Shootout of the Mountain Man (29 page)

“I can’t believe they would put in the paper about carryin’ all that money on the train. Don’t they know that’s just askin’ to have someone rob it?”

The speaker holding forth was a big, bearded man. The two men with whom he was sharing the table were also bearded and nearly indistinguishable from each other except for a large mole on the face of one, and a three-corner scar on the face of the other. The speaker’s face, though rough hewn, was unmarked.

“I know people who have been workin’ the mines for near fifteen years, good productive mines they were too, and they haven’t taken out as much money as is goin’ to be on that train. All a fella would have to do is rob that train and he’d have enough money to spend for the rest of his life.”

“You want to rob a train, Cooley?” one of the others asked, and all three laughed.

“Hell, no, I ain’t no train robber,” Cooley said. “I’m just sayin', it don’t make no sense to me for the newspaper to put in a story about shippin’ one hundred thousand dollars. Just ‘cause I ain’t no train robber don’t mean there ain’t folks who won’t do it.”

“That’s true. But I’m sure they’ll have it guarded. I figure anyone who plans on robbin’ that train is goin’ to have to be awful smart, or awful dumb.”

“Yeah? Well, I know a feller that sure fits that description,” Cooley said. “If he finds out about this train carryin’ all that money, why, he’ll rob it in a heartbeat.”

“You’re talkin’ about Frank Dodd, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am, and maybe I ain’t,” Cooley said. “To my way of thinkin', it ain’t none too smart to be throwin’ that fella’s name around.”

“No, I ain’t goin’ to be throwin’ it around neither.”

“Tell me, Owen, what would you do if you had that much money?” Cooley asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe buy some new equipment for my diggings,” Owen said.

Cooley laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hell, if you had that much money, why would you spend any more time trying to scratch a living out of a mine that ain’t hardly payin’ noth-in’ at all?”

“Yeah,” Owen said. “Yeah, you’re right. I’d probably go back East somewhere, maybe get me a haircut and a beard trim, some new clothes, and then eat me a lobster.”

“A lobster?”

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to eat me a lobster.”

The other two men at the table laughed.

* * *

“Did you hear that?” Smoke asked Bobby Lee. Smoke’s question was asked quietly, so that only Bobby Lee heard.

“Yes, I heard it. Something about a train carrying one hundred thousand dollars.”

“We need to have a look at that newspaper,” Smoke suggested.

“I saw someone bring a pile of them in a while ago. He left them on the end of the bar. I’ll go get us one,” Bobby Lee said.

Bobby Lee walked up to the bar, picked up a paper, and dropped two pennies into ajar that was sitting beside the papers. Taking the paper back to the table, he and Smoke began looking through it.

“Here it is,” Smoke said. “It’s reprinted from the
Carson City Gazette.
The money is being shipped from Carson City to Columbus. How far is that?”

“It’s just under a hundred and fifty miles,” Bobby Lee said.

“Do you know the route?”

“Not really, but back in our Reno office, we have a map of every railroad in Nevada. I just remember seeing it.”

Bobby Lee looked back at the paper, then noticed another article of interest.

“Smoke, look at this!” he said excitedly. “Here is a reprint of an article from the
Cloverdale News Leaf!
I think I’ve been cleared! ”

Smoke read Cutler’s article, then nodded.

“I think you have too,” he said. “So, what do you want to do now? Do you want to go back to Cloverdale?”

Bobby Lee drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, then shook his head.

“No, not yet,” he said. “This maybe the best opportunity we will ever have to get Dodd. I started out to get him and I intend to do just that.”

“What was that date again?” Smoke asked, checking the article.

“The third of September,” Bobby Lee replied. “Wait a minute. That’s—tonight,” he said, just realizing it.

“Yes,” Smoke said. “What do you say we walk over to the depot and get a map and a schedule?”

“Good idea,” Bobby Lee said.

Five minutes later, the two men were at the Lunning depot, perusing the train schedule and studying the railroad map.

“You know how Dodd works,” Smoke said. “Do you have any ideas how he’ll plan to do it?”

“From the look of this map, I would say he will try it at Hawthorne,” Bobby said.

“Hawthorne?”

“Yes, look here,” Bobby Lee said, pointing to the map. “It is forty-five miles from Cleaver to Hawthorne, with no water tanks in between. Forty-five miles is just about the limit an engine can go without refilling its tank, so the train is going to be awfully thirsty when it gets there. And because it will come through at eleven p.m., most of the town will be asleep. Dodd will wait until the train stops, then he’ll hit it.”

Smoke nodded. “That sounds reasonable,” he said. “How far is Hawthorne from here?”

“Twenty-five miles according to the map.”

“If we want to be there by eleven, we had best be going.”

* * *

The Mountain View Special consisted of the Baldwin engine, a four-four-two named the
Eric McKenzie,
a wood tender, an express car, a baggage car, two sleeper cars, and two day cars. With a full head of steam, it hurtled south through the night on the Virginia and Truckee Railroad as sparks flew from the smokestack and glowing cinders fell between the tracks. By sight and sound, the behemoth made its presence known to man and animals alike.

“You’ve got a good fire stoked there, R.A.,” the engineer said to his fireman, having to shout to be heard over the hiss of active steam, the clatter of steel pistons, wheels, and couplings, and the gush of wind. “We’re making near thirty miles to the hour! ”

“I’ll keep the pressure up as high as you want it, Clyde,” R.A. said as he threw in more chunks of wood. “There’s not an engine on the line that can top the
McKenzie.”

In the express car behind the tender, Eddie Murtaugh and two other agents of the Western Exchange Security Agency sat on the floor against the wall of the car. The door was open slightly. Murtaugh stood up, then stepped over to the open door to look outside.

“Whoowee, those boys up front have us going lickety-split,” he said.

“I wonder how fast we are going,” one of the other agents said.

“I don’t know, but it’s fast.”

“Mr. Murtaugh?” the railroad express man said.

Murtaugh turned toward the express man.

“You wanted to know when we came to Hawthorne? According to my watch, we will be there in about five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Murtaugh said. “All right, boys, get ready.”

“I hear the train,” Smoke said. “Get ready.”

Smoke and Bobby Lee were behind the feed and seed store that was directly across the tracks from the water tower. They were on the same side of the track as the door to the express car. That way, they would be able to observe any approach to the car.

“I haven’t seen anything, have you?” Bobby Lee asked.

“No, I haven’t.”

“I know they are here, though,” Bobby Lee said. “They have to be here. There is no other place where they will have the train stopped like this.”

The train approached the water tower, its speed already greatly reduced, the wheels and couplings squealing in protest as the brakes were applied.

“We had better get mounted,” Smoke said. “We may have to move fast.”

Smoke and Bobby Lee swung into their saddles as the train rumbled by, then came to a complete halt. It sat there for a moment with the engine issuing loud, rushing sighs as the relief valves opened and closed, emitting large clouds of steam. The steam clouds were so white that, in the dark, they looked almost iridescent.

The fireman came out of the engine cab, climbed up on top of the tender, brought the great water spout down to the tank opening, then pulled on the rope to lift the gate and start the flow of water. Even from here, and even above the puffing sounds of the engine at rest, Smoke and Bobby Lee could hear the splashing of water into a tender that was nearly empty. As Bobby Lee had pointed out, the demand for water at this stop was at its maximum.

“See anything?” Bobby Lee asked.

“Not a thing,” Murtaugh answered the same question that had been put to him by one of his men.

“Maybe Dodd isn’t going to rob the train,” one of the others suggested.

“He’s not going to rob it,” Murtaugh replied.

“What do you mean he isn’t going to rob the train? Isn’t that why we are here?”

“He is going to try to rob the train,” Murtaugh said. “But he is not going to, because we aren’t going to allow it. ”

“Well, if he isn’t going to try it here, where is he going to try?”

“I don’t know,” Murtaugh admitted.

“How far to the next water tank?” Smoke asked.

“It’s all the way back in Lunning,” Bobby Lee said. “Damn, if they are waiting there while we came up here, I’m going to feel pretty foolish. I’m sorry, Smoke, looks like I led you on a wild-goose chase.”

“Don’t worry about it, Bobby Lee. We’ll just do what has to be done,” Smoke said.

“What would that be? If Dodd is waiting in Lunning, there’s no way we can get there in time to stop him. The train will run twenty-five to thirty miles per hour, we would kill the horses trying to keep up that pace.”

“We aren’t going to try and keep up with the train,” Smoke said.

“We’ve lost the opportunity, haven’t we?”

“No,” Smoke said. “The train hasn’t been robbed yet, has it?”

“No,” Bobby Lee said. “If it had been, the express man would have made a report as soon as the train arrived. But nobody came out of the express car.”

“Then it isn’t too late to prevent the robbery.”

“How?”

“Simple,” Smoke said. “We’ll just ride on the train. I’ll get us a couple of tickets.”

“What about our horses? There’s no stock car on this train.”

“We’ll board them here, then take the next train back.”

Bobby Lee took care of boarding the horses while Smoke bought tickets. The train was already rolling out of the station when the two men ran down the platform, then leaped up onto the rear mounting step of the last car. There was a porter standing out on the rear platform, and he reached down to help each of them board.

“Thanks,” Smoke said.

“Yes, sir, glad to help,” the porter said. “You gents just barely made it.”

The passage of the train and a twist of wind caused a plume of smoke from the engine to whirl around onto the platform, burning Smoke’s nose and eyes. He coughed and waved his hand. “Let’s get inside,” he said.

“Where should we go?” Bobby Lee asked.

“If we can find a seat in this car, this is where we should be. That way, if Dodd does try anything, he will be in front of us.”

“Good idea,” Bobby Lee said. He saw a couple of seats halfway up the car on the left-hand side. “How about if we sit there?” “Good choice,” Smoke replied.

“Wait a minute, do you really intend to wreck the train?” Emmett Clark asked after Dodd explained his plan to the others.

“Yes.”

“Why? All you have to do is wait by a water tower. You know the train is going to stop there.”

“This train is carrying one hundred thousand dollars,” Dodd said. “That means it is going to be full of guards, all of them riding in the express car. And every one of them will be expecting us to hit the train at one of the watering stops. They won’t be expecting us to wreck the train. And chances are that after we wreck it, they won’t be in any condition to stop us.”

“You mean they might be killed in the train wreck,” Clark said. It wasn’t a question; it was an accusatory declaration.

“Yeah,” Dodd said. “I wrecked my share of trains and killed my share of people during the war. What’s different about this one?”

“There are innocent people on this train,” Clark said.

“There were innocent people on the other trains I wrecked too,” Dodd said. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“I don’t have any problem with it,” Wallace said. Wallace, Beard and Jackson had joined up with Dodd on the same day Clark took him the newspaper article about the money shipment. “I need money if I am going to get a new start somewhere, and I don’t care what I have to do to get it.”

“Look, Clark, if you don’t want to be a part of this, you can ride out now,” Dodd said.

“What is the breakdown again?” Clark asked.

“There are six of us,” Dodd said. You will each get fifteen thousand dollars, and I will get twenty-five.”

“I don’t like that,” Clark said.

“Then ride out now,” Wallace said. “That will just be more money for the rest of us.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do it. I just said I didn’t like it.”

“All right, then stop worryin’ about who might get hurt. Ain’t nobody ever goin’ to get out of life alive anyhow.”

“Dodd, I hear the train a’ comin',” Conklin said.

“All right, the palaverin’ is over now. Get back, all of you,” Dodd said.

As the others got back out of sight, Dodd bent down over the detonator generator. A wire from the generator ran to sticks of dynamite that had been carefully placed on a wooden trestle that spanned a gulley forty feet deep and 150 feet long.

Clark watched as the train approached the trestle. He had an inclination to suggest that Dodd blow the bridge now, for doing so would prevent the train from going any farther and might spare the lives of the passengers. But he said nothing because he knew that Dodd was right. With a shipment of money as large as this train was carrying, it would be heavily guarded, and simply stopping the train wouldn’t be enough. They would still have to deal with the guards. Clark drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. His share would be fifteen thousand dollars. He concentrated on the amount he would get from this job. Fifteen thousand dollars.

As the train approached the trestle, Clark thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. It was like a painting, the engine headlamp stabbing forward, the boiler shimmering in the moonlight. Some of the car windows were glowing, but most were dark.