Free 05 Ironhorse by Robert Knott Page A

a bigger town called Crystal Creek,” Whip said. “Another switchyard, bigger hotel, more people, more outfits. Next town after is Tall Water Falls; it’s bigger yet. Then there’s Division City, and that’s the division line on the track. Turntable and telegraph loop is there, and it’s like five, six blocks big.”
    “You said this track is good and downhill,” Virgil said, “but it’s got to flatten out someplace between here and Texas.”
    “Does,” Whip said. “Where we are right now, though, is the most downhill stretch of this whole track. You could roll like, oh, twenty, twenty-five miles or so, probably stop just before Half Moon Junction.”
    “Junction?” Virgil said.
    “Yes, sir. This line meets with the Denison and Washita Valley Railroad in Half Moon Junction. That’d be for sure the biggest stop on this run.”
    “I remember seeing the half-moon painted on the water tower,” I said.
    “Yes, sir,” Whip said, “that’s it.”
    “Looked like a busy town,” I said.
    “It’s busy, and it’s a pretty big place. It gets bigger all the time, with all of the mining goin’ on. Don’t know I’d necessarily call it a town, though. Oh, there are a number of hotels and plenty of businesses there, but overall it’s more of like a place written about in the Bible where God got mad. Mostly whorehouses and saloons with all the mining traffic from the D and WV and all . . . gets worse all the time.”
    “And that’d be twenty miles?” I said.
    “Yep,” Whip said. “There’s a dynamited cut in a tall rock butte just past a big westward sweep. Right after that, the grade flattens out before you get to Half Moon.”
    “All right, then,” Virgil said. “Let’s get these folks that are in this rear car moved to the front car. And get on with this.”

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    BY THE TIME we got the passengers from the rear coach settled into the forward coach, it was not a comfortable sight. The aisles were full, and the passengers were practically sitting atop one another. Virgil stood at the back door, looking at everyone.
    “Ladies, gents,” Virgil said. “Me and my deputy have business to take care of south of here. It’s better than a good idea you all remain here, stay dry.”
    Virgil looked back to Whip.
    “This young fellow here, Whip, knows these parts well and can get you to safety, but for now it’s best to wait out this rain and wait for daylight.”
    There were a few passengers with questions and a few others who hemmed and hawed, but Virgil provided no more comfort than he’d already allowed.
    The rain continued to fall as we readied ourselves to disembark from the uphill coach. I stood on the back platform of the downhill coach next to the wheel of the newly reconnected handbrake. Whip was on the back platform of the uphill coach, and Virgil was on the platform of the downhill coach across from Whip. Whip uncoupled the uphill coach from the downhill coach, and Virgil called out, “Release the brake, Everett.”
    I released the wheel brake. Whip used the pinch bar and wedged it between the coupler. He pulled back on the bar and we broke free of the uphill coach and started moving away from it.
    “Good luck, Marshal,” I heard Whip say as we drifted away from the coach full of passengers.
    I heard Virgil say what I heard him say many times before.
    “Luck most often is accompanied with knowing what you are doing, son,” Virgil said.
    And just like that, we were off and moving down the track and into the night. Virgil walked down the aisle of the now-empty coach toward me on the back platform. I looked back down the side of the coach.
    Whip picked up the lantern and moved it in a circular motion, the conductors’ signal for reverse, and that was exactly what we were doing. We were reversing into the dark.
    “Don’t this beat hell?”
    “Does,” Virgil said.
    “Train’s cut up like a worm.”
    We thought about that for a moment.
    “Yep,” Virgil said. “Four living