The Great Train Massacre Page 10

  “Yes, that would have been tragic, especially if you two were killed in a blast that was meant for me. Doesn’t seem like a very efficient way to get to me, though.”

  “Oh, but that’s where you are wrong, sir,” Kirkpatrick said. “I understand that your car will be just behind the tender. That being the case, your car would have derailed, and at the speed we’ll be running, it would be totally wrecked. The chances are that anyone in that car would be killed, along with me ’n Cooper.”

  “But I don’t understand. Won’t my car be the last car on the train?”

  “No,” Drew said. “I’ve arranged for you to keep this same engine for the entire trip. You’ll be changing trains at Ogden and again at Cheyenne. But because you will keep this same engine, your special car will be just behind the tender. That way, each time you change trains, you won’t even have to leave your car unless you want to, because the engine, tender, and your car will leave one consist and pick up another.”

  “That’s very convenient,” John said. “I thank you for arranging that, Drew.”

  “Yes, I thought you might appreciate that.”

  “Convenient, yes,” Kirkpatrick said. “But with your car being there, you can see that if the engine were to explode, your car couldn’t help but be jerked off the track. And if that was to happen, I don’t think anyone in the car would survive.”

  John looked at Drew. “So, you not only arranged the trip for my convenience, you have also saved my life. I owe you a huge thank-you for noticing that stick of dynamite before it was able to do any damage.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, John. It’s not that I care that much about you. I was just looking out for my job. If something happened to you, what would happen to the business?” Drew laughed out loud at his joke.

  “Then, you’ll just have to keep me alive, won’t you?”

  Drew held up his hands. “Not me. I’m afraid that from this point on, keeping you alive is Mr. Jensen’s job. Mr. Jensen, don’t let us down now. I’m not the only one whose job is at stake. You have no idea how many people there are who depend on John Gillespie for their livelihood.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Matt said.

  “What time will we be getting underway?” John asked.

  “At eight thirty this evening,” Kirkpatrick replied.

  San Francisco, Monday, August 31, 1885

  After having dinner with the others in the depot dining room, Matt excused himself, then walked out into the car shed and passed along the head of all the tracks until he came to track number six, where their train stood. The consist was six cars, including John’s private car, the baggage car, a Pullman car, the dining car, and two day cars.

  As Matt walked along the brick platform, looking over the train, he saw two men squatting down between the tender and the private car. At first, he thought they were workers, making some last-minute repair or modification. But he thought he should confront them, just in case.

  “What are you men doing?” he called.

  Matt’s unexpected challenge caused the two men to run off. They ran toward the train on the adjacent track, then disappeared between the two cars, and Matt started after them. He had gone no more than half-a-dozen steps, however, when one of them leaned back around the end of the car and fired at him.

  He drew his own pistol and fired back, but because there were people on the other train, he purposely shot low and saw the sparks of his bullet striking the rear truck of the car, which shielded the two men. The bullet then ricocheted under and between the train cars, coming close enough to the two to cause them to dash off to the other side.

  The engineer, Mr. Kirkpatrick, and some yard workers, drawn by the shooting, hurried up the track toward Matt.

  “What is it, Mr. Jensen?” Kirkpatrick called. “What’s going on? What’s all the shooting?”

  “Stay back!” Matt warned, lifting his left hand to hold them in place. Kirkpatrick and the others did as Matt instructed.

  Matt hopped over the coupling, where he saw the two men disappearing behind a freight that was being made up. Matt ran after them, but before he could reach them the freight moved between him and the men he was chasing. By the time the freight passed, the two men were gone.

  Frustrated that they got away and puzzled as to why they were here, Matt returned to the siding where the special train stood. He saw the engineer and two of the workers looking at the car where the men had been.

  “Did you get them?” the engineer asked, as Matt returned.

  “No,” Matt admitted. “I’m afraid they gave me the slip.”

  “Too bad,” the engineer said. He pointed to the rubber hose that was a part of the coupling. “They were trying to sabotage us all right. They were cutting into the airbrake hose.”

  “They were being real smart about it, too,” one of the workers said. “They didn’t cut far enough into the hose for it to separate yet. But after a hundred miles or so, what with the swaying and the strain between the cars and all, that line would have come apart . . . maybe just on the other side of some high pass. And likely as not, when that happened, it would’ve caused a wreck.”

  “You’d better get the damaged lines replaced,” Matt suggested.

  “Yes, sir, we’ll do that right away.”

  “Me ’n Butrum was discovered,” Bates said.

  “Did you get the hoses cut?” Conroy asked.

  “Well, yeah, but that don’t mean nothin’. Seein’ as we was discovered, they’ll more’n likely get ’em fixed before they leave.”

  “All right, that train doesn’t leave until eight thirty, and that’s another hour. I want you two to take the eastbound to Carson City, it leaves in about fifteen minutes. But I don’t want you to go all the way. Gillespie’s train will stop for water between Kingsbury and Carson City. You get off there and wait. It’ll be the middle of the night by the time Gillespie’s train gets to the water tank, and when it stops, you get on.”

  “You mean just get on board? How are we goin’ to do that?”

  “Here are two tickets. Show them to the conductor.”

  “Are you tellin’ us that the conductor is just goin’ to let us on in the middle of nowhere?”

  “If you show him these tickets, yes, he will let you on.”

  “All right. What do we do once we are on the train?”

  “As I said, it will be the middle of the night. Most of the people will be asleep, so you shouldn’t have any trouble passing through the train. Go into Gillespie’s private car and kill him and his daughter. It will only be a few more miles until the train stops in Reno. When it does, get off and take the next train back here. Because it is the middle of the night, you’ll be halfway back to San Francisco before anyone discovers the two dead bodies, and you will be in the clear.”

  Bates and Butrum, each of them fifty dollars richer than they had been when they woke up that morning, boarded the train for Carson City. If everything went as planned, they would be another two hundred dollars richer before another full day had passed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By a quarter till eight, the brake hoses had been changed, the fire was stoked, and the steam pressure built up. As the Conqueror sat waiting on the track, the engine relief valves were opening and closing rhythmically so that the locomotive almost took on a life of its own. The heaving sighs of escaping steam seemed to match that of those who were waiting anxiously for the train to depart.

  Once they were aboard, John went into the Pullman car with Matt to introduce him to the conductor, Dan Kelly, and the porter, Julius Calhoun.

  “Mr. Kelly, Mr. Calhoun, this gentleman is Matt Jensen,” John said. “He is one of my employees. There will be times when he will be visiting me in my car, which, as you both know, is just forward of the baggage car. Because of that, I want you to make certain that his passage back and forth through the baggage car is unimpeded. May I have that assurance from the two of you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kelly replied.

/>   “Mr. Calhoun?” John asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Calhoun said.

  “Very good.”

  “Mr. Jensen, will you be sleeping in the private car, or here in the Pullman car?” Calhoun asked.

  “Here,” Matt replied.

  “Very good sir. I’ll let you have this front sleeper unit, and I’ll make certain that you are undisturbed.”

  “I expect he’ll spend most of the time in my car,” John said. He pulled a watch from his vest pocket and examined it. “Speaking of which, we’ll be getting underway in just a couple of minutes, so, Mr. Jensen, would you like to come to the car now? You may as well be with us as we depart.”

  “Oh, I intend to stay in the car with you until it’s time to go to bed tonight,” Matt said.

  John smiled and nodded. “I thought you might.” He looked at the conductor and the porter. “We’ll just pass through the baggage car, if you don’t mind.”

  They had been underway for over an hour, and the train, clear of the city and surrounding smaller towns, was flashing across the valley at a very rapid speed. John had been entertaining Matt and Mary Beth with stories of famous people he had met.

  “I was once presented to Queen Victoria,” John said. “I helped some British businessmen, and she wanted to knight me for that. I told her I couldn’t accept it, being American and all, and she offered to make me a British citizen on the spot.”

  Mary Beth giggled. “I told Papa he should have taken the queen up on it. Then he could have bought a suit of shining silver armor and ridden all over San Francisco on a white horse.”

  “I told President Arthur about the offer of knighthood, and he got a big kick out of it,” John said.

  “Did you go to Europe as well?” Matt asked Mary Beth.

  “Oh, yes. It was fascinating, though I must confess that I got a little seasick on the ship on the way over and on the way back.”

  “A little seasick,” John said. “Didn’t you tell me once to just throw you into the sea and go on without you?”

  “No, Papa, I didn’t ask you to do that, you threatened to do it,” Mary Beth replied with a laugh.

  “Oh, yes, as I recall now, it was your mother who talked me out of tossing you overboard.”

  Mary Beth laughed again, then glanced out through the window. “Oh, my, we seem to be going very fast. I wonder how fast we are going.”

  “Would you like me to tell you?” Matt asked.

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying you can tell me how fast we are going?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Mr. Gillespie, do you have a watch with a second hand?”

  “I do indeed,” John said, pulling a gold-chained watch from a vest pocket.

  “Say the word ‘start,’ time me for twenty seconds, then say ‘stop,’” Matt instructed.

  “All right. I have no idea what you have in mind, but I will do as you ask.”

  John held the watch in his right hand and held his left hand up as he examined the watch face.

  “Start.” He said, bringing his left hand down sharply. There was silence in the car until John said, “Stop.”

  “We are traveling at forty-seven miles per hour,” Matt said.

  John laughed. “Good joke. We all sit here for twenty seconds, then you declare that we are going forty-seven miles per hour.”

  “It’s no joke, we are going exactly forty-seven miles per hour.”

  “How could you possibly know that?” John asked.

  “Yes, how did you do that?” Mary Beth asked.

  “There’s really nothing to it,” Matt said. “I have done some detective work for the railroads, and this is a trick that was taught to me by one conductor and verified by several others.”

  “Oh, do tell me how it is done,” Mary Beth pleaded.

  “All right. Listen, do you hear the clicks the wheels make as they roll across the rail joints?”

  “Yes.”

  “Count those clicks for twenty seconds,” he said. “The number of clicks you hear in twenty seconds’ time is how fast you are going in miles per hour.”

  “Oh, what a fascinating thing to know!”

  At that moment there was a knock on the door, and quickly, Matt drew his pistol. He held out his hand to stop John from answering the door.

  “I’m sure it’s just the porter,” John said. “I arranged to have some ice cream delivered to our car tonight. You do like ice cream, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Matt said. “But I still think I should answer the door.”

  John was right. It was Mr. Calhoun, and he was bringing ice cream.

  After the ice cream, Matt sat up with them talking, then Mary Beth began yawning.

  “It’s nearly eleven o’clock,” Matt said, “and I’m getting sleepy.”

  Mary Beth chuckled. “Are you really getting sleepy? Or are you just covering for me?”

  “Let’s just say that I’m glad you are tired, too,” Matt said. “That way I won’t feel bad about leaving you and going to bed myself.” He yawned again and stretched. “So, if you good folks will excuse me, I think I will go back to the Pullman car and turn in.”

  When their train stopped for water, Bates and Butrum slipped down from the platform between two of the cars, doing so on the opposite side from the water tower so they wouldn’t be seen. They walked out into some scrub brush and waited until the train pulled out.

  “What do we do now?” Butrum asked.

  “We wait.”

  “Two hunnert fifty dollars apiece, that’s what he said, isn’t it?” Butrum asked. “Two hunnert ’n fifty dollars?”

  “Yes, two hunnert ’n fifty dollars apiece. You heard him same as I did,” Bates said.

  “It’s like I told that Conroy feller, I ain’t never had that much money at one time in my whole life. Have you?”

  Bates thought for a moment. “No, I can’t say as I have.”

  “What are you goin’ to spend your money on?” Butrum asked.

  “I’m goin’ to get me a new shirt ’n a new hat. And, I’m goin’ to get me a silver band to go around my hat,” Bates replied.

  Butrum laughed. “You’re goin’ to waste your money on a shirt ’n a hat? Hell, I ain’t. Women ’n whiskey. That’s what I plan to do.”

  “I’ll be savin’ some for women and whiskey.”

  “How are we goin’ to do it?”

  “When the train stops here for water, we’ll get on board.”

  “No, I mean, how are we supposed to kill Gillespie and his daughter?”

  “They will more’n likely be asleep, so we’ll sneak into the car. I say we get a pillow or somethin’ and hold it over the girl’s face. That way we can keep her quiet while we smother her. Then, I’m thinkin’, the best way to kill Gillespie is with a knife, if we catch him sleepin’. But we’ll shoot ’im if we have to.”

  Matt slept restfully, but lightly, so when the train stopped, it awakened him. He had no idea what time it was, but looking through the window, he could see that it was pitch black. He heard bumps and noises from the tender, which told him that they were taking on water. He lay back down and closed his eyes, intending to drift back to sleep.

  He had just about dozed off again when he heard voices just outside his car.

  “You think they’re asleep?”

  “Hell, yes, they’re asleep. What else would they be doin’ this time of night? You don’t see no light comin’ from the car, do you?”

  “Just ’cause there’s no light, don’t mean nothin’. It’s a private car, and they don’t hardly have no winders.”

  Matt had decided to sleep in his trousers, just in case he would have to get up in the middle of the night. And this was just such a case.

  With pistol in hand he moved quickly through the baggage car, reaching the front end just as he saw two men climbing up into the vestibule of the private car.

  “More than likely those folks are asleep,” Matt said. “Why do you want to go waking
them up?”

  “What the hell?” one of the men shouted. Both men swung toward Matt with guns blazing. Two bullets ricocheted off the door frame. Matt returned fire, and both men went down.

  With the smoking gun in his hand, Matt approached the two men, both of whom now lay in the vestibule. It took but a quick glance to ascertain that both were dead.

  The door to the private car opened, and John stood there in his nightgown.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “You were about to have some unwelcome visitors,” Matt said. He leaned down for a closer look at the two men he had just killed. He recognized them as the men he had chased through the track yard back in San Francisco.

  “These are the same two men who were trying to cut the brake hose before we left.”

  John breathed a sigh of relief. “That means it’s over then, doesn’t it?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, if these are the same two who cut the brake hose, they are more than likely the same ones who cut the tongue pin on my carriage. And now that they are dead, I think the danger is over.”

  “Have you forgotten the man who tried to kill Mr. Jessup?”

  “No, but, I don’t see the connection. Whoever that was, he tried to kill Drew. These men tried to kill me.”

  “I think it might all be connected,” Matt said. “It’s obvious that there’s more than one, or even a few people involved here. And since they tried to kill Mr. Jessup as well, then they are after your company, not you as an individual.”

  “Yes,” John replied. “Yes, I hadn’t thought about that. You might be right.”

  “And if I am right, then these two—and the man who tried to kill Mr. Jessup—were working for someone else. That means that whoever hired these men still wants you dead. And since these men failed, more than likely, he’ll try again.”