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  On the other hand, the prospect of her accompanying him to Ophir was rather appealing in some ways. He hadn’t forgotten those kisses....

  But as that thought went through his head, he recalled what was waiting for him in the boomtown, and realized that it might not be a good idea for her to go along.

  Perhaps it was too late for such a discussion. Rebel said in a tone that brooked no argument, “I’m going with you anyway. You can protect me if you’re so good with a gun.”

  “It’s my hope that neither one of us will need any protecting.”

  “Yeah, that’d be downright lucky, wouldn’t it?”

  “All right,” Conrad said with a sigh. “We’ll ride on in the morning, and I hope we can reach Ophir by tomorrow evening.”

  “You know how to get there?”

  “Yes, I’ve followed the route several times. It won’t be a problem.”

  “It’s settled then. We’ll get started in the morning. In the meantime, you think there’s anything to eat around here? I’m getting mighty hungry.”

  One of the other cars was fitted out as a combination kitchen and dining car. The workmen lined up outside to get their bowls and plates filled, but Brant, Buckhalter, and the other supervisors took their meals inside. Brant and Frank returned to the car about the same time as Conrad and Rebel walked over to it, and the four of them went inside together to sample the stew prepared by the railroad’s cooks.

  “Were you able to find any clues in what was left of that dynamite shed?” Conrad asked as they sat down at a cloth-covered table with bowls of stew already on it. There were glasses of wine for them as well, a welcome touch of civilization as far as Conrad was concerned.

  Frank shook his head. “There wasn’t anything left of it except a hole in the ground. And the ground’s too hard to take prints, so I can’t backtrack the hombre who set off the explosion. I hate to say it, but we may have to wait for the varmints to try something else and hope we can get a line on them then.”

  Conrad frowned and said, “We can’t afford too much more sabotage, or the project will grind to a complete halt.”

  “I’m afraid you may be right about that, Mr. Browning,” Brant put in. “The men are already spooked, and having that shed blow up today isn’t going to help matters any. A railroader knows when he signs up for a job that there’s going to be dangers along the way; that just goes with the territory. But having to worry about being gunned down by snipers or riddled with arrows by Indians are added problems, and our boys don’t like it.”

  “I don’t blame them,” Frank said. “You can spread the word if you want that I’m going to do my best to put a stop to all that.”

  Brant nodded and said, “That sure might help, Frank. Everybody knows your reputation.”

  “Which is none too good in certain circles,” Conrad put in.

  Frank shot him a narrow-eyed glance, and Conrad knew he had gone too far. “I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of,” Frank said, “but I never rode the owlhoot trail, and folks know that about me too.”

  “I’m sure you won’t let us down,” Brant said in an attempt to smooth over the friction. “I reckon before you know it, the New Mexico, Rio Grande, and Oriental will be steaming right into Ophir!”

  Conrad hoped that was the case. Otherwise, before this was all over he might be ruined. Frank could afford the losses, because Frank . . . well, because he just didn’t care.

  But this project was the first big one Conrad had attempted on his own. It meant a great deal to him. So much, in fact, that he had been willing to go begging his father for help. He picked up his glass of wine, raised it, and said, “To Ophir.”

  To his ears, the words sounded as much like a prayer as they did a toast.

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, Frank wasn’t surprised when Rebel announced her intention of traveling on to Ophir with Conrad. She told him while they were alone briefly after breakfast, outside the dining car.

  “I hope that’s all right with you, Frank,” she said with a worried frown. “I know one reason I was traveling with you was so that I could try to talk some sense into Ed and Tom and Bob when they show up again. If I’m not here, I can’t do that.”

  “You talk like there’s no doubt they’ll try to kill me again,” Frank commented.

  “There’s not any doubt in my mind,” Rebel said grimly. “I know Ed, and I know my brothers. Ed won’t rest until he’s avenged Simon and Jud, and he’ll be able to talk Tom and Bob into going along with whatever he wants.”

  “I don’t think they’ll bother me while I’m here in this camp. Too many people around for that. And to tell you the truth, I’m more worried about Conrad than I am about myself, so I’m sort of glad you want to go with him.”

  A smile curved Rebel’s lips. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He gets a burr under his saddle whenever he thinks somebody is saying he can’t take care of himself.”

  “He’s a prideful fella,” Frank said with a nod. “Always has been, I suspect.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Only a few years,” Frank said, but if Rebel heard the regret in his voice, she gave no sign of it.

  Conrad came out of the railroad car then, so nothing more was said about the past, or about Conrad’s ability to take care of himself. He said, “Rebel has decided to accompany me to Ophir, Frank. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Fine by me,” Frank told him. “You mind taking the body of the hombre who blew up the shed into the settlement with you? You can turn him over to the local law and see if anybody recognizes him.”

  Sam Brant walked up in time to hear what Frank was saying. With a frown on his face, he said, “Sorry, Frank, but I’ve got bad news about that. The men I sent out to bring in that corpse told me that when they got there, the body was gone.”

  “Gone?” Frank repeated, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

  “Yeah, I’m afraid so. That polecat’s partners must have shown up and taken his body away so that nobody could identify him. We should have brought him in when we had the chance.”

  Frank rubbed at his jaw in thought for a second and then said, “Yes, you’re right. That’s a possible lead we overlooked. But there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

  “Except keep a closer eye out for trouble, since we know for sure now that there are more of those scoundrels lurking up here in these mountains.”

  Frank had been pretty sure of that already, because he didn’t think one man could have raised as much hell as Conrad and Brant had described to him, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Miss Callahan and I are riding on into Ophir, Sam,” Conrad said.

  Brant’s frown deepened. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Mr. Browning? What with all the trouble going on around here, I mean.”

  “We’ll be perfectly fine,” Conrad responded immediately. Frank recognized the tone of voice. The quickest way to get Conrad to do something was to tell him that he shouldn’t.

  “Sam, could you spare a few men to ride into town?” Frank asked the construction boss.

  “That’s not necessary—” Conrad began stubbornly.

  “I’ll go you one better,” Brant said. “I actually need to send a couple of men to Ophir to bring back some supplies. That’ll be quicker than wiring Lordsburg and having ’em sent up on the work train.”

  “You’re just sending them along as caretakers,” Conrad accused.

  Brant shook his head. “No, sir, it’s as legitimate as it can be. I was planning on doing that in the next day or two even before you arrived.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  “Well, all right,” Conrad said grudgingly. “I suppose under the circumstances it would be best for us to all travel together. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Miss Callahan.”

  In a tart voice, Rebel said, “Miss Callahan can take care of herself. Anyway, I told you I don’t like being called that.”


  “Let’s just get the horses ready,” Conrad said.

  They were ready to leave a short time later. Frank shook hands with Conrad and on an impulse hugged Rebel. It seemed hard to believe that less than a week earlier, she had been trying to kill them. Frank wondered fleetingly if he had been too quick to accept her change of heart. He didn’t think so. He was willing to place a lot of faith in his ability to judge someone’s character. That ability had helped to keep him alive for quite a few danger-filled years. Sometimes, he thought that being able to look in a person’s eyes and get an inkling of their heart and soul was more important than being fast on the draw....

  Brant sent two tough railroaders with Conrad and Rebel. The men were well armed, each of them carrying a pistol and a rifle. Rebel had her Winchester and could handle herself in a fight. As for Conrad . . . well, he could make a lot of noise with that Colt Lightning of his anyway. He might scare somebody off with it.

  Once they were gone, Frank spent a few minutes talking with Brant about the posting of guards around the camp, and then went to saddle up Stormy. Brant followed him and asked, “What are you planning to do today, Frank?”

  “Take a look around, get to know the lay of the land,” Frank replied. “I want to see if I can find any signs of a camp. Those saboteurs have to be staying somewhere when they’re not causing trouble for the railroad.”

  “Keep your eyes open,” Brant said with a frown. “There are those Apaches to consider too, and those red devils can hide in places where you wouldn’t think that a flea could hide.”

  Frank nodded as he tightened the cinches on the Appaloosa’s saddle. “I know. Dog’s pretty good at sniffing them out, though.”

  A few minutes later, he was ready to ride. He swung up and gave Brant a wave as he heeled Stormy into a trot that carried him away from the camp. Dog ran out ahead of horse and rider with boundless canine enthusiasm, ranging back and forth.

  They followed a trail down into the wide gorge. The partially completed trestle rose on their left. Men were already at work on it today, strengthening the existing structure with support beams and crosspieces, while another crew was busy with picks and shovels hacking out the holes in the floor of the gorge where the giant legs of the trestle that hadn’t been erected yet would sit. If they came to a particularly rocky spot, they would have to use some of the now-limited supply of dynamite to blast out a socket.

  The river itself was a typical fast-flowing mountain stream, fed by snowmelt from the peaks above as well as by springs. Frank knew that if he dipped his hand in it, the water would be icy cold. A temporary pontoon bridge had been laid across it, so that the workers and their carts full of supplies could get back and forth from one side to the other. Stormy’s hooves clattered on the planks as Frank rode across that temporary span. The trestle loomed high above him, reaching at least a hundred feet into the air.

  Once he was across the river, Frank followed the trail up the far side of the gorge. The timbered slope was steeper on this side, and the path that had been hacked out zigzagged to the top. When he reached it, Frank reined in, turned Stormy, and looked back at the gorge and the construction camp on the far side. It was a bustling place, emblematic of the progress that was making its way into these mountains, fighting every step of the way. Once the air here had been full of nothing but the songs of birds and the chuckling of the river. Now it was noisy with the shouts of men and the clatter of donkey engines and the ringing clangor of picks and shovels. Before the day was over, a dynamite blast or two would probably punctuate that racket.

  There was a trace of sadness in Frank’s smile as he turned Stormy to the north. If he had it in his power to do so, he would not turn back the clock on the West to an earlier, simpler time. The world had to go forward. But for every gain there was a loss, and no triumph was without a touch of the bittersweet. That was the way of life.

  “Too much philosophizing, Stormy,” he said, and the Appaloosa gave a toss of his head as if he had been reading Frank’s thoughts. “Let’s go see if we can find those bastards who want to stop this railroad. Come on, Dog!”

  * * *

  Frank spent the morning riding in ever-widening circles around the construction camp, crossing and recrossing the river several times. On more than one occasion, it took him a while to find a ford where he could get across the stream, but that just gave him the chance to look over still more of the countryside. It was a rugged but beautiful land, full of contrasts—lush green pastures and towering pine trees in one place, and a mile away nothing but bare, sun-blasted rock. He came across a wide stretch of lava that had flowed down from one of the now-dormant volcanoes that had formed the mountains in aeons past. Over the years the lava had hardened into a black, razor-edged hell that had to be ridden around.

  Nowhere did Frank find the remains of a campfire or anything else to tell him that the gang of saboteurs had holed up there. He was frustrated, but tried not to let it bother him. There were countless places in these mountains where a group of men could hide. It would take a lone rider weeks, maybe even months, to search them all out. It would have been unreasonable to expect that he would find what he was looking for right away.

  He had brought food with him, and ate his lunch sitting on a log at a spot that overlooked a sweeping vista of spectacular scenery. A little brook trickled out of the side of the hill nearby. Frank, Stormy, and Dog all drank from it, and the water was as cold and clear and good-tasting as Frank knew it would be. Then he resumed his search.

  The afternoon was just as futile as the morning had been. He saw plenty of pretty sights, like a waterfall that plummeted a good fifty feet straight down a rock wall to form a foaming, churning pool at the base, but he didn’t find the badmen he was looking for. Late in the day, wondering if Conrad and Rebel had reached Ophir by now, he turned back toward the camp, guided by his frontiersman’s instincts.

  Arriving a short time before dusk, he could tell from the atmosphere of the camp that there hadn’t been any trouble during the day. A few men were still working, finishing up some final tasks before calling it a day, but most of the crew had already put away their tools, gone back to their tents to wash up, and then converged on the kitchen car to get their supper. Frank saw quite a few men lined up there with their plates and bowls.

  He unsaddled and rubbed Stormy down, then put the big Appaloosa in the makeshift corral with the other horses that were kept at the camp. With Dog trailing along behind him, Frank walked over to the car that served as the office and living quarters for the bosses. Not surprisingly, he found Sam Brant inside, going over some maps with Nathan Buckhalter and a couple of the other supervisors. Frank noticed that the blankets that had given Rebel some privacy the night before had been taken down.

  Brant looked up from the maps and greeted him with a smile. “Glad to see you’re back, Frank,” he said. “Did you find anything?”

  Frank shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid not. But I’ll keep looking. From the way it seems around here, I assume nothing happened today?”

  “Nothing but a heap of hard work. We were just figuring out how we’re going to tie the trestle into the other side of the gorge. The approach isn’t quite as easy over there as it is on this side, and we’ll be reaching it in another few days. Once the structure’s all in place, we can lay the track itself. That part won’t take long.” Brant sighed. “I’ll be glad to get it done too. It’s taken us a while to make it this far.”

  Buckhalter said, “This gorge is the last remaining major physical obstacle between here and Ophir. We’ll have to build a couple more small trestles, but nothing like this.”

  “I admire you fellas,” Frank said. “I couldn’t even design a railroad, much less build one.”

  “It’s important work,” Brant said proudly. “The rails have opened up the whole country to development. Without them, the United States wouldn’t be near the nation that it is.”

  “Well, keep up the good work, and I’ll try to do my par
t. Right now, I reckon I’ll go get some supper, though.”

  Brant stood up. “We’ll join you. Come on, boys. We can get back to wracking our brains later.”

  The group of men walked along the tracks to the kitchen car and went inside to eat in the small dining area. Frank noticed that the stew had a lot less meat in it tonight, and when he commented on that, Brant said, “We’re running low on fresh meat. Ever since the Apaches ambushed that hunting party, nobody wants to go out and look for deer.”

  “I saw a few today,” Frank said, “but I didn’t think about you needing fresh meat. Tell you what, tomorrow when I go out scouting, I’ll take my packhorse along with me. If I can down a buck, I’ll load the carcass on the horse and bring it back with me.”

  “That sounds just fine, Frank,” Brant said. “We’d be much obliged, that’s for sure.”

  Night had fallen completely by the time they finished eating. As the men left the car, Brant and Buckhalter and the others turned back toward the office car. Frank said, “I think I’ll take a walk around the camp, maybe check on the guards.”

  “Good idea,” Brant said. “We won’t be turning in for a while anyway.”

  With a wave, Frank set off on his stroll. Dog padded along beside him. Men with rifles had been stationed every hundred yards around the perimeter of the camp, standing guard duty in four-hour shifts. Frank spoke to several of them, and they all assured him that no one had tried to sneak in while they were watching.

  He found himself at the edge of the gorge, west of the trestle at the spot where the little creek flowed into the river. The slope below him was steep and choked with brush. Frank didn’t think anybody would try to make their way through that thicket, but nothing was impossible, he supposed. He walked along the edge toward the trestle. It loomed like a giant black spiderweb in the darkness.

  Dog suddenly stiffened and growled. Frank stopped and reached down to feel the bristling fur around Dog’s neck. The big cur had heard or smelled something that bothered him. He stared intently toward the trestle.