Inside, Stanley was lighting the corridor oil lamps and he flattened against the windows as Cybil brushed past.

"Have a pleasant evenin', ma'am," he grinned. "Anythin' you need, just pull that blue cord in your compartment and I'll be down right smartly. It rings in the kitchen."

"Thankyou, Stanley."

"My special pleasure, ma'am." Cybil entered her room and closed the door and Stanley carried on lighting the lamps, their amber glow reflecting in the night black windows.

"Excuse me, Stanley isn't it?" He jumped nervously not realizing anyone had come up behind him. "Could you help me get the window open in my compartment? My back is still killing me..."

"Sure Mister Soughton, which one are you?"

"The last one there. Here's my key."

"How come they don't call you doctor?"

"I'm really a pathologist. It just saves a lot of embarrassing conversation."

"You mean you work with dead—"

"I'm officially along to record the verdict of death for the government." He waved away any more talk and pointed to the door.

Stanley opened the door and stepped inside, stopping short with a surprised grunt.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Peter. I guess I just gave Stanley here a little fright."

Peter's face paled and he glanced nervously at Stanley. "Wha- what are you doing... how did you get in here?"

"Actually, sir, it wasn't locked," Stanley murmured, handing him the key and slipping outside.

Jean slid over to the corner of the bunk and patted the cover beside her. "Sit, Peter. I'll give your back a good massage."

"I don't want a massage. I want you out of here." He leaned on the compartment wall for support, one hand jammed into his side against the soreness.

Jean sighed loudly and stood up, picking up her handbag and pouting as she crossed to the door. She paused in front of him and smiled as he tensed, holding his breath.

"Sorry you feel that way, Peter. I thought we really were into something... I know you were." Her wicked grin brought a flush to his cheeks and she pushed her elbow lightly into his stomach as she left.

Harriet Dingwall looked at the remaining diners in embarrassment. Seth was railing on about the waste of time and money used to do all the traveling and having victim's hearings when the son-of-a-bitch was going to hang anyway. She placed a hand on his arm and whispered a plea but he shook it off and continued to drink and complain.

"I would have thought having lost someone yourself you might be more sympathetic to the grieving loved ones." Howden fired his stuffy volley across the aisle.

"What the hell would you know about grief, you're nothin' more than a scavenging jackal picking at that butcher's leftovers."

"Seth!" Harriet looked horrified.

"Now wait just a minute!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Abner Wentworth raised his hands in placation. "This is not a time to vent personal opinions about such a delicate subject. Let's just let those who will, grieve and those who feel differently- uhm- ah... feel differently."

"Bah!" Seth waved a dismissing hand and pushed away from the table. "If it was up to me I'd go up there and do the bastard right now. Save everybody a lot of trouble." He reeled awkwardly down the car and out.

Harriet stood and gaped about the car. "I'm so sorry. He's really not a bad man, this whole thing has just upset him so." She pinched her lips and followed after her husband, hating herself for lying to defend him.

Ryan stepped aside as Seth barged past. He could smell liquor on the man and he felt his mind tense at possible problems. Harriet followed shortly, giving him a wan smile and a sorrowful shrug.

"Everything alright, Mrs. Dingwall?"

"Yes, Marshal. Everything's fine...or will be." She hurried out of the car and he stared after her, pondering her remark for a moment before passing through the car with a general goodnight to all who remained.

Hannah Bellows gave a conspiratorial shrug to Clifford Williams, her dinner companion. "Not all of us are on the same page it seems."

"Indeed." Clifford studied her over the rim of his wine glass. "I may sound crass, being a victim myself and all, but I kind of lean a little toward his thinking."

"Mister Howden's?"

"No. That Seth fellow. If you ask me, Howden is a leech and I think he's taking advantage of a situation that should be left alone."

"He promised we could get some compensation from the town for our- our losses." Hannah ventured uncertainly.

"I don't think I'd hold my breath for that, Miss Bellows. He tried to enlist me in his petition but when I pointed out that I was an accountant and that I had a pretty good idea as to how much he was providing for himself as opposed to what he promised, he backed right off."

"So you think he's a swindler?" She leaned closer, lowering her voice.

"Of the first order, Miss Bel—"

"Hannah. Call me Hannah, Mister Williams." This was not what she wanted to hear. She had been planning on making some changes and the promised compensation was going to go a long way financing those changes. Maybe she needed a new plan... as a back up.

"Then I insist you call me Clifford... Hannah." He smiled and drained his glass. "Would you care to go out to the platform for a bit, get some air? Maybe we could talk a little more about compensation."

Hannah stared at him, reading her thoughts into his words.

Chapter 10

Penny Hatcher stared at her reflection in the dark window, a little sad and a little amused that the only man daring enough to sit with her for dinner had been the Judge. She knew they wanted to but were hesitant because of the circumstances. After all, pursuing a flirtation when one was supposed to be in mourning was a little indiscrete.

The night flashed past with occasional sparks of light from isolated homesteads or stubbornly determined stars reflecting off of the river that meandered beside the tracks and Penny Hatcher sighed ruefully. If James Howden hadn't wooed her with the possibility of making some money out of the trip she never would have come. Unless something happened to boost her feelings she would be a wreck by the time the whole ordeal ended.

She thought about taking steps to ensure that Mister Howden would be pliant enough when payment time came; that would provide a lift of a sort, and when she refocused her attention in the window she saw the reflection of his face, watching her.

She shook her hair and pretended to consider her drink, letting her eyes slide across the car. Howden formed a tight smile with his mouth and tilted his head ever so slightly. Penny set her glass down and rose from the table, gathering her things and pausing until all eyes were upon her and then made her exit down the car. When she opened the door to the outside she remembered the moving platform and stopped. Hannah Bellows and the accountant were standing to one side, close together. The clack of the train on the tracks filled the awkward moment of silence.

"Oh, hello, Miss Hatcher." Hannah beamed. "I'm such a fan of your performances." Penny smiled, but clung tightly to the door handle. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid I'm not too comfortable crossing this platform." Clifford moved quickly to take her hand and Hannah felt a twinge of jealousy.

"Allow me." He stepped close, taking her hand and placing another about her narrow waist, easing her close. "Here we go, nothing to it."

Penny held her breath and allowed herself to be helped across then quickly released her hand and thanked him with a blinding smile.

"She's extremely beautiful isn't she?" Hannah said, after Penny had gone inside.

"Can't say no, but beauty isn't everything a woman has to offer." Clifford resumed his position next to her by the rail. Speaking of which..." He chewed his lip and looked away.

"What?"

"About Devlin... would you- I mean instead of going through all the pomp of a hearing and all...?"

Hannah looked shocked. "You mean like that ugly man, Dingwall suggested?"

Hearing the words made him swallow hard and he turned away from her, leaning his forearms on the rail. Hannah stared off into the night and considered her next question.

"You must be quite well off being an accountant an all so I guess the chance of getting some money from the government isn't as important to you."

"I'm not wealthy, I do okay but yes, it isn't that important." He saw her face close and he turned toward her. "But hey, listen, I'm not planning anything, Hannah although I wish I had the courage." He muttered.

"But your brother?"

"He's gone. A hearing won't bring him back."

"Neither will... you know."

"Perhaps not, but I imagine it would feel more like a satisfactory justice."

"Well I can't argue that but if Jean and I can realize something good from this nightmare then I think things should go just the way they are. Of course, the more of us to petition the court, the better our chances don't you think?" She managed to close the small space between them and Clifford inhaled shakily.

He straightened up suddenly, surprising her. "Aaach, it's getting chilly out here, I'll see you to your compartment."

Carl pulled his sliding side window shut and wiped his face with his hanky. Clots of dark clouds prevented any moonlight from getting through but the dials were all as they should be and he engine's light cast a yellow glow on the tracks ahead showing them to be fairly straight and smooth. They wouldn't be into the mountain turns until mid morning. Carl poked Amos and shouted over the engine noise that he was going back to get his dinner. Amos waved acknowledgement and pulled himself up onto the engineer's stool.

"Won't be long eatin' then I'll grab an hour sack time. Stanley'll get me up and you can have dinner and some bed of your own."

Amos nodded and waved goodbye. The routine had been the same on all overnight trips for as long as either man could remember. With little moon and an almost starless night, Amos settled on the stool, his head against the window glass, his eyes following the headlamp's beam down the track into the blackness. Carl managed the trip along the catwalk with ease, pausing to peer into the tiny hole beside one of the steel plates anchoring the walk to the car.

It was a secret he and Amos shared, this little spy hole into the prisoner's part of the car and they used it like delinquent kids defying their elders. He could barely make out the head and shoulder of Devlin sitting scrunched against the end wall, his arms pulled to one side. The chains, Carl reckoned. He shook his head and carried on to the kitchen car, banging the door shut and shouting for Stanley.

"He's doin' lights, Carl," Deke Travis called from the galley. "Gotch yer dinner here, all ready."

"Bring it on, Deke. I'm one hungry engineer." Carl pulled a stool over to the counter and waited with his knife and fork poised.

Stanley lingered in the corridor pretending to fiddle with the final light and when Jean came out of Peter Soughton's compartment he quickly headed her way.

"Hope I didn't cause a problem back there," he said closing in behind her.

Jean turned and smiled at the young man taking in his farm fresh, somewhat dopey features with a curious interest. "Not for me." She reached the end of the corridor and paused.

"Oh, let me get that, ma'am." Stanley edged past and slid open the car door, holding it while they changed positions again. "Careful crossing there, ma'am, sometimes we hit a bit of a wrinkle in the track and whoop—away she goes."

"Maybe I should let you help me."

Stanley stepped quickly onto the platform, quite comfortable with the train's rhythm, and took her hand. "Here we go."

"Indeed." Jean stepped quickly across and managed to bump him into the door on the opposite side. Still holding her hand, Stanley felt her body against his and he seemed to begin steaming from the inside.

"Uh- uh- that uh wasn't so bad now..."

"Still isn't, Stanley." Jean leaned harder against him and smiled as he responded. "We should get inside, it's chilly out here." Croaking agreement, Stanley released her hand and fumbled the door open, allowing her to pass and make her way through the lounge to where Abner Wentworth was reading a newspaper. He closed the door and wiped his forehead, noticing that his hand trembled and he couldn't decide whether to follow on through to the kitchen or just wait until she lit somewhere.