Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel by Summers Gerald Lane

Author:Summers, Gerald Lane [Summers, Gerald Lane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gerald Lane Summers
Published: 2011-07-10T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

Mobley stepped onto the weathered wooden dock in front of the station, took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He loved trains and loved riding on trains even more. Without consciously trying, he found himself plonking his boot heels down harder on the dock as he walked along, enjoying the hollow sound and trying to make it louder. Other noises, familiar only to a railway station, added to his pleasure.

Fellow travelers scurried about, lugging items of personal luggage, pushing to get in line and aboard lest they be left behind. Anxious mothers counted heads while fathers stood aloof in their best suits trying to maintain an appearance of dignity, as if they traveled by train every day.

The steaming locomotive drew Mobley like a bee to a flower. There was something about such machines that thrilled him. Massive, compelling. The engineering and technology required to create such wonders boggled his mind. Like a new rifle, he felt an urge to touch it, take it apart, move its levers and wheels, see what made it tick. Locomotives brought out the child in him.

This particular engine appeared well maintained. Newly painted slate black with red, white, and orange trim, it looked brand new. Mobley knew it was not. Newer machines did not sport the wildly rakish cowcatcher or the intricate ironwork of the smokestack.

The number “9” stood out in white on the front end of the boiler and below the cab. Ornate gold leaf letters on the side of the engineer’s cabin identified the machine as belonging to the Houston and Texas Central Railroad.

Mobley watched, fascinated, as steam escaped in a regular rhythm from safety valves making a strangely hollow, BONG, each time it hissed out a puff of white. The smell of axle grease, oil, wood smoke and steam added to the sensation. It was caged power demanding release, singing and whining while its masters dawdled.

Two men in striped overalls fussed about in the cab preparing for departure. One of them smiled down at Mobley and nodded, knowingly. Mobley smiled back, touching his hat with a two-fingered wave.

Farther down the ramp, passengers formed an orderly line, handing their tickets to the conductor. Mobley glanced at Jack and saw him standing several feet back, nervously eyeing the engine. Edson grinned like a little boy about to pull his sister’s pigtails.

Jack turned. “How fast do these trains go? I’ve never been on one before.”

Edson sidled up to Jack and nudged him in the ribs with the point of his elbow. “You’ve never been on a train before? Why, Jack, you are about to have the time of your life. These things move up to twenty-five miles an hour. I’ve heard tell of some moving forty miles an hour. They say if you stick your head out the window, it’ll suck the breath right out’n your mouth.”

Jack stared down the length of the train and shifted his weight from foot to foot before turning back to Edson with a glare. “I know a better way to have my breath sucked than sticking my head out of a train window, smarty pants.

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