Free The Black Train by Edward Lee Page A

remembered something. “Would this road be named after Penelope Gast?”
    “Yes, sir. You must’a seen the portrait at the house. She was Harwood’s freaky wife.”
    “Why do you say ‘freaky’?”
    Jiff sighed as much to himself as he could. “Just morebad talk. See, Mr. Collier, I love this town and got respect for it. I hate to spread garbage talk.”
    “Come on, Jiff. All towns have their folklore and their notorious figures—big deal. I have the impression there’s quite a bit about Harwood Gast that’s actually very interesting. To you, it’s hundred-and-fifty-year-old gossip but to me, it’s fascinating. Let me guess. She killed herself right along with Gast, and now their ghosts prowl the house at night.”
    “Naw, naw. It’s just that she weren’t the finest of ladies, if ya know what I mean. She got around.”
    “Promiscuous wives are part of every town, Jiff.”
    “Yeah, sure, but, see, she weren’t no good at all if ya believe the stories. There’s lots of ’em, and they’re all bad. Makes me feel like I’m bad-mouthin’ my home. We’ve always tried to tone down that kind’a stuff. It could give the town a bad name, hurt my ma’s business.”
    Collier grinned, egging him on. “Come on, Jiff. Don’t jive me.”
    Jiff shook his head. “All right. Penelope Gast didn’t kill herself, it was her husband that murdered her.”
    “Why? Did he go crazy?”
    “No, sir, he killed her ’cos he found out she’d been pregnant with some other fella’s kid. What’cha gotta understand is that once the railroad construction started to get close to the Georgia border, Gast would be away from home for weeks at a time. And for months, towards the end.”
    “The more track they laid, the farther it took him from his house,” Collier assumed.
    “’Zactly. To get back home to visit, he’d have to take one of his own supply trains that kept feeding track and ties. But there weren’t a whole lotta them. He’d have to wait.”
    “And while he was away—”
    Jiff nodded, morose. “She’d take up with other fellasand got herself pregnant that way three times. She also got herself an abortion three times. They had abortions back then, ya know. I suspect Gast knew all along but waited till the railroad was finished before her killed her.”
    “He wanted to see his project completed, in other words.”
    “The railroad was very important to him. He told people that he believed by 1863, the Confederate army would have secured Washington, D.C., and his railroad would be crucial in moving supplies father north.”
    What a strange way to phrase it, Collier thought. “When you say he ‘told’ people he believed that…do you mean it was just a sham, that there was some other reason he went to the monumental expense and effort of building the railroad?”
    “Oh, turn here, Mr. Collier.” Jiff leaned forward, pointing. “Cusher’s is right there on the corner. Yes, sir, you’re gonna love the beer they got.”
    “Yes, but do you think Gast might’ve—”
    “Folks just rave about the beer, yes sir. And they got several kinds. Beer expert such as yourself’ll really get into it.”
    Collier smiled. He’s ducking the topic again. That’s really bizarre. He thought it best to drop it for now, but in all, he couldn’t have been more intrigued.
    With the sun dipping behind the mountain now, the light was being sapped. Streetlights with carriage lamp tops were coming on; shop windows glowed bright. Now that they were downtown, Collier thought of a dollhouse community: spotless streets, storefronts and building walls shiny in new paint, picture-perfect flower displays. Even the people were immaculate, mostly married couples strolling the quaint streets, window shopping. No riffraff, Collier saw with some relief. Typically he’d see psychotic bums sullying Rodeo Drive and Crips and Bloods blemishing Redondo.
    “And there it is.”
    Collier saw the cursive sign— CUSHER’S —topping a