Matt Jensen: The Last Mountain Man Purgatory #3

by Johnstone, William W.

  The boiler of the engine suddenly exploded with the roar of a hundred thunderclaps. Huge pieces of heavy metal, set into motion by the explosion, were hurled high into the sky, before tumbling back down to land several feet away, each falling piece of metal adding its own sound to the terrible noise of the wreck.

  Finally, the screeching, grinding, banging, crashing sound stopped, to be replaced for a moment by total silence. But the silence was quickly filled with cries of pain, shouts of anguish, and calls for help.

  The explosion of the boiler had sent hundreds of burning embers of coal from the engine’s firebox. Those coals had landed on the wooden passenger cars, most nearly reduced to kindling wood by the wreck, so that within seconds, the cars, many of which still had people trapped in the wreckage, caught on fire.

  “Son of a bitch!” Schuler said. “That wasn’t supposed to happen! I thought all that would happen was that the train would stop. I didn’t know it was going to wreck.”

  “Yeah, well, the train did stop, though, didn’t it?” Odom said. “Jesus, most of the passenger cars are on fire. Come on, let’s get in the express car, get the money, and get out before it catches fire, too.”

  “This ain’t right,” Schuler said. “You never said anything about killing all these people. All you said you was goin’ to do was rob a train.”

  “Yeah? Well, how the hell was I supposed to get it to stop? Stand in front of it and hold out my hand?”

  When the train left the track, Matt felt the sudden drop of the left side of the car. He had no idea what caused it, but he knew at once that it was very bad, and he spun himself around to put his feet on the lower wall to brace himself.

  The car rolled violently onto its side. It slid along the ground for several feet while, inside the car, fixtures broke loose and cargo began sliding around. The mail cabinet fell over on the express man, crushing him beneath its terrible weight. Hayes was slammed against the wall so hard that he was knocked out. Only Matt, of the three, escaped injury because he had managed to brace himself against the wall.

  “Mr. Kingsley! Mr. Kingsley!” Matt called, but the express man didn’t answer.

  “Hayes? Hayes, are you all right?”

  Hayes groaned, showing that he was still alive, though, for now, Matt had no idea as to the seriousness of his condition.

  From outside, Matt could hear the wails and cries of the injured, and he wondered what had happened and how bad the wreck was. He pulled himself through the strewn wreckage of the car until he reached Hayes.

  “Hayes?” he said.

  Hayes was out cold, but his steady breathing told Matt that he wasn’t dead.

  Matt searched through Hayes’s pockets until he found the key to his shackles. He was just about to unlock them when he heard someone jerking open the door.

  He wasn’t sure who was trying to get in to the car, but because he was in shackles, he thought it might not be a good idea to be seen. Holding on to the key, he moved away quickly, then hid behind an overturned cabinet.

  He saw four men, with guns drawn, climb into the car. The fact that they were holding guns told him that they weren’t here as rescuers. A closer look at one of the men confirmed that, when he saw that it was the same man he had encountered in the alley back in Wickenburg. This was Cletus Odom.

  Odom, this is the second time I’ve met you, and I haven’t liked you either time, Matt thought as he watched the men step inside the overturned car and look around.

  “Señor, hemos hecho un desorden grande,” one of them said as he looked around the car.

  “What’s that, Paco? I don’t speak Mex,” Odom replied.

  “I said, we have made a big mess,” Paco repeated in English.

  “What did you expect? When you wreck a train, you make a mess,” Odom replied. “Let’s find the safe. Schuler, get ready to blow it.”

  “There are women and children on this train,” Schuler said. “You didn’t tell me that we might be killing women and children.” Schuler was slender, almost gaunt. “This ain’t right. I wouldn’t have come along if I’d known this was going to happen. We ought to do something to help these people.”

  “Are you crazy? You want to get hung? That’s what’s going to happen if you start trying to help anyone now. All you got to do is blow the safe so we can get the money and get out of here.”

  “Ain’t no need to blow the safe,” one of the others said. This man was the biggest of them all.

  “Why not? What are you talkin’ about, Bates?” Odom asked.

  “The money is all in a canvas pouch. I found it.” Bates said.

  “Is the pouch locked?”

  “Nope,” Bates replied. He stuck his hand down inside and pulled out a couple of bound stacks of currency notes. “It’s full of money.”

  “Damn, I wonder how much.”

  “Twenty thousand dollars,” Bates answered without hesitation.

  “What? How do you know that?” Odom asked.

  Bates pulled out a piece of paper, then smiled at the others. “’Cause it’s all been counted out for us,” he said.

  “Twenty thousand dollars! Caramba, that is a lot of money, I think,” Paco said

  “We’re rich, boys! We’re rich,” Bates said happily.

  “This ain’t right,” Schuler said, shaking his head. “There ain’t none of this right!”

  “Well, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to take your cut,” Odom said. “Come on, boys, let’s go.”

  “What—what happened?” Hayes asked, groaning, and trying to sit up.

  “Shit, he’s alive!” Bates said.

  Drawing his gun, Odom aimed it at Hayes and fired. His bullet hit Hayes in the forehead and Hayes fell back.

  “Not no more, he ain’t,” Odom said. “The dumb son of a bitch. All he had to do was be quiet for one more minute and he wouldn’t of got hisself kilt. Come on, let’s get out before somebody looks in here.”

  Matt waited until all four men had left the car before he moved from his hiding place. Using the key he had taken from Hayes, he unlocked his shackles. After that, he strapped on Hayes’s pistol, then looked down at him.

  “Like the fella said, Hayes. If you had been quiet for one more minute, you’d still be alive.”

  Armed and free, Matt climbed out of the car.

  Chapter Eight

  When Matt jumped down from the express car, he was totally unprepared for the carnage he saw. The next car after the express car was the baggage car, and the passenger car following it was telescoped into it. The next three passenger cars, while not overturned, were jackknifed, piled up onto each other, and burning. Scattered luggage and clothing created a patchwork quilt of bright colors alongside the track.

  Everyone who could do so had evacuated the train. Some, who were bleeding and badly injured, had collapsed near the track. Others, not as severely wounded, were wandering around in a state of shock, as if not sure what had happened to them. There were also several bodies lying on the ground around the train, some evidently thrown from the train, others who might have staggered this far before they died.

  It was even worse inside the wrecked cars. Matt could hear the cries of pain and fear from those who were still trapped.

  Outside, a few of the people had begun to function again, and they started back into the cars to pull out more of the injured.

  “Get the ones out of the cars that are already burning first!” Matt yelled, taking charge only because no one else seemed to be doing so.

  Leading by example, Matt moved up to the first car, which, because of its position, presented the windows at face level. Stepping up to the window and looking inside, Matt drew in a sharp breath of shock. Through the smoke that was coming out of the car, he could see seats that were wrenched from their mounts, and a floor that was running red with blood. There were bodies, and body parts, strewn about.

  “Anyone here?” he called.

  “Yes, I’m here,” a man’s voice answered.

 
Matt went into the car and and found a man lying on the floor, with his legs badly twisted.

  “I can’t walk,” the man said. “Please, get me out of here.”

  Turning, Matt saw that a couple others had come in with him.

  “Hang on,” Matt said. “We’re going to get you out.”

  He passed the passenger back to the one behind him and, making a chain of rescuers, they got the injured man safely off the train.

  Leaving that car, Matt went to the next to continue the rescue operation. At the front of the car, he saw the woman and the little boy, Jerry, who had asked about his shackles. Jerry was unhurt and free to move around, but he was sitting on the floor by his mother. Matt saw, then, why Jerry hadn’t left the train. The boy’s mother was trapped under the seat.

  Matt crawled in through the window, then worked his way through the smoke and bloody carnage until he reached the front of the car.

  “Hello, Jerry,” Matt said, remembering the boy’s name. “How are you?”

  “I’m all right, but Mama can’t get up,” Jerry answered.

  “Ma’am, can you hear me?” Matt asked.

  “Yes, I can hear you,” she answered in a weak voice.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I think I may have broken my arm,” she replied.

  “What about Suzie?”

  “She’s here with me,” the woman answered. “We’re both jammed in here and can’t move. I’m worried about Suzie. She hasn’t made a sound.”

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  The woman and her young daughter were wedged in between the front seat and the collapsed front wall of the car. In addition, the side wall was crushed in as well and pressing down on the seat.

  Matt tried to pull the seat out, but he couldn’t make it budge. Then he tried to lift the seat up, and couldn’t do that either. He was not going to be able to move the seat without help, or at least without tools.

  “I’ll be back,” he said.

  “No, please, don’t leave us,” the woman pleaded. “The car is on fire, I don’t want to burn up.”

  Matt squatted down, then put his hand gently, reassuringly, on her shoulder. “I have to get something that will allow me to move this seat,” he said. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

  “All right,” the woman agreed reluctantly.

  “I’ll stay with you, Mama,” Jerry said.

  “No, Jerry, you get out while you can.”

  “I’m going to stay here until he comes back,” Jerry said resolutely.

  “You’re a good boy, Jerry,” Matt said, running his hand through the boy’s hair. “I promise, I’ll be back.”

  Leaving them, Matt crawled back out through the window, then started walking quickly alongside the wrecked train, looking for something he could use to pry up the seat. He was hoping for a piece of metal small enough for him to handle, but strong enough to do the trick, and he picked up several pieces of wreckage, discarding each one as unusable. Then he saw, lying at the bottom of the track berm, a pickax.

  For a moment, he wondered how a pickax happened to be here. Then he realized, with a start, that the train robbers must’ve used the pickax in order to pull the spikes and spread the track, which resulted in wrecking the train. Grabbing the pickax, he retraced his path along the length of the burning train, then climbed back into the car.

  “Hello?” he called.

  “Thank God you’re back,” the woman said.

  “Yes, ma’am, I told you I would come back for you,” Matt replied. Once more, he moved to the front of the car until he reached the mangled seat. Putting the head of the pickax under the edge of the seat, he began working on it, putting all his strength into it. He heard metal screeching, then felt the seat beginning to give way.

  “It’s moving!” he said. “Hold on!”

  Then, with a loud pop, the seat broke loose from its mount and, dropping the pickax, Matt grabbed the seat and pulled it completely free. He tossed the seat aside, then reached down for the woman.

  “Can you walk?” he asked as he helped her up.

  “Yes,” she said. She stood there with her arm held against her stomach. “There is nothing wrong with my legs, I can walk. Please, get Suzie.”

  Matt got down on his hands and knees and looked up under the collapsed wall. Suzie was dead, impaled by a piece of wood that had torn from the side of the car. He looked away quickly and, seeing his reaction, the woman cried out.

  “No!” she said. “Oh, God, no! Is she—is she dead?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry, ma’am,” Matt said.

  “Please, get her out for me,” the woman said.

  “I should get you and Jerry off the train first and see if there is someone who can take care of your arm.”

  “No!” the woman said. “Please!” she begged. “Get my baby for me! Get her out of there!”

  Matt nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’ll get her for you.”

  Reaching back under the collapsed wall, Matt pulled out the piece of wood that had speared through her little body. Then, gently, he pulled her out.

  “My baby!” the woman cried, reaching for the little girl with her good arm. Matt handed the child to her mother, then led the mother and Jerry out of the car.

  One of the passengers was a doctor, and though he was bloodied and bruised, he was not seriously injured. Putting aside his own injuries, he had the impromptu rescuers bring all those who were hurt to one place so he could look after them as best he could under the circumstances.

  Matt took the woman to him.

  “Mrs. Dobbs,” the doctor said. “I didn’t know you were on the train.”

  “Doctor, it’s Suzie,” Mrs. Dobbs said.

  “Let me look at her,” Dr. Presnell said, reaching out to take the child from Mrs. Dobbs’s arms.

  “No!” Mrs. Dobbs said, twisting away from the doctor’s reach. As she did, the pain in her arm caused her to wince.

  “Suzie?” Dr. Presnell said. He looked at Matt, and Matt shook his head sadly.

  “All right, Louise, you can hold on to your little girl,” Dr. Presnell said. “But let me look at your arm.”

  “Mrs. Dobbs, won’t you let me hold Suzie for you until Dr. Presnell has examined your arm?” Matt offered.

  Mrs. Dobbs hesitated for a moment, then nodded, and gave the little girl to him.

  Dr. Presnell looked at her arm, then moved it, and she cried out in pain.

  “Jerry,” Dr. Presnell said. “I want you to look around and find me two pieces of wood about this long,” he said, indicating the length with his hands.

  “All right.”

  “I’m going to make a splint,” Dr. Presnell said. “If I can find some way to hold it in place.”

  “There are some items of clothing strewn about,” Matt suggested. “I’ll collect some of it. Maybe we can tear some of that into strips.”

  “Good idea,” Dr. Presnell replied.

  Matt started to walk away, still carrying the dead baby.

  “No!” Mrs. Dobbs called. “Don’t take her away from me!”

  “I’ll bring her right back, Mrs. Dobbs, I promise,” Matt said.

  “Louise, I need his help if I’m going to fix your arm,” Dr. Presnell said.

  Mrs. Dobbs nodded. “All right,” she said.

  Mrs. Dobbs did not take her eyes off Matt as he wandered around through the strewn items of clothing, all the while carrying the dead child. Finally, he found a shirt, which he ripped into strips. Then he took the strips of cloth back to the doctor. By now, Jerry had returned with several pieces of wood, gathered from the wreckage of the train.

  “Good work, Jerry,” Dr. Presnell said. Selecting two pieces that most suited his purpose, and using the strips of cloth Matt gave him, he made a splint. As soon as he was finished, Mrs. Dobbs reached for Suzie and, gently, Matt returned the child to her.

  “People, listen to me!” Dr. Presnell shouted. “I’m a doctor! If any of you are injured, let me know! I’ll do the
best I can for you.”

  “Doc, somethin’s wrong with my wife,” someone said and, almost immediately on top of his comment, several others began calling out as well.

  “Would you help me, young man?” Dr. Presnell asked Matt.

  Matt shook his head. “I’m not a doctor.”

  “Maybe not,” Dr. Presnell replied. “But you do have common sense, and in a situation like this, common sense is more important than any medical degree.”

  Farther up the track, in Sentinel, the people who were waiting to meet the train were beginning to grow nervous. The train was already forty-five minutes late. Boomer, who was waiting to meet Doc Presnell, was listening in to the various conversations of those who were expecting people on the train. They were growing increasingly more concerned.

  “Deputy Foley, have you heard anything?” an older woman asked. “My daughter is supposed to be coming in on the train and I’m growing very worried.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry that much about it, Mrs. Anderson,” Boomer said, trying to ease her concerns. “The train’s been late before.”

  “Yes, sir, I know it has. But if you go over there and look at the blackboard that has the schedule on it, you’ll see that the train left Purgatory on time,” Mrs. Anderson said. “It should’ve been here a long time ago now.”

  “It does seem a little odd, doesn’t it?” Boomer said. “All right, I’ll go talk to the station agent and see what I can find out.”

  “Would you? Good, I appreciate that, and I’m sure a lot of other folks will appreciate it just as much.”

  As several others, by their comments and nods, indicated their concurrence with Mrs. Anderson’s request, Boomer went inside the depot, then walked back to the ticket cage. There, he saw the station agent standing over the telegrapher. The telegraph instrument was clacking away madly.

  “Mr. Cooley?” Boomer called.

  The station agent held up his hand as a signal for Boomer to be quiet for a moment, so Boomer complied.

  The telegraph key stopped clacking; then the telegrapher put his own hand on the key and sent a short message back.