Train Wreck
Introduction: The agents struggle to keep their lives and careers intact.
Part 1.
Jim dropped his forehead onto his hands on the table, groaning. "You don't want to see this, trust me." His fingers closed on a piece of paper, crushing it, obscuring the jumble of numbers written on the sheet.
Artie looked up from his writing and chuckled, thinking how his partner could have performed in a dramatic tragedy on stage. "It can't be that bad," he said, nodding to the crumbled paper. His nod went unnoticed so he reached out a thumb and finger to pull at a corner of the sheet still firmly in Jim's grasp. "Let me add it up and we can split it, just like we always do." He let go as Jim moaned into the table cloth.
"But this is a lot of money". He let out a long sigh and sat upright again, his worried eyes meeting his partner's. He smoothed out the sheet, his fingers tracing from one column of numbers to the next. "This really adds up. It isn't another shattered door or a couple of broken windows to replace. This is a major overhaul."
"Ya, ya," Artie sighed, carefully laying the page he was writing on aside, onto a growing stack of additional pages next to him. "Look, Jim," he said quietly, tapping a finger onto the sheet he had been working with. "You know I always add a bit to these reports about how we utilize the train to make our jobs more efficient. Isn't that what Richmond is always harping at us? To be faster wrapping up one crazy assignment so we can rush into the next one?" He slapped the pen down onto his neat letters. "I barely have time to finish one report before I start taking notes of the next disaster."
Jim silently smoothed the sheet again and turned it so his partner could read it upright. "And if," Artie continued, reaching for the sheet, "well, if we don't have this train, then we will be stuck on public transportation like we used to be. No privacy, no food, no supplies, no possibility of me inventing anything…"
"No escorting people safely and quickly to Hell and back," Jim added, nodding in agreement. "I know, I know." He waited while Artie, suddenly silent, read the numbers. He watched his friend's dark eyes flick from one column to another. Artie's eyebrows, pulled together in concentration, suddenly rose to his hairline and his mouth dropped open, as choking sounds came from deep in his throat. He dropped the paper and looked up at Jim.
"This is exorbitant" Artemus gasped, tossing the sheet back to Jim's side of the table. "We can't split that unless we can start selling train tickets!"
"Now that's an idea, partner," Jim said, rubbing his eyes as his head started to pound. "We could at least charge other agents who hook rides with us!" He reached out and slipped a clean sheet of paper off his partner's pile and picked up a pen from the pile between them. Bending over, grumbling half to himself now, he started writing. "Hold on, I have an idea. You keep writing that report and I will make a list. Maybe I can add up the cost of public transportation and additional expenses that other agents are reimbursed for. If I can show the work needed on the engine will equal the costs of us living without it, it would at least give us a starting point to argue for keeping the Wanderer."
He wrote a few lines but soon his hand paused, his eyes narrowed, obviously lost in thought. The blue eyes snapped up to see Artemus watching him. "What?"
Artie let out a snort. "You don't even know how much it costs to ride a public train anymore." He laughed at his partner's obvious irritation. "When was the last time you bought a train ticket?" The brown eyes twinkled and an eyebrow arched. "You always take off on the Wanderer and leave me to catch up."
Jim sat back, his teeth grinding in anger. "Fine," he snapped, "you write the damned list." He tossed the paper to Artie and stood up, snatching his crumpled list of train costs. "I will review this with Cobb and see if I can't get some lower figures out of him. I don't think he was too sure of these numbers yet." He stomped into his boots and glanced through a side window. Outside the black horse, almost iridescent in the sun, grazed on grass beside the train. "And where the hell did your horse wonder off to?"
Artie didn't look up from his writing this time, as he muttered, "Why don't you hitch them to something when you put them out? Or at least hobble them? I am surprised they don't both wonder off."
"Because my horse is smart and knows to stay near his home," Jim said as he knelt on a chair, leaning over closer to the glass. He twisted his head back and forth, looking at either end of the train parked in the siding. "Your stupid brown horse," he growled, irritated at everything, "could at least stay near mine." He suddenly turned and walked from the room, banging through the swinging door. His footsteps retreated down the hallway and the outer front door opened and slammed shut.
Artie tossed the list aside and picked up his report again, still muttering to himself now, "it's a horse, not a pet dog."
Later, Jim was leaning on the back on the black horse, feeling the warmth of the sun radiate toward his face from the dark hide. His hand clutched the horse brush tighter as a neck muscle pinched at the base of his head.
"Now you know how much care we take working on this train," Cobb's voice was saying again, as he stood on the other side of the horse, "but there is only so much we can do." Jim's eyes stayed down, unable to look at his friend. The sound of the busy rail yard on the far side of the train, with delivery wagons and the voices of workmen, drifted to them as they talked. "And I know how busy this little old train is kept. But some days you just need to stop and do some maintenance on the big parts. Take that wheel on the right side," he said, pointing his pipe, as his hand waved at the train. "Now that may be a hairline crack today, but one more trip to San Francisco, and we could get broke down on a mountain pass. Especially if it's icy and we was to slide." Jim heard the pipe click on his engineer's teeth as he paused to puff at the tobacco. "And the firebox needs a new liner. And the boiler just has got to be sealed. It just ain't safe." Jim sighed and laid his forehead against Blackjack's warm skin, praying his head would just explode. "I thought the government paid for all this work anyway?" This question, being more direct, had to be answered.
Jim straightened and looked over the horse's back at his engineer, a tall thin man, salt and pepper whiskers giving him an aged look. "Artie and I usually split the cost of most of the maintenance. The office at Headquarters pays for the bigger work," Jim said. "But it's a lot of paperwork and a lot of questions get asked. " He grimaced at the memory of the last time he had asked for a larger reimbursement. An expensive engine part that had had to be replaced immediately, Cobb had said, or they could have been stranded. The desk clerk had handed him more forms, and started asking why one agent was given the special privilege of a private train. The conversation hadn't gone well and Jim was reluctant to return to that office. "This is going to be really expensive, much more money than I have ever asked for in the past. I just don't know if they will pay for it." He shook his head, looking at Cobb. "I know you mean well and I don't doubt the work needs to be done but I just don't know."
"There is another idea," the engineer said, his eyes twinkling. He leaned over the horse to whisper. "You could just arrest another feller with a newer train! One of the big, fast ones they make now!" The engineer waved a hand back toward the rail yard beyond the Wanderer's engine. "If you had a larger engine, you could pull twice as many cars as this small engine does. You could have a prison car, or another car for quarters."
Jim snorted, "It's not that easy. Colonel Richmond, or even President Grant, decide who I investigate. I just can't go after people because they have a train that I admire." Cobb looked away, kicking the dirt underneath the horse as he leaned on the animal now too, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Good idea though", Jim said, laughing now. "I bet there are a few rich bastards out there that need to be in jail." He took a deep breath, and leaned his forearms on the horse again, feeling the warmth of the dark hide against his bare skin. The sun was warm that morning and he had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to brush the horses. A few whistles had brought the brown horse within site but it still grazed father away, ignoring his calls. The black was obviously torn between being with its master and wanting to try the grass farther away. It sidestepped, causing both men to almost stumble since they had both been leaning against it.
Cobb straightened, stepping back. "Well I will ask around, see what I can do about the cost."
Jim nodded, brushing the horse again, calming it. "Thanks. Like I said, I know you mean well. Something will happen, something unexpected, it always does. Maybe I should find some rich people to play cards with. I could raise the money," he said, grinning at Cobb, "or gamble it all away." Cobb shook his head silently puffing on his pipe, turning to look back at the boiler and wheel.
As Jim returned to brushing Blackjack, an earsplitting explosion came from the varnish car. The horse reared and spun, knocking Jim to the ground. He fell onto his back as the shock wave blew past, covering him with shards of glass and jagged splinters of wood. He lay stunned, the air knocked from his lungs, looking up at the blue sky as it filled with black smoke. Blinking against the haze that tried to deaden his senses, his mind jumped to his partner who had been inside. Jim rolled to his hands and knees, his head swimming, "Artie," he gasped. He looked up at the varnish car to see flames leaping from the shattered windows. No one moved inside as the smoke filled car.
