Vendetta Trail

by Robert Vaughan

  “Here, mister, what are you doing out here?” the conductor asked authoritatively. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “My name’s Hawke, and I’m a U.S. Marshal,” Hawke lied, taking a chance that the conductor wouldn’t ask for identification. “And I’m looking for two men that I believe I saw coming this way. They were wearing clothes like railroad workers, but I have reason to believe that they aren’t workers.”

  “Two men? Yes, I saw them,” the fireman said. “And now that you mention it, I didn’t think I had ever seen them before.” He pointed ahead. “They crossed the track just in front of the engine.”

  “Thanks,” Hawke said. He crossed the track as well, then started back down the other side of the train, his eyes continuing to sweep back and forth.

  He hadn’t gone too far when he saw two men squatting down between the mail car and the first passenger car. He realized that they could be legitimate workers making some last-minute repair or modification to the train. But it could also be Ned and Luby, so he wanted to get a closer look at them to make sure.

  “Excuse me, could I ask you two men a couple of questions?” he called.

  Hawke’s unexpected challenge caused the two men to jump. They disappeared between the two cars and Hawke started after them. He had gone no more than half a dozen steps, however, when one of them leaned back around the end of the car and raised his pistol.

  It was Ned!

  Ned fired at him and Hawke heard the bullet fly past his ear.

  Drawing his own pistol, Hawke dropped to one knee and fired back. But because he didn’t want to take a chance on damaging anything on the train or hurting any innocent bystander, he purposely shot low. His bullet struck sparks as it hit the rear truck of the car that was shielding the two men. The bullet then ricocheted under, and between the train cars, coming close enough to Ned and Luby to cause them to dash off to the other side.

  The conductor, engineer, and fireman Hawke had just been talking to suddenly appeared alongside the engine, looking back along the train in curious wonder.

  “What is it?” the engineer called. “What’s going on? What’s all the shooting?”

  “Get down!” Hawke shouted, waving at them with his left hand. His right hand still held the pistol he had just fired. “All of you, down on the ground, now!”

  Hawke didn’t need to issue a second warning because the three men dived to the ground.

  Hawke hurried to the gap between the mail car and the first passenger car, then hopped over the coupling and crossed back to the side he had started on in the first place. Looking up and down the train, he saw that the two men were now four tracks over. He caught a glimpse of them, just as they were disappearing behind a freight train that was rolling out of the station.

  Hawke ran across the tracks after them, but before he could reach them, another train moved between him and the intruders. The engineer of the train was leaning out the window of his cab, searching the track in front of him. The noise of his own train drowned out the sound of gunfire, and he had no idea who the men were, who were running up and down the tracks, or what they were doing. He gave them—and Hawke—only a passing glance, for, by now, he was rolling at a pretty good clip and the track ahead demanded all his attention.

  Hawke heard still another train coming and he looked around to see a switch engine bearing down on him, going in the opposite direction as the train he was waiting to pass. If he hopped on it, he knew it would carry him to the end of the closing train, thus allowing the space between him and the two men he was chasing to open up faster. Waiting until the engine was by, he jumped on the ladder of one of the cars being shuffled about and rode it until the other train was clear. When he hopped back down, he had a good long look on the other side of the line of cars, but it was too late.

  Ned and Luby were gone.

  Frustrated that they had gotten away, Hawke returned to Track Number 8 where the Kansas City Flyer stood. He saw the engineer, the fireman, and another man examining the space between the cars where he had seen Ned and Luby.

  “Did you get them, Mr. Hawke?” the engineer asked as Hawke returned.

  “No,” Hawke admitted. “I’m afraid they gave me the slip.”

  “Too bad,” the engineer said.

  “Charley, look here,” the fireman said. The fireman was squatted down under the coupling.

  “What you got, Wayne?” the engineer asked, squatting down beside him.

  The fireman pointed to the rubber hose that was a part of the coupling. “It looks like they were trying to sabotage the train. They were cutting into the air-brake hose.”

  “Damn. Look at that, Mr. Bates,” Charley said, pointing it out to the conductor.

  The conductor also squatted down to examine the air-brake hose.

  “And as you can see, they were being real smart about it too,” Charley said. “They didn’t cut far enough into the hose for it to rupture. But after twenty or thirty miles, what with the swaying and the strain between the cars and all, that line would have opened up and we would have lost all our air pressure. And, like as not, when that happened, it could’ve caused a wreck.”

  “Charley, how long will it take us to get the hose replaced?” Bates asked.

  “Well, if they cut one of them, then they might have cut others. It’ll take half an hour to an hour to fix this one and another half hour to check all the other hoses,” the engineer replied. “That’ll make us an hour and a half late getting started.”

  The conductor shook his head. “No, it’ll make us three hours late,” he said. “An hour from now, 969 will have the high iron coming into St. Louis. If we don’t get started in the next fifteen minutes, we’ll have to wait right here in the station for it.”

  “Then I reckon we’re going to have to wait,” the engineer said. “Because I ain’t moving this train one inch until I’m satisfied that it’s safe.”

  “I don’t blame you, Charley,” the conductor said. “And I’m not suggesting that you do.”

  The three train crewmen looked over at Hawke.

  “What’s this all about, Mr. Hawke?” the conductor asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what’s goin’ on between you and these fellas? And why would they try an’ cut the brake hose on our train? Why would someone, of a pure purpose, do something that could get nearly everyone on this train killed?”

  “There’s nothing going on between me and them,” Hawke lied. “I just happened to see a couple of men who were acting suspicious, so I thought I would check them out. That’s all.”

  “Well, I’m glad you came along when you did,” the engineer said.

  “I’m just sorry they got away,” Hawke said. “I’d better get back to the car now. My friend will be wondering what happened to me.”

  “You’re a passenger on this train, are you?” Charley asked.

  “Yes.”

  Charley nodded. “Well, seein’ as someone is after this train, I’m glad you happened to be aboard.”

  “So am I,” Bates agreed. “Mr. Hawke, if you see anything else…suspicious…please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  “You can count on it,” Hawke said. He was grateful that he now had allies, even though they didn’t know exactly what they were letting themselves in for.

  When Hawke got back to the car, he expected to face a lot of questions, but was surprised to see that nobody seemed to have noticed his absence. Then he realized that with all the excitement of preparing for the departure, no one had been looking outside. Also the noise of the trains, echoing loudly under the covered train shed, had apparently drowned out any sound of gunshots.

  “Is everything all right?” Rachel asked when Hawke took his seat beside her. Hawke knew then that not even she had suspected anything untoward had happened.

  “Yes, everything is fine,” Hawke answered.

  “Oh, I found another story in here that you might be interested in,” she said, handing him the newsp
aper, folded in such a way as to highlight the story.

  BODY FOUND IN RIVER

  Story filed by Eugene Field

  special correspondent to the St. Louis Journal

  Hawke read the story, then handed the paper back to Rachel.

  “That is the same man who tried to attack me, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “I would say so.”

  “Then why didn’t the story say anything about the knife?”

  “It probably fell out while he was in the river. And unless they examine the body very closely, the wound is so small that it wouldn’t be that noticeable.”

  “It gives me the willies to think about it,” Rachel said.

  “Better him than you,” Hawke replied.

  The conductor came walking through the car then.

  “Folks, we’ve had some delay. It’s going to be another two hours before we pull out of the station. In the meantime, whenever you’re ready to have your beds made, just see the porter and he’ll take care of it for you.”

  When the conductor reached Hawke’s seat, he stopped.

  “Do you think we’ll have any more trouble from those men?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t think so,” Hawke replied, sighing in vexation. He had hoped to keep the entire episode from Rachel, but the conductor had just let the cat out of the bag.

  “I want you to know how much we appreciate what you did, Marshal. There are some pretty steep grades in the Ozarks, and I’d hate to be going through them without brakes.”

  “It’s not something I would want to do either,” Hawke said. “And I’m glad I could be of service.”

  Rachel waited until the conductor left before she said anything. “Why did the conductor call you Marshal?” she asked.

  “It seemed a convenient cover at the time,” Hawke said.

  “And what was he talking about, going through the hills without brakes. What men?” she added, piling one question on top of another. Then, suddenly, she realized what it was all about. “Oh Lord, Mason. Are you telling me there are more men out there after us?”

  “Not more. It was our same two friends,” Hawke said. “The ones we met earlier this evening.”

  The train started forward with a series of yanks and jerks before finally smoothing out. It rolled slowly at first, then began picking up speed as it left the station.

  Inexplicably, Rachel laughed. “They weren’t running around the yard naked, were they?” she asked.

  Hawke laughed as well, glad that she was able to see some humor in the situation. “No, they had clothes on.”

  “Too bad. I was rather enjoying the idea of them running bare-assed around St. Louis.”

  Ned and Luby lay on the floor of the empty boxcar, recovering their breath after the run, both through the train shed and the final rapid sprint to catch the freight train as it was leaving the station.

  “What was that son of a bitch doin’ on the train?” Luby asked. “I thought they wasn’t supposed to board until eight-thirty.”

  “They let the high-class passengers on first,” Ned said. “That’s so they can get all settled in them fancy cars.”

  The freight rolled over several switch connectors then and beneath them the wheels clacked and the entire car shook and rattled.

  “This sure as hell ain’t no fancy car,” Ned added.

  “You ever rode in one of them fancy cars like that?” Luby asked.

  “No,” Ned replied. “But I expect I will, once we get this job done and them Italians pay us. I may just take me a trip and go first-class.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “Maybe to Paducah, or New York, or Omaha, or someplace like that.”

  Chapter 29

  “LUBY! LUBY, WAKE UP!” NED HISSED.

  Luby groaned once, then opened his eyes.

  Even with the side door open, it was dark in the boxcar, and Luby rubbed his eyes.

  “What is it?” he asked. “What do you want?”

  “We’re gettin’ off here.”

  Awake now, Luby looked through the open door. He could see tall trees whipping by, dark shadows against the star-filled sky. He could hear the sound of the engine, the roar of passing wind, the growl of wheels rolling on the track, and the squeak of the shuddering, twisting boxcar.

  “What do you mean we’re getting off here? Where is here?”

  “Here is here,” Ned said again. He started kicking Luby, not too hard, but not all that lightly either. “Come on, get up, let’s go.”

  “Are you crazy? This is the middle of night, in the middle of nowhere, and the train is still movin’.”

  “You’re gonna jump off with me or I’m gonna push your ass off. One way or the other, you’re getting off here,” Ned said. “Now come on.”

  Getting up reluctantly, Luby followed Ned to the open door of the boxcar. The sound of the wind and the wheels rolling across the track was much louder here. Here too they could smell the smoke from the engine.

  “Jump!” Ned shouted, pushing, even as he gave the order. The two men leaped out into the black maw of night. They hit the ground and rolled painfully for several tumbles, then stopped.

  “Anything broken?” Ned asked.

  “No,” Luby answered after examining himself. “That ain’t no thanks to you, though. What the hell did you want to jump off the train in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, for? That don’t make no sense a’tall.”

  “We’ve come far enough,” Ned said. “I figure we had no more’n a two-hour head start comin’ out of St. Louis, three at the most, so pretty soon now they’ll be shuntin’ us off to a sidetrack to let the passenger train pass us by. When that happens, it’ll be too late.”

  “So, what are we going to do now? Jump on the passenger train when it comes by?”

  “No, I’ve got a better idea,” Ned said. “I was looking out the open door just before I kicked you awake, and I seen that we passed over a trestle.”

  “What’s so important about the trestle?”

  “We want to stop the train that the whore and the piano player are on, don’t we?” Ned asked.

  Luby laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I get it. We knock down the trestle, they might just take a tumble.”

  “Maybe you ain’t so dumb, after all,” Ned said.

  “I don’t like it when you do that,” Luby complained.

  “You don’t like it when I do what?”

  “When you call me dumb, like that. I ain’t dumb.”

  “You ain’t, huh? Well, you’re teamed up with me, ain’t you? You can’t get much dumber than to team up with me.”

  Luby thought about the comment for a long moment, then realized that it was a joke and he laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “You can’t get no dumber’n that.”

  The two men started walking east along the track while, behind them, the train they had just left was rapidly disappearing in the distance. The train blew its whistle and it sounded a long way off.

  “Hey, Ned, how are we goin’ to knock that trestle down?”

  “I seen a little toolshed right there alongside it,” Ned replied. “I figure we can get all the tools we need from that.”

  “How far back is it?”

  “Can’t be more’n a half a mile,” Ned answered. “A mile at the most.”

  “A mile? Damn, that’s a long walk in the dark,” Luby said.

  “Stay on the track, you won’t get lost,” Ned said.

  “I wasn’t worried about gettin’ lost. I was just commentin’, that’s all.”

  It took them about twenty minutes to reach the trestle, and by then the eastern horizon was streaked with red and pink. It would be full light within half an hour.

  “It’s goin’ to be mornin’ soon,” Luby said.

  “That’s good,” Ned said. “Come mornin’, we’ll have enough light to work by. The only question now is: Will the train get there before we get finished?”

  “You think it might?”

  “If we don
’t quit gabbin’, it might.”

  They walked across the trestle, stepping carefully on each of the cross ties.

  “There’s the toolshed I was tellin’ you about,” Ned said, pointing to a small wood building just off the track.

  “Damn, the shed’s got a lock on it,” Luby said, pointing to the door.

  Ned pulled his gun and aimed it at the lock. The gun boomed, the bullet tore through the body of the lock, and the hasp popped open.

  “Now it don’t,” he said with a satisfied grunt.

  “What kind of tools do you reckon we’ll need?”

  “Crowbars and sledgehammers, I reckon,” Ned said. “We’re going to take a section of track right out of the middle, then knock over the timbers. That ought to be enough to stop them.”

  Luby pulled out the tools and the two men started working. They sweated and grunted for a few minutes, then Luby laughed.

  “What is it?”

  “I always swore I’d never do hard work,” he said. “Now look at me. I’m slaving away here as hard as any gandy dancer you ever seen.”

  “You ever knowed a gandy dancer who got a thousand dollars for about half an hour’s work on the railroad?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s what you’re gettin’.”

  “Ha!” Luby said as he swung the sledgehammer. “I didn’t think of it like that.”

  Hawke and Rachel were having breakfast in the dining car when the engineer suddenly applied his brakes, causing the train to brake so hard that the breakfast dishes slid off the table. A steward was just delivering the meal to one of the other tables when the hard braking action started, which caused him to fall, sending the contents of his tray crashing to the floor.

  A couple of the women diners cried out in alarm and one of the male passengers cursed in anger.

  With a squealing, sliding, shuddering sound, the train finally came to a complete stop.

  “Oh, what is it? What’s happening?” Rachel asked.

  “My guess is something on the track,” Hawke said. “Let me check on it.”