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Jeb rolled with the lurch of the train and latched the coffee pot back into its cabinet. A long slow breath and the smell of the drink mixed with the thick diesel fumes that filled the air. The smell of the engines was a constant, and most hours completely forgotten, but when he took it in with his breakfast... it made his morning.
Jebediah Crowe didn't have the whiskers on the other hog heads, but that was something to be proud of. There were only a few others his age who'd got command of their own line, and he over saw the treacherous Truckee to Winnemucca circuit with his ancient ten wheeler. They'd been climbing the rise all night, and they should crest the pass in just another hour or so. His breakfast ended with the cry of "Black smoke behind!" A moment later, climbing up from the rear cars Hagen Rainer reported - "Black smoke, gaining fast, Mr. Crowe. Crows nest thinks it's a pair of Augustus Twelves up from the Texas Nation." Rainer was a dead head this trip, but given the prospect of being killed or ransomed he fell into duty just as if this were his own train. "Pitch and Blast - another hour and they'd never risk it. Send word to the rear to get the guns to face the cliff face, and solid shot - we'll give them full broadsides to their lead engine." "We're taking the outer rail, sir?" "Aye, I'll send a frog greaser ahead of us, and we'll switch. They'll want to take us, engines, freight and all... and they can't risk a cannon volley sending us over the cliff." Rainer vanished towards the rear. The track bent sharply to the right and Jeb looked out the window back at the twin smoke plums stretching towards them from below. He didn't have a chaser cannon in the caboose - he wasn't rated for it yet. It was one thing to defend yourself from boarders at close range, it was another to risk damage to the track. The corporations wouldn't stand for it, no matter which government you stood for. With a jolt and a rippling shudder the train switched from the inner to the outer track. Johnson, the frog greaser, standing next to the track below Jeb looked anxiously to the rear as the engines passed him. "Tell the men to use blunderbuss and grapeshot, Mr. Johnson." Johnson nodded, but continued to stare down the track. With a quick deft move he reached out and hauled himself into the main manifest cars. Jeb looked up track, but he knew there was no way his lone ten wheeler was going to make it over the ridge before the twin twelves caught up to his cargo. They'd likely even pass them, and attempt to take the engine as well. Rainer ran up from the behind cars, and looked at him expectantly. "You'd best make ready for action, Mr. Rainer." Rainer patted a pistol and hatchet at his waist. Jebediah didn't know if Rainer was checking that he had them or was simply making an effort to respond. There was no need to draw the weapons yet, most of the action would start when the twelves started to pass the cannon cars, penultimate to the caboose. Jeb waited patiently, waited for the sound of the cannons. The twelves sped closer and closer. A turn inward to the cliff blocked his view of the action, but he waited for cannons' report. And he waited. "Why haven't those blasted cannons gone off yet? Mr. Rainer, you told them to fire at the lead engine, yes?" "Yessir." "Watch the engine. If we make it to the hole track at the ridge, shift again to the outside." The extra breadth of track would hamper boarding... but only if the Texan hadn't boarded them already. Jeb took off down the length of his line. The forward manifest cars were filled with men checking pistols and preparing the inner side walls for a firefight. Then he heard the tremendous boom of the cannons, and the horrid rattling of grapeshot. More cannonshot, and more grapeshot. He hadn't been in much action himself, but he knew that what he'd heard was the sound of cannon shot through wood, definitely not cannon shot on engine. There followed a chorus of whooping of war cries and single arms fire. Texan war cries. He could see the lead, uninjured twelve passing him on the inner track. He entered the sleep car just before the first cannon car. It was filling with wounded men, and he could hear fighting in the car behind them. "What the devil is going on? Why didn't you fire at the lead engine?" "They've boarded us sir." The man's arms were a mess, blood soaked both sleeves. His legs too were covered in blood, but Jeb didn't see any sign of injury there. "They've taken the rear cars." "Idiots! Everyone up one car. Move! Confound you. You've lost me my train. Move!" The men scowled but ran past him. Those that could were helping the those that couldn't. A Texas uniform burst through the rear door, sword raised in some sort of defense. Jeb shot at the Texan, and another man who'd just stumbled past him turned and fired a more accurate shot into the Texan's face. Jeb could see many more boiling forward in the car just behind the Texan corpse. "Unhitch this car," he bellowed. "We've lost the cannons! Let them fall off. Unhitch the car!" Jeb knew that it was the correct thing to say. He knew that it as the only logical order to give - if only he wasn't still in the car. He looked back and could see several of the wounded men acting to carry out his orders. Shots hammered up the car, killing the marksman who was standing next to him. Jeb hid down behind the forward most births, unable to make his way out of the car. "Damn you hands, move it. Unhitch this car." The wounded who weren't working on the latch had drawn their guns again and were firing over Jeb's head back towards the advancing Texans. Somewhere in his mind Jeb knew that he shouldn't have ran all the way back into the rear car during the action... it would be a lesson he'd learn some other day, if he had another day. Jeb had his arm around the birth, firing at the Texans, when the car shuddered and the momentum went slack. He turned, rose and ran for the car's doorway. There were still several men still bent over the latch, so he leapt straight at them. He crashed into them and started to fall onto the tracks, but red wet hands grabbed his shirt and started to haul him up. Texan guns cracked behind him, and someone above him fell onto the tracks. Jeb scrambled up into the spot where the dead man had just stood. More shots cracked the wood around him, and something punched him through the doorway of the rear car. His arm began to grow hot. "Why the devil didn't you fire at the engines?" The men looked at him with a mixture of scorn and shame. Someone kicked the rear door shut. More bullets cracked against the rear of the train. "Well?" "We couldn't risk it, sir. Not at that range. It wasn't more than five feet. The shot would come back at us, and if we ruptured the boiler we'd have blown ourselves off the track. We all agreed." Jeb didn't say a thing. He looked away. His arm was throbbing as though someone were squeezing the life out of it. He brought his right hand up to it, and the pressure brought both comfort and more pain. His arm was slick with thick wet blood. "We're gaining on 'em, sir." An older man turned his grim expression to the cliff side, and spat "Don't be daft, boy, we're just turning outward. They'll be ready to board us again in a handful of minutes." Jeb stood and watched the twelves hold steady with the rear car, then slowly start to gain again. Not as fast as before, but slowly, surely. A jolt and a rippling shudder passed through the train, and Jeb gave a quick grin. Rainer had thrown the switch for the third hole track that covered the ridge. The Texas twelves wouldn't be able to switch to the middle track until after the crest of the rise. To board them the Texas crews would have to risk jumping or swinging across an entire open breadth of track. Possible, but something no boarding party would chose to do. Jeb hoped that the Texas hog head was going to chance the crossing on the downward slope after the rise. The downward slope would be a different story, the power of the twin twelves would be moot, with gravity on their side. It would be a test of nerves, especially when closing on the few single track spots ahead. And the Texan would have to break away before they got too close to Winnemucca. Texas shot started to pepper and bust the cliff side wall of the car, and the men huddled tight behind cover. Some of the less wounded fired back through the small windows. Jeb crawled forward. He managed to get ahead of the fire-fight, and rose full up, heading towards the forward cars. There was a lot of gunfire spattering up and down the length of both trains now. Neither would be a pretty sight, both would have to replace their respective facing walls. Looking behind and over the open cliff he could see the track behind, and where he'd left his last three cars... packed with Texans. They were far behind them now, but it looks like they'd gotten to the flagman's station and thrown the breaks. A line of Texans were running from the parked cars up the tracks... they'd never catch up... not unless something tragic happened. He reached Rainer and the forward cannon crew. There was just one car of cannons located immediately after the engine. "You'll fire on the engine. The lead engine, you've got ten feet and I'll promise you it won't blow! Would you rather die from a ricochet or a Texan bullet? You'll fire, all of you." One of the men was tieing a tourniquet around his arm. "I take it, sir, that they didn't fire for fear of the engine blowing?" "Aye. And they paid a heavy price for it too. Sent solid shot straight through a boarding car, and then got the grape in return. The poor devils. We lost the rear cannons, I cut them loose. Nicely done with the hole track, Mr. Rainer." "It was Johnson, sir. But they shot him for it. They had a rifleman on their engine trying to stop him. I think I got the rifleman, at least." "Ready the cannons. Here comes the first engine!" From outside the cannon slits he heard shouts in Texan drawl, and heard the clatter of grapnels thrown. "What the devil?" "The Texan hog's set fire to his cars! All his wooden cars are ablaze! He's forcing his men to board!" "Oh hell... never mind firing at his engines, Mr. Rainer." |