The Trainmasters (52 page)

“All right,” John said and caught Francis’s eye. “Good.” He paused again. “I’d like to delay the Keans… Would the bombs do
the job?” He stopped, closed his fist, then decided. “No. They wouldn’t. You’d never get close enough to use them—and get
away.” He looked at Francis. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t want to try it,” Francis said.

“Good. All right. This is what I want you to do. I want you to keep an eye on the people down there. Bird-dog them. If they
start to set something up against us, try to let me know about it. Try to get word to me. Can you do that— you and Geraghty?”

“We’ll try.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Geraghty added.

“Right, then,” John said. “You and Geraghty do that, while Quigley and I take the road to Tyrone.” And he paused yet again.
“And I better have the rest of the bombs with me.”

“What for?” Francis asked.

“In case all else fails.”

Francis decided not to ask him what he meant by that.

Not long after that, John and Quigley overtook Egan and the others on the road to Tyrone. And a few moments after that, Quigley
was racing ahead of them in order to set the train up, while John was doing his best to urge as much speed as he could get
out of Egan, Graham, Teresa, and the children.

Every one of them was more than willing, but there was not one among them who was not bone weary and dazed.

It was impossible to hasten them anywhere near as much as John wanted to. But they managed to reach Tyrone without incident,
in spite of John’s worst fears. And when they got to the station, the locomotive, tender, and passenger car were waiting.
A light smoke rose from the big stack. Steam drifted lazily from the pistons and valves. The tender was topped up with wood,
and the boiler with all the water it could take.

The Carlysles and the O’Rahillys were in Tyrone only long enough to dismount from their horses, board the train, and signal
the engine driver to move out. Quigley, O’Rourke, Cahill, and Toolan, meanwhile, were ordered to return to Gallitzin.

Once they were underway, John relaxed a little.

He wanted to relax more—a
lot
more. But he couldn’t allow himself that pleasure until he had seen to the others.

As it turned out they were pretty much as he expected them to be. His two youngest sons seemed none the worse for wear, considering
what they’d been through. Alex and David would be fine after a long, long sleep. But Graham was totally out of action. It
would be a while before he recovered from the savage beating Matthew Kean had given him; time and rest, however, would take
care of him, too. When John went to check up on him, in fact, he was fast asleep.

Teresa O’Rahilly, on the other hand, was a bundle of energy. Even before the train started moving, she was bustling back and
forth in the car, seeing to the comfort of Graham, Egan, and the children and making herself otherwise useful. Teresa was
quite a lady, John reflected, watching her. He had liked her from the first moment he had met her. But now she was turning
out to be even more powerful and resilient than John had imagined possible.

Her brother, though, worried John. He simply sat on his seat and stared straight in front of him, locked in his own private
anguish. He was beyond sorrow. Beyond tears. When he was addressed, he made an answer. When he was asked to do something,
he did it. But for the time being he was not available. The Egan O’Rahilly whose spirit overcame the collapse of the tunnei
had been broken by the death of his wife.

And Peg, Egan’s daughter, was predictably distraught and unconsolable. There was no way anyone could help her except to hold
her and speak what comforting words one could think of. In time she should be all right, but for now, John could think of
nothing to do for her. He was pleased to see that Teresa was spending much of her time with her. There was no one else now
who was in a position to help her.

And finally, the bodies of the two who were killed in the fight at the Keans’ were placed on the rear platform of the car,
wrapped in tarps. There had been no time—and no inclination—to do anything else with them.

That leaves me with two men I can’t depend on, a woman, and two boys, John thought to himself when he finished checking his
forces. He was now in one of the seats, looking out the window at the landscape rolling by. If the Keans manage to catch up
w ith us, he thought, we’re not going to be able to do much against them. All that we have going for us now is speed.

With that, he went up to the locomotive and talked to the driver and fireman for a time, urging them to push the engine as
hard as they could push it.

Back in his seat, he lifted up his saddlebags from the floor where he had placed them when he boarded the train. These contained
the six bombs. He worked with these for a time. And after a few minutes he had so rigged the bag that a single fuse was left
extended outside the flap. Then he placed the bag back on the floor

“Alex,” he called out once he’d finished, “would you come over here, please?”

“Yes, sir,” his middle son said and then walked up the aisle and slipped next to him.

“Alex,” John said, “I’ve a job for you. Will you do it for me?”

“Yes, sir,” Alex said, “if you want me to.”

“It’s dangerous, Alex. You could be hurt.” He hesitated, and then he said, “Do you want to do it still?”

“I’ll do it,” Alex said confidently.

“Do what?” It was Teresa. She was standing in the aisle beside John’s seat, hovering above John and Alex. She had evidently
come up there unnoticed while John was engaged with Alex. “What do you want him to do that’s dangerous?”

John looked at her, pondering whether to tell her what he was about to tell Alex. Then he decided to go ahead with it. “All
right.” he said. “I’ll tell both of you.” He looked at Alex. “Do you see those saddlebags?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lift them up.” Alex did that.

“Now look at them and tell me what you see.”

Alex examined the bags. “There’s a string hanging out,” he said finally.

“It’s not a string,” his father told him. “It’s a fuse. And it’s fastened to the last of the bombs we made earlier today.”

“What’s all this about?” Teresa asked one more time.

“Listen,” John said, glancing at her. “It will come clear soon.” Then to Alex he said, “All right, before I left the ridge
above the Keans’ place, I watched George and Matthew Kean putting together a band of mounted men. It’s very likely he was
doing that in order to pursue us. It’s possible—though I hope it doesn’t happen—but it’s possible that they’ll succeed in
finding and catching us.”

“Even if they do,” Teresa said, “what does it matter? We’re safe on the train, aren’t we? The train is faster than they are,
isn’t it?”

“I wish …” John sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“Most good horses, running hard, can keep even with a train—at least for a short time. But that’s not what I’m worried about
here in the mountains. What worries me here is that the train has to follow the tracks; and they curl and curve and skirt
large obstacles.. But men on horses can pass directly over them.

“If they knew we were on the train now, the Keans could easily set themselves up ten or fifteen miles ahead of us and lie
in wait for us there.

“We have to stop for water, for instance, every few miles. It wouldn’t be hard to surprise us at one of the water tanks.”

“I see,” Teresa said. And then she pointed to the saddlebags. “And so what do you intend to do with that?”

“I’m coming to that,” John said, and then he looked at Alex. “Are you still with me, Alex, my man?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good then. Listen carefully. I’m going to leave some lucifer matches with you, and I’m going to station you here with the
saddlebags.” He paused. “And I want you to stay here until I tell you you can go. Understand?”

“Yes, Father.”

“If the Keans do manage to stop us, I might—
might
— need you to light that fuse.”

“What then?” Teresa interrupted, growing extremely concerned.

“Then, if we’re lucky,” John said carefully, “I
might
be able to tell you to yank the fuse out before the bomb goes. Or else you could throw the bags out the window if I tell
you to do that.”

“How much time is on the fuse?” Teresa asked.

“Something in the neighborhood of sixty seconds.”

“You’re crazy,” Teresa said.

“I don’t think so,” John answered. “I’m relying on a gamble.”

“What gamble—with Alex’s life?”

“With all our lives,” John said. “There’s enough gunpowder in my bags to make it pretty doubtful that anyone in this car would
survive…”

And then she understood what he had in mind. “And you think the Keans will give up rather than risk that?” she asked, pointing
at the bag.

“I think there’s a good chance of that.”

“And what if they don’t.”

“I’ll work out that decision while I’m waiting. If we’re lucky, they won’t do anything to cause such a defense. They might
never even make another appearance in our lives,” he said with lips pressed tight together, “if we are extremely lucky.”

Then she made a decision, and she turned to Alex. “Alex, you get out of here.”

Alex looked doubtfully at his father. And his father looked doubtfully at Teresa.

“Go on,” she said. “Go. Gather all the children together and sit as far away from here as you can.” And then she looked at
John. “I’ll take care of the fuse,” she said.

He looked hard at her, thought a moment, then slowly nodded his head. “Right, then.” And to Alex he said, “Go do as she says.”

After Alex left, he turned once more to Teresa. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

“I’m doing it,” she said simply. “And that’s that.”

“You know why I can’t.”

“Yes, of course. They’d never let you get away with any funny moves—if they do manage to stop us.”

“That’s it,” John said sadly. “It has to be someone besides me. And the two other men … aren’t available.”

“So tell me the signal, Mr. John Carlysle,” she said with a grim, bitter smile.

The train stopped to take on wood and water just outside the town of Petersburg. While they were stopped, John, who wanted
to lose as little time there as possible, brought his two youngest boys down to the wood lot to help with the loading. Enough
people were there, counting the driver and the fireman, to set up a fireman’s relay between the lot and the tender. And in
no time, the tender was once again full.

Just another few miles, John thought anxiously, and we’ll be completely safe.

Things
were
looking up. That was beginning to seem clearer and clearer. Every mile farther from Tyrone is a mile closer to safety.

But where is Francis? he wondered, not knowing whether to be thankful or worried that Francis had not gotten a message to
him.

The fireman was stoking up the firebox, the two boys were back in their seats inside the car, and John was just about to remount
the steps to the rear platform when he heard the noises of many horses in the woods close behind him.

He didn’t have to look up to know who had arrived.

When he did raise his eyes to confirm what he already knew, he saw an older man riding in front of the troop. This, of course,
was George Kean. Matthew Kean rode just behind him. Several other men spread out on either side of them, leveling muskets
at John and the windows of the railroad car.

“You must be John Carlysle,” the older man called out as he approached closer. “I’ve never met you, but I’d recognize you
anywhere.”

“I’m Carlysle,” John acknowledged.

“I’m Kean,” George said, “and this is my son Matthew.” His eyes drank John in thirstily. “In a funny way, John Carlysle, I’m
glad to see you.”

“I can’t honestly say the same,” John replied.

And George gave a slight smile.

But then a very curious look came onto John’s face. He was wondering how the Keans had managed to slip up on him so quietly.
“You must have been waiting for us just inside the woods,”

John went on, “or else I would have heard your horsemen riding up.”

“You’ve got it,” George said with the tight smile still on his face. “That’s what we did. We were here maybe ten minutes ahead
of you, and so 1 thought it would be—interesting—to lie in wait.” He paused. “But if we hadn’t done that, it would have been
interesting, too.”

“How’s that?” John asked.

“I’d be very interested to do to this train you’ve been riding what you did to my house this morning.”

John looked in the other man’s face, blinking a couple of times.

“You’re quite a man, John Carlysle,” George went on. This last was said matter-of-factly, as an acknowledgment of what Kean
took to be a simple and incontrovertible reality. “And gave me quite a surprise this morning.” He moved his horse closer to
John, studying him, examining him. “And I’m most happy that you’re where you are right now, and I’m where I am.”

“Mr. Kean, I’m sure I’d much prefer to be in your position than mine as well,” John said softly, stiffly. There was respect
in his voice; he saw in George Kean a worthy, powerful, and clever adversary, but there was bitterness too. He had no love
for the Keans or what they had done.

“I don’t think I much like you either, Carlysle,” Kean said, sensing what John felt about him. “My life would have been a
lot easier and happier if you’d never been alive.

“We have a lot in common, Carlysle,” George continued. “We both have the same desires for one another.” Then he addressed
Matthew. “Matt, I don’t expect that anyone on the train will conceive of any notion to do us harm. But I also expect that
these people have a few weapons with them; and since I’m a believer in original sin, I imagine that it will be necessary to
remove temptation. Will you see to that? After you finish, Mr. Carlysle and I will board the train so that he can introduce
me to the others in his party.” He grinned. “I actually am already acquainted with a good number of them.”

Matthew climbed down off his horse, and with five other men to help him, he boarded the train to do his father’s bidding.