“A chamber pot? We are going to make soup in a spittoon?” Barbara Lewis made a face.
“Trust me, it hasn’t been used, not one time,” Bailey said. “It’ll make a fine pot for cooking.”
“It’ll be all right, honey,” Anita said to her daughter. “Why, if it’s never been used, what is the difference between it and a stew pot?”
“I guess nothing.” Barbara looked at her brother and Timmy. “But don’t either of you dare ever tell anyone we cooked soup in a chamber pot and actually ate it,” she demanded.
“Why not?” Steven replied. “I think it’s funny.”
“Oooh!” Barbara thumped her thigh in frustration.
“They aren’t going to tell anyone, are you, boys?” Matt looked the boys straight in the eyes.
“All right,” Timmy agreed. “We won’t ever tell anyone.”
“All right, so we can cook,” Purvis said. “But how are we going to eat it? We don’t have bowls or spoons.”
“I have a knife, a spoon, and a collapsible cup,” Matt said. “We’ll pass the cup around, and eat one at a time. The children will go first.”
Using his penknife, Matt began to cut up the carcass.
Troy also had a knife, so he went to the back to help. He started to make a cut, then looked up at Matt with a questioning expression on his face. “Mr. Jensen, I have to tell you, this don’t look like no deer I done ever seen before.”
“You don’t say.”
“It looks more like a dog.”
“In some cultures, dog is a delicacy.”
“But this ain’t no dog, is it?”
“No.”
“What is it? A wolf? A fox? A coyote?”
“You’ve heard of mule deer, haven’t you, Troy?”
“Yes, sir, but I know this ain’t no mule deer.”
“It’s a coyote deer.”
Troy laughed. “We ain’t goin’ be tellin’ the others this, are we?”
“No.”
Troy laughed again. “I expect this will be the best coyote deer I done ever ate.”
While Troy was cutting up the rest of the carcass, Matt went back up to the front of the car. “You men, go outside and start gathering snow. Use your hats. Oh, and stay behind the train as much as you can, there’s less chance Santelli and the others will see you that way.”
“I want to help, too,” Timmy declared.
“Me, too,” Steven added.
“If it’s all right with your parents, it’s all right with me,” Matt said.
“Are you sure they won’t get in the way?” Ed Webb asked.
Luke smiled at the two boys. “I think they would be a great help, Why, I wasn’t much older than these two boys when I went to sea for the first time.”
“All right, Timmy, you can go with them.”
“Mama?” Steven asked.
“Go ahead,” Mrs. Lewis said.
“Miss McCoy, if you would, please get the fire going a little hotter, at least hot enough to boil water,” Matt asked.
“All right,” Jenny agreed.
“I’ll help you,” Mrs. Lewis offered.
An hour later, the entire car was permeated with the enticing aroma of the soup.
“When will it be ready?” Timmy asked. “I’m really hungry.”
“Soon, I think,” Matt said.
“Matt, I have a suggestion,” Luke said. “It’s something we did a few times on board ship when our rations were running low.”
“I’m open to any suggestion,” Matt said.
“For the first time, we’ll just have the broth. It will be nourishing enough to maybe take some of the edge off. Then we can put more water in, cook it a second time, maybe even three times before we eat up all the meat.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“You know somethin’? What is happenin’ to us now, has all come right out of the Bible,” Troy pointed out.
“What do you mean, it’s all come out of the Bible?” Daniels asked. “I don’t remember reading anything about a trapped train in the Bible.”
“Well, ’cause there weren’t no trains then. But the rest of it.” Troy quoted, “‘For I was hungry, and you gave me food.’ Well, ain’t that what Mr. Jensen has just done? Provide us with food? ‘I was thirsty, and you gave me drink.’ That’s what all the snow is, givin’ us water to drink. ‘I was a stranger, and you took me in.’ That’s me ’n Pete and Mr. Stevenson and Mr. Evans. We was strangers, out in the cold, but you good folks took us in. ‘I was naked, and you clothed me’.” Troy put his thumbs behind the serape and held it out. “That’s what this here thing is. ‘I was sick, and you visited me.’ That’s the sweet little girl that’s lyin’ over there now. She is some awful sick, but we done ever’ one of us took her into our hearts. ‘I was in prison, and you came to me.’ Well, ain’t we all sort of in prison now, I mean, what with bein’ trapped in this car and all? So that last one, the part about bein’ in prison, is for all of us. Yes, sir, ever’thing Jesus said in that parable just fits us.”
“What parable is that, Troy?” Beans asked.
“That’s from the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, Mr. Evans. It’s the Parable of the Sheep and the Goats.”
“Troy, how come you know that?” Julius asked.
“I thought I told you, Julius. My daddy is a preacher man.”
“No, you ain’t never done told me that. If you know all that stuff, how come you ain’t never become a preacher man your own self?”
“My daddy is a godly man,” Troy said. “I don’t reckon I ever met a man who is finer ’n my daddy. But I ain’t never been nowhere near as good a man as he is. I’ve done lots of things that ain’t nowhere near godly. I just don’t figure I’m fit to be a preacher man.”
“Maybe being here like this is some kind of test for you,” Don suggested.
“I don’t mind Troy being tested,” Pete said. “Only if he’s the one bein’ tested, how come the rest of us has to be with him?”
The others laughed, and it was the first good, deep laugh any of them had had since the ordeal began.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“If you ask me, Morris has done got hisself kilt, just as sure as a gun is iron.” Kelly sat in the dining car with Santelli and Compton. “Otherwise, he’d be back here by now.”
“More ’n likely,” Santelli agreed.
“What if they come into this car after us?”
“They tried it once before, remember?” Santelli pointed out. “I don’t think they’re likely to try it again. The only way they can get into the car is through that door, and they can only come through the door one at a time.
“You know what?” Compton interjected. “We’re goin’ to run out of coal pretty soon. We won’t have enough to cook our food or heat the car.”
“No problem, just go into the next car and take whatever coal they have,” Santelli suggested.
“Yeah, good idea.” Compton stepped out onto the vestibule, pulled his pistol, then moved on into the car immediately behind the diner. Except for the bodies of the three men who had attempted to take back the diner, the car was completely empty.
Compton checked the stove and saw that the coal scuttle was empty. Walking through that car he looked into the next one, and it was empty as well, and was also missing a coal scuttle. As soon as he stepped onto the vestibule leading to the last car he heard laughter.
He frowned. Laughter? What did they have to laugh about?
Then he smelled the aroma of something being cooked. What could they be cooking?
Compton hurried back to the diner.
“Where’s the coal?” Santelli growled out as soon as Compton entered.
“There ain’t no coal in either of the next three cars,” Compton answered. “There ain’t no people there, either.”
“What do you mean, there aren’t any people? What happened to them?”
“They’ve all moved into the last car. And I figure they must’ve took their coal with them.�
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“Damn.”
“And I’ll tell you somethin’ else. They’re cookin’ somethin’.”
“What do you mean, they are cooking something? What have they got to cook?”
“I don’t know, but I could smell it as soon as I got to the door. And the way they are laughing, you’d think they’re having a party.”
“Well, why don’t we just go stop their party?” Kelly suggested.
“You really want to do that?” Santelli asked. “Morris ain’t come back. Besides, Matt Jensen is with them.”
“Are we not going to do anything?” Kelly asked in a huff.
“Why? Whatever food they have, it can’t be much. And they have a lot of people to feed. We’ve got all the food we can eat for two weeks if necessary. As long as nobody does something foolish, things are fine just as they are.”
Becky was the first person to be fed, and because it was a clear broth she was able to take it. She didn’t take a full cup, but she took a little, and Matt was sure it would be good for her.
Timmy was offered the next cup. “I think my sisters and Barbara should get it before me and Steven. They’re girls.”
“Good for you, Timmy,” Matt said with a smile. “And you are right, they should be next.”
After the children took the cup, it went to the women, then to the men. When Troy started to drink it, Senator Daniels protested. “Are those colored men going to drink from the same cup as we?”
“Do you see any other cup?” Matt asked impatiently.
“That isn’t right,” Senator Daniels said adamantly. “I mean having a colored man drink from the same cup as whites.” He shook his head. “No, sir, I won’t share a cup with a colored person.”
“All right, Senator Daniels, have it your way,” Matt said.
Troy hadn’t taken a swallow yet, and upon hearing Matt’s comment, he looked up questioningly.
“What are you waiting on, Troy? Go ahead.”
“Wait a minute!” Senator Daniels exclaimed. “I thought you said to have it my own way.”
“I did say that,” Matt replied calmly. “You said you won’t share a cup with a colored person, so I’m not going to ask you take any of the soup. Which is fine, it’ll just mean more for the rest of us.”
“What? That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s up to you, Daniels,” Matt maintained, specifically omitting the title. “You can either share the cup with Troy, Julius, Pete, and the rest of us, or you can choose not to take the cup at all. Which will it be?”
“I’ll, uh, I’ll take the cup,” Senator Daniels muttered.
“Yeah, I rather thought you might.”
By the time they settled for the night, the coyote had been fully consumed. Nobody had a full stomach, but neither was hunger gnawing at them as much as it had the day before.
“Matt, I think we should post a watch tonight,” Luke suggested as they sat in the darkened car. “Like we have onboard ship. There are enough of us that it won’t require anyone to stay awake for too long.”
Matt agreed. “Since we have all the coal now, I could see our friends in the dining car getting a little anxious, perhaps even anxious enough to try something. We’ll post the watch.”
Big Rock
Bob Ward had left Hannah’s and started his evening in Longmont’s, but he got loud and abusive and the owner had invited him to leave. Ward didn’t want any trouble that might cause him to wind up in jail, so he’d moved on to the Brown Dirt Cowboy Saloon. He had to be in Big Rock when the train arrived, assuming it would arrive eventually.
He’d spent too much money at Hannah’s. With barely enough to sustain himself over the next few days, he was trying to solve that problem by playing cards, but had not been successful in Longmont’s, and was even less successful in the Brown Dirt Cowboy. “Well, you fellas have just about cleaned me out,” he said jovially as he got up from the table.
“Don’t feel like you are the only one, mister. This seems to have been Corey Calhoun’s day.” The player pointed to the winner, a cowboy who was temporarily out of work because of the season.
Smiling, Calhoun raked the pile of money toward him. “There must be near a hunnert dollars here. Why, this’ll be enough to tide me over till spring roundup.”
Ward tipped his hat. “Gentleman.” He moved away from the table, but didn’t go far.
“Some folks have it and some don’t, Calhoun,” one of the players griped.
“You got that right. I got the skill,” Calhoun bragged.
“Ha! I was talking about luck,” the player said. “I’ve never seen a worse player with better luck than you.”
The others laughed.
“Oh yeah? Well, I’ll tell you—” Calhoun paused in mid-sentence. “You’re right. It was just dumb luck. But as my old pa used to say, it’s better to be lucky than good. I probably should quit while I’m ahead. I’ll put this money away, and when I come in here to play tomorrow, I’ll bring no more ’n what I started with today.”
“The way it’s been snowing, what makes you think you’ll even be able to make it to the saloon tomorrow?” one of the other players asked. “For that matter, we may all have a hard time gettin’ home tonight.”
“Yeah, well, at least we are down here,” Calhoun said. “Think of all those poor folks trapped in a train up on top of the pass.”
“Where are you sleeping tonight, Corey? You goin’ to use some of your winnin’s to get a hotel room?”
“No way am I goin’ to waste this money on a hotel room. I’ll sleep tonight the same place I sleep ever’ night when I’m not out on the range,” Calhoun replied.
“Yeah, that’s sort of what I thought. You don’t have a place, so you’ll go over to the livery and bed down in an empty stall, won’t you?”
“Mr. Vickery, he don’t mind it. And there’s plenty of clean straw to sort of burrow down into.”
“How ’bout one more hand before you leave, Corey?” one of the other players asked.
“One more, but that’s all,” Calhoun agreed.
From his place near the wall, Ward heard every word and smiled. It was going to be just too easy.
He hurried through the cold, dark night, his feet making crunching sounds as he walked through the snow. Reaching the livery stable, he stood in the shadows outside for a long moment, making certain he hadn’t been seen. Then he stepped into the barn.
It was almost as cold inside as it was outside. The only difference was the walls blocked the wind. The air reeked of horseflesh and horse apples. He moved into a dark corner and waited.
Calhoun was singing when he came into the stable.
“O bury me not on the lone prairie.
These words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of the youth who lay
On his dying bed at the close of day.”
He moseyed over to one of the stalls. “Hey, Horse, what do you think?” I won a lot of money tonight and tomorrow, I’m goin’ to buy you some oats to go along with the hay you been eatin’. What do you think of that?”
The horse whickered and stuck his head over the gate. Calhoun rubbed the horse behind his ears. “Yeah, I thought you’d like that.”
Ward was sneaking up on Calhoun’s back, walking as quietly as he could, but he stepped on a twig and it snapped.
“What?” Calhoun said, turning toward the sound.
Hiding a knife in his hand, low and by his side, Ward made an underhand jab toward Calhoun, holding the blade sideways so it would slip in easily between his ribs. The knife penetrated Calhoun’s heart, and he went down without another sound.
Ward found the money in Calhoun’s coat pocket, then quickly crossed the street and entered the Ace High Saloon, where he stayed just long enough to establish an alibi. After a couple drinks and a little flirtatious banter with the bar girls, he walked down to the Rocky Mountain Hotel, where he took a room.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
On board the Red Cliff
Special—December 23
They had selected the time of their duty by lot, and had decided whoever was on duty would stand, not sit, at the door, looking out through the door window. That way nobody would fall asleep while on watch, and since they were only doing one hour at a time, it didn’t seem too harsh a duty.
Luke had the watch from one until two in the morning, but couldn’t help taking frequent glances toward Jenny. Often, he caught her looking at him. For the first few times he caught her, she would smile in embarrassment at being caught. But after a few times, the embarrassment was gone, and they looked at each other openly and unashamedly.
He recalled a conversation he’d had with his sea captain.
“You aren’t married, are you, Mr. Shardeen?” Captain Cutter asked once, when the Pacific Clipper was anchored off Hong Kong.
“No, sir.”
“You are a smart man not to be married. No sailor should be married, for ’tis no life for a woman to always be waiting for her man to come home to her.”
“But you are married, aren’t you, Captain?”
“Aye, and ’twas the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
Because of that conversation, and because he believed the captain was right, the thought of marriage had never before crossed Luke’s mind.
But he wasn’t a seaman any longer. He was a rancher with land and a house. What better could he offer a wife, than her own home? Working the land, there would be no long separations. He could get married. They could have children . . . a boy would be nice. He could start him in ranching when he was . . .
Shaking his head, Luke abruptly turned his thoughts in a different direction. He was going to jail for four years. There were very few voyages where a seaman would be absent for four long years. If he couldn’t subject a woman to being married to a seaman, what made him think he could subject her to being married to someone who was in jail?
A Rocky Mountain Christmas Page 19
