Blood Riders by Michael P. Spradlin

Author:Michael P. Spradlin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harper Collins, Inc.
Published: 2012-09-25T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-three

They ran north through the day, running parallel to the Front Range. Hollister had no idea how fast they were going, but after about two hours they switched again and traveled due west, the elevation starting to rise. Hollister expected they’d be in Absolution by early evening.

The countryside grew more wooded, with pine and aspen trees coming nearly down to the tracks. They slowed as they traveled through a few towns and villages but before long, most of civilization was left behind. Hollister found Chee in the armory car, the hatch in the roof open, seated behind the Gatling. He looked up at the young man.

“Anything to shoot out there, Chee?” he asked.

“No, Major,” Chee said.

“Jonas or Hollister, Chee, don’t forget,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” Chee mumbled.

“What are you looking for, Chee?” Hollister asked.

“The woman, sir,” he answered.

“The woman? Shaniah?”

“Yes. She’s coming.”

“Really? How do you figure? That horse she was riding looked fast, but I don’t think he could keep up with this train for very long.” Hollister pulled one of the Henrys from a rack and started loading it with wooden bullets.

Chee merely shrugged and Monkey Pete, entering the car, interrupted them.

“We’re fifteen minutes out of Absolution, Major,” he said.

“Monkey Pete, if you’re here with us, who exactly is driving the train?” Hollister asked.

“It’s got an automatic control system. Steers itself.”

“Really? And does it stop itself if there’s a missing rail or a cow in the way?”

“Yes,” Monkey Pete said, the expression on his face a mix of disgust and irritation as if he’d just been asked the most obvious question in the world. “Fifteen minutes, Major. We’ll be stopping at the platform in the town.” He left, returning the way he had come.

Hollister looked in surprise at Chee, who just shrugged. “I have no reason to doubt Monkey Pete, it is quite an amazing train,” Chee said.

“I’ll say,” Hollister muttered, returning to loading the modified Winchester. “Chee, I never did ask Winchester this, but I’m wondering about these wooden and silver bullets.”

“Sir?”

“Well, suppose we need to shoot something that isn’t a Deathwalker. What if we need good old-fashioned lead? Suppose I need to shoot Slater or one of his gun thugs, and these wood bullets don’t slow ’em down enough?”

Chee racked a round into the chamber of his Winchester. “Whether it’s wood or silver, I suspect it’s going to hurt, sir.”

A few minutes later, the train slowed, then stopped, as Monkey Pete had promised. It stood next to the platform, which appeared to be on the outskirts of town. The sun was moving behind the mountains to the west.

“Monkey Pete, me and Chee are going out to have a look-see around the town. See if there’s a marshal or anyone can give us any information. You stay here. Don’t let anyone on the train unless it’s us.”

Monkey Pete climbed up in the chair Chee had vacated behind the Gatling. He pushed the lever next to the seat forward and the roof hatch hissed open. The chair shot up and out the opening, giving him a commanding view and field of fire.

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