We finally got past the damage and rolled up to the abandoned box car. There was no siding upon which to leave it, so Bracken eased the tender up to the car, coupled with it, and off we went, pushing the box car, which was full of the raiders' items they had used to damage the rails and telegraph lines. There was also wood and brush that seemed to be destined for use in burning bridges, and we were yet to encounter the long, covered bridge that spanned the Oostanaula River. Bracken looked back at me and smiled; I knew without being intrusive that his good natured humor concerned my appearance. Murphy stared, too.
"We can make room, Miss Sam, in the cab, so that you can get out of this rain," he offered courteously.
What a nice man, I thought... kind, compassionate and dedicated to his work. I really liked him then and still have fond memories today.
"I'm okay, Mr. Murphy, but thank you very much." I smiled at him, because he was soaked, too. "I don't think the cab offers much protection, either."
The excitement grew, and Kipp, who enjoyed a ride in a car or, now, a locomotive, was standing, his feet braced widely for balance against the swaying of the tender, his plumed tail wagging. He began to bark, a full-throated sound that made Murphy stare at him and laugh. The landscape was hilly, strewn with large boulders, and it was impossible to view ahead for any stretch due to the curving nature of the tracks. Fuller continued to call out warnings from his precarious perch on the back of the boxcar we pushed, which would be relayed by the tender brakeman who shouted them to Bracken.
"Do you think the arc of history has been changed by our presence?" Elani asked. She had been quiet but now seemed a little more optimistic since we'd boarded the Texas.
"Well, it's always changed a little, if only that these men have met us. Before, we wouldn't have been in the picture. We have no way of knowing what will happen with Peter having influenced the actions of the men on the General. All we can do is leave as little a path as possible, as if we are walking through the leaves on the forest floor while trying not to disturb them." I didn't mean to wax poetic, but that image was how I conceptualized our task.
We passed through the tiny station at Resaca; our tender was still relatively well stocked, our boiler full. I knew little of steam engines, but Bracken and Murphy were calculating that since the General no longer had the opportunity to stop and refuel, it was only a matter of time before we would catch up to the fleeing raiders. Elani, following the conversations, looked up at me; her tail wagged, just for a couple of seconds, as her dark mood lifted.
The tracks evened out a little, following the bank of the Connasauga River. The men's excitement grew when we were able to spy the General, which had stopped at a wood and water station near Tilton. I went to the edge of the car, and as we rounded a curve, I could see the raiders running back and forth, trying desperately to get wood loaded on the waiting tender. In just a few seconds, the General set off again, a belch of black smoke from its smokestack drifted up to be lost in the dense, heavy clouds that were barely clearing the tree tops. We followed, steaming though Tilton without pausing.
The next town was Dalton, and that station was more complicated to navigate, as Murphy and Bracken were thinking. There was a switch that led to another line that headed in the wrong direction for the plans of the raiders; in addition, there was a passenger shed as well as a turntable, and all of these factors would slow both the speeding General as well as the Texas. We were, perhaps, a couple of miles behind the other train at that point. The General had cleared the station obstacles by the time we arrived, and Fuller ordered a pause so that a telegraph message could be sent to General Leadbetter in Chattanooga, before we resumed our pursuit, having loosened our burden by dumping the box car on a vacant siding.
The men's anxiety began to grow as we approached Tunnel Hill, where a 1,447 foot long tunnel had been drilled through the base of the Chetoogeta Mountain. The rocky terrain was covered in a layer of moss made black from the constant rain; lichens, pale and scaly, formed a lacy dusting of color on some of the stones as they wound up the hill to become lost in deep crevasses. Because of the utter darkness in the tunnel, there would be no way to safely view the tracks ahead. Fuller, from his vantage point on the backside of the tender, would have no lantern and would be essentially blind. Our speed slowed to a crawl; I reached down to touch Kipp, my fingers finding his wet fur in the black void that surrounded us.
"At least we are out of the rain for a few minutes," he remarked cheerfully.
"Oh, Kipp," I cried. "I love you!"
"Back at you, kid," he replied.
We got to the end of the tunnel in safety, and Bracken opened the throttle as wide as it could go. The Texas, champing at the bit like a thoroughbred race horse, almost did a wheelie in her eagerness to run. The rain seemed to take pleasure in falling harder than ever, and I was forced to continually wipe the water from my eyes so I could see. Kipp and Elani had to shake themselves about every thirty seconds. Although their coats were relatively water proof, the constant deluge had soaked them down to the skin.
I knew that the General would stop when she ran out of fuel; it was a mechanical certainty. The raiders would scatter into the woods and hills; most of the fleeing men would ultimately be captured. I could only hope that Peter stayed by the train and was not removed forcibly by the raiders; also, there was concern that he might have high tailed it on his own, thinking that he was subject to being captured by an angry mob of people. In any case, the journey would stop somewhere past Ringgold and that was the next station some four miles after we passed Catoosa. As we roared through the small highlands village and it's neatly kept station, I noticed a group of mounted soldiers in the distance moving off to the southwest. Kipp's head went up and his ears, despite being waterlogged, perked up. He felt a ping, as did I, but the image was blurry and neither one of us could tweak out a single thought.
"Is that Peter?" Elani asked.
For a moment, I thought she was going to jump from our speeding train, and despite having the remarkable agility of a lupine, she would have been badly injured since we were still moving at close to 50 miles per hour. I put my hand on her chest to settle her.
"I can't tell and neither can Kipp. It could be another resident symbiont, Elani. But if it is Peter, we'll come back here and track him down," I promised. "This train will stop in about four miles and then we'll find out."
We charged through the Ringgold station and on the far side spied the halted General, which clung to the incline of a grass covered hill. It's odd to think that a mechanical object can look tired, but the locomotive, indeed appeared worn out. It was rather amazing, per Murphy, that the engine was undamaged, with the exception of one burnt out brass fitting. The single box car, what little remained, had been cannibalized for the wood, and apparently the raiders had tried to set it on fire, but that wasn't successful due to the constant rain. As the Texas glided to a halt, I noticed people arriving from town, some on horseback, others in wagons. They had hunting dogs with them, held back on long leads; deep throated baying echoed on the lonely hillside. The towns' folk had been alerted from the telegraph warnings sent at the earlier station.
Elani didn't wait for a complete stop before she leapt from the tender and charged up the muddy hillside to the General. Kipp followed close behind, and I was moving as fast as possible given the fact I lacked the four wheel drive capability of the lupines. The slick mud and tall, wet grass were a deterrent to speed and grace of movement. But even as I watched Elani stand on her hind legs and peer inside what was left of the box car, there were no thoughts of Peter, only those of the many humans who clustered nearby. She turned to look at me, hurt and confused.
"We should have made them stop back in Catoosa," she said, shaking her head.
Kipp bristled a little, thinking her condemnation was aimed at me. I didn't take it personally and understood she spoke from anxiety.
"Elani, it's time to focus and problem solve and not fixate on the impossible or missed oppor
tunities," he said. "There would have been no way to make Bracken stop the train for us, and we couldn't jump off of a train moving at high rate of speed." Elani ducked her head in response to his harsh tone. "We will find Peter, and if we have to stay here one hundred years, we will find him."
"I'm sorry," she said, her thoughts plaintive and distraught. "I feel responsible as his partner."
"And that is exactly how you are supposed to feel," I said, putting my arms around her wet, bramble tangled coat. "It shows you are bonded to him." Leaning over, I pressed my cheek against the top of her head. "And Kipp is right; we will stay until we find Peter. There is no other choice."
While groups of men armed with pistols and shotguns took off in various directions to quickly disappear into the surrounding woods, I approached Murphy, who was, with Fuller, inspecting the General. Both men were pleased over the condition of the locomotive, which had suffered being driven beyond her specifications and arrived little the worse for wear.
"Mr. Murphy, I've got to get back to Catoosa. I think my brother was let off the train at that station, and I must return there as quickly as possible." I stopped myself just shy of plucking at his sodden coat sleeve. Fuller ignored my plea and walked to the other side of the General.
"And why would you think that?" he asked, turning his soft, brown eyes on me.
"He's not here, and there would have been no reason for him to run off with the raiders and illogical for them to take him with them, since he'd be a burden. The last stop was Catoosa, and when we went through the station, my dogs acted strangely as if they caught his scent." Well, it was close to the truth.
Several of the townspeople from Ringgold who'd not joined in the pursuit were standing around gawking at the two locomotives. The poor General's smoke stack was devoid of smoke since she had no wood or water left to create steam; all she emitted was a pitiful little hiss, the last vestiges of moisture captured in her boiler. The Texas was still puffing out smoke and looked ready to run another fifty miles.
"I need a wagon and horse," Murphy said, addressing one of the men whose attire was a notch finer than his peers. Murphy sized him up as, perhaps, a man of means with the ability to provide the needed assistance. "Miss Keaton needs transportation to Catoosa immediately," he added.
"I can pay well," I added, earnestly.
The well-dressed man stared at me in my drenched, torn and muddy menswear as he removed a damp cigar from the corner of his mouth. He started to ask how much I could pay but was cut off by Murphy.
"I'm sure any of our fine gentlemen will be happy to assist a lady in need," Murphy added, his skin flushing high along the angles of his face.
"And I'm certain that is true, Mr. Murphy, but I still have means to pay for the service," I said again, more firmly this time.
The cigar smoker was caught in a bind, wanting to meet the expectations of a gentleman but also not desirous of having to ride an oddly dressed stranger and two big dogs the four miles in the rain to Catoosa.
"I can handle a horse and wagon," I offered. "If you could make it available to me, I will drive myself to the station and leave the wagon there for you to retrieve."
Kipp looked at me from the corners of his eyes. Even Elani got a little rigid in her posture.
"Are you sure?" Kipp asked.
"You forget, sweetheart, I was born in 1604. I've handled many horses pulling carts, wagons, and can ride side saddle, English or Western." I tried to sound confident although it had been a while. "Don't you remember Tombstone?"
The man still had not responded, so I remarked in an offhanded way, "Or I can purchase a horse and wagon and not inconvenience anyone at all."
The cigar man, a fellow named Robertson, stalked towards town. It was clear he had no interest in taking me, nor was he happy at having to leave all the action involved in chasing down the raiders. When we got clear of Murphy, Robertson turned towards me, his pale eyes staring at me as if I were some type of loathsome fungus. Yes, my choice of attire was biting me in the butt.
"I was about my business when all this happened," he grunted.
"Mr. Robertson, if you can direct me to someone who will rent me a horse and cart, I am willing to pay twice the going price."
Avarice won the day, and I was checking the last harness strap as Kipp and Elani hopped up into the back of the two wheel cart. It actually was fairly sturdy and there was ample room for the two lupines. The horse was much more than just a swaybacked nag and seemed up to the task of a quick pace to Catoosa. I felt familiar thoughts behind me and turned to see Murphy slogging through the mud. He removed his waterlogged hat and looked up at the skies, which were dark with the storminess of the day. The rain, thankfully, had stopped for the time being.
"I think it's all about to clear and make for a lovely day," Murphy said, smiling at me. "A wonderful day for a cart ride," he added.
I felt my heart jump up in my throat and at the same time acknowledged Kipp's notions. If Murphy went with us, the arc of history was changing and could lead to unintended events. But I felt the steely resolve of the Irishman and wasn't sure I could prevent him short of trying to surreptitiously leave while his back was turned.
"Let him come," Kipp said. "He gives you legitimacy, and we might get farther with him along."
The minute Kipp said it, I knew he was correct. My attire was drawing more attention than my quest, and each time I'd have to go through another explanation and deal with disapproving and disbelieving men, just as I had Mr. Robertson in Ringgold. Unless Murphy was killed or his actions caused someone else to die, there was little chance of history changing in any significant manner.
I appreciated the fact Murphy trusted my checking of the cart and horse because he didn't go behind me to make certain all the straps and buckles were secure. After lending a gentle hand to my elbow to assist me into the cart, he swung up next to me, gave the horse a nudge forward and off we went, trotting down the road as best we could, given the ruts carved out from too much rain in too short a time. Kipp stuck his head up between us, his jaws opening in a pant.
"Nice dog," Murphy said. "He seems very intelligent."
"Oh, he's smart all right." I put my arm around Kipp and pulled him closer.
Murphy drove in silence for a few minutes, speaking only to make a commentary about the railroad tracks we were following south as the road snaked along, following the sinuous path of the tracks. He pointed at a well constructed trestle, and his pride in the engineering was evident.
"So, Mr. Murphy, have you always lives in the South since coming to America?" I asked, knowing he did not. It just seemed polite to be conversant.
"Oh no, Miss Sam. My dad settled in Pennsylvania. It was beautiful there, with rolling green countryside," he replied. "Of course, my parents had no time for idle mouths to feed so when I came of age, I struck off on my own."
"Do you miss living up North? I persisted. It must be conflicted for this man to live in the South with a war brewing.
"Well, the heat here in the summer is not always pleasant," Murphy replied, laughing. "But this is my wife's home, and it would cause her great distress to leave." He gave a mild correction to the horse which had a determined tendency to drift to the right. "I think Robertson sold you a horse that's blind in his left eye. Anyway, I was promoted to engineer and then later became a foreman, which is my current position, so I'd be hard pressed to leave the W&ARR."
He was a good, decent man. And as it was with humans, he had a sense of me reminding me of his wife, and that fact subconsciously drove his compassion towards me. In his thoughts, he'd hate for his dear wife to be out here, alone, on these roads, trying to make her way in a two wheeled cart drawn by a half-blind horse. Kipp yawned, his massive mouth opening wide, showing all his teeth in their ivory, gleaming glory. Leaning over, he gave me a lick on the side of my face, wiping away some of the residual rain of the day.
"I'd wager he'd give anyone trying to interfere with you a bit of a fight," Murphy said, noddi
ng at Kipp, who wagged his tail.
Yes, I thought. He would.
Chapter 20
The four miles to Catoosa took longer than on a day when the hot, Southern sun would have baked the road to the hardness of pavement. The dirt roads were still sloppy, exceedingly so in places, making the travel difficult at times. To the left side of us, towering long leafed pine trees seemed deflated, their needles sagging with the weight of accumulated rain water. And on the right, there was a cleared expanse of land leading to the train track that had taken us to Ringgold. The tall grass, which normally waved in ripples in the wind like the flutter of waves on the ocean's surface, was beaten flat. Murphy's prediction was correct, however, and the rain seemed to have stopped. Although the sky was still heavily overcast, I could see the hazy outline of the sun, which was hiding behind the clouds, making the gray turn to a soft, hazy yellow in places. The horse's hooves made a soft thudding sound against the wet earth rather than a sharp clip clop against a compacted surface. Lifting my head, I could smell wood smoke from a residence hidden behind the veil of pine trees, suggesting life existed just beyond the scope of my view. Murphy kept up a pleasant banter, no doubt thinking his discourse necessary while accompanying a lady. Since I was new to Georgia, he pointed out topographical points of note as well as distinctive characteristics of the region.
"And what do you think about the war?" I asked, thinking it was odd to not bring up the elephant in the room.
"Well, quite honestly, it makes me sick to consider it. As I mentioned, I'm from Pennsylvania, lived in New Jersey... I still have friends and family up North. But I married a precious Southern woman and my allegiance is to her. But I pray daily that some way can be found to avert all the bloodshed and come to a peaceful solution. I get the impression that Mr. Lincoln is a good man, and I think he would have chosen another path if he'd found one open to him."
The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862 Page 20