The Night of the Victorian Plot – Part 2

Welcome to America

Chapter 4

Dinner for Four

"What we could both do with is a cup of tea and a biscuit," Artie said, entering the stable car with a tray holding a teapot, (which was actually the erstwhile coffee pot), two cups and some sugar.

There was a plate of biscuits which were still warm and Jim realised that Artie had baked them himself. He had been so absorbed in the job of brushing the black gelding's coat that he hadn't noticed how much time had passed.

"You didn't have to do this," Jim said.

"I wanted to. It's an apology for earlier."

"Thanks," Jim replied, pouring himself some tea and picking up a biscuit. "You baked them twice," he said in wonder. "They're really crisp."

"Well, if it's worth doing…," Artie said, putting the tray down on the bench in the cell and pouring a cup for himself. He dunked a biscuit into the hot liquid and took a bite before saying, "I see you have already chosen which horse you want."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all; I know you are fussier than me about what animal you ride."

"Nonsense, I've heard you brag about the magnificent horse you had with you throughout the Crimean war."

"Yes, but when you are in the thick of battle the quality of your mount is a matter of life and death. Now I just want a capable horse to get me to our destination."

"Actually Richmond was right when he said they were both excellent animals. There's not much to choose between them."

"I suppose I ought to join you in getting to know my mount," Artie added, picking up a brush. "Do we know their names?"

"Yes, the man who brought them on board left a note. The black horse is called 'Nightfall" and the Mare is called 'Ariadne'.

"Hmm," Artie said, looking them over, "I think the names suit them. I can't wait to try them out."

"That'll have to wait," James said. "We ought to be practicing being Americans."

"Okay, sure thing," Artie replied, getting into the spirit of the thing and speaking like a character in the magazine. "I'll clear away the tea things and I'll meet you in the parlour car."

After poring over the 'Cowboy Thrill Adventures Magazine' Artie had compiled a short list of useful words and was happy to explain some of them to his partner.

"A buckaroo is a cowboy who breaks wild horses or broncos. He's also known as a bronco buster."

"Is that going to be of any use?" Jim queried.

"Well of course the nature of the magazine makes it of limited relevance to our situation," Artie said. "But if anyone uses those words at least we'll know what they're talking about."

"Okay, let's hear some more."

"Peacemaker, that's another name for a Colt simple action army handgun. And coffin varnish means whisky."

"I can see those being helpful," Jim said.

"This is a good one, they call public houses saloons and they have dancing girls."

"I wouldn't mind visiting one of those."

"Then there's 'skedaddle' that means to run away in panic."

"Let's hope we don't have to use that."

"And we have to remember to say 'I guess' instead of 'I suppose'. We can also use 'vamoose' which means 'let's go'.

"But do you think two men in our position would really speak like that?"

"I 'guess' not," Artemus said with a grin.

"Oh very good," Jim said.

"No, you have to say 'great'."

"This is all very interesting but I still don't think these words are going to help with us much with speaking like Americans," Jim said.

"Maybe we need to talk to Nate and Otis and see what they think," Artie suggested.

"That's not a bad idea," Jim agreed. "Let's invite them to dinner tonight."

"Yee-haw!"

"What?"

"Sorry – it's an expression of exuberance."

"Great!" Jim deadpanned.

In the end Artie prepared a delicious thick stew of bacon and beans and took two plates of it out to Nate and Otis, along with two forks. Jim carried two more plates out for him and Artie and also crusty bread for mopping up the gravy afterwards.

Although it was not their usual fare the two Englishmen found themselves enjoying the meal. When they had finished eating Jim took the plates back to the galley and fetched two extra cups so that they could join in drinking some the coffee Nate had brewed. It was really good and Artie looked at Jim who nodded and, willing to admit their ignorance, they asked the engineer how he had made it.

This made the two Americans laugh and things became relaxed enough between them for Jim and Artie to tell them their language dilemma and ask for their help in trying to pass as natives. Artie began by trying out some of the words he had learned from the magazine.

"You can forget all that," Nate told them. "That's just cowboy slang. All you really need is to work on your accent and speak normal except without talking so all-fired fancy and stuck-up."

"Fancy and stuck-up?" Artie queried.

"I'm not awfully sure what you mean," Jim said.

"And there it is," Otis said, laughing.

"Hmm, I think I see," Artie said. He leaned over to whisper in Jim's ear so as not to offend their dinner guests. "I think they want us to speak more like the English lower orders," he said.

"Ah…," Jim said, nodding in agreement. "You've been very helpful, gentlemen."

Because the two agents planned to leave the train for a while the next day they woke early and, after breakfast, discussed the matter of how they would arm themselves ready to meet Loveless.

"We're not in England anymore," Jim pointed out. "Walking canes with hidden guns and umbrellas with knives for handles are fine on the streets of London but they're no good here. We need to find something else."

"We should conceal our weapons another way," Artie said. "I was thinking we could hide small knives in our clothing."

"Great idea; under the collars of our jackets would be a good place. What about firearms though?"

"In the magazine, I read about an ingenious device that what they call a 'card-sharp' was wearing up his sleeve. It allowed him to conceal a gun which, in a split second, could be dropped into his hand and he was able to shoot his opponent under the poker table."

"That sounds just the thing," Jim said, "but where would we get one of those?"

"I reckon I could make one," Artie said, still trying out his American whenever he remembered. "It's a simple enough principle. But I don't have a workshop or the materials, let alone the right size of gun," he added wistfully.

"Well, never mind, we can at least make sure we carry a lock-pick with us. They've always come in handy in a tight spot.

"Great," Artie said. "But if only we had some incendiary devices."

"None would be small enough for us to carry on our person," Jim pointed out.

"True." He sighed. "If you give me your jacket I'll fix the knife and lock-pick for you and you can saddle up the horses. Deal?"

Jim nodded. "Fine," he said. "I'll meet you in the stable car when you've finished." He was hopeless at sewing and Artie wasn't that fond of horses so it seemed the best division of labour. He scratched his head. It was funny that he had started thinking of the other agent as 'Artie' now, even in his thoughts. This country must be having a strange effect on him.

About half-an-hour later the Traveller pulled into a small town to take on fuel and water and, by prior arrangement with Nate Fowler, the two agents took the opportunity to lead Nightfall and Ariadne out of the stable car in order exercise them. Both of the men were intrigued by the saddles as they were very different from the ones they were used to at home, being both bigger and heavier.

"There's a holder for stowing a rifle," Jim said, "So I took the liberty of putting one in each of the saddles."

"Good idea," Artie said, mounting the chestnut mare. "This saddle is really comfortable, like sitting in a chair," he remarked once he was in place. "I could ride for miles like this."

Jim agreed. "Let's give them their heads," he said.

With that the two men turned their horses out towards the wide-open country.

Fifteen minutes later they had reached a tract of sandy soil with scrubby bushes dotted around. Jim and Nightfall were in the lead as the ground became more uneven and they slowed the animals to a walk. He thought he heard a strange noise but looking around he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Artie was two or three paces to his right and out of his eye-line picking his way through some rocks.

Suddenly Artie cried out as his horse reared up. Jim turned in time to see him lose his seat and fall heavily to the hard, stony ground. Jim rode over to him and noticed a large snake a couple of feet from his head. In seconds he had taken the rifle from his saddle and put a bullet through the reptile's brain before running to his friend's side. Artie had landed among the rocks where he lay unconscious, a slow trickle of blood flowing from a wound on his head.

To be continued