Jigger picked himself up from the mud slick bank and cursed mightily toward the engine. He had just stepped onto the stairs to the kitchen car when Carl shunted the train forward and had gone headlong across the platform and into the brush on the opposite side of the train. His arms and face were a mass of scratches from the sharp branches and his clothes were plastered in muck.

He found a puddle by the rail bed and rinsed his hands, running the freezing water over his face and arms. As he started back to the car he saw the brief glimpse of a head peering toward the engine and he knew it wasn't Harlan. He checked his weapon and wiped the mud from the cylinder and barrel before making his way slowly alongside the car.

The sound of running feet froze him to the spot and he bent quickly to see Carl's stubby legs dashing down the other side to the rear. He stood again and wiped the rain from his face, inching forward toward the prison car platform.

Devlin had circled around the train to see if he could get into the engine somehow and was about to climb up when the train jerked to a halt and he went spinning off into the gravel and muck beside the rail bed. Bruised and scraped and shivering cold, he dragged himself back to the side of the train just as he heard the shouting and saw the last car tip into the air before dropping into the gorge then he saw the engineer hustling back toward the engine. At the same time he saw the black jail guard looking in his direction and choosing safety over confrontation, he slipped back into the kitchen car.

He prowled around, drinking from open bottles and shoving whatever available food he could find into his mouth, stopping by the counter and chuckled softly as he discovered a half bottle of whiskey that hadn't spilled. He tilted it back and gulped the hot liquid greedily. As he set the bottle down he knocked the knife to the floor and swore, bending to pick it up.

Jigger used his key to open the door to the prison car. He figured Harlan must have been taken out after all and locked it as a precaution. Slowly he stepped inside, gun waving about for a target. The crumpled body of Clifford Williams brought him up short and he clenched his teeth as he stepped carefully around the spreading puddle of blood to the second half of the car. The door was ajar and he opened it cautiously to find Harlan bunched against the wall with the fork handle protruding from his throat. Devlin was gone—he was right, the head he'd seen wasn't Harlan's.

He kicked the door closed and dashed back though the car to the platform; the Marshal would be red bull angry he knew as he jumped down and dashed down the tracks. Devlin smiled once again as luck had intervened and he watched the big guard slipping and sliding his way to the back of the train. Too bad he hadn't seen him right away or he could have grabbed him. He knew he would have to move now; Ryan would know he'd escaped.

Ryan was fuming over the news that some of the passengers were missing from the lounge car and felt his chest constrict when he considered they might have been in the sleeping car when it plummeted into the gorge. His disposition didn't improve when A scratched and bleeding Jigger climbed aboard and informed him, in front of the others, that Harlan and passenger Williams were both dead and Devlin was long gone.

"What the hell was Williams doing up there?" Nobody had an answer and Ryan swore aloud to the sky.

"How could he be gone?" Carl blubbered. "Where could he go in this? We're in between two mountain ridges of nuthin' but wild bush."

"If you were escaping a hangin', Carl, I think wild bush would be a welcome change." Ryan gripped Jigger's massive arm. "I'm real sorry about Harlan but we gotta keep cool heads until this thing is back in control. Go and lock up the prison car and meet us back in the dining car. We better get up and warn the others just in case." Ryan pushed through into the lounge car with the others right behind.

"Thank god!" Penny clutched her throat dramatically as Ryan and the others entered. "We've been in terror here." Cybil cocked an eyebrow and smirked, turning an inquiring face to the Marshal.

"Bad news, folks." Ryan told them everything as they pressed for answers, including the news about Devlin. He didn't see any point in trying to keep it secret with the likes of Carl and Deke knowing. The reaction was as expected; outraged threats, panicky requests and a smash performance by Harriet over the loss of her husband that would have surpassed anything Penny might have accomplished on stage.

Hannah sat slumped in her seat, stunned by the news, her first real relationship horribly shattered—and partially by her own hand. She stood and made her way to the washroom knowing she was going to be sick.

"Are you sure he was on the car?" Abner asked, a comforting arm about Harriet's shoulder.

"He- he was in his bunk. He was drunk. I couldn't wake him. I didn't think..." She broke into a wracking sob that even Jonas Howe felt was a little over the top.

"There, there, Harriet. Come and sit down. Stanley maybe a drink now?" Abner sat close to Harriet, his arm still clamped about her shoulders.

"Hold it, Stanley!" Ryan stepped forward, gun drawn. "Nobody goes back into the dining car until I'm sure it's safe."

"You were just in there." Stanley complained.

"Still, I'm gonna check it out again."

Penny shrieked again. "You don't think he's in there!"

"I aim to check and see. Meanwhile you folks sit tight right here."

"Where's your deputy?" Judge Tumbler asked.

"He's checking' the prison car and locking it up. The rain's stopped but there's still a healthy wind." Ryan hesitated and then moved toward the dining car.

"Where's Deke?" Stanley asked but his question was drowned by the noise of the frantic passengers.

When Devlin had tried to get into the washroom at the end of the dining car, looking for another exit, he'd heard groaning and when the door opened cautiously he'd been met with the widening, red-rimmed eyes of the cook. The knife appeared with blinding speed and before Deke could register his fate, it entered his throat under his chin and drove up into his mouth.

Devlin tried lifting him on the blade, all the while cursing obscenely, spittle flying into Deke's stunned face. The weight of the dead body forced his arm down and he tore the knife free with a vicious yank.