SATURDAY MORNING

Dawn was barely awakening and a pale light made the black shadows a lighter grey. Carl tweaked the throttle and listened carefully; he could feel the vibration from the dining car wheel and it seemed to be getting more noticeable. The train went into a long, shallow curve and he increased the speed slightly to overcome the drag. Suddenly he felt a bump from the engine wheels and immediately hauled the throttle back and slammed on the break.

There must have been a separation in the track and if he hit it at speed with a flat spot...The engine lurched and Carl looked out the side, squinting in the weak light, in time to see the front of the dining car skip off the rail and start to lean. He pulled on the break for dear life, muttering every kind of prayer he could think of and when the train finally ground to a halt, the dining car was still upright and partially on the rails.

Back in the lounge bodies were tossed all over the car. Amos had slid off the seats and was crumpled under them on the floor. Devlin was screaming in agony behind the bar and the others had bounced together in a jumble of arms and legs. Only Ryan, who had been braced against the door, managed to stay on his feet and hold his position. He gathered himself and hurried to help the women to their feet.

"Anyone hurt? Everybody okay?"

"Jean hit her face on the window and her nose is bleeding, Hannah said, rubbing a sore spot on her arm.

"Peter? You okay? Can you see if you can help Miss Bellows?" Ryan steadied Cybil, who shook her head and smiled.

"I just don't have enough notebook left to write all this."

"Be thankful you're still able to write."

"Are you okay, Marshal? I mean about the medal thing?"

"I don't know yet. Right now I gotta check on Carl and see what happened. I'll have a look at Devlin before I go, just in case." Amos was grumbling something from beneath the seat and Ryan called Abner to give him a hand then he peered over the bar at Devlin, not unhappy to see the man clutching his leg, eyes closed and jaw clamped shut.

The hissing of the engine was the only sound as Ryan climbed down from the car and saw Carl standing in the thin layer of snow beside the front of the dining car, hands on hips and spewing a string of profanities into the otherwise quiet morning.

"What happened?"

"Hit a bad spot in the track and the flat wheel kicked over it and slid off the rail. I was lucky to get it stopped."

"You were lucky not to have killed the rest of your passengers too."

"It was that or a full derailment, Marshal."

"I ain't complainin', just sayin'." He looked at the tilted car and sighed. "So what can we do?"

"Hafta get her off the rail. Uncouple her and push her off."

"How do we do that?"

Carl waddled down the track to the lounge car and reached underneath, pulling a huge pry bar from its hanger straps. "We undo the lounge car. Use this to move it back a ways. Uncouple the dining car at the front and with some muscle and the engine, we shove 'er off the rails."

Ryan took the bar he was handed and hefted the weight of its ten-foot length. "I'm supposed to move that car with this?"

"Just stick it behind the wheel and lift. Put some back into it, you'll be surprised. But first we gotta uncouple."

Ryan climbed into the lounge and after checking on the passengers, explained what was happening. Jean's nose was not broken but it was red and slightly swollen. Hannah's arm was bruised; Amos seemed fine and was resettled on the two seats and Devlin had sunk into a gasping moan. Peter climbed down with Ryan and Abner uncoupled the car as they heaved on the heavy iron bar. At first it seemed futile and then, almost imperceptibly, the car moved. Quickly they reset the bar and heaved again. This time it visibly began to roll back. Carl was waving and shouting to get up and apply the brake or it would roll for miles once it got going.

They secured the brake and then went forward and with a backbreaking struggle, pried the coupling loose from the front of the dining car and prepared to jimmy the wheel off the track when Carl backed the engine into it. There was a grinding noise and the three men put everything they had into the bar as the engine chugged back, pushing the front end of the car further off the track, and suddenly it skipped free, teetering for a moment on two wheels and then it crashed onto its side sending burned fragments of the car plowing across the pristine snow. The kitchen portion split away and fell onto its top, exposing all the innards in a crushed jumbled mass, including the charred remains of Deke.

They guided Carl back until they could couple the lounge car to the Prison car and then after a brief conversation about duties, the train to Judgement began its arduous journey once more. Jonas rode with Carl, shoveling coal and listening to the engineer's stories and lessons. Ryan gave the prison car a cursory check, arranging the bodies with a little more dignity after the near derailment, and then joined the others in the lounge car. Here they would stay until the trip was over.

SATURDAY NIGHT

The balance of the day passed without incident. They had stopped the train and had Carl and Jonas back so they could all eat what little there was together. Devlin was limited to water by unanimous vote; even Harriet couldn't bring herself to take his side any more; she seemed lost in her thoughts. The weather became even calmer and only a few errant flurries of snow fell as the train wound its way through the pine forests and up the final ridge toward the town of Judgement.

The first sight in the distance was the church spire, a thick, sturdy image of carved wood, painted white, that sat like a tattoo against the evening sky. The roofs of the other buildings, hotel, bank, livery and the like all began appearing at various heights above the trees as the train reached the top of the grade and leveled out for the last long run across the ridge.

"Hard to believe we're still going to be on time," Ryan stated, watching his reflection in the dark windows.

"What do you think will happen when we get there?"

"Is this Cybil Marsh, passenger, or Miss Marsh of the Post?" She looked hurt and he immediately regretted his question. "Look, I don't have any more information about Judgement than you except where I'm supposed to deliver Devlin."

"It was simply a question that seemed appropriate since we've lost so many people—including the judge. All I wondered was if you thought they would still have the execution without all the legal people available any more." She stood and gathered her skirt. "And it was Cybil Marsh, passenger."

He watched her move down the car and he blew out a huge puff of frustration. Women.

"You say something, Marshal?" Peter flopped into a seat across the aisle and put his boot up on the seat opposite.

"Huh? No, just talkin' to myself. The other women okay?"

"I think so. Mrs. Dingwall seems to have gone into some kind of withdrawal; she just stares out the window, humming."

"I think she still bears watching. She still has that Derringer most likely."

"Hannah keeps a sharp eye on her; I think Miss Hatcher and Jean are not her best friends considering their attitude toward Devlin."

"How is Jean?"

"Sore nose, otherwise the same old Je- she's fine." Peter dropped his feet and stood, not wanting Ryan to pick up on the remark and start questioning him. The last of three oil lamps flickered and died as he started down the car and there was a gasp from one of the women as the car plunged into darkness with just a faint reflection from a wan moon on the snow.

"Everybody stay put," Ryan announced. I'll pull the cord and we'll stop and see if Carl has any in the engine." He waited until the train stopped and then walked up the side of the train to the engine where Carl was hanging off the side looking expectantly at him.

"More trouble?"

"Lights have all burned out. Got any more oil up here?"

"Nope. Hardly need a lamp with the firebox door to open. We're both stiff and tired anyway. What say we sit for the night and make the last run in the mornin'. They don't expect us 'till then anyway."

"I don't like being with Devlin in the dark to tell you the truth. Ain't there nothin' we can use for light in the car?"

"What about the prison car, you musta had lamps in there?" Jonas offered.

"Genius! You are a genius, Jonas." Ryan scooted back and unlocked the car and came back with four, full oil lamps. "Shut 'er down, Carl, we're spendin' the night."