Killer Take All

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “He left the electric connections so nobody in the car would suspect nothin’ till the train pulls away.”

  “But don’t that mean the car’s still connected?” O’Malley asked.

  “You think them little electric wires can pull that heavy car?” Dixon asked.

  “Oh, no, I reckon not.”

  The engineer blew two short blasts of the whistle.

  “Get ready, the train’s about to leave,” Dixon ordered, and he and the other three cocked their pistols.

  * * *

  “It would appear that we’re about to get underway again,” Pete said, but no sooner were the words out of his mouth than the car went black.

  “What happened?” Meagan asked.

  “There must have been a loose connection in the electric wires,” Elmer said. “The train hasn’t left yet. If we can stop it before it leaves, we can reconnect it. I’ll go ahead and get the conductor to—”

  “Elmer, there is something queer about this,” Duff said. “The train has gone on and we’re—”

  Suddenly they heard the sound of gunfire from outside and several bullets crashed through the windows.

  “Get down!” Duff shouted, grabbing Meagan and pulling her down.

  “Is anyone hit?” Elmer asked.

  “I wasn’t hit,” Pete said.

  Duff and Meagan also reported that they were unharmed.

  After it was determined that nobody had been hit, Pete suggested they would be safer in one of the bedrooms on the opposite side of the car from where the shooting had come from.

  “The bullets would have three walls to come through,” he pointed out.

  “Aye, ’tis a good idea. Meagan, you ’n Pete get in there, but crawl.”

  Even as Duff was sending Meagan and Pete to safety, more bullets came crashing through the windows.

  “Where will you be?” Meaghan asked.

  “Me ’n Duff’s are goin’ to go outside ’n kill them rats that’s tryin’ to kill us,” Elmer said.

  “Are you ready?” Duff asked, his gun in hand.

  “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go get’em.”

  Reaching the back of the car, first Duff, then Elmer, got down on their stomachs and slithered through the door and across the rear deck. While still on their stomachs, they rolled off the deck and onto the track berm, where Duff waited for Elmer.

  When Elmer raised his pistol to fire back at the flame patterns, Duff reached out to stop him. “Nae, we should be for drawing the shooting away from the car.”

  “Yeah, I shoulda thought o’ that,” Elmer agreed.

  “Elmer, you go about twenty yards that way,” Duff said, pointing toward the front of the car. “I’ll go to the back. Here, take this.”

  Duff gave Elmer his pistol.

  “Why are you a-givin’ me your gun?”

  “I want you to hold your hands out like this,” Duff said, spreading his arms wide. “Shoot both of the guns so that they’ll think we are together over there. That way I’ll be able to sneak up on them.”

  “’N just what is it you’re a-plannin’ on doin’ when you get there, seein’ as you won’t have a gun with you?”

  “I have this,” Duff said, holding up the sgian dubh, the ceremonial knife that, when he was wearing the uniform of a Captain of the Black Watch, was kept tucked into the right kilt stocking.

  “I’ve seen you use that thing before, so I ain’t goin’ to try’n stop you,” Elmer said.

  The gunfire continued from the other side of the track, and Duff could hear the bullets hitting the side of the car. He prayed that Poindexter was right—that the three walls would stop the bullets.

  He started to the left, while Elmer went right. Both had the advantage of darkness, as well as the elevated railroad berm to conceal their movements. Shortly after Duff got into position, he heard Elmer begin firing and, as Duff had instructed, he saw that Elmer was holding the pistols widely separated.

  “Damn!” a voice said. “They’s two of ’em that’s got outta the car.”

  “It has to be MacCallister’n Gleason,” another voice said. “If we can take care o’ them, the woman ’n Poindexter will be easy.”

  The attackers began shooting toward where they had seen Elmer shoot, and Duff was able to figure out that there were four of them,

  He crossed the tracks, his movement unnoticed by any of the four trading gunfire with Elmer. Duff moved quickly through a drainage ditch adjacent to the track until he reached the first man.

  Concentrating so intently on Elmer, the shooter neither heard nor saw Duff until Duff was on him.

  “What the hell?” the shooter said, startled by Duff’s unexpected appearance.

  Duff held out his hand. “I’ll be takin’ your gun.”

  The shooter raised his gun but before he could pull the trigger, Duff made a sweep with his knife, opening up the man’s stomach. As he went down, Duff grabbed his gun.

  “Quinn, what the hell’s goin’ on over there? Who are you talkin’ to?” asked the next man over.

  “That would be me,” Duff replied from about ten feet away from the man who had called out to Quinn. Too far to use his knife, but Duff had Quinn’s pistol, and he fired just before his would-be assailant did. His assailant went down.

  “Dixon, they got O’Malley and Quinn!”

  “Kluge, you dumb peckerwood! Why did you call out my name?”

  Dixon fired, but not at Duff. He shot Kluge in the back, then he turned and ran off into the dark.

  “Duff?” Elmer called. “Duff, are you all right?”

  “Aye, all is finished here.”

  Pete found a kerosene lantern which he lit, not only to provide illumination for them, but also to mark the car in the hope that an approaching train would see them before colliding with them.

  “I heard Dixon’s name called,” Duff said.

  “Clete Dixon is one of the railroad police with the C and FL,” Meagan said.

  “Railroad police? I don’t have any railroad police,” Pete said.

  “You don’t, but whoever is passing himself off as your son does,” Meagan said.

  “What I don’t understand is how the imposter knows so much of the operation,” Pete said. “And how was he able to convince Mr. Jamison to send so much money without arousing any suspicion? And why didn’t Jamison share those requests with me?”

  “Have you considered that it might nae be suspicious to Mr. Jamison?” Duff asked.

  “What in heaven’s name do you mean? Surely you don’t suspect that Norman Jamison is involved in this, do you? Why he has been a loyal and valued employee for some years now.”

  “As I am nae familiar with the gentlemen, I can nae make such a judgment. ’Tis only a question I ask.”

  “Something is coming up the track!” Meagan said in alarm and the others looked in the direction she pointed. Some distance away they saw not one huge light as would be on the train but two lights, much lower and dimmer.

  “That ain’t no train,” Elmer said.

  “It’s a handcar,” Pete said in relief. “It’s track checkers, inspecting the rails. And, they will have a telegraph key. They can send word back that we’re stranded out here. Miss Parker, Mr. MacCallister, Bosun, we’ll be reconnected and back on our way before you can say Jack Robinson.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Charley Blanton was in his new building with a spanking-new printing press, platen, and a large gathering of type in various sizes and fonts. Though he had put out a special edition the day after he returned with the new press, he was about to put out the first scheduled issue of his paper when the jingle of a bell announced that someone had opened the front door. The notification bell was also a new edition.

  Looking toward the front, he was surprised to see Kay Greenly coming in.

  “Well now, Miss Kay, fancy seeing you here,” Charley said with a welcome smile. “Have you come to see my new facilities?”

  “Oh, your new building and facilities are q
uite lovely. I’m so glad you were able to get everything put together again. A town needs a newspaper.”

  “It does indeed. I’m glad you see that.”

  “Mr. Blanton, as you are a newspaperman I would imagine that you are aware of just about everything that goes on around here,” Kay said.

  “Well, I do try and keep abreast of things, though I must admit that I don’t quite understand everything that’s going on with this . . . this C and FL business.” He stressed the words, using a tone of voice that indicated his contempt for them. “But, I digress, my dear. You have a question, do you?”

  “Yes. Do you know anything about a line cabin that’s about an hour’s ride from here? It may be at the foot of a mountain.”

  Charley chuckled. “I must confess that I hadn’t anticipated such a question. About an hour from here, you say? Well, there’s one like that on Trail Back. It sits at the foot of Tomahawk Mountain. Of course it’s not Trail Back land anymore. It’s now part of the land grant that the railroad has grabbed up, but even before that, David had abandoned the shack a long time ago. I’m not even sure it’s still standing. Why are you asking about it?”

  “Oh it’s just something I heard that made me curious about it, is all,” Kay said without being more specific.

  “Yes, old abandoned buildings can be interesting, especially if there are several of them. In that case they become a ghost town. Which is what we might become if we don’t get that railroad,” Blanton said.

  “Do you think we won’t get the railroad?”

  “Frankly, my dear, I do have my doubts.”

  “The people who have come to build the railroad, they . . .” Kay halted in midsentence.

  “They what?”

  “They aren’t very nice people.”

  “You have struck the nail right on the head. You’re right. They aren’t very nice people.”

  “I read all of your stories about the railroad. You were one of the first to realize it. Mr. Blanton, do you think the railroad people may have had something to do with the fire you had?”

  “Oh, I don’t just think, I know,” Blanton replied. “Of course, as I have no proof other than an inherent knowledge of the fact, there’s nothing I can do about it, other than be more careful.”

  “Are you saying that you mean be more careful about the articles you write?”

  “No, my dear, I have no intention of being more careful with my articles. Nothing will infringe upon the freedom of the press, and I shall exercise that right as granted me by the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution.”

  Kay smiled. “I am pleased to see that the Fourth Estate is in good hands.”

  “Fourth Estate? Miss Kay, you are not only beautiful, you are a most intriguing young woman.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  From the Chugwater Defender:

  An Honest Appraisal of the Company Who Would Give Us the Railroad

  EDITORIAL COMMENT

  by Charles Blanton

  My earlier articles calling attention to the misdeeds of the C&FL Railroad company resulted in the loss, by arson, of my newspaper office, printing press, and associated equipment. And though it is my personal belief that the miscreants who pass themselves off as railroad police are the same ones who set fire to my property, I have no proof and thus am unable to make an official charge to that effect. Thus, you may regard my comment as opinion only, not substantiated by indisputable fact.

  Despite the penalty I paid for my earlier articles, I will not be dissuaded from continuing to publish the truth as I see it as I am guaranteed the right to do so by the U.S. Constitution.

  I have long expressed the opinion that there is something nefarious about this man who says he is Jake Poindexter and especially those who claim to be railroad police. They are not building a railroad. Proof of that is that not one mile of track has been put down. The C&FL are using our desire for a railroad as cover for their misdeeds. It is precisely because of these misdeeds that Messrs. Duff MacCallister and Elmer Gleason, as well as Miss Meagan Parker, have gone to New York to plead our case with Preston Poindexter, the president of the P R and M Corporation. P R and M, Preston Rail and Maritime Corporation owns the Cheyenne and Fort Laramie Railroad, the company who is supposedly laying tracks from Cheyenne to Fort Laramie.

  Mr. Gleason is an old acquaintance of Mr. Poindexter, and it is Gleason’s contention that the elder Poindexter is a man of honor and integrity who knows nothing of the chicanery being pulled by the C&FL. This newspaper, and all the residents of the Chugwater Valley, indeed all of the residents who occupy the towns, ranches, and farms between Cheyenne and Fort Laramie hold on to the hope that our little delegation to New York is successful in bringing about a positive resolution to what is going on here.

  Collins had just finished reading Blanton’s editorial when the Western Union delivery boy showed up at his office.

  “Mr. Poindexter? This is for you, sir.”

  Collins took the telegram without comment.

  NEGOTIATION WITH PARTIES UNSUCCESSFUL STOP TRAIN CONTINUES TO CHEYENNE WITHOUT ME STOP FURTHER ATTEMPTS IMPOSSIBLE

  Collins read the telegram growing angrier with each word. Then, with a growl of frustration, he ripped the little yellow sheet of paper into shreds and dropped it into the trash can. “Damn!” he said aloud.

  “Will there be anything else, Mr. Poindexter?” the young Western Union boy asked.

  “No, get out of here. I don’t need you hanging around!”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy said, hurt by the harshness of the response even more than he was by the lack of the customary tip.

  “What is it?” Streeter asked after the boy left.

  “Dixon failed. MacCallister and the others are still alive and coming back this way. Dixon isn’t even on the train anymore.”

  “Do you reckon they might have learned that you ain’t the real Jake Poindexter?”

  “I don’t know. But I think it would be very much to our advantage if they don’t make it back to Chugwater.”

  “How are we going to manage that? Like you said, Dixon ain’t even on the train no more.”

  “You’ve spent some time in Cheyenne, haven’t you, Streeter?”

  “Yeah, I’ve spent quite a bit of time in Cheyenne.”

  “Do you think you could round up five men who would be capable of stopping MacCallister and the others from returning to Chugwater?”

  “Yeah, if I could offer them enough money.”

  “I’ll give you seven hundred dollars. That’s one hundred apiece for each of the men you employ, and two hundred for you. You work out the details.”

  Streeter smiled. “MacCallister will never make it to Chugwater. ’N if you had sent me instead of Dixon, he wouldn’t have even made it to New York.”

  “I have no confidence in your boasting about what you are going to do. Come back and brag about what you have done.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Streeter replied. “You can count on that.”

  * * *

  With the Emma Marie once more attached to a through train, Duff and the others continued their luxurious trip, passing through Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana.

  When they reached Chicago, a boy wearing a Western Union cap knocked on the door of the car while the train was stopped. “Are you Mr. Poindexter?” he asked.

  “I am.”

  “I have a telegram for you.”

  “Thank you,” Pete said, handing the boy a quarter.

  “Thank you, sir,” the boy replied with a proud smile.

  Pete read the telegram, then, with a curious expression on his face, looked toward Duff and the others.

  “What is it?” Duff asked.

  Pete read the telegram aloud. “‘Information has reached me that casts doubt upon the motives of MacCallister and Gleason. You may be in danger, and as your longtime assistant, I recommend you separate yourself from them at soonest opportunity.’ It’s from Jamison.”

  “Do you feel you’re in danger?” Duf
f asked.

  “Yes, after what we have just come through, I do feel that I’m in some danger, but not from you. I wonder where Jamison got his information.”

  “A better question to ask would be where are the blackhearts who are attacking us getting their information,” Duff replied.

  “Yes,” Pete said. “That is a good question. I may just ask Mr. Jamison that self-same question.”

  “Nae,” Duff said, holding out his hand. “’Twould be best nae to raise any suspicion.”

  “Then you think I shouldn’t respond to his telegram?”

  “I have a suggestion,” Meagan said. “Why don’t you thank him for the warning and say you plan to stay in Chicago for a while?”

  “That won’t work,” Elmer said. “If there’s someone spyin’ on us, this here private car o’ his sticks out like a sore thumb ’n they’ll see it when we leave.”

  “I hate to say this, because I’ve never been on anything as lovely as this car,” Meagan said. “But if we leave the car here and go the rest of the way as regular passengers, we might be able to sneak Mr. Poindexter into Chugwater before anyone figures out what’s going on.”

  “Aye, ’tis a fine point, lass.”

  “I’ll send the telegram telling him that I am taking his warning under advisement,” Pete said.

  HAVE TAKEN WARNING TO HEART STOP SEPARATED FROM FELLOW TRAVELERS AND REMAIN CHICAGO LOOKING AFTER BUSINESS

  A short time later Duff, Meagan, Elmer, and Pete Poindexter were passengers on the Wagner Parlor car as the train continued west.

  “There it is,” Meagan said, pointing as they passed the Emma Marie parked on a sidetrack. “Oh, what a lovely ride it was.”

  “Yeah, but you was right,” Elmer said. “If we leave the car here, why we’ll more ’n likely be able to sneak back home without nobody knowin’ nothin’ about it.”

  Corporate headquarters of P R and M

  “Will there be a return telegram, sir?” The Western Union delivery boy asked.