Free Slocum #422 by Jake Logan Page B

go, too,” Slocum said, but a strange reluctance to leave held him as if his boots had been glued to the floor.
    He glanced down at a table where a book was laid facedown.
    â€œDo you know Mark Twain, Mr. Slocum? That is his newest title. It hasn’t been published in this country yet. That is a Canadian edition.”
    â€œSounds like me.”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    Slocum tapped the book. “ The Prince and the Pauper . I’m a pauper all duded up in your pa’s finest.”
    â€œThere needs to be some tailoring done. I will be happy to do it if you let me take your measure.” Marlene blushed and looked away. “That didn’t come out the way I’d intended.”
    â€œWhere’s Miss Mulligan?”
    â€œWhy, I . . . she was feeling poorly and is taking a nap. The heat, you know. It is brutal and will only get worse when we cross the river.”
    â€œPast Yuma gets mighty hot this time of year,” Slocum said. “It’s kind of you to let your maid sleep like this.”
    â€œThere’s nothing to do or see along this stretch of the line.” A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. “What else could I do to pass the time?”
    â€œYou could read the book,” Slocum said, glancing in the direction of the Twain novel.
    â€œI suppose I could. I’d rather work to get that coat of yours to fit properly.” She stood, then stumbled when the train suddenly braked, falling into Slocum’s arms.
    Slocum caught her. She fit into the circle of his arms nicely. He took a deep breath and caught the faint gardenia scent of her perfume. She looked up, her eyes wider than normal, then pushed away from him and tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirts.
    â€œWhy did we come to a halt?” Sarah Jane came from the larger of the two sleeping quarters, her dark hair mussed and her eyes bleary. “We can’t be in Yuma yet to take on water and coal.”
    â€œI’ll check,” Slocum said, his hands lingering on Marlene’s waist. He picked her up and spun her about. She was as light as a feather.
    â€œHurry, John. I don’t like my sleep being disturbed like this.”
    â€œNow, Miss Mulligan, don’t be rude,” Marlene said.
    For an instant fire passed between the two, then died.
    â€œI’m sorry. Hurry along, John. Find out why that foolish ­crazy-­eyed engineer brought us to a halt.” Sarah Jane looked out the window at the desolate landscape.
    Slocum opened the front door and stepped into the hot wind. He caught at his hat to keep it from flying off as he swung around and found the ledge along the tender’s outer wall that led forward to the cab. The land wasn’t as much a desert as he had thought looking from Marlene’s Pullman car. The vegetation ahead turned lush as it dropped down toward the Colorado River. Without the clacking of wheels against the tracks, he heard the rush of the powerful river.
    As he edged along, he saw a curious sight ahead along the tracks. A rainbow arched above the trestle. The river threw up a constant mist that made it seem as if the train would be running under the rainbow. But in this desert, the real pot of gold at either end of the rainbow had to be the water in the river fifty feet below.
    Jefferson and Mad Tom stood toe to toe, arguing, when Slocum stepped into the cab. The fireman sat silently on a drop seat near the closed iron grate that opened to the boiler. He smiled, a white gash in a face filthy with coal dust. Rocking back, crossing his legs, he folded his arms on his chest and enjoyed the spectacle of the engineer and conductor fighting.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Slocum asked.
    The two men turned on him.
    â€œI ain’t pushin’ the Bullet ’cross the bridge ’less them fools say it’s safe,” Mad Tom said.
    â€œThey only workmen, not engineerahs,” Jefferson said.
    Slocum saw that four men