A Rocky Mountain Christmas (12 page)

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Authors: William W. Johnstone

BOOK: A Rocky Mountain Christmas
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C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN
At the far end of the depot, Matt saw the conductor and a man he assumed was the locomotive engineer talking to the depot agent. Their conversation was quite animated, so Matt moved closer to see if he could hear them. He gave a quick smile, thinking about using the trick Smoke had taught him, a trick Smoke had learned from Preacher, who had learned it from the Indians.
“In order to better hear what you want to hear, you have to systematically eliminate every other sound, so that nothing competes with what you want to hear,” Smoke told him.
“How do you eliminate all the other sound?”
“You just sort of think about each sound for a moment, then, one sound at a time, put it out of your mind.”
 
 
Outside the depot, the fireman was still on board the locomotive, still keeping the steam pressure up. As a result the water in the boiler was gurgling and hissing. But the real noise was coming from the pulsating relief tube, opening and closing rhythmically, making loud rushing noises as as if the train itself was breathing.
Matt quickly eliminated that sound and concentrated on the loudest remaining sound, which was the buzz and chatter of those conversationalists congregated in the waiting room. Their noise was punctuated by periodic outbreaks of laughter and the sound of small shoes on the floor as a couple young boys ran about in play.
After eliminating the many conversations and the children at play, Matt heard only the sound of the clacking telegraph and the ticking of the large clock on the wall nearby. He pushed those sounds aside as well, and could finally concentrate on the conversation between the engineer, the conductor, and the station agent.
“Look,” the station agent was saying. “Last night a track inspector went up to the pass and checked it out. He said it was all right then, and a freight train went through after that, so the latest word we have, by telegraph, is that the pass is open.”
“What if we get up there and we are blocked? What if we can’t go ahead and we can’t come back?” the engineer asked.
“I don’t think that is likely to happen, at least not in the next twelve hours,” the station agent said. “On the other hand, if you don’t go now, and it does get blocked, you could be here for a month.”
“I can tell you right now, Don, if that happens, we are going to have a lot of very upset people,” the conductor said to the engineer. “Nearly everyone on this train wants to get somewhere for Christmas, and we don’t have that much time left before Christmas is here.”
“You’re the conductor, Mr. Bailey,” Don said. “So the decision as to whether to go on or stay here is up to you.”
Bailey looked at the station agent. “Mr. Deckert, what is the latest time you received a report on the condition of the pass?”
“Well, like I said, a freight train went through no more ’n two hours ago, and the pass was open then. Do you want to hear the telegram?”
“Yes, read it to me,” Bailey said.
Deckert pulled the telegram from his pocket. “Midnight. Trout Creek Pass open. No difficulty.” He handed the telegram to the conductor who read it again.
“Hmm, ‘no difficulty.’ I find it interesting he says that specifically,” Bailey commented. “That’s a good sign, I would think.”
“There has been no new snow since I received this telegram so my guess would be that the pass is still open.”
“Your guess,” Don quipped.
“It’s not just a wild guess,” Deckert reasoned. “It’s based upon that telegram and the fact that there has been no new snow.”
Bailey nodded, then stuck the telegram in his pocket. “All right, Don, I say we go.”
“Like I said, you’re the boss. How much longer before we leave?”
Bailey pulled out his pocket watch and examined it, even though he was standing right under the clock. “We shouldn’t stay here too long. I would think the sooner we get to the pass, the better off we will be. I’ll give ’em about fifteen more minutes, then I’ll get them back aboard.”
“All right, I’d better go tell my fireman.” The engineer went outside to return to the locomotive and the station agent went back to his position behind the counter. Having heard what he wanted to hear, Matt let the other sounds start drifting back in, and turning toward the waiting room, he saw that Jenny and Luke were engaged in quiet conversation.
Their conversation looked to be private, so he made no effort to overhear them. Instead, he concentrated on the cup of coffee he was drinking.
 
 
Don Stevenson hurried across the brick platform and through the cold to the big 4-6-2 engine sitting on the track, wreathed in its own steam. Reaching up to grab the ladder, he climbed up and into the cabin.
His fireman, Beans Evans, reached down to give him a hand in. “So what’s the story? Are we goin’ on?”
“Yep.”
“Then the pass is open?”
“They think so.”
“They think so? You mean they don’t know?”
“Nobody knows for sure,” Don said. “But the last report they got was a telegram from Big Rock. Freight Number Seven passed through at midnight, and said that it was open.”
“That was two hours ago, and it’ll be another three hours before we get there,” Beans pointed out.
“Yes. Well, if the pass isn’t open, we can always back down the hill.”
“Yeah, that is if there ain’t another train comin’ up behind us.”
“Well, you know what they say, Beans. Ours not to reason why, ours but to do or die.”
“Yeah? Well, who says that? Not the people who have to do or die, that’s for damn sure,” Beans replied.
“You’ve done a good job keeping the steam up.”
Beans smiled. “I wasn’t keeping the steam up, I was keeping myself warm.”
 
 
Inside the depot, Jenny and Luke were still engaged in conversation.
“Nobody in town thinks you are guilty,” Jenny said. “I’ve heard them talking.”
Luke smiled. “Unfortunately, none of the people who thought I was innocent were on the jury. The men on the jury thought I was guilty.”
“No, they were just too frightened of the sheriff and the judge to go against them, that’s all. That’s why they said it was involuntary manslaughter instead of murder.”
“It wasn’t even that. It was self-defense. The two men who accosted me were armed. Sheriff Ferrell and his deputy, Gates, tried to rob me.”
“Ha!” Santelli had been listening in to their conversation. “People like you are never guilty. Why don’t you own up to it? Take my advice. If you’ve done somethin’, admit it.”
“Santelli, the last thing I need is advice from you,” Luke remarked.
“All right, don’t pay me no never mind, I’m just tryin’ to be helpful, is all.”
“Would you like to move closer to the stove?” Luke asked Jenny.
“Yes, that would be nice.”
Luke stood, then reached down with his handcuffed hands to help her up.
“Where do you think you’re goin’, Shardeen?” Deputy Proxmire asked.
“To get warm,” Luke replied “You may have noticed, it’s cold outside, and I left my coat on the train.”
“Just don’t try and run away.”
“Where would I go without a coat on a night like this?”
Luke and Jenny found a place to sit near the stove that also afforded them a modicum of privacy.
“We have something in common,” Jenny said with a smile.
“You mean because we are both under Proxmire’s watchful eye?”
“Well, yes, I suppose there is that, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m told that you used to be a sailor.”
“Aye. That I was. I’ve crossed the Pacific eleven times. Wait, are you telling me you were a sailor?”
“Of sorts.”
Luke laughed. “How can you be a sailor of sorts?”
“The difference is in the water we sailed. You were on the Pacific; I was on the Mississippi River. I worked for my uncle. I was a hostess on board the
Delta Mist
riverboat.”
Luke nodded and smiled. “You’re right. River, ocean, it makes no difference. We were both sailors.”
“How long have you been in Pueblo?” Jenny asked.
“Three years. And you?”
“Not quite a year. I started teaching school, but when the school board learned I had been married to a gambler, they decided I was a bad influence on the children.”
“Why, that’s ridiculous,” Luke said. “I can’t think of anyone who would have a better influence on the children than you.”
“Thank you,” Jenny said with a small smile. “That is very nice of you to say.”
“It takes no extra effort to tell the truth,” Luke insisted.
“You are a very nice man. It makes me wonder why we couldn’t have—” Jenny interrupted her comment in mid-sentence.
“You mean why we couldn’t have met before this?” Luke concluded.
“It doesn’t seem fair.” Jenny’s eyes welled with tears. “I finally meet someone nice and where do I meet him?” She managed a weak laugh through the tears. “I meet him when we are both under the care of a deputy sheriff, you, going to jail, and I being run out of town.”
Luke reached up with his manacled hands and, sticking a finger out, caught a tear as it slid down her cheek.
“It was almost different,” Luke said.
“Oh? What do you mean?”
“I had heard about you. I went to the Colorado Social Club, just to meet you.”
“Really?” Jenny had a questioning look on her face. “I don’t remember meeting you. I’m sure I would remember.”
Luke smiled. “You didn’t meet me, because I didn’t stay.”
“Oh.”
“I wish I had stayed.”
“No, I’m . . . I’m glad you didn’t stay. I don’t think I would have wanted to meet you that way.”
“I understand. I think that is probably why I left. But at least we have met now,” Luke said. “And I’m thankful for that.”
“Yes,” Jenny agreed. “At least we have met.”
“All right, folks!” the conductor called. “Let’s get back aboard!”
Luke stood first, then helped Jenny up. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, then, with a smile, Jenny spontaneously gave Luke a kiss on the lips.
Luke raised his arms, then realized that, because his hands were cuffed together, he couldn’t easily embrace her. “That’s not fair. You took advantage of me when my hands are cuffed, and I can’t put my arms around you.”
“Under the circumstances, it is probably best,” Jenny said.
 
 
Those passengers who had come into the depot house hurried through the brutal cold back onto the train. Fortunately, the cars had been kept warm.
Walking toward the back of the car, Matt shook off the chill. His coat was still drawn over the sleeping daughter of Senator Daniels. He stopped and asked Mrs. Daniels, “How is she?”
“I’m worried about her.”
Matt reached down to feel her forehead. “It feels as if she has some fever.”
“Yes. I wish we had stayed in Pueblo so she could see a doctor.”
“There are some fine doctors in Red Cliff. At this point we are much closer to Red Cliff than we are to Pueblo.”
“Yes, I was thinking that as well. Do you want your coat back?”
“No, I’m doing just fine. Let her keep it. She needs it more than I.”
“Thank you. That is most kind.”
During the entire conversation, Senator Daniels had been sitting in the seat facing his wife and daughter, staring out the window at the bleak and empty depot platform. He paid no attention to the conversation between Matt and his wife.
The train started forward with a jerk so severe Matt reached out and grabbed a seat back to keep his balance, then moved quickly to his seat and sat down. He had told Mrs. Daniels they were closer to Red Cliff than to Pueblo, and in terms of distance, that was true. But Trout Creek Pass was between them and Red Cliff, and though the consensus of the conversation he had overheard was that the pass was open, in the final analysis they had proceeded on toward the pass based upon the stationmaster’s belief that the pass was open and the conductor’s call to proceed.
Matt wasn’t all that convinced.
 
 
Across the aisle from Matt’s seat and in the very front, Jenny sat quietly, looking down at her hands folded on her lap. She was thinking of Luke Shardeen, and trying to analyze her feelings for him.
She wasn’t feeling the same way she had felt about Nate McCoy when first she’d met him. At that time, she had thought Nate was the most handsome man she had ever seen. After spending eighteen months with him she realized what she had felt was little more than infatuation. And it was childish infatuation at that, for all that she was an adult at the time.

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