Slocum and the Big Three by Jake Logan

Author:Jake Logan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

12

End of Track, the end of the line. The furthermost extension of the railroad. For the Red Rock Railroad, on this particular day, that point had been reached a few miles below the south gate of the pass. The tracks stretched south across the valley, following a sweeping curve that turned east, crossing the river and ultimately connecting with the hub at Manitou Springs.

At End of Track, the line was constantly extending itself. Beyond where the rails ended, the road had been surveyed, bedded, and graded. Cross-timbers were laid down, rails were laid across them at right angles and hammered into place, and then the crews moved on to the next section, repeating the process. Length by length the road drove north.

It was a scene of intense activity. The tracklaying crews made up a multi-armed human machine, setting up a constant din. Its efforts raised the dust clouds.

Not far behind, further down the line, stood a supply train, its flatbed cars piled high with rails and wooden ties, crates of tools, and barrels of iron spikes. The cargo was being loaded onto wagons, which ferried it up the line.

Near the train, the tracks branched off onto a siding, on which sat a line of railroad cars. One was a barracks car for the workers, another held the kitchen and mess hall, a third housed the administrative offices and staff quarters, and the fourth was Colonel Deane’s private car.

These four cars made up a kind of permanent mobile base camp. Each day, as a new End of Track was reached, a new siding was built and the cars towed to it via steam engine. Cars could be added or subtracted as needed. The colonel’s car was first in line, so it could be hitched to an engine and swiftly sped on its way at a moment’s notice. The railroad builder had to be ready to respond to any crisis that might break out along the line.

Part of the colonel’s car was partitioned off into an office. It was handsomely appointed, with wood paneling, brass fixtures and trim, and carpeting. There was a massive rolltop desk and a couple of glass-fronted bookcases. It was the office of an important personage, a man of affairs, only it was longer and narrower than most. All the heavy furniture was bolted down, ready for travel.

Colonel Deane shooed his associates out, telling them that he didn’t want to be interrupted while he was meeting with Slocum. When they were gone, he turned and seized Slocum’s hand, vigorously shaking it. “Am I glad to see you!” he said.

“The feeling’s mutual, Colonel.”

“I owe you more than words can say.”

“Then don’t say them,” Slocum said gruffly.

“Thank God you were there to protect my daughter,” Deane said. He was balding, craggy-faced, with an overhanging brow, clear level eyes, a tight straight mouth, and neatly trimmed side-whiskers. He wore a tweed suit and vest, with the pants tucked into the tops of knee-high brown leather engineer’s boots. He was a railroader, not a cowboy.

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