Luke Jensen: Bad Men Die Part 9

Luke knew that if he wanted, his brother would be happy to let him live out the rest of his days on the big Sugarloaf Ranch down in Colorado. As much as he liked Smoke, that idea didn't appeal to him. "What makes you think I even want a ranch?"

The outlaw grinned at him again. "You mean to tell me you really enjoy gettin' shot at and dealing with lowlifes like me all the time?"

"The part about dealing with men like you does get tiresome," Luke admitted. "But I've been doing it so long I'm afraid I'm too old to change."

"This life will be the death of you."

"Sooner or later, everybody can say the same thing, no matter what they do," Luke said.

A short time later, Chadwick and another heavily armed guard came in, followed by several burly, unarmed men in work shirts and overalls carrying a pair of wooden strongboxes strapped by iron bands. From the way the men handled them, it appeared the boxes were heavy.

Bertram and four more guards brought up the rear. "Put them in the corner," he ordered, pointing.

From his seat, Luke watched the men toting the boxes-probably railroad employees, he thought-place them on the floor in the front left corner of the caboose, next to the conductor's desk.

As they straightened up and brushed their hands off, Bertram went on. "Remember, you men are sworn to secrecy. You can't ever tell anyone about this, in case the mine owners want to use this method again."

That warning was a waste of time, Luke thought. Sooner or later, someone would let it slip what they had done. Probably as soon as he found himself in a saloon with a few drinks inside him. He would want to brag about how he had handled such a valuable load of gold ingots.

And there wasn't anything a stuffed shirt like Bertram could do to stop it.

The men had nodded their agreement and left the caboose.

Bertram continued. "Chadwick, you and three of your men will stay in here with the gold. I want two men in the next pa.s.senger car to keep anyone who doesn't belong from coming back here. Try not to let it be too obvious that you're guarding something, though. We don't want to make the pa.s.sengers curious."

Chadwick nodded and picked two of the men to go up into the pa.s.senger car. He and the remaining three men made themselves comfortable, two of them sitting down on a sofa, another reversing a ladderback chair like the one on which McCluskey sat, and Chadwick himself pouring coffee for all four of them. None seemed curious about the presence of Luke and McCluskey, so Luke a.s.sumed their presence had been explained.

Not long after that, the conductor came in and asked, "Are we ready to roll?"

"As far as I'm concerned, we are," Bertram told him.

The conductor glanced uneasily at the strongboxes, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, mopped sweat from his face with it, and muttered, "We can't get to Cheyenne soon enough to suit me."

Delia was sitting with her head slumped forward a little, brooding as she tried to think of a way to get to Frank McCluskey. As she felt the train's speed slackening, she sat up straighter and looked out the window.

They were still pa.s.sing through the same sort of terrain that had surrounded them ever since the train rolled out of Rattlesnake Wells. As far as she could see, there was no reason why the train should be stopping.

As it lurched to a halt, a buzz of mystified conversation went through the car as people asked each other what was going on. No one sat next to Delia, so she didn't get that question, but she wondered about it.

A few minutes later, the conductor entered the car at the rear and started up the aisle, saying in a loud voice, "Nothing to worry about folks, just keep your seats. We'll only be stopped here for a short time while the engineer and the fireman do a little work up in the cab."

"The train hasn't broken down, has it?" a middle-aged woman asked. "I have to get to Cheyenne. My daughter is having a baby any day now!"

"No, ma'am, nothing like that," the conductor a.s.sured her. "It's just a minor matter and won't take long to fix, and then we'll be on our way again. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if the engineer will be able to pour on enough steam that we'll still make it to the junction right on schedule."

That explanation seemed to satisfy the pa.s.sengers, and the conductor moved on to the other car.

Delia wasn't satisfied, though. Surprised, but not satisfied. Maybe she was just naturally suspicious, but she had a hunch something else was going on, although she had no idea what it could be.

Looking through the window, she saw a group of men move past the car, heading toward the rear of the train. Four of them were moving a cart of some sort, two pushing and two pulling. Although she couldn't see what was on the cart-it was covered by a blanket-she could tell it was heavy. She frowned. Men walking along with them all carried rifles.

No one else in the car seemed to pay any attention to the odd procession, but when the conductor came back through, she held up a hand to stop him. "What were those men doing outside the train a little while ago?"

"Men? What men?" the conductor asked.

Delia saw right through that. No man could lie to her and get away with it. She knew good and well he knew what she was talking about. "Close to a dozen men," she said with a frown. "They were moving something on a cart."

"Oh, that."

Delia didn't believe his nonchalance for a second.

"That was just some, uh, railroad equipment. Something to do with that mechanical problem." He sounded like he was getting a little impatient. "I really don't know all the details, miss. I'm the conductor, not the engineer."

Delia put a simpering smile on her face. "Well, I don't really understand all that sort of thing, either, Mr. Conductor. But I appreciate you trying to explain it to me. I'm sorry if I bothered you."

The act mollified him. He shook his head. "It's no bother, ma'am. I'm here to a.s.sist the pa.s.sengers in any way I can, after all. It's part of my job."

He moved on, and the smile disappeared from Delia's face. She was more convinced than ever that something strange was going on, and it had to do with the caboose. She felt sure Frank was back there, so she was doubly determined to get into the caboose herself.

Not only did she have to rescue Frank, but whatever those men had taken back there might be something well worth the two of them getting their hands on.

The train started moving again a short time later, and just as the conductor had predicted, the engineer poured on the steam. They barreled along the tracks at breathtaking speed.

Delia felt her pulse pounding as she looked out the window at the landscape whipping past. She had been on a train only a few times in her life and never one going so fast.

She told herself sternly not to be distracted by such things. She had work to do, serious work. Anyway, the mad dash across the plains didn't last long. The train slowed as the tracks began to climb into the foothills at the base of a small mountain range.

Mountains were good, Delia thought. Mountains provided a lot more places to hide than open plains did.

She stopped the conductor as he came through the car again.

With a slight show of annoyance, he asked, "What is it this time, ma'am?"

"I've never made this trip before. What's it like on the other side of these mountains?"

"We'll be back down on the flats until we get to the junction."

"It shouldn't take long, then."

"No, ma'am. Another hour, maybe."

"Thank you." Once again, her smile made the conductor's irritation vanish.

She was running out of time, she thought as she sat back against the hard bench seat. Surely, someone had already found the slain deputy's body back in Rattlesnake Wells and knew she was missing. The marshal would send a wire to the station at the Union Pacific junction asking that the train be searched and that she be taken into custody. She had to free McCluskey and escape before that happened.

She had to act while the train was still in the mountains.

She felt the train leave the foothills and begin climbing toward a pa.s.s. She could see it up ahead, at the top of a long, curving grade.

Once they were through the pa.s.s they'd be heading down the other side and the train would probably pick up speed. There was no time to lose.

As the train's engine labored to make the climb, she stood up and turned toward the rear of the car. It wasn't swaying as much now that the train had slowed, but it still moved enough so that Delia had to rest her hand on the back of a seat now and then to steady herself as she approached the door to the rear platform.

She felt a little shock of surprise as she recognized the men sitting in the last seats, one on either side of the aisle. They had been with the group moving the thing on the cart toward the caboose while the train was stopped earlier. Both men were dressed like businessmen-plain tweed suits and flat-crowned brown hats.

As she approached, one stood up and moved to block her path. "Sorry, ma'am, no one is supposed to go out on the platform while the train is moving."

"Really? It's sometimes called an observation platform, isn't it? I want to take a better look at these mountains we're pa.s.sing through. They're really beautiful."

The man shook his head. "No, I reckon you'd better stay in here. Even though the train's not moving as fast as it was, you sure wouldn't want to fall off."

"Well, you're not the conductor," she said with a frown. "I don't think you have any right to stop me."

"I work for the railroad, ma'am, and I'm asking you to go back to your seat."

She didn't know if he was telling the truth about working for the railroad, but it didn't really matter. His coat was open a little, and she was close enough to see that he wore a revolver b.u.t.t-forward in a cross-draw holster on his left side. That was perfect for her.

She moved forward, and he moved to get in her way, and for a second they did that little dance people do when they're trying not to run into each other.

Delia's real objective was to get close enough to do what she did next. With her left hand, she brought up the knife she had hidden against her body and plunged the blade into the man's belly just above his waist.

His mouth opened and his eyes bulged as she ripped the knife to the side and felt the hot gush of blood over her hand. As he started to double over, he reached for his gun.

She beat him to it, sliding her right hand under his coat and closing it around the b.u.t.t of the revolver. She jerked it out of the holster, pivoted, and pulled back the hammer as she aimed at the other man.

He didn't have time to do anything except gape in surprise before she pulled the trigger and shot him in the face.

The gun's roar was loud inside the car. As its echoes bounced back and forth, women screamed and men shouted curses and questions.

Delia ignored them all and shoved aside the dying man she had stabbed, leaving the knife buried in his belly. She was surprisingly strong for her pet.i.te size, even more so when she was fueled by rage and madness.

As she stepped through the vestibule and out onto the platform, she saw that the train had reached the pa.s.s. With smoke boiling from its stack, the locomotive rumbled through the gap in the mountains and started down the long, steep grade toward a trestle that spanned a fast-flowing river.

She took that in with a glance as she stepped across the narrow gap to the platform on the front of the caboose and reached for the doork.n.o.b with a hand smeared with blood.

CHAPTER 16.

Bertram and the conductor huddled at the desk in the caboose, no doubt going over the plans for what would take place when the train reached the junction. Chadwick and the other three guards seemed relaxed, apparently confident the plan was working well enough that there wouldn't be any trouble.

Luke kept his eyes on his prisoner. The caboose didn't have any windows except a couple small ones for ventilation, so he couldn't see what was going on outside, but he could tell when they reached the mountains. The train slowed and the angle changed as they began climbing the grade.

Bertram barked at Chadwick and the other guard. "All right. You men look sharp now. There are more places up here for an ambush, and the train's going slower. It would be easier for outlaws to get on board."

"n.o.body's going to bother that gold, Mr. Bertram," Chadwick declared. "If they try, we'll give 'em a hot lead welcome. Anyway, once the train makes it through the pa.s.s, we'll pick up speed again on the downhill slant."

Luke didn't share Chadwick's confidence. He'd been thinking about it and had decided that half a dozen guards weren't nearly enough to protect the gold if a large gang of outlaws came after it. Bertram was relying too much on secrecy and trickery and not enough on sheer manpower. Things like that happened when a man was too clever for his own good, as Bertram appeared to be.

McCluskey said quietly to Luke, "You know what I'd do if I was bossing the job of stealin' that gold?"

"No, and I don't want to know," Luke replied, although to be honest, he was a little curious. He didn't want to encourage McCluskey by admitting that, however.

McCluskey didn't need encouragement. "I'd hit this train when Bertram and his boys are least expectin' it, when they're starting to think they're safe."

"On the other side of the pa.s.s?" Luke asked, despite his own good intentions.

McCluskey said solemnly, "That's right. And as slow as we're goin', I'd say we're just about there."

Luke thought the outlaw was right. He had ridden enough trains through mountainous country to recognize the sensation of a locomotive laboring up the last few yards of a steep grade.

His head jerked up as he heard what sounded like the flat blast of a gunshot. It was hard to tell because of the rattling racket the train made, plus the wind in the mountains whipped sounds away quickly.

He wasn't the only one who heard it. Bertram bolted to his feet and exclaimed, "What was that? It sounded like a shot!"

Instantly, the guards were alert.

Chadwick said, "Hard to tell. Could have been. I can send one of the men to check-"

"No!" Bertram cried. "Don't open that door under any circ.u.mstances!"

The train leveled out as it reached the top of the pa.s.s, which was a short one. After only a moment, the floor of the caboose slanted again as the train started down the slope.

The doork.n.o.b rattled loudly as someone tried to turn it on the other side and found it locked. Tensely, Chadwick and the other guards pointed their rifles at the door.

On the small platform at the front of the caboose, a woman screamed. "Outlaws!" she shrieked. "They're killing everyone! Let me in! Oh, G.o.d, please let me in!"

Chadwick looked hard at Bertram. "What do we-"

His face was covered with sweat. He was torn with indecision, as was obvious from his wild-eyed stare. He twitched as the woman screamed again.

"Bertram, what do we-"

"Let her in!" he burst out.

Luke was on his feet, gun in hand. Suspicion roiled inside him. The idea of outlaws boarding the train was easy enough to swallow. No matter how secret Bertram had tried to keep the shipment, word of that much gold almost always slipped out. But how could outlaws be killing everyone on the train when only one shot had been fired?

Luke was about to call to Chadwick to stop, but the leader of the guards had already reached the door and turned the key. He grabbed the k.n.o.b, twisted it, and flung the door open.

Flame lanced through the gap as a gun roared again. Chadwick rocked back and dropped his rifle as he gasped in shock and pain.

Luke raised his Remington, hoping to get a shot at whoever was on the platform. He had a pretty good idea who that was.

A dull boom sounded over the noise of the train's wheels, but it didn't sound like it came from elsewhere on the train. Whatever it was had an immediate result.