Hannah was still awake, her mind filled with the soft, shy kiss that Clifford had placed on her cheek as he bade her goodnight. When Jean came in she shut her eyes and pretended sleep, listening to her sister humming as she readied herself for bed. Being older, by only several minutes, stronger willed and tougher, Jean got the lower bunk and Hannah felt the slight jostling as she settled under the cover.

"You awake there, Hannah?" Silence. "Of course you are. I saw you leave with that accountant fella. Should I think anything of that?" Silence. "Okay, your business I guess but if that doesn't work out you might try that Stanley, he's got definite possibilities... at least that's what I felt- uh feel." Jean snickered and fell silent.

Hannah closed her eyes again and tried to blot out her sister's taunts. If Jean ever knew just what she had been thinking about with Clifford she would be staggered beyond belief. They may be blood but Hannah could live a bit of a life that Jean would never believe.

Another yellow flash blinked on the western horizon.

Seth sat on the lower bunk with his head in his hands. Harriet stood on the small ladder to the upper bunk.

"I hope you're happy Seth Dingwall. You've managed to make us the laughing stock of this entire company with your crude, drunken behaviour and your heartless comments in front of the other victims."

"Leave me alone, woman." He groaned and fell back on the bunk, one arm over his eyes.

Harriet climbed into the top berth and lay quietly but furiously planning her next move. Seth Dingwall had seen his last days with Harriet Brown Dingwall. She had a mission and after tonight she would start laying out her plan for real. The train jerked violently as it rounded a sharp bend and her husband swore below her.

Morning, she thought. Morning is when I begin. She pulled up the cover and snuggled comfortably onto her side.

Cybil closed her notebook and turned off the oil lamp by her bedside. Lots of characters. Lots of undercurrents. She puffed her cheeks and smiled with delight. "Cybil Marsh, you are going to have one heck of a story by Sunday night," she said aloud to the room. She fidgeted getting comfortable and then sighed, summoning the face of Marshal Ryan Waites into her dreams.

******

The train began a slow, shallow climb into the high country and Carl massaged the levers with loving care, keeping the power at maximum without risking slippage on the rails. He kept flitting his attention to the dark western sky, catching the activity and he made a face when he realized it had come a little closer. With the temperature dropping at the higher altitude he worried anew. By mid day they would be smack in the middle of the Buffalo Horn Canyon and having to cross two lengthy spans of wooden trestle a hundred or so feet apart. Carl pulled out his watch and stared at the face, thinking. The sky flashed in the distance once more.

THURSDAY MORNING

Amos hopped quickly along the catwalk to the engine. Carl was checking his watch and he knew he was going to get a chewing.

"Sleep well, Amos?"

"Sorry, Carl. Those two idiots in the kitchen wouldn't let up and I couldn't get no sleep no how." He grabbed his shovel and popped open the fire door. "Want some more in here?"

"A shovel or two wouldn't hurt. Tracks seem greasy, had to keep the power up most of the night."

"Gittin' darn cold too. See that sky comin'?" Amos was looking at the fiery red streaks forming over the hills to the east.

"I'm more concerned about that one." Carl thumbed to the west and Amos let his mouth drop as he saw the slowly lightening sky reveal a solid bank of angry black cloud moving toward them.

"Oh my. You think it'll hit us bad?"

"We're goin' into the Horn so it won't be good. Them bridges is pretty old and rickety. Can't do much more than crawl across, particularly in bad weather." He wiped his face. "And that looks like bad weather, Amos. Best toss another shovel full in there." He eased the throttle forward.

Far to the west, thick, rolling thunderheads crashed noisily sending curtains of rain pounding down on the landscape with destructive force. Jagged forks of lightening exposed the swelling rivers and the overflow gushing over the fields and swamping the farm crops. The military was pressed into emergency service alongside the citizenry to sandbag riverbanks and fight the fires caused by the lightening strikes.

Attempted rescues were thwarted by small tornados touching down all across the countryside, some just dissipating while others cut ragged swaths, ripping down barns, killing livestock and in some cases, people. The governor tried to declare disaster emergency measures but the telegraph lines were thrashing wildly in the violent wind, torn from their poles like unraveling threads. For the most part it was every man for himself.

The storm was massive, moving fast and there was little sign of any letup. Buffalo Horn Canyon was directly in its path.

Ryan sat up and stretched with a grunt. He'd taken the last two hours watch because he wanted to be awake and ready when the passengers arose in case his authority was required. Otis leaned against the rough wood of the outer wall watching him.

"I need a piss."

"I'll get Jigger to fetch you a pail." He stood and went to the door, knocking. His orders were to lock it from both sides and only open it when certain of who was knocking.

Jigger peeked through a crack by the door and slipped off the bolt. "Mornin', boss, our friend behave?"

"Give him a bucket to piss in and be careful."

Jigger grabbed the pail and strolled into the room, closing and waiting for the bolt to slide home. "Well, well. The big man has to let out some of his blood does he?"

"Too funny, nigger."

"Say it all you want, Otis, don't bother me. You can even try sayin' it when that big old knot comes hard against your neck. I'll be right there listenin'."

"Gimme the pail."

"You spill this or toss it and I swear, Otis, you'll be lickin' it up." Jigger put the pail down and kicked it over to him.

"You gonna watch, nigger?"

"Hah! For what? That little pencil you call a dick? Careful I don't take a mind to show you what a real—"

The door opened and Ryan stood in the opening. "Enough, Jigger. Just do your job and keep your remarks to yourself. He loves to be baited 'cause he's really baitin' you."

Otis laughed and made as much noise as possible pissing in the pail. "Chalk up another one for the clever Marshal."

"Just hurry up or you don't get breakfast." Ryan waved Jigger out and closed the door. "I ain't gonna tell you again, mister. Don't be yakkin' at the prisoner. Just do your job and keep shut. Git it?"

"Yes, boss."

"Okay. Get his pail and dump it and then get his breakfast from Stanley. Harlan will take over when Devlin's finished eatin'."