Chapter 25

Otis burped and wiped the back of his hand over his greasy mouth. The eggs had filled him and the bottle of liquor had smoothed the edges of his nerves. He looked down at the dead man and cursed his impatience. Now he was stranded without anything to do and armed with a bunch of kitchen knives... and a stove with a dwindling fire.

The plan came to him in a flash. All he needed to know was if the prison car was empty and for that he would have to take a chance and cross the platform. Otis opened the door slowly and waited. The rain had almost stopped and the only wind was from the speed of the train. Wisps of black smoke wrapped around the sides of the car from the engine and he covered his face from the sting of soot.

The padlock caught his eye and with frustrated anger, he slammed the door closed and threw the knife across the car. He stood blowing heavily through his nose and then marched toward the dining car. He stood to one side trying to see into the car but the curtains blocked his view. He would just have to blindly try the door.

Jonas polished off his drink and turned to hand the glass back to Stanley. The impression of movement at the corner of his eye made him spin quickly back and scour the inside of the dining car. Nothing. He waited a minute and then relaxed. Musta been nothing, he decided.

Otis shut the door and turned back to the kitchen car with renewed excitement about his plan. They'd abandoned the dining car and it would be their undoing. He went to the stove and stoked the coals until he had a good flame and then he rummaged through the supplies until he found a full bottle of whiskey hidden inside a box of rags.

"Cook musta been a tippler," he mused aloud, twisting the cap off and taking a healthy swallow. "Yeah, oh yeah." He took one of the rags and stuffed it down into the alcohol then, leaving enough for a long wick, he lit the rag from the stove and then hurried to the door. Sliding it back, Devlin reached inside and hurled the flaming bottle down the aisle.

Jonas yelped in surprise and fired a shot through the glass of the lounge car. Women screamed and men began yelling and jumping up. Ryan ran to the door and followed Jonas's pointing finger. The dining car was on fire and the linen cloths and upholstered seats were going up quickly. Ryan swore aloud and started out of the car.

"Whoa there, Marshal, you can't go running in there. What are you gonna do?" Jonas gripped his arm and dragged him back.

"He's cutting us off from the engine, if we don't want to go up in flames too we'll have to uncouple the car."

"We could uncouple 'em both, Marshal," Stanley offered, peering at the growing flames over Ryan's shoulder.

"How?"

"Over the roof before the fire reaches the outside."

"You're a genius, Stanley." Ryan dashed back through the car to rear and out the door before anyone could react. He climbed the cold ladder to the roof of the car and tried standing, nearly blowing off to a nasty demise. He dropped to his knees and began scrambling forward. Smoke was swirling around him, most of it from the engine but an increasing amount from the dining car. He reached the end of the car and squatted, looking across the platform to the dining car roof.

His leap wasn't the prettiest move and he scraped his arms through his jacket, grabbing on to the vent to keep from bouncing off into the wilderness. The heat from the fire was becoming apparent through the wooden ceiling and Ryan hurried along the car to the end. This time he couldn't afford to be reckless; he had to cross the kitchen car quickly and pray Devlin couldn't hear him.

He made the jump to the prison car with better success than previously and looked down at the platform, studying the coupling. He would have to climb down and pull the pin and then get back up onto the roof or be stuck on the back of the prison car.

Otis lay on the kitchen floor swearing angrily. One stupid, lucky shot from whoever was watching the car and he catches it in the forearm. He poked at the wound and was satisfied that the bullet went right through and then he crawled around to Deke's body and tore strips of material from his apron to wrap about his arm.

"At least you was good for sumpthin'," he smirked. The smirk vanished quickly as he felt a sudden change in the motion of the car. Running to the door he saw the engine pulling away and the gap between it and the prison car.

"Sons of a bitch!" He dashed back to the door just in time to see a figure leap across to the dining car roof.

Ryan ran upright now that the cars were slowing. The flames were licking up from the broken windows and through the roof vents. Smoke swirled and choked him as he shielded his eyes and he heard the excited voice of Stanley telling him he was almost there. Hands reached up and grabbed him as he clambered down the ladder to the platform and then Stanley yanked the coupling pin leaving the lounge car alone and the burning dining car between it and the prison car.

"Now what?" Abner complained the minute Ryan came back inside.

Carl sat up suddenly, his levers felt different and the train sounded different. He checked the gauges and then leaned out his window and looked back along the curve of track. The first thing he saw was the burning dining car and he yelped a surprised oath that brought Jigger to his side, rifle cocked.

"The car's is all uncoupled!"

"What's burnin'?" Jigger shouted.

"The dining car. And the lounge car is way back now, slowin' down."

"We better stop and see what's goin' on." Jigger arranged himself on the side step and aimed his rifle toward the rear.

Carl checked the speed of the loose cars and began slowing the engine. They were on a slight upgrade and the loose cars were slowing almost to a halt. He braked the engine and watched as the dining car slowed to a halt, moving back slightly as the wooden frame collapsed in a shower of sparks, flame and smoke leaving little more than the frame, the kitchen portion and wheel assemblies. Farther back, the lounge car had also stopped and Carl could see the Marshal moving up the track past the dining car, gun drawn.

"Devlin's in the kitchen part," Jigger said, waving to Ryan and climbing cautiously down from the engine cab. "We got him trapped in there if he ain't burnt hiself up."

"I hope so," Carl said, more to himself. "I sure hope so."

Devlin craned his neck to see past the rear of the smoldering car and managed to catch Ryan hustling up the track toward him. He cursed and crawled to the other end of the kitchen and there was the big nigger aiming his rifle straight at the window. Devlin sank down, clutching his throbbing arm. He needed another plan—a better one and quick. The man might still fool them, he thought, and he scrabbled around, hauling Deke up to one of the windows. He propped him up and rested his face against the glass so that it looked like he was pinning him there, which he was—and he waited.

Ryan waved Jigger down, signaling that Devlin was in the kitchen car and that he had a hostage. The two men came together and went over their options.

"He'll kill him no matter," Jigger said. "Let's just rush the bastard and shoot him."

"I've got the victims relatives, civil advocates and government officials all watchin' this, Jigger. There ain't no way I'm gonna just blindly rush the car and get Deke killed. We need a plan."

"He's prob'ly killed him already, I say we rush him."

"And I say we– hold it! Look! Up at the window. It's Deke. The bastard's showin' him to us."

"Lemme put a shot into his smarmy face," Jigger raised his rifle.

"No! I want him back unharmed." Ryan wiped his chin.

"Not a chance, boss. Otis'll kill him just for fun, trapped or not. What's he got to lose?"

Ryan closed his eyes. Jigger was right. Other than outright freedom, Otis had nothing to lose but there was no way Ryan was going to set him free, not without a fight of some kind.

"How about we smoke him out then?" Jigger offered. "We can get on the top and drop smokin' blankets or somethin' down the vents."

"That's a plan, Jigger. That's a real plan. We'll do the bugger like he tried to do us." They scurried back to the lounge car leaving a puzzled Devlin propping up the dead cook.


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