very comfortable in your arms. Now, you need to go to sleep.”

  “That’s true, but I can’t.”

  “Look out there, Race Hillyard. The ground isn’t three feet away. I couldn’t even get a bruise if I jumped now.”

  “Will you promise before the Lord that you won’t do anything stupid while I’m asleep?” he demanded.

  “I promise to wake you up and let you watch me do something stupid.”

  “That’s not what . . . .”

  “Go to sleep, Race Hillyard.”

  “I think I just might.”

  The chatter of his teeth caused his eyes to open. The dim light reflecting from the car cast a sepia tint on Catherine and the blanket.

  “It’s dark,” he announced with the brilliance of Newton making a scientific discovery.

  “You snored.” She leaned back against him and sighed. “That makes me feel good.”

  “So, you are feeling better?”

  “This is the worse twenty-four hours of my life. It wouldn’t take much to improve it.”

  “Did it snow?”

  “A little on top of the pass. We stopped a time or two but I don’t know why. There was no siding or station. We’re on our way down now.”

  He slowly stretched out his arms. “I can’t believe I actually slept.”

  Her voice was just above a whisper. “And I can’t believe I stayed right here and didn’t do something stupid.”

  He wrapped both arms around her. “Do you still want to die?”

  “Yes, will you shoot me?” she chided.

  “No, but there was a lilt in your voice when you said that. I don’t think you meant it like you did earlier.”

  “You are right. I just didn’t know how to explain it to the Lord. But I did pray for an avalanche to sweep this car down the canyon and dash upon the rocks.”

  “We would both die.”

  “I can’t think of anything better than going to heaven in the arms of Race Hillyard.”

  “Heaven will be a grand place. They say it will be a reunion with all or our loved ones.”

  “You’ll get to see Robert.”

  “Yes, I will. Makes it a viable option.”

  She turned her head sideways, her ear against his heart. “That’s part of the problem. There are more people I want to be with up there, tha
n there are down here.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you’ve been going through?”

  “I can’t, Race. I just can’t say the words.”

  “Okay, then get some more rest. The Lord must not want me to know.”

  “I’m sure he does, but I can’t talk about it. You saw how I was last night. It would start all over again. But I do want you to know.”

  “How is that going to happen?”

  “In my purse is a telegram. It was waiting for me in my hotel. From New York.”

  “From your sis?”

  “From New York.”

  He reached toward her purse.

  Catherine grabbed his arm. “No, not yet. You must promise me you’ll not read it until I have fallen asleep. I can’t bear to watch you as you read it.”

  “What if you don’t go to sleep?”

  “Then you can’t read it. Is that a deal?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The chill warmed to a pleasant coolness as the train descended down the western slope of the Sierras. Race dozed off and woke up, Catherine still wrapped in his arms.

  “We’re getting lower, Miss. Goodwin. In an hour or so, daylight will break,” he whispered.

  The purr from her breathing sounded like a tune long forgotten. He reached for her purse. He fumbled with his hand in the dark until he pulled out a paper. He held it high above his head to catch what glow there was from the kerosene lanterns inside the coach.

  This is Zane’s telegram from Lucky.

  He folded it into quarters, then tucked it in his coat pocket.

  When he located a second piece of paper, he held it high and squinted to see each word.

  Miss Goodwin . . . I’m Mrs. Quick, manager of the apartments where your sister lived until six weeks ago. Forgive me for opening her telegram, but I’ve been desperate to locate Mr. Zane. I hope I’m not the first to tell you this, but Catelynn and dear little Marie perished on May 22nd, when the gas lanterns were left on, but unlit, in their apartment. The police said it was accidental. I believe they were buried in New Jersey, but I was not invited to the service. The day after their interment Mr. Zane searched the apartment, packed up and left, telling me he would be back in three days. That’s the last I’ve seen of him. I need to know what to do with your sister’s belongings. I hope this doesn’t sound callous, but I need the income and must rent the apartment soon. May the Lord’s grace be sufficient for you in this trying time.