The Insane Train

by Sheldon Russell

  “Thanks for the confidence, Eddie,” Hook said.

  “I’ve got a new man coming on line. He could make those runs, and he’s got an education.”

  “What he doesn’t have is seniority, Eddie. I’ll have the union up your ass if you try to bump me.”

  “Lose any more of those inmates, I’m going to have to, Hook, one way or the other. And then there’s this business with the disciplinary board.”

  “What business?”

  “They said someone would probably have to pay for the truck.”

  “That truck was a pile of crap, Eddie.”

  “You could lose your seniority over this, Hook. It isn’t a goddang birthright, you know.”

  “I’m having a little trouble hearing, Eddie. I’ll have the sheriff send in a reimbursement order.”

  When he stepped out, Helms was just coming out of the booth.

  “Oh, Mr. Runyon,” she said.

  “Well,” he said. “Looks like we’ll be staying over here at the La Posada.”

  “Another delay? You do realize that I can’t keep these men medicated forever. Serious side effects could develop. In any case, we are hardly prepared to handle criminals in a hotel.”

  “I’ve arranged for some help with the local sheriff’s office.”

  “Doctor Baldwin can scarcely afford hotel rooms for these inmates.”

  “The engine’s been canned with a bad side rod. Frenchy thinks the railroad will pick up the slack for hotel rooms.”

  “One more glitch in a disastrous trip,” she said.

  “We’ll have to make the best of it. I’ll arrange to have the security ward at the back of the hotel. We’ll get food delivered. The others can eat in the restaurant.”

  Helms lifted her chin to look through the bottoms of her glasses. “I guess we have no choice then, do we?”

  “I’ll tell Doctor Baldwin.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Let me tell him. I’m afraid Doctor Baldwin has become quite despondent.”

  While Hook completed paperwork at the sheriff’s office, the inmates were moved into the La Posada. Four off-duty officers were assigned to assist through the night, giving the others a chance to clean up and get some rest.

  By the time Hook returned, most everyone had showered and fallen asleep in the luxury of their beds. Hook, too, preferring the privacy of his caboose, soon slept soundly for the first time in days.

  When he awoke, the sun had set. He checked his face in the mirror. The swelling had receded, but a black smudge had formed on his cheek. He walked Mixer and then went to search out Andrea.

  The La Posada, in grand Spanish hacienda style, invited guests by way of a veranda that led into the dining area. A majestic fireplace and stairwell were the focal points in the room, giving it a castlelike feel.

  He found Andrea coming from the kitchen, where she had just completed arrangements to feed the women in the main dining area. She wore a simple pink dress, her hair pulled back with an ivory comb.

  “You look wonderful,” he said.

  Andrea fanned out her skirt and curtsied.

  “Thanks. And the nap didn’t hurt either. We’re about ready to eat. Maybe you could join us?”

  “Great,” he said.

  “I’ve already ordered the women’s dinner. Why don’t you order for yourself while Seth and I bring them down?”

  The women arrived looking clean and rested. Had he not known better, he would have thought them members of the local Sorosis Club.

  Bertha hooked her arm through Seth’s and smiled at Hook as she came down the stairs. Seth, freshly shaven, had slicked back his hair like a carnival barker. He shrugged and lifted his brows at Hook as Bertha guided him to the far end table.

  Ruth and Esther took up places near the kitchen, while Anna and Lucy sat near the window, as far away from everyone as they could get.

  “There,” Andrea said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  The waiter, a young man in his early twenties, served up plates of mashed potatoes, green beans, and fried chicken.

  Hook looked at Andrea over his glass. She sat erect and poised, her eyes the color of a spring storm cloud.

  “Are you staying in the hotel?” she asked.

  “Caboose,” he said. “Quiet, you know.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “How are the accommodations?” he asked.

  “The women are absolutely giddy. Esther took three showers.”

  “Maybe you could get away a little while tonight?” Hook said. “There will be deputies to help through the night.”

  Andrea paused to sip her water. He could see the burn scars still there on her hands. She smiled over at him.

  “Would it be safe? I’ve heard you lead a dangerous life.”

  “Well, there’s Mixer,” he said. “He’s a terrific guard dog when he’s not napping.”

  Hook pushed back his chair and took up his coffee. The waiter exited the kitchen wearing his white jacket, his arms stacked with dishes of apple pie à la mode. He set down Ruth’s dish and turned to leave, when Lucy threw her doll on the floor and commenced pounding her head on the window.

  The waiter froze. Ruth stood, opening her blouse.

  “I have nice breasts,” she announced.

  The waiter, fear on his face, looked over at Hook.

  “Want to see them?” Ruth asked, pushing them forward for a more suitable viewing.

  The waiter jumped back, his dishes crashing onto the tile floor.

  Anna stood. “It’s the hook man,” she screamed.

  Lucy banged the window with her head, the glass thundering and trembling.

  “Oh, no,” Andrea said.

  Struggling to escape, the waiter slipped in the apple pie and ice cream and sprawled onto the floor.

  “There aren’t any bugs down there,” Esther said.

  The chef stuck his head out the door, his hat bent at an angle.

  “What bugs?” he asked. “We don’t have bugs. We had it sprayed. Good God,” he said. “Who is that naked woman?”

  Andrea pushed back her chair. “It was a very nice dinner, Chef. Thank you. I’ll take them back to their rooms now.”

  “I’ll tell the manager about the bugs,” he said. “The son of a bitch said he had it sprayed.”

  The sky filled with stars, and the moon slid high overhead by the time the knock came on the caboose door. Hook opened it to find Andrea gazing up at the celestial display.

  “Come in,” he said.

  “Hook,” she said. “Let’s sit out here on the steps. The evening is spectacular, and I’m a bit wound up from dinner.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll let Mixer take a run. He hasn’t killed anything in several days now.”

  They sat on the steps shoulder to shoulder.

  “I’ll be so glad when this is over,” she said. “When do you think we’ll get there?”

  “A couple of days, if we don’t have more trouble,” he said.

  “We’re all exhausted, and I’m worried about Seth, too.”

  Hook slipped his arm about her shoulders. “What about him?”

  “His dreams,” she said. “They’re awful for him sometimes, and then he worries about his wife, too.”

  Hook lit a cigarette. “Seth worries about that scar of his. Thinks his wife won’t be able to tolerate it.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said.

  “Things like that can worry a man,” he said.

  Andrea leaned in against him. “I’m worried about when we get there, Hook, a strange place and all. I don’t know if we’ll ever get things back to normal.”

  Hook leaned back on the step, crossing his legs at the ankles.

  “Helms thinks Baldwin is acting a little strange,” he said.

  “Strange?”

  “Despondent, you know, like he’s thinking about something else all the time. I’ve noticed it myself. I think Helms doesn’t trust his decisions.”

  “He’s on
e of the most stable men I know,” Andrea said. “Excluding you, of course.”

  “I’ve been accused of many things,” he said. “Stability isn’t one of them.

  “Doctor Helms tells me that patients can adjust to their sedatives, that the doses sometimes have to be increased to maintain the effect. She thinks that’s how Robert Smith managed to overpower Frankie.”

  “A lot of it depends on how agitated they are.”

  “Robert Smith was about as agitated as anyone I’ve come across in a while,” he said.

  Andrea moved in close. She snuggled into his shoulder like a small bird. Her breath was warm against his neck, and his groin stirred. Her hand rested on his leg like a small, hot iron.

  “I’ve missed you,” she said. “So many miles with nothing to do but think.”

  He lifted her chin, kissing her, her mouth hungry and searching.

  “Andrea,” he said, catching his breath. “We could go inside. I mean, if that’s what you want.”

  “I want,” she said, slipping her hands inside his shirt. He started to get up, but she took his arm, pulling him back. “But not inside,” she said. “Here.”

  “Are you sure? Someone might see?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Afraid?”

  “A little.”

  She leaned over, whispering in his ear. “Me, too.”

  Her breath seared into his core, her legs ivory in the moonlight, and his head whirled at the prospects. She rose over him like a warm ocean wave, dropping her head, moaning, clutching the caboose grab iron. And when the head beam of a freight train swept out of the darkness, she neither paused nor hesitated as it bore toward them, its whistle screaming in a blast of heat and steam.

  When Andrea had gone into the darkness, Hook leaned against the wall of the caboose to smoke, the day’s heat ebbing from the iron porch beneath him.

  Whatever misery had been wrought and whatever might lie ahead, he would never forget his stay at the La Posada.

  27

  Hook found Frenchy backing the steamer into the coupler of the supply car. Frenchy climbed down the ladder and searched his pocket for a match.

  “You look a sight better today than yesterday,” Hook said. “But then sleep can only do so much.”

  Frenchy unwrapped his cigar and slid it under his nose. “Least my eyes match up,” he said.

  “You get that side rod fixed?”

  “In a fashion,” he said, snapping his match to life on his overalls button. “They ain’t big on replacing parts on these ole buckets, given they’re headed to salvage soon enough anyways.”

  “Kind of like old engineers,” Hook said.

  Frenchy lit his cigar, the flame of his match lifting and falling, a cloud of smoke encircling his head.

  “So,” Frenchy said, blowing out his match. “I’m checking out with the operator this morning, see, and he says, ‘Did you hear about what happened at the restaurant last night?’ And I says, ‘No, I been up there in the sleeping rooms making up for listening to that lying bakehead all week.’ And he says, ‘Those mentals out of Barstow had a riot and broke up all the furniture.’ And I says, ‘Why would they do that?’ and he says, ‘Because of them bugs coming out of the kitchen.’”

  “That so?” Hook said.

  “And I says, ‘Bugs?’ And he says, ‘Yup, cockroaches the size of saddle horses. The chef quit this morning. Says he won’t work in no goddang café with bugs.’”

  “You been drinking Mexican beer again, Frenchy?”

  “So then I stop by the kitchen to see if the operator had it right. He gets things mixed up now and then.”

  “I noticed that,” Hook said.

  “And there was the chef madder than ole Billy. And so I says, ‘What’s the matter, Chef? You still mad about them bugs?’ And he says, ‘What bugs? I’m mad about that goddang dog.’ And I says, ‘What dog?’ And he says, ‘The one snuck in here this morning and ate up five pounds of my breakfast sausage.’”

  “That’s a mighty sad story,” Hook said.

  “Guess you wouldn’t know anything about that dog, would you, Hook?”

  “I hate a sneaking dog,” Hook said.

  “We’ll be pulling out here pretty quick,” Frenchy said. “You got that bunch loaded up?”

  “Loaded,” he said. “What’s the schedule?”

  “Albuquerque, then Amarillo. Layover there for service and then on to Oklahoma.”

  “Maybe we can make some time then, huh, Frenchy?”

  “You want to make time, you should have booked the Chief, Hook. And then we got that spur off the main line. It’s forty miles of rusted iron and weeds. Hell, there ain’t been nothing but a doodlebug over that track in twenty years. There’s nothing but a short crossing loop outside town, no yard office, no turnabout, and there’s a creek trestle the size of the goddang Grand Canyon to boot.

  “Even if we make it, which seems unlikely, I’ll have to back this kettle all the way back to Tangier. That means I can’t see nothing, so I might find a farmer and a couple of cows stuck to the caboose when I get back.”

  Hook found Mixer lying on the caboose porch. He peeked at Hook over the top of his stomach, which resembled the world globe that once sat on the teacher’s desk in Hook’s third-grade classroom.

  “Damn ole thief,” Hook said, pushing him through the door. Mixer groaned and stretched out in the corner.

  Hook signaled all clear before climbing into the cupola. The smears of blood down the side of the caboose had covered with dust and dried. As soon as the train made speed, he’d do a turn through to make certain they had everything under control.

  Hook watched the countryside open up like an oil painting as they chugged down the alley. Birds swarmed in the cobalt sky like schools of fish, and the sparkling air filled his lungs.

  Whatever burdens had accrued faded now, and the hopes of a new place and time emerged. Each departure brought with it the promise of renewal, the chance to change. For it not to be so, to live always in a single place, would be to bury a man alive under a lifetime of mistakes.

  When the train had made speed, Hook circulated through the cars. Andrea and Seth were occupied with Esther, who had taken Bertha’s seat, having decided that it was larger than her own. Esther hung onto the armrest with both hands, determined not to be ousted.

  “Morning,” Seth said, prying Esther’s fingers loose. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate you getting me this job, Hook.”

  “You need a change, Seth, they could use a hand in the security car. Course smoke breaks are a little hard to come by.”

  Andrea smiled over at Hook and winked. “We live for our smoke breaks around here, don’t we, Seth?”

  Seth grinned. “Something tells me my smoke breaks are not as exciting as Hook’s.”

  “I’ll talk to you later,” Hook said to Andrea.

  He found Doctor Baldwin in the supply car digging through the files. Baldwin looked up when Hook came in. Deep lines pulled at the corners of his eyes.

  “Doctor Baldwin,” Hook said.

  Baldwin stacked the files on the corner of his desk.

  “I’ve been going over these personnel files again. I could find nothing to suggest that Frankie Yager might have been a risk. His credentials are all in order.”

  “Yes,” Hook said. “I believe that’s what Doctor Helms indicated.”

  Baldwin rubbed his face. “The complexity of the human mind is at once our greatest asset and our greatest weakness, Mr. Runyon. In the end we know so little about how it functions.”

  “Things will work out,” Hook said.

  “I do hope you’re right. I’m afraid my energy has hit bottom. I can barely concentrate it seems. For all practical purposes, Doctor Helms has been keeping the security ward together on her own. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

  “And now Winslow is asking for immediate payment for the meals and the damages incurred by the patients. They’re telling me the railroad has declined to pay for th
e hotel.

  “And when I called ahead to report our arrival at Fort Supply, I’m told the town has refused to turn on the utilities at the fort without an advance deposit.

  “The fact is, I’m all but broke, and there’s been no movement on the insurance problem. On top of that, the mayor has asked that we reconsider locating in the community. They are fearful of the inmates. People are often afraid of what they don’t understand.”

  “We’ll soon be there,” Hook said. “Once you’re settled, things will calm down.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Perhaps you’re right. I do hope you’re right, Mr. Runyon.”

  Hook took Mixer for a quick spin at the Albuquerque depot while Frenchy watered the pig, and they were soon on their way to Amarillo. The land leveled out as they steamed into the staked plains of West Texas. No boundary existed between sky or land. A man alone might wander endlessly in the featureless landscape with no way different from the other.

  Amarillo first appeared as a dot, a single point in perpetuity, and then as a cluster of buildings huddled on the horizon.

  Rather than risk another calamity in the Harvey House, Hook arranged for sandwiches and coffee to be delivered to the cars, assuring the manager that if the railroad didn’t reimburse, he would personally do so.

  From there, he cut between the depot and the Railway Express Agency to get back to his caboose. He’d gone only a few yards when three men stepped out.

  All three wore uniforms and police badges. The tall one, whose gray hair had been carefully groomed, rested his hand on his sidearm.

  “You Hook Runyon?” he asked.

  Hook looked them over. The visit clearly wasn’t social.

  “That’s right,” Hook said. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m the chief of police,” he said. “You could surrender your sidearm for a start.”

  “I’m the railroad dick,” Hook said. “What’s the problem?”

  “Your sidearm first,” the chief said. “If you don’t mind?”

  “You’re on railroad property,” Hook said.

  “I got a warrant for your arrest,” he said. “You surrender the weapon, or we’ll be forced to take it.”