by Eden Carson
She’d taken a life. What should she do? Ruth wondered in growing panic.
As she felt for the door and backed out into the corridor, she suddenly realized that the train was not moving. That must have been what tossed them both to the side, she though absently.
Had anyone heard her shot? Would the conductor be coming for her any minute?
Ruth stumbled back into the sleeping compartment and shut the door behind her. She waited and waited, listening for approaching footsteps. She started shaking again at the sight of Smith’s body lying just a few feet from her.
Ruth’s shivering was penetrated by unfamiliar sounds coming from outside the train. She couldn’t quite place the direction, so she peeked out the window, barely moving the white lace curtains aside. There were horses everywhere and people milling about. Some were women – she could tell by the dresses, shimmering in the light from a full moon. They must be passengers, Ruth thought.
What was going on?
Her thoughts settled as she realized the entire train hadn’t stopped just for Jasper Smith and Ruth Jameson. All those people would be crowding into her car if that were the case, and not off the train into the freezing night air.
Ruth ducked as shots rang out and one of the men outside her window collapsed to the ground. She lunged for the door, quickly closing and locking it. She didn’t want to stay in here with Smith’s body. But what if the train were being robbed or attacked by Indians? She thought. What should she do?
Ruth decided that finding a hiding place was the only option she had. But not in here, she thought. She had to get away from this box. It might be her time to die, but she’d be damned if she’d share a coffin with her would-be rapist.
She grabbed all the extra bullets from her bag, but with her hands shaking, she couldn’t manage to re-load. Tossing her pistol aside in favor of Smith’s still-loaded gun, she stepped gingerly over his lifeless body. She placed her ear against the compartment door, trying to separate the continuing gunshots and screaming from outside with any sounds in the corridor.
Since most of the noise seemed to be coming from outside, Ruth cautiously slid the door open an inch.
She didn’t hear any movement. After a few seconds, she slid the door open enough for her head to squeeze through. The corridor was empty.
She ran through several cars before coming to a sudden stop on the outside stairs. She could see several masked men coming out of one of the sleeping compartments, forcing an elderly couple in her direction. She climbed down the stairs to hide underneath the car, hoping the masked men wouldn’t try to hurt the older couple that had befriended Ruth earlier. She didn’t know what she could do to help them, but she now had Jasper Smith’s revolver firmly in hand. A brief check confirmed the gun was loaded.
Ruth had barely scrambled down onto the tracks before the door opened and the tiny woman, still in her nightgown and cap, stepped off the train, being shoved none too gently by the robber with a loaded pistol in her back.
“Watch yourself, young man!” The old woman snapped her irritation at the masked figure. “I gave you my money and I’m moving as fast as I can.”
“Move faster. We ain’t got all night.”
As she hid under the train, Ruth clutched her new revolver tightly, hoping the robbers would just move on. She wasn’t sure her courage was up to another confrontation.
“Hey, wait.” The second masked man gestured toward the older couple huddled together at the side of the train. “Where’s her wedding ring? Munroe, did you get a ring off Grandma?”
Ruth watched the man addressed as Munroe silently shake his head. The second armed man shoved the woman’s husband to the right, so hard he fell to the cold ground. The outlaw then reached for the wife. “I know you’ve got it hidden somewhere, old woman. Make a choice – the ring or the old man. Don’t make me wait.”
Ruth inched closer to the old couple. The mutinous look on Betsy’s face didn’t bode well for any of them, Ruth thought.
As she crept out from underneath the train, she kept her eye on the old woman’s face, waiting for Betsy’s next move. Ruth slowly raised the heavy revolver, thinking to brace it on the wheel well of the train, to better her aim. She nearly dropped the heavy gun as a gloved hand smothered her scream and pulled her bodily back under the train.
“Don’t move. I’m not going to hurt you.” The low voice was deep and male and unfamiliar - none of which inspired trust on this terrible night.
Ruth struggled in vain against superior strength, until the man flattened her out on the ground and covered her completely. He spoke quietly into her ear once more. “Hold still now, I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Beauregard Jackson. I’m a U.S. Marshal hired by the railroad to stop these robberies. I’m here to protect you.”
Ruth was too stunned to do anything more than accede to the voice’s demands and freeze. She waited, tensed, to feel pain at the hands of this stranger, or for his voice to call out in camaraderie to the other robbers. But only silence and a gentling of the grip around her waist and mouth followed her stillness.
Jackson’s muscles tensed as the woman beneath him took a deep breath, not sure if she was calming herself or preparing to scream. When no sound came, he relaxed his grip even further, thanking his maker she wasn’t prone to hysterics. He was alone down here and the distraction of a screeching female could get them both killed. Jackson turned his attention to the older couple, hoping his luck would hold out with them.
The old woman appeared to be cooperating at this point, if reluctantly, as she kneeled and started removing her left shoe.
“Don’t hurt him. I’ve got the ring here,” Betsy said, offering the wedding band.
Jackson watched her grasp something in the dirt and toss it defiantly into the face of one of the bandits, spitting her disgust and anger at him and his kind.
Jackson tapped Ruth on the hand to get her attention. When she turned to look over her shoulder at him, Jackson put his finger to his lips and pointed in the direction of the old woman and the bandit. He motioned for her to stay put before inching his way towards the outlaw.
Ruth held her breath as she watched the Marshal stealthily come up behind the bandit, who was angrily wiping spittle from his eye. The other robber, Munroe, wasn’t paying much attention, as he was crouched down in the weeds, searching for the tossed wedding band.
“Damn stubborn woman. Do you want to be rid of your old man? I ain’t inclined to waste a bullet on one dried-up old coot, but you’re pissin’ me off.” The bandit raised his left hand and back-handed the woman, knocking her to the ground.
The dried-up old man launched himself onto the back of his wife’s abuser, clutching his neck with one scrawny arm and clawing the bandit’s eyes with the other.
Ruth watched as Jackson crept up behind the gaping Munroe and slit his throat, all in complete silence. She watched Betsy’s beloved wedding ring roll slowly back into the weeds.
Ruth wasn’t sure, but she thought the old woman saw Munroe go down. Perhaps that was what gave Betsy the courage to attack again.
“I’ve had three husbands before this one, you bastard! I figure I could find myself a fifth if need be, so do what you must.” The old woman threw a large rock straight into the shocked face of the crouching man just as husband number four was tossed off his back. The rock threw the bandit off balance, and he dropped his pistol.
Ruth scrambled out from her hiding place and surprised herself more than anyone when she ran up behind the robber and pressed the cold metal to the back of his head. “Don’t move. Please don’t move and make me shoot you in the head.”
Jackson left the robber no choice, clubbing him across the side of the head, knocking him unconscious.
“Here, tie him up.” Jackson tossed a length of rope to the old man, who took care of the job quickly.
Jackson turned his piercing gaze to Ruth, taking in every inch of her shaking body. “Would you really use that thing?” he asked in genuine curiosit
y.
Ruth almost laughed at the irony of his question. “I know how to shoot,” she replied with more confidence than she felt.
“I didn’t ask if you knew how, but if you would. There are at least six more men in this gang, up toward the engine, dividing their stolen loot and deciding if they’re going to leave witnesses. I walked in alone, but I have more men on the ridge waiting for my signal. They’ll come in firing, and you’ll be in danger. So I’m asking again. Will you use that thing?”
Ruth nodded her head.
Jackson turned his attention to the old man and asked, “How’s your aim?”
“I can’t see anything but shadows out of my left eye, so my aim isn’t what it used to be. But I can still pull a trigger. And I figure my Betsy will do as she threatened and trade me in for a fifth husband, if I cower in fright under the train. You can count on me,” he concluded with a toothless grin.
“All right, then. Let’s go.” Jackson motioned for Ruth to stay behind him as he crept his way forward.
The old couple followed her, efficiently picking up the pistols of the two bandits. Jackson looked over his shoulder, wondering if he’d lost his mind. Why else would he be taking on armed robbers in the dead of night, on unfamiliar territory! But what choice was there? He’d already watched their leader shoot one bystander for standing up to him. Jackson didn’t figure that bastard was leaving any witnesses to murder. The leader would get hanged for the robbery alone, so a few more deaths on his hands wouldn’t change his fate.
Chapter 13
Jackson cursed steadily as he spied a dust cloud coming from the stand of trees where Wyman and his men were hidden. The damned fools had jumped the gun and ignored his orders. He figured he had less than a minute to get into a better position before the riders were spotted.
He backtracked to find Ruth and the old couple, who were waiting exactly where he’d left them, hidden between two cars.
“What’s happening young man?” the old woman whispered, clasping her wrinkled hands together.
“My men are on the way,” Jackson quietly replied, gesturing toward the oncoming riders. “But we’re in no position to help from here. We need to get out in front of the engine and place the gunmen between us and the Marshals on horseback.”
Before they had moved even ten yards in the direction of the engine, gunfire erupted.
“Run!” Jackson shouted the order as he pulled Ruth behind the cover of his body.
The old couple scrambled to follow, but were nearly run down by a dozen panicked passengers screaming for help. Ruth watched as Betsy decked a hysterical woman who had clutched her by the sleeve and wouldn’t let go. The old woman knocked her senseless and was pulled into cover by her husband. “She’ll be safer out cold,” Betsy offered by way of explanation to the gaping Ruth.
Jackson yanked Ruth down until she was fully sprawled on the ground. “Crawl underneath here and take aim at the skinny one in the checked shirt. Lower your head as soon as you get off a shot, and make sure none of the Marshals is in your line of fire. If you’re not sure, just fire in the air. The robbers will think they’re trapped either way.”
Ruth nodded her understanding of the orders and shimmied into the tight space behind the wheel well of the main engine.
He placed the old couple ten feet to the right of Ruth and went hunting for a better position for himself.
As he moved quickly along the tracks, Jackson urged passengers to the ground as a wild shot from the charging Marshals zinged past his ear. He grabbed the third rung of a ladder and hefted his body up the side of the dining car. He then inched over the top of the carriage, coming to the very edge, where he carefully aligned his Sharps rifle. This gave him a clear shot of at least two of the robbers, who had all of their attention focused on the oncoming horses riding full bore into rifle range.
Jackson gently squeezed the trigger and the first man tumbled over into the dirt.
The second man didn’t miss a beat, and kept firing straight into the thundering posse. He caught Abel Wyman in the upper left arm, causing him to veer off course. When a second Marshal took a bullet in the chest, his horse stumbled and crashed into the remaining riders. The posse was stopped in its tracks as horses and men alike tumbled to the ground and limbs cracked.
Jackson couldn’t get a clear shot at the second gunman through the dust and smoke. He grazed the man’s shoulder, but that wasn’t enough to stop him from quickly mounting one of the Marshal’s horses and riding off at a gallop. Jackson watched as the man joined five others at a dead run.
Another man veered in from the east in an attempt to join the escaping men, but a bullet caught his horse in the hind leg. The fall broke the man’s neck instantly.
Jackson looked in the direction the bullet had come from and spotted Emmett and Mike pursuing on horseback.
They ran full out in pursuit but pulled back as the bandits reached the dense woods to the north and split up. Jackson had standing orders to pursue armed men in groups of three or more only.
Now that the immediate danger had passed, Jackson took a quick inventory of the scene before him. He shook his head at the railroad hires below him, whistling for their panicked horses as they shook the dust off their tattered egos.
His eyes lit up in a small smile when he spotted the young woman who’d watched his back. While every other passenger on the train was milling about in tears or curses, she was calmly seeing to the welfare of the old couple, helping them to their feet now that the gunfire had stopped.
He carefully un-cocked his rifle, then prepared to climb off the railroad car. As he caught Ruth’s gaze, he absently wondered where the woman before him was headed. If he didn’t have five armed men to pursue, he thought regretfully, he just might take the time to find out.
Chapter 14
As the barest hint of sunrise crept over the dusty horizon, Ruth watched in dismay as Marshal Jackson prepared to ride off, leaving her with one dead proxy husband to explain. She didn’t think Betsy and her kindly husband would say anything to link her to Jasper Smith, but if one of the remaining Marshals were to ask them directly, Ruth would be in a bind. She might get lucky and the Marshals would just assume Smith had died at the hands of the train robbers. But then again, there might be something that gave her away. She didn’t know anything about how the law worked.
One thing Ruth knew for sure – she was a rotten liar. Her fair skin gave her away every time she’d tried it as a young child caught in some mischief, blushing to the roots of her hair. She didn’t have any reason to think she’d get away with it this time, either. The Marshals would probably take one look at her and figure she looked guilty of something.
She had to get away from here. Frank Masterson was a tragic mistake and she was desperate to start over. If what her Aunt Kate had told her was true, the scarcity of women out here meant Ruth had a shot at finding a different husband. She couldn’t do any worse than her aunt’s choice, so what did she have to lose? she asked herself, pacing the length of the dining car.
Ruth screwed up her courage and hurried over to Jackson, who was saddling his horse.
He turned around to face her, before she came within ten feet of his blind side. He tipped his hat in silent greeting, waiting for her to explain her presence.
When Ruth opened her mouth, nothing would come out. She blushed furiously as she cleared her throat.
Jackson smiled kindly at the woman, figuring she’d come to thank him again for saving her life. If he had more time, he might enjoy the attention.
Ruth wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she had amazing green eyes and he’d always had a weakness for beautiful eyes. The fact that she had the raw courage of a hardened Buffalo Hunter sure didn’t hurt either. He didn’t know too many women, much less one straight from back East, who could hold her own against known murderers.
He took pity on her and spoke first. “Ma’am, is everything all right? Mike and I are about to take off after the train
robbers who got away, so you’ll be safe on the rest of your journey. You have my personal promise on that. We’re leaving one of the Marshals to ride back on the train with you as far as Kansas City.”
“No,” Ruth shook her head vigorously. “I mean, no, I don’t want to go all the way back to Kansas City,” she insisted. “I overhead the conductor say that it’ll be weeks before they can repair the broken tracks that were damaged and even then, if the snows come early, I might get stuck there for months.”
“Ma’am, there’s no other choice,” he explained. “The railroad stops between here and Kansas City are hardly more than makeshift buildings with a few rowdy settlers. There’s Fort Wallace, which is closer, but it’s no place fit for a lady, much less one traveling alone. I’d strongly advise you to return to Kansas City. I’m sure you’ll find a way to get where you’re headed.” He reached back to calm his impatient mount, who was anxious to ride.
Ruth felt her sense of panic grow as Jackson methodically continued his preparations to leave.
“Marshal, you don’t understand,” she tried persuasion again. “I can’t afford to wait weeks, much less all winter. I haven’t got any money for a hotel and besides,” she hesitated, quickly trying to think up another reason why she could not return with the other passengers. “My, my fiancé is waiting for me in San Francisco, but he’s on a ship. I mean, he’s a sailor and he might leave port before we can marry. Or he might settle for some other woman. He doesn’t even know me, so he might get impatient and then where would I be?”
Jackson felt sorry for the courageous woman before him, but wasn’t sure how she thought he could help her, if she were already spoken for.
Mike rescued Jackson from the awkward silence. “I’m sure we could give you a few dollars to tide you over, Ma’am. And if I might be frank, any man who wouldn’t wait a few paltry weeks for a beautiful and courageous woman such as yourself ain’t worth marrying. You’d be better often returning to Kansas City with the train and sending a telegram to your intended. If he doesn’t agree to wait, or better yet, do the proper thing and come fetch you himself, why Miss, a pretty little thing like you could find herself a good catch right there in Kansas City. I’m sure the railroad will put you up in a hotel for the time being. They’re plum short of good women there. Ain’t that so, Jackson?”
