Matt Jensen: The Last Mountain Man Purgatory

by William W. Johnstone

  “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.

  “Now, Deputy, what can I do for you?” Cooley asked.

  “Mr. Cooley?” Boomer said again after the instrument was quiet. “All the folks here that are waitin’ on the train are beginnin’ to get a little worried.”

  “Are they, now?”

  “Yes, sir, they are,” Boomer replied. “And I don’t mind tellin’ you, I’m somewhat worried myself.”

  “Why are you worried, Deputy, you don’t have any people on the train, do you?”

  “No, sir,” Boomer said. He pointed toward the platform just outside the depot. “But there’s lots of folks out there who do have people, even family, and they got a right to know what’s happening. And it just so happens that Doc is on that train and, Doc being a friend of mine, that gives me cause to worry as well.”

  Cooley sighed, then ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Boomer,” he said. “I had no right to act like that. The truth is I’m worried as well.”

  “Has somethin’ happened? I mean, that you know?”

  “What I know is that we got a telegram that the train left Purgatory Station one hour and forty-seven minutes ago,” Cooley said. “The normal time it takes the train to get here is just over an hour.”

  “You think somethin’ has happened?” Boomer asked. “Or could they have just stopped somewhere?”

  “There is no place to stop between here and Purgatory,” Cooley said. He shook his head. “No, sir, Deputy, I’m sure something has happened.”

  “A wreck?”

  Cooley shook his head. “I think so.”

  “Then you’re goin’ to have to tell these folks,” Boomer said, pointing to the crowd out on the depot platform.

  “I’m afraid to.”

  “Afraid to?” Boomer replied. “Why on earth would you be afraid to?”

  “If there has been a train wreck, and I suspect there has been, I don’t know how they are going to take it.”

  “Mr. Cooley, it’d be my notion that they’d rather hear the truth than stand around worryin’ about it, not knowin’ one way or the other.”

  “Would you tell them?”

  “Well, yes, sir, I could, I suppose. But that’s more likely somethin’ the marshal should tell ’em.”

  “Where is the marshal?”

  “He’s…” Boomer stopped and sighed. He was sure Marshal Kyle was with Sally Fontaine, and he didn’t figure that was anybody’s business. “Never mind, I’ll tell them.”

  Boomer walked out of the depot, then held up his hands and started calling for everyone’s attention.

  “People, people, people!” he shouted. “Can I have your attention, please?”

  The several conversations stopped, not all at once, but rather in a wave of silence that moved quickly across the crowd until everyone was quiet, and looking at the man who had issued the call.

  Boomer cleared his throat.

  “People,” he said. “The train left Purgatory on time—”

  “Well, then, where is it?” someone shouted.

  “Let me finish, please.”

  “Yes, let the deputy finish,” someone else shouted.

  “Like I was sayin’, the train left Purgatory on time,” Boomer said. “But as you can plainly see, it hasn’t made it here yet. That leads us to believe that there has been a train wreck somewhere between here and Purgatory.”

  “A wreck?”

  “What! No, my God, no!” some woman shouted.

  “How bad is it? How many are hurt? Was anyone killed?”

  “Hold on, hold on here,” Boomer shouted, holding up his hands. “The truth is, we don’t even know for sure that there was one.”

  “But, you just said there was.”

  “No, I said we believe there has been one. Given that the train ain’t here yet, and it should ought to be, well, it just seems most likely that a wreck is what has happened. And of course, the next thing is, if there has been a wreck, we don’t know how bad it might be.”

  “Is it possible there wasn’t any wreck at all—that the train may have just broken down out on the road?” another asked.

  Boomer turned to look at Cooley, who was standing beside him.

  “What about that, Mr. Cooley?” Boomer asked. “Is it maybe possible that the train has just broke down out on the track somewhere?”

  “Yes, of course that is possible,” Cooley answered.

  “Well, then, maybe we don’t have anything to be worried about at all,” one of the men in the crowd suggested.

  “It’s possible, but it’s not very likely,” Cooley added.

  “What do you mean, it’s not very likely? Why not?” another asked.

  Cooley sighed, giving pointed evidence that he was very uncomfortable with the situation.

  “The reason I say that a simple breakdown is unlikely is because if that is what has happened, why, they have a little gadget on board that will allow them to clamp onto the telegraph wire so as to be able to send a message. Most of the time, when it’s no more than a breakdown, they’ll be able to get in contact with us, to let us know. But there hasn’t been any such message so—I hate to say this, but I’m afraid we have to assume the worst.”

  “Well, I ain’t waitin’ around here to find out. I’m goin’ out there!” one man shouted. “My wife is on that train!”

  “Mr. Zimmer, if there has been a wreck, we’ll need to organize a rescue party, so I hope several of us will be going out there,” Boomer said. “So if you’ll wait a bit, I’ll go get the marshal. I expect he’ll be puttin’ together a rescue party, and I’m sure you’ll want to be a part of it.”

  “Yeah,” Zimmer said. “Yeah, I want to go. But hurry back, will you? If there really was a train wreck, those folks out there are goin’ to be needin’ us to come out as quick as we can.”

  Marshal Kyle was lying in bed with his hands laced behind his head. Sally was lying on her side, with her head elevated and supported by her left hand. The way she was lying, with her arm crooked at the elbow, caused the bedsheet to slide down and expose both her breasts.

  A small smile played across Kyle’s lips.

  “What?” Sally asked. “What are you laughing at?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re laughing at something. I can see it in your face.”

  Kyle turned to look at her. “I was just thinking of what a difference one day can make,” he said. “Last night, I had to be satisfied with some Indian girl I saw on the trail. Now, here I am with a beautiful white woman in her own bed.”

  It took just a second for Kyle’s words to sink in. Then, when she realized what he said, she gasped.

  “What?”

  Kyle started laughing.

  “What Indian girl?”

  Kyle laughed harder. “I’m joking.”

  “That’s nothing to joke about!”
Sally insisted, and getting up, she jerked the cover off the bed so that both were exposed.

  They looked at each other for a moment, then Kyle reached for her. “On the other hand,” he said, “this is no joke.”

  “Indian girl my foot,” Sally said as she sat down on the edge of the bed, then leaned over to kiss him.

  Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door.

  “Marshal? Marshal Kyle, are you in there?”

  Boomer’s loud words were augmented by more knocking on the door.

  “Just a minute, Boomer, just a minute!” Kyle said with a frustrated sigh. He reached for his clothes. “Give me a minute.”

  “Yes, sir,” Boomer said. “I don’t mean to disturb you and Miss Sally none, but this is important.”

  “It damn well better be,” Kyle said.

  A few moments later, when both were fully dressed, Kyle walked over to sit on a settee. He nodded toward Sally as a signal that she could open the door now.

  “Good evening, Boomer,” Sally said as sweetly and innocently as she could muster.

  “Evenin’, ma’am,” Boomer replied. “Is the marshal here?”

  “I’m here in the parlor, Boomer,” Kyle called back. “What is it? What is so all-fired important?”

  “It’s about the train, Marshal. Doc’s train.”

  “What about Doc’s train? Did he miss it?”

  “No, sir,” Boomer replied. “Well, that is, I don’t know.”

  “No, he didn’t miss it, or you don’t know? Which is it?” Kyle asked, confused by the answer.

  “I mean the train ain’t got in yet,” Boomer said.

  “The train hasn’t arrived?” Kyle glanced at the wall clock. The clock read five minutes until nine. “It was supposed to have arrived at seven thirty, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir. And Mr. Cooley, he got a telegram that said the train left Purgatory Station on time. The thing is, Marshal, it don’t take but a little over an hour to get here—but the train is already an hour and a half late.”

  “Does Cooley know where it is? What happened to it?”

  “No, sir, I don’t reckon he does know,” Boomer said. “There don’t nobody know.”

  “Saddle our horses,” Kyle said. “We’ll ride down the track toward Purgatory and see what we can find.”

  “We could do that,” Boomer said. “Or we could…” He let the sentence hang.

  “We could what?”

  “We could take a train. Cooley’s puttin’ on the switch engine, and he plans to run it back down the track toward Purgatory. If the train left Purgatory when it was supposed to, and when the folks back in Purgatory said it did, then we’ll find it quicker by goin’ on a train than if we was to go back ridin’ horses.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Kyle said. “Also, if there was a wreck, we’d need the train to bring the people back to Sentinel.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, come along then. No sense in wasting time here.”

  “No, sir, I figured you’d be wantin’ to get on this right away,” Boomer said. “Miss Sally, I’m sorry to be bustin’ in like this, breakin’ up your welcome home to Marshal Kyle ’n’ all.”

  Sally nodded. “Don’t you worry about it, Boomer, you did the right thing,” she said. “If there was a train wreck, Ben needs to get out there as fast as he can.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s sort of what I was thinkin’, too,” Boomer said.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time Kyle and Boomer made it back to the railroad station, they saw that a car had been attached to the little switch engine. The car was crammed full with rescuers, in the event their worst fears were realized and there was an actual train wreck. For that reason, Kyle believed there were probably as many sightseers as there were actual rescue workers on the train.

  “Cooley! You need to add some more cars!” Kyle said. “At least three, and maybe more.”

  “What for? Ever’body that’s goin’ is already aboard,” Cooley replied.

  “What about the people we find at the train wreck?” Kyle asked. “Don’t you plan on bringing them back?”

  “Oh, yes,” Cooley said. “Damn, I completely forgot that.”

  It took another five minutes for the engine to back up the switch track to find a couple more cars. Not until then was it ready to go.

  As Kyle and Boomer started to board, Kyle walked up toward the engine.

  “Where you goin’?” Boomer called.

  “I’m going to ride up here,” Kyle said.

  “All right, I will, too.”

  “No,” Kyle replied. “There won’t be room for both of us. And I really think you should be back with the others to sort of keep them calm.”

  “Yes, sir, I reckon you’re right about that.”

  The fireman, seeing Kyle starting to climb up in the engine, reached down to give him a hand.

  “You ever been in the cab of an engine before?” he asked.

  “No,” Kyle said. “Just tell me where the best place is to stay out your way, and I’ll go there.”

  “If you want to look ahead, you can stand there on the left side of the cab,” the fireman said. “I’ll be busy keeping the steam up, and the engineer looks out the other side.”

  Taking in the engine cab, Kyle saw a bar running horizontally across the cab from the left to the right.

  Seeing him look at it, the engineer spoke up.

  “Maybe I’d better explain some of this to you,” he said. “If you know what is what, it’ll help you to stay out of the way.”

  “Good idea,” Kyle replied.

  The engineer pointed to the bar that had caught Kyle’s immediate attention.

  “That’s the throttle,” he said. “You make it go by pulling it back. And this sturdy-looking ratcheted lever with a hand release—this vertical bar on the right is the Johnson bar. It controls which way the steam goes into the cylinders. Helps you to decide whether you want to go frontwards or backwards. And right next to it here, this chunky-looking brass handle sticking out to the left is the air brakes.”

  “Thanks for the lesson,” Kyle said. “It will help me keep out of your way, I’m sure.”

  “All right, boys, here we go,” the engineer said; then, after three long whistles, the engineer positioned the Johnson bar and opened the throttle. The train pulled out of the station. At first it was moving rather slowly, but the speed kept building and building until soon the engine was going so fast that the ground below was whizzing by in a blur.

  Looking ahead, Kyle saw the track unfold out of the black void, come into the light of the gas headlamp, then slip behind them as the train hurtled through the darkness.

  “How fast are we going?” Kyle shouted above the noise of the engine.

  “I’d say we’re doing at least forty miles per hour,” the engineer replied.

  “Don’t you think we ought to slow down a little?”

  “Why?”

  “If there has been a train wreck, we may not see it in time to stop,” Kyle suggested.

  “Oh, damn, you’re right!” the engineer said, easing off on the throttle. The train slowed gradually until they were doing no more than fifteen miles per hour.

  Then, ahead in the darkness, Kyle saw the golden glow of several fires.

  “There ahead!” Kyle shouted. “The fires! Do you see them?”

  “Yes,” the engineer said. “They were smart to light some fires.”

  “I hope they are fires that were lit, and not a burning train,” Kyle said.

  The engineer reached up to the pull cord, and the whistle let out a long, melodic, wail.

  Back at the site of the train wreck, Matt worked with Dr. Presnell and the others pulling out the injured, freeing the trapped, and removing the dead. He wanted, with everything that was in him, to run away now that he had the chance. But when the train caught on fire, he knew there was no way he could leave all the people who had been so badly injured trapped in the burning wreckage. />
  Working with the others, he managed to get everyone out of the train, including those who had been killed on impact, so that even as the train burned down to the truck and wheel assemblies, there was no smell of burning bodies to add to the horror of the occasion.

  In the distance, Matt heard the two-toned sound of a train whistle. He wasn’t sure he heard it the first time, but when it sounded again, he knew exactly what it was.

  “Listen, do you hear that? That’s a train! They are coming for us!” someone shouted, though by now everyone had heard it and several cheered.

  “We’d better get up to the track and wave it down!” someone shouted.

  “Yes, get one of the lanterns and wave it,” another suggested.

  “They don’t need to wave the train down,” Matt said to Dr. Presnell, who even then was doing the best he could do toward cleaning a wound. “I’m sure the train was sent here just for us.”

  “I am sure as well,” Dr. Presnell said. “But right now, they need to feel like they have some input into their own fate. Let them yell all they want.”

  “Yeah, I see what you mean, Doc,” Matt said.

  By now, several of the uninjured and those not seriously injured had moved up to the track, where they began waving at the oncoming train. They were shouting as well, though it was obvious that no one on board the oncoming train could hear them.

  The train, now with the bell clanging, continued coming, now moving no faster than a slow walk. Finally, it screeched to a stop no more than a few feet from the compromised track.

  “God help us, look at this, Marshal,” Boomer said, his voice almost reverent as he and Kyle stepped down from the train, even before it had come to a complete halt. “The last three cars of the train has burned completely to the ground. Only the coal tender, the express car, and baggage car ain’t burned up. I wonder how many have been killed.”

  “We’ll figure that out later,” Kyle said. “For now, we need to get busy helping those who are still alive. I just hope—”

  “Marshal! There’s Doc Presnell!” Boomer said excitedly, answering Kyle’s concern before it was even spoken.”