The Hanging of Samuel Ash (18 page)

Hook looked over at the window. He could see the top of Jackie's head.

“You don't have transportation I could use, do you?” he asked.

The operator shook his head. “I don't think so. Except, there's an old popcar down at the buzzard's roost. The yardmaster's there. You could ask him, I suppose. Course, the track inspector uses it now and then. Guess he won't be coming in with the line down, though.”

“Thanks,” Hook said.

*   *   *

Hook and Jackie waited on the platform for the freight train to pull by. The smell of hogs, thick as molasses, hung in the air as the train screeched to a stop.

Hook walked the length of the train with Jackie trailing at his side. As he headed back toward the engine, he spotted Junior dropping down from one of the cars.

“Hey,” Hook said. “You know it's against the law to hop trains?”

“Hook,” he said. “Is that you?”

Looping his arm through Jackie's, Hook pulled her forward.

“What took you so long, Junior?”

His hair had blown into a tangle, and dirt had gathered in the corners of his eyes. He smelled his sleeve.

“My pass didn't come through, Hook, so I jumped on this thing. I came within an inch of being swept over the side.”

“This is Jackie,” Hook said. “Short for Jacqueline.”

“Hi,” Junior said. “Why is she handcuffed?”

“This is the girl in the pink dress you were supposed to watch for, Junior, the pickpocket. As you can see, I found her instead.”

“I'm not a pickpocket,” she said.

“That's true, she isn't,” Hook said. “She just works for one.”

Junior looked through his eyebrows at her. “She's not wearing a pink dress, Hook.”

“It's in the caboose,” she said. “These are Hook's clothes.”

Junior looked at Hook.

“It's a long story,” Hook said.

Junior pushed the hair from his eyes. “I sure would like to have a train pass, sir. I'll never get the smell out of my clothes.”

“I'm working on it, Junior. In the meantime, there's a hoptoad this side of Pampa, and the main line's shut down. I've got a popcar lined up to go out there.”

“Moose and his crew are not far from there,” Junior said.

“I know.”

“What about her?” he asked.

Jackie snapped her gum. “Just leave me here,” she said. “I won't go anywhere.”

“We'll take her along for now,” Hook said. “We need to get over there before the work crews show up and destroy all the evidence.”

Junior dusted off the knees of his pants. “When do we leave?”

“Soon as you've had a bath,” Hook said.

*   *   *

Junior, his hair still wet, waited for Jackie to get in the popcar before he climbed in next to her. Hook removed the cuffs and fastened them to the railing of the popcar. He cranked over the engine and waited for it to level out.

“You get clearance?” Junior asked.

“The line's shut down, remember?”

“I remember nearly losing my life in Clovis,” Junior said.

Hook eased out on the high rail, and they were soon clacking downline. Jackie's eyes grew wide as they raced into the countryside. The wind tossed her hair into curls, and she shivered. Junior took off his jacket and gave it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him.

Junior smiled back as he settled in next to her. He turned to Hook.

“Do you think there's been foul play?”

Hook leaned below the windshield to make himself heard. “Hard to say. Derailments are not uncommon. Takes less to dump over rolling stock than most people realize.”

The plains opened up in front of them, an expanse as vast as the ocean. Without landmarks, all sense of direction and distance could give way to confusion. Old-timers had been known to walk in circles for days trying to find their way out.

“Why would anyone derail a train?” Jackie asked.

Hook said, “Railroaders have been caught between the war and the company for a good many years now. The unions agreed not to strike so long as the war was on. In turn, the company agreed to make union membership mandatory. That worked fine for everyone except the employees. Now you've got these wildcats popping up.”

“What's a wildcat?” she asked.

“Workers striking without the say-so of the union. Feelings are running high, too high, and there's always someone willing to step over the line. In the end, when no one's in charge, things can get out of hand. People can get hurt.”

Jackie searched out her gum, popped a stick into her mouth, and licked the sugar off her lips.

“Do yard dogs strike, too?” she asked.

Hook smiled. “Yard dogs couldn't organize a poker game,” he said.

“Look,” Junior said.

Hook brought the popcar down to a stop. The sun had descended and cast long shadows from the tumble of boxcars in the distance.

“Jeez,” Junior said. “What a mess.”

Jackie snapped her gum and buried her hands between her knees. “They look dead,” she said.

“They've taken the engine on in so the work train can get through. We better take a look,” Hook said. “It's going to be dark soon.”

They walked the line, pausing to study the path of the jackknifed cars. One of them had split open and spilled dozens of boxes of new pliers down the track.

Jackie walked by the side of Junior, their shoulders touching now and again as they examined the condition of the rails. The setting sun cast rays of yellow and orange into the evening sky.

Junior squatted down. “I think it derailed here, Hook,” he said.

“Yeah,” Hook said. “But it started a quarter-mile back.”

“I didn't see any rails damaged until just now, and all the spikes are still intact,” Junior said.

“Come on, I'll show you what I'm talking about.”

They walked back and were nearly to the popcar again when Hook knelt down.

“See where this rail is popped up at the joint.”

“About an inch is all,” Junior said. “Would that derail a train?”

“Unlikely. But notice how these rails are laid out like bricks in a wall. Each joint falls at the midpoint of the opposing rail. This makes for strong construction. The wheels never hit more than a single connection point at any given time.”

“That makes sense,” Junior said.

“There's a crossing about five miles down track from here. That means this train had to slow down, probably below twenty-five miles an hour.”

“Slow and with no spikes gone doesn't add up to a derailment, does it?”

“In fact it does,” he said.

“I don't get it,” Junior said.

Hook studied the rail. “When a wheel hits a joint, it kicks the car to the side. About then it hits the joint on the opposite rail and rocks it back again.”

“But how does that cause a derailment?” Junior asked.

“It doesn't unless the cars have spring-loaded trucks under them, which these do. In that case, a thing called harmonic motion can be put into play.”

“I can sing harmony,” Jackie said. “But Barney doesn't like it.”

“This is different,” Hook said. “When a car is moving slowly, usually between about twelve and twenty-five miles an hour, and something sets it to rocking, like these loose joints here, it can commence to pitching from one side to the other. As it moves down track the rocking gets more and more pronounced until it finally derails.”

“I heard that a cat walking over a bridge can make it fall down,” Jackie said.

“Happens all the time,” Hook said. “Now see how these connection points have been pried up just enough to set the cars in motion?”

“I believe you're correct,” Junior said.

“Once a car is tipped, the forward motion takes care of the rest.

“Did those cars in Lubbock have springs?”

“I think so,” Junior said. “How do you know all this, Hook?”

“By walking tightwires,” he said.

“So, what do we do now?” Junior asked.

“We'll turn about up at that crossing. This old speeder should manage the track past the hoptoad without a problem if we take it easy. Then we'll head back to Panhandle and catch up with Moose and his crew later.”

*   *   *

Hook stood on the back bumper of the popcar while Junior spun her around and dropped her down onto the track again. As they headed back toward the derailment, the moon, orange as a pumpkin, rose on the horizon, and the first stars of the evening clicked on. The night had begun to cool under the clear sky, and Jackie scrunched into Junior's coat against the chill. Now and again, Junior would glance over at her.

As they approached the hoptoad, Hook slowed down. The track, while still intact, snaked about, and the wheels of the popcar complained.

Suddenly, Hook cut the motor, and they drifted to a stop. Ahead, the derailed hulks loomed in the darkness like dinosaurs.

“What is it?” Junior asked.

“I think I saw something,” Hook said. “A light flash.”

“Maybe it's Barney come for me,” Jackie said.

“No one comes for you unless we permit it,” Junior said.

“I'm going to take a look,” Hook said. “You two stay here.”

Junior shook his head. “I'll go with you.”

“Just do as I say, Junior. Make certain this girl stays put.”

*   *   *

Hook worked his way down track. As he approached the derailed cars, he moved into the shadows, keeping low as possible. From there, he could see a truck in the distance and men loading the boxes of pliers onto the back. He heard Moose Barrick's voice, deliberate and low, and he could smell tobacco smoke drifting in the stillness. So Moose's greed had gotten the best of him, and he'd come back to make a little money off his handiwork.

Hook moved behind the end car, which had skidded down track and landed with its wheels in the air.

“Get them boxes loaded,” Moose said. “That damn work crew could get here at any time.”

Hook drew his P.38 and stepped out of the shadows.

 

20

 

“
D
ROP IT,” A
voice said from behind him.

Hook let the P.38 fall to the ground. He turned to see a figure standing in the shadows. When he heard the click of the hammer and saw the moonlight glint off the barrel of the weapon, he charged full bore into the darkness, striking the assailant in the chest with his head. The man grunted and dropped his weapon.

Hook stuck him in the belly, and the air whistled through his teeth. The man, honking like a goose, stumbled back against the side of the car.

Hook could hear men running down track toward him, their voices pitched, and his assailant was pulling himself up in the darkness. Hook squared off, prepared to sidestep. For a one-armed man, clinches could be deadly.

Suddenly, the man shook his head, snorted, and charged. Hook spun to the side and drove his fist into his opponent's ribs. The man crumpled at the waist, and drool strung from his lips.

Smelling of sweat and sick, the man leaned over, his fight having flagged. Hook shoved his knee up into the man's chin; his teeth clacked; his head snapped back, and he spilled onto the tracks.

Hook searched in the darkness for his weapon, finally spotting it lying next to the rail. Just as he reached for it, arms snared him and crushed him to a standstill. He struggled to free himself, but the absence of leverage left him caught like a bear in a trap.

Blood rushed to his head, and his eyes strutted in their sockets. His breath rushed away, and he fought for oxygen with fast, shallow pants. The whiskers of his assailant scrubbed against his ear.

With each second, Hook's strength faded. His ears rang, and his nose dripped onto the predator's arms. Lights swarmed behind Hook's lids, and his knees trembled under him.

“I'll squeeze your guts out like a tube of toothpaste,” the man said, his breath stinking of tobacco.

Hook recognized Moose Barrick's voice, in it the sum total of stupidity and cruelty one could expect. Hook's blood coursed in his ears, and his veins knotted in his neck.

Jackie came from out of nowhere, from out of the darkness like a cougar. She landed on Moose Barrick's back, gouging and shrieking and tearing chunks of gristle from his ear with her teeth. Blood, stinking of heat and iron, rained down on Hook with each pump of Moose's heart.

Moose squealed like some ancient creature from the high reaches of a rain forest, and the second his grip loosened, Hook broke away. Oxygen, sweet as life, filled his lungs.

Jackie rode Moose to the ground, all the while punching and ripping and cursing.

Down track, Junior, his arms propped up like a prize fighter, squared off with one of the thieves. He circled and punched, each time stunning his foe with precision blows to the head.

Hook dove for his P.38, brought it up, and fired into the air. The shot split open the night, and Junior's man dashed off. Hook spun around to find his man, too, had escaped into the darkness.

Junior came downline, straightening his tie, and Jackie, exhausted from beating the life out of Moose, stood and wiped the blood from her face. Moose whimpered on the ground and held his hand against what remained of his ear. Junior sat down on the track and wiped the dust from the toes of his shoes.

Hook lit a cigarette and looked about. “Jesus,” he said. “For a minute there, I thought you two were going to kill them all. Where the hell did you learn to fight like that, Jackie?”

“Barney,” she said.

Hook looked at Junior. “College,” he said. “Varsity boxing.

“So what do we do about the others?” Junior asked.

“We've cut off the head of the snake,” Hook said. “That's enough for now. Get the cuffs off the popcar and secure our boy here. Then I want you to take Jackie and the truck and deliver Moose to the Panhandle jail. Between here and there, I want you to think up every possible charge against him that you can.”