by Ray Tassin
Inspecting the sign carefully, he decided that the wheels of a handcar had rested here recently. He climbed back to the roadbed and spotted two new crossties, only recently replaced, which explained the handcar tracks.
Movement to the west caught Danner's attention. The two riders he had seen earlier now galloped toward him from less than a mile away. Ducking, Danner moved over to the side of the Velma line roadbed. He drew his Colts and waited.
Hoofbeats on crossties and cinders told him the pair rode between the rails now. When he judged the riders to be not more than twenty feet away he started a rapid climb to the top of the roadbed, his six-gun ready. At sight of him, the two horses reared in panic and the riders fought for control. Surprise washed over Danner and he dropped his gun to his side.
Tom Wainright and Melinda Richfield gained control of their mounts, then stared wide-eyed at him. The unexpectedness of the meeting seemed to hold them speechless.
"Riding up on someone like that is a good way to get yourselves killed," Danner said.
"I don't doubt it," Wainright snapped.
Melinda gazed at Danner impassively, face shaded by a flop-brimmed hat. Danner holstered his Colts and stared back at the two of them. Wainright's nervous horse turned then, exposing the rider's right side. A carbine sling, draped from Wainright's left shoulder to his right hip, held a sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun, its twin muzzles hanging down. The regular stock of the weapon had been replaced by a wooden handle shaped like an oversized six-gun handle, making it possible to hold and fire the weapon with one hand.
"If that cannon goes off," Danner nodded at the shotgun, "you'll be missing a leg." He stopped himself from adding, As well as an arm.
Wainright flushed, his mouth setting in a tight line. "If it goes off," he grated, "it will be pointed at something besides my leg."
Danner pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You've been following me all the way from Richfield. Why?"
"It's pretty obvious by now that I was right about you from the first day," Wainright said, accusingly. "I think you'll lead us to that train and I intend to take you into custody at that time."
Danner killed the beginning of a grin.
Temper surged to Wainright's face again. "What do you find amusing?" he demanded.
"You two," Danner said. "You're just about the strangest posse I've ever seen."
"A cripple and a female? Is that what you are thinking, Danner?"
Danner looked at the dangling shotgun again. "With that cannon, I don't suppose you are exactly helpless." He turned and skidded down the sloping side of the roadbed to his horse. He caught up the reins and turned to look up at them.
"If you are coming along you might as well ride with me, instead of miles back."
Wainright nodded grudging agreement. Melinda remained silent. The huge, shapeless hat made her appear even smaller than she was. It must have belonged to the Colonel. Danner searched her face for some indication of how she felt about all this, but he saw nothing except a polite interest. Danner felt more amused than angered by their foolishness, although Wainright's cannon wasn't exactly a humorous matter. He just hoped Wainright could fire the thing with some degree of accuracy.
Danner stepped into the saddle and reined around. "When you talked to me about returning to my old job, you mentioned the theft of some rails."
Wainright nodded curtly.
"Do you recall how many rails were stolen?"
The ill temper faded while Wainright thought it over. Finally he said, "Four dozen sections, I think it was."
With some swift mental arithmetic, Danner estimated the stolen rails wouldn't build enough double track to even hold all the cars of the missing train, much less take it to a secure hiding place.
Danner kicked his mount into a jog. Within a half-mile the roadbed dropped down to the near-prairie level again. Danner reined his mount over into the middle of the tracks, scanning the ground on both sides as he rode along. Wainright and Melinda followed him silently, seldom drawing closer than twenty feet. They had to quit the roadbed when the late afternoon eastbound whistled by and Danner decided to rest his horse. Neither of his silent companions had come prepared for an extended trip, so he offered them water from his canteen. Wainright nodded reluctant thanks and Melinda murmured a soft "thank you." They both sank down against the sloping side of the roadbed, dejected and weary.
Danner drank deeply, then hung the canteen on his saddle horn and studied the line of tracks to the east. They wouldn't be able to reach Spaulding before dark, and he wanted to check every inch of the roadbed in daylight. That meant camping out tonight with only his bedroll for all three of them. He considered taking Melinda on to Spaulding to spend the night with Ma Grim, but shrugged the idea aside. Melinda had asked for any discomfort she might have to suffer. She called to him then, breaking into his thoughts.
"You've implied that those stolen rails might have some bearing on the missing train," she said. "Would you mind telling us in what way?"
Wainright snorted.
Melinda cast him a reproving glance, then eyed Danner with a quizzical lift of an eyebrow. She seemed sincere enough and he was tempted to explain his suspicions. Instead he shrugged indifferently. When she spoke again it was with a cold preciseness he knew so well.
"You don't give people much reason to trust you."
"People don't give me much reason for wanting them to trust me."
"I keep trying to justify my father's faith in you," she retorted, "despite your past record for violence and the still unexplained circumstances of that Spaulding robbery. Yet you offer nothing in defense of yourself except that insufferable shrug. Is that your answer to everything?"
Danner looked steadily at her. "My answer to this," he said flatly, "is to find the train and the men who are responsible for its disappearance. I think that will clear up the Spaulding case also."
Wainright jumped to his feet, his mouth twisting scornfully. "Do you honestly expect us to believe that?"
Raw anger seethed inside Danner. "You keep pushing me," he grated, "and I'm going to forget that you have only one arm."
Instantly, Danner regretted the callousness of the remark. He turned his back on the wrath uncoiling in the slitted eyes of Wainright. Without another word he walked over to his horse, tightened the cinch, stepped into the saddle and trotted off.
Some minutes later, Danner heard them pull up behind him but he didn't look around. He found another place where a handcar had been derailed while a crew replaced defective crossties and he examined it carefully before moving on.
At dusk, Danner found a creek near the tracks and unsaddled. His two companions watched silently from their saddles. Then he moved off into the brush, scared up a couple of rabbits and shot off their heads. Returning to the campsite, he found Melinda and Wainright right where he had left them—in their saddles. Wainright darted a glance from the rabbits to Danner.
"It seems to me we should be finding some shelter for the night instead of wasting time here."
"I'm spending the night here."
"You what?" Wainright's mouth hung open, his eyes wide. "You surely don't expect us to stay out here all night in the middle of nowhere without shelter or even bedding."
Danner hunkered down and gathered twigs in a neat pile, then touched a match to the stack. "If you ride fast enough," he said without looking up, "you can reach Richfield before sunrise."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you," Wainright said sneeringly. "You'd like to get rid of us." Then Danner heard him jump to the ground and smiled to himself. But he continued to blow on the smoldering twigs until he heard Wainright speak again.
"You won't get rid of us that easily," he snapped. Then he sat down crosslegged on the far side of the fire and Melinda joined him without enthusiasm. Tired lines were etched deeply in the faces of both.
Danner skinned the rabbits and soon had them roasting over the small fire. His knees on the ground, he watched the juice bubble from the carcasses. A slight br
eeze carried smoke from the fire into the faces of Melinda and Wainright. They moved around closer to Danner—too close to suit Melinda. With a slight flush she seemed to recall an earlier time when she got too close to him. Now she edged a little farther away and Danner felt a hint of amusement. She'd promised that it would never happen again. Strangely, now, he could almost feel the heat from that stolen kiss and he adjusted the bed of coals to get his mind off of it.
The smell from the roasting meat brought hunger pains to his stomach and Danner turned the stick so the rabbits would cook on the other side.
His silent companions gazed hungrily at the meat, yet neither appeared to have enough energy left to eat. For a moment Danner felt a touch of admiration for the grit displayed today by both of them. Not many people hardened to rough living would have gone through as much physical misery without complaint. And neither of them could be considered hardened to rough living. Now Danner found himself comparing Melinda to Lona, which was getting to be a habit; one he didn't care for.
After the meat had disappeared, Danner spread his bedroll near the fire, then nodded to Melinda. "You sleep here," he said.
An objection reached her lips, but never escaped. She appeared too exhausted to care.
Danner unsaddled the other two horses and tossed a sweaty saddle blanket to Wainright. "Cover yourself with that," he said, "and use the saddle for a pillow."
Wainright sniffed the blanket and his lips curled with scorn, but he kept quiet as he dragged the saddle over by the fire. When Danner was ready to stretch out, both Melinda and Wainright were asleep.
But sleep didn't come easily to Danner. His mind remained active, seeking an answer to a situation which couldn't exist. A train can't vanish, he told himself just before he dozed off.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dust-laden winds lashed out of the south, obscuring the early morning sun. Danner pulled his hatbrim low over the right side of his face, then reined down the north side of the roadbed to wait out the storm. Dismounted, he watched Wainright send his horse down the incline, Melinda following. For a while the storm lashing over their heads increased in tempo, then leveled off to a steady slashing. Danner hunkered down, hardly aware of his companions.
By now the winds would have removed any signs along the track, even if any existed; but Spaulding lay almost in sight to the east. Whatever had happened to the train likely had occurred elsewhere.
Melinda used a dainty handkerchief—now soiled—to wipe the dust from her face. Again Danner felt a fleeting admiration for her and Wainright for the silence in which they endured the discomfort. Neither had ever spent a night away from a soft bed. Their bodies must be alive with stiff soreness this morning.
Half an hour passed before the winds slackened to an occasional eddy which whirled dust and tumbleweeds in a circle. Danner dusted himself off, mounted without a word to his shadows and rode on eastward. The dust limited visibility to a dim outline of the Spaulding substation, but gradually the air cleared. Soon a trace of the sun could be seen. He slowed his horse to a walk, aware of Wainright pulling up on his right.
"Well, what now, Danner?"
Danner shrugged without taking his gaze off the buildings ahead. Frustration had kept him awake most of the night and was a bitter taste in his mouth now.
The shapeless bulk of Ma Grim moved out the back door of the station. She lumbered to the well, drew a bucket of water and started back. Spotting them, she paused to shade her eyes for a better look, then disappeared inside.
An oversized tumbleweed bounded by, frightening Melinda's mare, and she dropped back, fighting to regain control. She caught up again as Danner dismounted at the back of the station. Ma Grim came out, inspected each of them as she dried her hands on a tattered but clean apron, then ducked her head in greeting.
"Howdy, Jeff," she bellowed. Then she favored Wainright and Melinda with silent nods. "You must have camped out last night to get here this early. Had breakfast?"
Danner shook his head and Ma invited them inside. The back of the depot, long ago converted into single-room living quarters for Ma, contained a half-bed along the east wall, a table and two chairs in the center, and a cook stove and cabinet near the west wall. The only other furniture in the room was a chest of drawers by the door leading into the waiting room.
Ma Grim knew Melinda and after greeting her, acknowledged an introduction to Wainright with a man-like handshake. Wainright didn't seem to know what to say to the rough old woman.
Then Ma busied herself at the stove, dropping slabs of bacon into the skillet and shoving a pan of biscuits into the oven. Danner moved over to the cabinet and filled a washbasin from the water bucket. He gestured to Melinda and she came over to wash the dust from her face and hands. By the time Wainright and Danner had refreshed themselves, Ma had a second skillet filled with eggs. Danner brought in two additional chairs from the waiting room.
All four of them attacked the food with silent gusto, Wainright as adept with his one hand as the others with two. With the food gone, the two women cleared the table and went to work on the dishes, Ma washing and Melinda drying. Strangely, Melinda didn't seem out of place in the domestic task, though Danner wondered if she'd had much experience. At least, she seemed willing enough. Twice Ma glanced over her shoulder at Danner and Wainright. Danner knew she was trying to reconcile their riding together and camping out all night with Melinda. But in plainsman fashion Ma held her silence.
The chatter of the telegraph key from the front of the depot brought his mind back to the task at hand and, tilting back his chair, he retraced his trail from Richfield, searching for whatever it was he surely had missed. The train just wasn't on the tracks between Spaulding and Richfield, even though it couldn't be anywhere else. It couldn't have gotten by Ma, here, or Dick Boley in Richfield.
Then a new possibility leaped into Danner's mind and hope flickered alive. Usually quite a few boxcars stood idle in the yard at Richfield. There was a slight possibility that the missing train could have been returned to the yards the same night without passing Dick Boley at the depot. Half the cars might have been left in plain sight, unnoticed for a day or two, and the locomotive and other cars could have been hidden in the loading lean-to at Browder's elevator. Then a day or two later they could have been moved east or west as a special train without arousing much suspicion. It would have been risky, but it just possibly could have been done. Danner brought the front legs of his chair down solidly and stood up.
"Ma," he called, and she and Melinda both whirled around, startled. "Ma, have any unscheduled trains gone through here since the wheat special vanished?"
Ma lowered her head in thought for a moment, wiping her hands on her apron. Then she shook her head. "Nope. No specials or unscheduled movements since I got back."
Danner paced twice around the table, then faced Wainright. "Is it all right if I use the telegraph key to Richfield?"
Wainright nodded uncertainly before interest settled in his features. "Have you figured out something?"
"Maybe." Danner moved swiftly to the front of the depot. He tapped his message to Richfield, asking the same question he'd asked Ma. The day man gave him an immediate negative reply, and said he was sending the office boy to check with the night telegrapher, Dick Boley.
Danner sat at the key, staring at it. He became aware of the others watching, but paid them no attention. Ten minutes slipped by before the key came alive again. Danner straightened, then relaxed. It was the Junction City operator reporting the arrival of the morning eastbound. A gust of wind rocked the window glass in front of Danner. The ticking of the huge wall clock seemed to pound in the stillness.
Then the louder ticking of the telegraph key caught Danner's attention. The Richfield telegrapher tapped out the message with professional preciseness: NIGHT OPERATOR RICHARD BOLEY REPORTS NO SPECIALS OR UNSCHEDULED FREIGHTS SINCE WHEAT SPECIAL DISAPPEARED.
Danner acknowledged. Melinda sighed audibly. His head lowered in thought, Danner moved
in a half-circle, then stopped in mid-stride.
"Ma, what was that you said when I asked you about unscheduled trains?"
"I said I hadn't seen any."
"No, no," Danner gestured impatiently. "You said something about 'since you got back.' What did you mean by that?"
"Oh, that." Ma hitched up the waist of her skirt. "Something polluted my well out back and give me a bellyache. I had to go into Richfield and see the doctor. Mr. Wainright sent out a relief man for twenty-four hours. I was gone—"
"The night the train disappeared," Danner finished for her grimly. When she nodded, Danner turned on Wainright with a deceptive mildness.
"Who was here that night?"
Defiance pinched the mouth of Wainright. "I sent an experienced operator out here—one I had hired the day before. He once worked for Colonel Richfield and—"
"Carp," Danner interrupted. "You hired Lou Carp and sent him out here?" When Wainright nodded, Danner groaned softly. "Then that train did get by here after all. I should have guessed it sooner."
"You're grasping at straws." Wainright was bristling. "That man was highly recommended by Mr. Browder."
"So that's how Browder worked it," Danner mused as if to himself. "A little something in the well to get rid of Ma, then getting you to replace her with a known thief who'd—"
"You're just making wild guesses without any foundation," Wainright charged. "There's no evidence—"
"Did you check Carp's employment record before you agreed to hire him?"
"Of course, but—"
"Then you must have seen the notation that he was fired for petty theft."