Throw the Devil Off the Train Page 6

  “I like Chicago.”

  “Not this part. Half the prisoners died there. When they arrived home, there was some turmoil with mother. Seems she heard they both were killed when Sherman marched across Georgia. So, she took up with . . . well, anyway, two days after my father got home, Dad died of a heart attack.”

  “So very sad.” Catherine brushed the corners of her eyes. “He was a victim of the war just as much as my father.”

  “I suppose so. I made it up for the funeral and six days later mother married Mr. Hironymous St.Claire from Louisiana.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “He didn’t like me and Robert . . . didn’t like the Castle Street Armory . . . and didn’t like Texas. So he took mamma, daddy’s bank account, and most of their personal belongings to Virginia City, Montana.”

  The train lurched forward. Catherine studied Race’s broad shoulders and set jaw. His beard looked only a day or two old. She wanted to reach over and hold her palm against his cheek, but laid her hand on his shoulder instead. “I know this has to be difficult to talk about. If you’d rather not, I fully understand.”

  “The words seem to be tumbling out tonight. That might not happen again.” He peered out from under his hat. His blue eyes still looked tired, but much more peaceful. He closed them and let out a long, slow sigh that sounded like engine brakes a mile away. “Robert and I decided to open up the armory. We worked twenty hour days and hired returning veterans who needed a job. The business began to take off. By the mid-1870s we had made enough profit that some around the state claimed we provided the prime example of how to rebuild Texas after the war.”

  Her hand still rested on his shoulder. “So, you are a successful businessman?”

  “Robert was the businessman. I partnered out in the shop making sure the equipment operated and the workers did a good job.”

  “I see a picture of two hardworking, successful young Texans. Any ladies in this scene?” She rubbed her fingers in a circular motion on his shoulder. The white cotton felt smooth and stiff and the muscles firm.

  He reached over, plucked up her hand, and dropped it in her lap. “That’s one of the parts I’m not going to talk about.”

  “You’ve revealed a lot in that action.”

  He turned to watch Cantu. “They’ve been gone a while.”

  “Are we changing the subject.”

  “Yep.”

  The front door of the car flew open. A young girl with blonde braids and a flannel nightgown rushed into the aisle.

  She sobbed so hard Hillyard reached out to catch her as she stumbled. “What’s the matter, darlin’?”

  “My daddy told me to run away and hide, but I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”

  “How about right here?” Race pulled her into the seat between him and Catherine.

  “Honey, were you up in the Pullman cars?” Catherine asked.

  “We have our own private car. Two men with masks broke in. They look like robbers, so my daddy said to run away and hide.”

  Race pulled out a red bandanna and wiped her eyes. “Who is your daddy?”

  “Judge Antone Clarke of San Francisco. My name is Amanda Sue and we’re on our way home from Washington D.C. where we had supper with the president.”

  “Why did your daddy tell you to run?”

  “I think the mean men want to haul me off,” she sobbed. “Can you hide me?”

  “We can pretend she is our daughter if they come back looking for her,” Catherine suggested.

  “Not if Gates and the others are involved. They know us.”

  Catherine glanced over at the unconscious Cantu. “You think they are a part of it?”

  “I told you somethin’ strange is goin’ on.”

  Amanda Sue tugged at his sleeve. “Quick, you’ve got to hide me.”

  “Darlin’, under that sleeping lady and her children is a saddle. Scoot behind the saddle and hunker down against the train car. I promise I won’t let anyone get you.”

  She scampered towards the seat. “They have guns.”

  He revealed his Colt. “So do I.”

  “But have you ever shot anyone? My daddy has a gun, too, but he’s never shot anyone.”

  “Hide, honey.” Catherine urged. “Mr. Hillyard has shot dozens of men.”

  Amanda Sue dove under the sleeping board that swayed with Francine’s weight and crawled behind the saddle.

  “Which door will they come in?” Catherine whispered.

  “I’ll watch the one front one. You keep an eye at the back.”

  “Most everyone’s dozed back to sleep. I think even that Francine slept through the gunfire. Race, what is this all about?”

  Amanda Sue’s voice filtered up like a soft violin note. “Are they gone yet?”

  Hillyard leaned over, “Darlin’, don’t say another word until I call for you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, but I’m scared.”

  “Jesus will take care of you.”

  “Do you believe in Jesus?” the little voice questioned.

  “Of course I do. Don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes . . . but I’m still very, very scared.”

  “Shhhh.”

  Catherine’s lips were only an inch from his ear. “Do you think they are trying to kidnap her?”

  “Sounds like that’s what her daddy thinks.”

  “What will we do?”

  “I’m workin’ on a plan.” Hillyard dropped to his knees in the aisle and reached back towards his saddle bags.

  He held his finger over his lips, “Not yet, Amanda.” When he returned to his seat he held a second Colt. He unloaded his revolver and shoved the cartridges into the second one.

  He handed the loaded one to her. “Sit on this one.”

  “What?”

  “Tuck it on the cushion and sit on it.”

  It felt hard and cold against her backside. “But your other gun is empty.”

  “Yeah, I hope this works. Keep watching the back door. The minute someone comes in with guns drawn I want you to scream as loud as you can.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I want everyone in this car awake. Just pretend your Phillip is about to be run over by a trolley and you need to warn him to jump out of the way.”

  “Yes . . . I’ll do it.”

  Phillip . . . dear Phillip . . . it’s been hours since I’ve thought of you. I wish you were here to protect me . . . but . . . well, perhaps Mr. Hillyard has more experience in this type of matter.

  “Race, you won’t let them take Amanda Sue, will you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Neither will I. I can shoot, you know.”

  “You can shoot lawyers, but that’s like shooting rats. Can you shoot an ordinary kidnapper?”

  Her lips curled into a slight smile. “This is no time for levity.”

  “It’s the best time. Always be relaxed before you get into a gun fight.”

  “Now there is useful information.”

  “It’s true. I remember one time . . . .”

  Catherine’s scream pierced the train car like a streak of angry lightening that cracks the sky at the same moment the thunder rolls. Gates, Luke and the third cowboy burst in, guns drawn, through the back door.

  Hillyard focused on the two men with short barreled shotguns who shoved open the front door.

  The short one with the thick black beard shouted, “Be quiet everyone. Ain’t no reason for anyone to get shot. We’ve lookin’ for a little girl who ran back this way. Where is she?”

  Preston and Nancy wailed as Francine struggled to sit up. One glare from the two gunmen convinced her to lay back down and clutch the children.

  “Grab his gun, Parker, he’ll make trouble,” Gates shouted from the back of the car.”

  Parker started down the aisle. “Which one?”

  “The Texican with the Colt in the second row. He’s the one that bashed Cantu and ruined your Big Springs Canyon set up.”

  Parker aim
ed the shotgun at Race. “Give me the gun.”

  Hillyard aimed the pistol at the man and cocked the hammer. “I don’t think so.”

  Catherine squeezed her hands.

  Race, you emptied the bullets out of that gun.

  “This shotgun will tear you in two.”

  “And this .44 will scramble your brains. I’d say the hands are equal.”

  “Let’s up the pot,” Parker grumbled. He swerved the shotgun at Catherine’s head. “Give me the gun, or this lady loses more than her fine looks.”

  Catherine clutched Hillyard’s arm.

  “You won’t shoot a lady in front of all these witness.”

  “I’ll not only shoot the lady, I’ll shoot the witnesses.”

  “Give him the gun, mister,” one of the miner’s shouted from the back of the car. “I seen what Parker Latiger done to a bank full of people down in the Indian Nation. He ain’t against shootin’ women and children.”

  Hillyard eased the hammer down on the Colt and handed it to Latiger.

  Catherine squirmed to make sure the other revolver was still beneath her.

  “Cold cock him like he did Cantu,” Gates called from the back of the car.

  “Not until we find the girl. Look, folks, I don’t need to shoot anyone. I’m just looking for the little blonde girl who ran back here. I’ve got business with her daddy and I have to take her to him.”

  “You mean you’re goin’ to kidnap her?” Catherine muttered.

  Parker spun back toward her, but Hillyard stood and blocked his way. “Sit down, mister.”

  “Don’t try to play games, Latiger. Everyone in the car knows you want to kidnap the girl, wherever she is.”

  The outlaw shoved the muzzle of the shotgun into Hillyard’s midsection. He sat down.

  Catherine clutched her gloved hands and tried to breathe out.

  Is this real? It’s like I’m caught in a bad dream.

  “I’ll ask once more, where is the little girl?”

  Breathe in and out . . . relax. Race said not to tense up in a crisis. That’s got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. If I was relaxed, it wouldn’t be a crisis.

  “Look around. Obviously, she is not here,” Catherine offered.

  “But you did see her? Do you mean a little girl ran in here and none of you fine citizens offered to help her?”

  One of the teenage girls towards the back spoke in a soft voice. “She kept going right out the back.”

  He waved the shotgun towards the back. “Is that so. Who else saw her run through the car?”

  The replies dominoed from one teenage girl to another until all six had spoken.

  “I did . . .”

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  “She was in a hurry.”

  “Scampered right through to the next car.”

  “We all saw her.”

  Gates sauntered up next to the girls. “She didn’t reach the back car, we already checked it out.”

  “I think I saw her get off the train.”

  “She ran out into the night.”

  “Among the trees.”

  “Yes, we all saw her.”

  “We called out to her.”

  “But she kept running.”

  Latiger motioned for the second man with a shotgun to approach the girls. “Isn’t this interesting. Six young gals all have identical stories. And I don’t believe a one of them. One is convincing, but six are a chorus of parrots, covering something up. Where is the little girl?”

  The bearded man in front of the girls stood and when he did the fat dog barked. “My word, leave my girls alone.”

  The barrel of the second man’s shotgun crashed into his head. He dropped beside the yapping dog. The girls started to cry.

  “Here’s what I’m goin’ to do. If you don’t tell me where she is, Muley will crack the barrel of that shotgun into the first one’s head. Then I’ll keep askin’ and Muley will keep bustin’ heads until one of you tells me the truth.”

  The tall, gaunt man replied. “Can I keep me one these gals, Parker?”

  “Only one?”

  “I’d like two really. It’s always handy to have a spare.”

  “We might just take the whole lot. Make sure their heads is the only thing you damage.”

  Catherine felt Race’s hand slip back under her. She leaned forward as the handgun slipped out.

  “Like I said,” Latiger growled, “either you tell me where she is or . . .”

  Hillyard jumped the outlaw. His left arm squeezed the man’s neck, a cocked revolver rammed into temple. “Drop the guns, boys, or the Parker Latiger gang ends right now.”

  “Where’d he . .” Gates growled.

  Catherine watched Hillyard shove the Colt into Latiger’s forehead so hard, the outlaw’s shotgun crashed to the floor.

  “All of you drop them,” Hillyard ordered.

  “We got you covered, mister, you can’t stand against all of us.”

  “But he can’t miss killin’ me,” Latiger whined. “Drop them, boys.”

  “Not so fast, Texican.” Cantu stagger to his feet waving his revolver at Race Hillyard’s back. “I might have a headache, but I can pull this trigger.”

  “Looks like we got the drop,” Gates called out. “Throw down.”

  Hillyard hollered over his shoulder. “Catherine, take away his gun and clobber him with your valise.”

  “My valise?”

  “Pretend he’s a Virginia lawyer.”

  She stomped across the aisle.

  “Stay back, lady,” Cantu challenged. “I’ll shoot you. Before God and these witnesses, I’ll shoot you.”

  “Yes, you will have to answer to God for your sins, but shooting me will not be one of them. Hand me the pistol.”

  “You’re crazy. I’ll shoot you.”

  She shouted back a Hillyard. “Is it alright if I clobber him first and then take the gun?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  She raised the valise.

  Cantu pulled the trigger.

  Francine gasped.

  Preston cried.

  The older lady at the back cried out “No!”

  The gun clicked.

  He pulled the trigger again. This time the click was followed by a crash of the heavy valise into the already wounded forehead.

  Cantu crumpled to the floor.

  “It misfired?” Francine squealed. “Honey, that was a miracle.”

  “Throw down those guns boys,” Hillyard echoed.

  All four weapons clattered to the floor.

  “You folks sitting nearby pick up the guns and train them on these fine gentlemen. If you get worried, just shoot them. It’s justified homicide.”

  “What do you want me to do now?” Catherine called out.

  “Take Amanda Sue to her father and tell the conductor to get this train moving.” He turned to the others. “Boys, I want you off the train right now. If I see your face, I shoot Latiger. Once we get moving I’ll toss him off.”

  “Dead or alive?” Luke challenged.

  “You’ll have to wait to find that out. Take Cantu with you.”

  Catherine helped Amanda Sue crawl out from behind the saddle.

  Latiger slumped. When Hillyard gripped him tighter, the outlaw yanked a revolver from his belt and shoved it over his shoulder. “Mister, you are about to be shot by your own gun.”

  “I’m really tired of this game. Pull the trigger,” Hillyard countered. “Get it over with.”

  Latiger squeezed off four clicks before Hillyard’s gun crashed into his skull.

  “Another misfire?” Francine exclaimed. “Jesus be praised.”

  ~~ CHAPTER FOUR ~~

  The train pitched forward.

  When they gained a good speed, Catherine and Race dragged Latiger out to the platform between the cars and tossed him out into the Nebraska night.

  Catherine clutched the cold iron railing. “Shouldn’t we have held them for the authorities?”

&n
bsp; Hillyard stared out at the black, formless landscape. “I just wanted them off the train before some bystanders got hurt. It sounds naïve and self-centered I reckon, but I didn’t want to get bound up guarding prisoners, making reports to sheriffs and waiting around some prairie town for two months so I could testify in a trial. Not very noble, is it?”

  The wind whipped her brown hair around her ears and she didn’t bother brushing it back. “I know little about frontier justice.”

  He leaned back against the railing. “It’s kind of like a bullet to the leg of a deceitful Virginia lawyer.”

  “That was an accident.”

  “Did you regret the pain you inflicted on him?”

  “Not for a moment. I do see the comparison, although I’m not sure the Lord approves of either.”

  “You’re probably right about that. Turnin’ the other cheek has never been a strong point of mine. Are the judge and Amanda Sue alright?”

  She wrapped her arms across her chest.

  A shawl would be good right now. The emotions of the night must have something to do with these chills.

  “The judge was tied up in his private car, but he’s free now. Lots of hugging and tears. I left the girl there and hurried back. I thought you might need my help.”

  “I did need it earlier. You did great, Catherine. Were you scared when you disarmed Cantu?”

  Another chill gripped her. She locked her jaw to keep from quivering. “I was so scared I had to act without thinking.”

  “That’s what courage is all about. You allow your character to control the actions, not your brain.”

  The door to the front car opened and they stepped to the side of the platform as two men approached in the night shadows.

  The conductor led the way. “Oh, here you are. Where’s Latiger?”

  Hillyard pulled off his widebrimmed hat and rubbed his hair. “Someplace down the tracks. We tossed him off the train.”

  “Was he dead?” the conductor asked.

  “Not when we dumped him. But he’ll have a busted skull. I know I should have held him. I just wanted him and the others off the train before anyone got hurt.”

  The conductor pulled a small notebook and very short pencil out of his navy blue wool vest pocket. “What will I report to my superiors?”