Chapter 6 Fireworks Begin

Jim stood just inside the ramp in the stable car as Artie unhitched the black stallion's gate. He led it forward by its bridle as Jim released a lever, causing the ramp to lower to the ground secured on a heavy rope. He turned to the horse, stroking its dark neck, "want some fresh air, big fella?" He walked down the ramp with the horse following, onto the graveled edge of the rail line. He stepped back, giving the horse a gentle smack on the rump to move it forward, "don't go far." He watched the horse step into the shrubby grassland and begin nibbling on short greenery. The soft breeze blew Jim's hair as a buzzing bug flew past. He waved his hand at the insect and his horse shied slightly away from him. "You're all right," he said softly, calming it. "Sorry to disturb your lunch." He turned as Artie's brown horse trotted down the ramp and moved to stand by the black. "Think you can stay within sight today?" The horse snorted at him and began chewing at the dessert grasses.

"Don't you hobble them or hitch them to something?" Lori asked as she walked down the ramp holding the halters of her white horse and Christian's palomino.

"No," Jim said, "If a horse is too stupid to stay near its home, you should get a smarter horse." He grinned as he stepped past the horses and approached the engineer. "Cobb?" The older man turned to him, "how long are we stopping for?"

The engineer paused to take out his large watch, squinting at it, "another 26 minutes," he announced. He looked up as the large mettle spout turned from the wooden water tank to swing toward the back of the engine. The fireman standing on top of the train's tender grabbed the spout and guided it to an opening. He nodded and a man on the water tower pulled a lever. Water gushed from the spout into the train's water tank.

"That won't take long to fill at that rate," Lori said, stepping closer to Jim's side. She held a hand over his eyes, squinting into the sun to look up at the spout. "How many gallons of water?"

"This tender holds over a thousand gallons," Cobb said, "there are two tanks to fill underneath the fuel storage area on top. Won't take long but then we need to build the steam up again. And replenish the wood, of course, in the tender, as long as we are here. Hate to run low but we need to stay on schedule," he said, glancing at his watch again. "We have an Express following us for most of the day. Don't want to get hit in the back end."

Jim smacked Cobb's shoulder, "that would ruin the day," he said. He walked back to the ramp as Artie tossed a fork full of horse manure out of the car. "Partner, you look like a regular farm hand." Artie snorted at him and returned into the shadows of the stable car. Jim looked back at Lori as she watched men load wood while the water filled. "If you can pull yourself away, why don't you show me a few of those moves of yours?" Lori turned and approached, facing him. They were of equal height, he thought, and she seemed more solid and rugged than most women. Maybe it was the clothing, he mused, as his eyes wandered down her tight fitting pants.

Lori cleared her voice and waited for his eyes to meet her's again. "I suppose I could show you a few simple things without injuring you." She had a slow smile that seemed to hint of a secret that amused her.

"Injuring me?" Jim laughed, putting his fists on his hips. "Don't worry about that. I'm pretty tough."

Artie walked back to the ramp with another fork full of manure and tossed it aside. He leaned on the fork in the doorway, "this I gotta see." He grinned at Christian as she stood next to him.

"Lori," the dark haired girl said nervously, her hands still clutching a grain sack, "maybe you should take your boots off. Jim is a lot smaller than the guys we practice with and we are always in bare feet." Artie raised an eyebrow at her but stayed silent.

"Oh, no," Lori said, stepping even closer to Jim, her arms crossed over her chest, matching his glare, "Jim's a tough guy, with a good, thick skull. I'm sure a boot to the forehead wouldn't even leave a mark."

Jim laughed again, smiling, but his blue eyes watched her closely now. "So where do we start? I don't usually attack women…"

"But it isn't unheard of," Lori said, finishing his sentence, one eyebrow raised. "Why don't you just grab at something and see what happens." Before she finished speaking, Jim leaped forward, grabbing her right wrist in his firm grasp. He pulled her, trying to get her off balance. She took a big step forward as he backed up, and chopped the edge of her left hand down onto his wrist, apparently striking a nerve. He immediately let go and stepped back, shaking his hand. "Stings, doesn't it?" She grinned.

Artie leaned closer, surprised at his partner's obvious discomfort already. Christian, next to him, rubbed a hand over her eyes, muttering under her breath. Jim stared at Lori in silence, his eyes watching her body stance.

"Why don't you grab both my hands," Lori said, holding out her arms. "Try dragging me off again." She grinned as he hesitated. "I can't hit you back if you have both my hands."

Jim took a deep breath and grabbed both her wrists, firmly, watching her, ready to lunge away. Suddenly she ducked and spun, twisting her body effortlessly. He felt his arms yanked forward, taking his head and torso with them in a downward motion and something hit him in the side of the head, hard. Then he was on the ground, his nose in the gravel, with his ears ringing.

Lori stood near his face, leaning over, "you ok down there, tough guy?"

"I'm fine," Jim growled, angry now. He climbed to his knees and rubbed at the bump forming on the side of his head. Gravel was in his hair and the skin was scrapped but he didn't seem to be bleeding. He stood back up, facing her, wiping more gravel off his nose. "Interesting trick when you see the person coming at you. What about when they come up behind you and you don't know where they will grab you?"

Lori sighed and turned around, throwing her arms out at her sides, "Oh, my, what will happen to me without a male protector? I am a powerless female." Her taunt was interrupted as Jim wrapped his right arm around her shoulder and upper chest, his face pressing tight against the side of her neck. His left arm started to encircle her waist but suddenly he was in the air and then on his back with his right arm twisting painfully above his head. One of Lori's boots was on his shoulder, giving her leverage and keeping her body out of his reach. He grabbed up at her boot but she twisted his arm further, making him wince in pain. "Say Uncle," she said, laughing, as she released him.

"Oh, I do not believe what I'm seeing," Artie said from the ramp. He turned to Christian, stepping nervously back from her, "can you do this too? She flipped him over her shoulder? How can you two girls be that strong?"

"Its leverage, really," Christian said, "being small is actually better for these moves. The men we train with are twice Jim's size so he probably doesn't weigh much at all in comparison." She smiled sweetly, "I was more worried Jim would be injured." She turned to Lori as Jim slowly climbed to his feet. "We should probably stop before you pull a limb out of joint."

Jim shook his right arm, the pain in his shoulder trying to beat out the pins and needles he still felt in his wrist. "Why stop now, it's so interesting and enlightening," he growled. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking out bits of dry grass. "And what tricks do you have? Anything different?"

"Christian's tricks tend to be more on the serious side," Lori said, "since she is smaller than I am, she doesn't to do as many gymnastic style moves. More clean and damaging so it's more difficult to demonstrate."

"Ah," Jim said, nodding, but keeping his eyes on the dark haired girl, "but you do practice on those 'big guys' you keep mentioning?" Lori sighed and rolled her eyes behind his back as he stepped closer to the ramp. He looked at Christian, motioning her to come forward, "why don't you show me a thing or two also."

Christian's eyes nervously went from Jim to Lori. The blond held her hands up and made pulling motions with her fingers, obviously some silent hand signal. Christian nodded and walked down the ramp. "Ok, but don't say we didn't warn you."

"Should I get the box of bandages?" Artie asked nervously, keeping to his safe location of just inside the stable car. Lori winked up at him, moving to stand near his feet at the edge of the ramp as Jim and Christian faced each other.

Christian was a few inches shorter than Jim and Lori, and was of a much more slender frame. She stood quietly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She turned slowly, facing Lori and Artemus, "go ahead, Jim, sneak up behind me and grab me anywhere you like."

"I don't usually get so many offers in one morning," Jim said slowly, as he walked behind her. With a shrug he wrapped both arms around her waist and simply picked her up. "Now what," he laughed, and then, with a yelp of pain, he dropped the girl and fell to his knees. He gasped and held his right hand to his gut, covering it with his left hand.

"What the…?" Artie leaped off the edge of the car, not bothering with the ramp, as the two girls also hurried to Jim's side. "What?" he said again, kneeling next to his partner.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have," Christian said, sounding upset at herself, "give me your hand so I can…"

"Get away from me," Jim growled through clenched teeth. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his hair hung in his eyes. "You broke my damned fingers."

Artie looked up at the girls to see Lori laughing silently behind her fingers. Christian knelt next to Jim and put a hand on his shoulder, saying calmly, "it isn't broken, it's dislocated. If you give me your hand, I can fix it." He slowly held his hand out to her, grimacing in pain. The pinky finger of his right hand stuck out at an odd angle. Artie clamped his hand onto Jim's shoulder, shocked at the terrible looking injury. The young woman took his hand in her's and grasped his wrist and finger. With a twist, a loud snap was heard. Jim groaned again and took his hand back. "Can you move your fingers now?"

Jim opened his hand and closed it again, making a fist. The sharp pain had turned to a dull ache and the skin was turning a dark color near the knuckle. He took a deep breath and slowly stood, looking at the two women. "That's probably enough for today. I think the train will be ready soon." The girls both walked away, an awkward silence heavy now between them, and began to gather the horses. Jim turned to his partner, "I think I almost lost my right arm a couple of times. Christ, Artie," he hissed, trying to flex his sore hand and shoulder, "I'm not sure what hurts more; my hand or my shoulder."

"How about your head?" Artie asked, clearly surprised to see his partner in pain. "She actually kicked you in the side of the head while standing in front of you. And then she flipped you over her shoulder. Picked you right up off the ground and…"

"Ya, I know," Jim hissed again, "I was there." They paused as the girls walked the horses back up the ramp into the stable car. "I feel like I'm riding on a crazy train to hell." He staggered forward up the ramp with his partner pushing him forward from behind. Once inside, Artie pulled the rope and, with the help of the block and tackle, quickly picked up the ramp. He pulled the train's cord, making the whistle blow three short bursts. The engineer blew three long bursts and the train moved forward, sluggishly at first, then picking up speed.

Lori watched Artie release the cord, "So you have a cord that blows the whistle, like on a public train, but you have a set of whistles for Cobb to understand what you want?"

"Three shorts mean go," Artie winked, "and he blows three longs, meaning go is understood. If we need him to stop, we blow two shorts and he would blow two longs, saying he understands. Of course we can also just pull the cord for the emergency brakes, making one long whistle as the breaks lock up."

"And sometimes," Jim added, as he walked past them toward the varnish car, "Cobb just slams on the breaks and we all go sliding forward with no warning at all." He held the door open as everyone moved to the back of the car.

"What sort of emergencies do you have to stop for?" Christian asked, looking worried.

"Oh, all sorts of things," Artie said, "a herd of buffalo on the rails, evil-doers burning piles of wood on the rails hoping to rob us when we stop," he paused as Jim nodded, chuckling, "and one time we actually had a real damsel in distress tied to the rails, hands and feet."

"What?" The girls both turned to look at him, obviously not believing the story.

"It's true," Jim said, "Luckily we weren't going very fast but Cobb still stopped this train on a dime. I didn't think it was possible. Another six inches would have cut her in half." He reached out to the back wall to pull down a map, continuing, "she was passed out in fright and Cobb wasn't much better. But everyone was fine once we untied her and woke her up."

"And after a shot of brandy for everyone involved," Artie said, "we learned that she was a kidnapped daughter of a local mayor. He was very happy to have her back. Local authorities had already captured her kidnapper but hadn't been able to find her."

"Well, I guess they should have searched the rails," Lori said. "I thought that only happened in books." She walked closer to Jim and peered up at the map. "Do you have one that isn't attached to a wall?"

"Why?" Jim said, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, "is your neck sore? Or maybe your back?" He ignored her smile and opened a cupboard. Assorted rolled up maps were nestled inside. He dug through the group and finally pulled one out. "Clear the table, will you?" He unrolled the paper and laid it out flat. Lori and Christian moved a few heavy objects to hold the corners down and leaned over with him. "This is where we are," Jim said, pointing to a spot on the map. "This is where we are going," he said, as he drew his fingertip along the lines on the map. "Eventually through St Louis, Kansas City, Denver, Salt Lake City, and on to San Francisco." He stood and shook his right hand, grimacing at the pins and needle feeling in it. "Too bad we're in a hurry. There are many good restaurants, dance halls, parks to walk in."

Christian and Lori exchanged a glance, "not this trip, dreamer," Lori said, running a finger along the route, "and we can do all this in five days?" She shook her head, "it would take us over a week by public train. This is such a great way to travel."

"An Express will get you a bit faster," Artie said, walking to the group. "In fact we seem to have one behind us now, if you look behind us." He looked at Jim, "it seems to have caught up to us."

"Oh, great," Jim muttered. He moved to the back door of the varnish car and walked outside to the back railing. In the distance, occasionally puffs of smoke could be seen. The two girls soon stood on either side of him. "We're faster than they are," he said. "They have passenger cars and baggage and express mail. They only caught up because we loaded water and wood."

"But they must have stopped too," Lori said. "It wouldn't hit us, would it? They can see our smoke too."

"Hasn't happened yet," Jim said. "They may stop at the first major city. We pass through a few in the night. And they can see the train in the dark with our lanterns on and sparks from the engine. I'll let Cobb know; maybe we can go a little faster."

"Hate to be in the way of an Express," Artie chuckled, standing at the map by himself now. Jim walked past, moving toward the engine. "They do not have understanding passengers." The girls moved back to the table and sat down to study the map.

"Do you have one of San Francisco itself?" Lori asked Artie, nodding toward the cupboard.

"There should be one in there," Artie said, digging back into the cupboard." More maps were spread on the table as the group spent the afternoon discussing options and plans for the future.

Later that afternoon:

Sophie jumped at the corner of the white bath towel as it hovered and fluttered just out of her reach. The tiny animal stood on her back paws and stretched, clawing at the air. Frustrated, the kitten jumped onto Jim's bare leg, tiny claws digging into his skin, as she began climbing.

"Ow," Jim yelled, dropping the towel. He leaned down to pull her off his skin, gently tugging at each paw to release the needle-sharp claws. "What are you doing? That's my skin," he said, pushing his wet nose into the tiny creature's furry chest. The kitten batted at his face and wiggled in his grasp. "I thought I explained the difference between pants and skin." He leaned down and plopped her back onto the floor. The kitten pounced onto the crumpled towel, hiding in its folds. "Fine, keep it," Jim said. He walked to a cupboard and pulled out another towel. He wrapped it around his waist and moved to the sink. Keeping one eye on the kitten's movements and one on what he was doing, he grabbed up his shaving mug and added soap and water, stirring with the fine brush. He wiped the steam off the mirror and began foaming his face, working it into his skin. "You don't need to be with me every second, Sophie," Jim said sternly at the towel, "you could follow Artie around occasionally. He will feel sad that you neglect him." The kitten's ears poked out of the towel, and soon the head lifted enough for the dark eyes to watch him. "You should go find Artie," Jim said, wondering if the cat could really understand him. Suddenly the kitten bolted from the towel and scooted underneath the door. "Crazy cat," Jim chuckled, starting to shave. Soon there was a knock on the bathroom door. "What?" he snapped, annoyed at sharing his bathroom. "I'm shaving, go away." He rinsed the razor in the sink, quickly checking his face in the mirror.

"I need to use the facilities," Lori's voice said. "Trade for your bedroom?"

Jim leaned over and picked up the towel off the floor, quickly wiped bits of shaving soap off his face, and opened the door. "Is my bedroom empty?" He tossed the spare towel over his shoulder and stood in the doorway, blocking Lori's way.

"I wouldn't invite you in if it was occupied," Lori said, trying to keep her eyes off his bare chest, feeling the heat emanating from his steaming wet body. "So, are you done in here? I want to take a quick shower too. You take longer than I do." She held a bundle of clothing under her arm, her hair twisted in a loose knot on her head. Soft tendrils of hair fell loose around her face.

"It's my bathroom," Jim growled, though the dimples flashed briefly, "you're lucky you can use it at all." He stepped to the side, letting her enter, and moved back to the doorway. He stood in the hallway now, with a hand on either side of the doorjamb, leaning toward her, "besides," he said quietly, the blue eyes twinkling, "If we both used the shower at the same time, it would be faster and take less water."

Lori dropped her clothes on the caned seat and pulled long pins from her hair. The thick blond waves fell around her face and shoulders. Seeing his eyes watching her, she stepped closer, putting her hands on the door frame near his, her nose almost touching his nose. Her pale grey eyes stared deep into his. She whispered, "Really? You think you and I in the shower together would be fast?" She snorted, "Interesting." She turned and shut the door.

Jim rested his head against the wooden door, listening to the sounds of the water running and the shower curtain moving. Letting out a long sigh, he moved down the hall.

Jim entered his room and shut the bedroom door, leaning his bare back against it, and took a deep breath, enjoying the silence. The walls were thick with bureaus and closets, the clothing helping to muffle sounds from the adjoining rooms. He turned and locked the door, not wanting to surprise Christian if she should happen in. He pulled the towels off and stretched his sore muscles, flexing his arms and shoulders. He twisted his right wrist and flexed his fingers, surprised at how sore his hand still was. He walked to his large mirror, gifted by the secretaries, which hung over a low bureau. He rubbed a hand through his wet hair, pulling at it, looking for a black mark at the location where Lori's boot had kicked him. Skin was scuffed and it was sore, but no bruise was present. "Guess it didn't leave a mark," he laughed. Pulling a drawer open, he dug out underclothes. Then he moved to a closet, recessed in the wall, and pulled out a small rack of white shirts. Grabbing one, he began to dress, his eyes noting what was moved in his room and the extra items added. The bed was made and women's clothing was neatly folded and stacked in various locations; the room seemed neat and clean. Hairbrushes, combs, and more hair pins were piled on top of a bureau. He was relieved that no dreaded perfume bottles were present. Suddenly the door was knocked on, "What," he snapped, "leave me alone."

"I'm done already so you can have the bathroom again if you need it," Lori said, laughing, "are you getting dressed?"

"No, I'm busy rubbing your clothes all over me," Jim growled, "what the hell do you think I'm doing?" He pulled his shirt on and fumbled with the buttons, stopping to stretch his sore right hand.

"You better not be touching anything of mine," Lori snapped back, still laughing at him, "your partner was getting ready to serve dinner and wondered if you were decent yet."

"Yes, I'll be right there," Jim said. Grabbing clean pants from the bureau, he sat on the side of the bed to pull them on. Then leaned back and relaxed on the quilt, sighing deeply. "I miss my bed," he moaned. He relaxed for a minute but the smells of his partner's cooking was filling the small train car and making his empty stomach protest. He rose and moved into the hallway.

Lori moved toward the smells of meat cooking to stand in the hall, looking into the galley. "Am I missing a cooking class? Or is this a private lesson?" Christian was standing at the stove stirring a large pot with a long-handled wooden spoon. Artie stood on the far side, arranging meat on a platter.

Christian turned to wink at her friend; her normally pale face was flushed with the heat of the stove. She pointed at a book on the counter, "look at the page. He has books of how to cook. It has the directions of what we just made." She nodded down at the pot she was stirring, "I am reducing this liquid. It's like making gravy, only better."

Artie laughed as Lori picked up the book. "I can't believe you two never heard of a cook book. No wonder you don't cook. It makes it much easier." He pointed to a low shelf, "I have a shelf full of them, if you want to look through them, though my French cook book seems to be long gone, for some odd and suspicious reason."

Lori's eyes quickly scanned the page and looked at the pots. "Wow, this is amazing," she blurted out. "My mother has everything memorized and she expects me to remember all the ingredients and what she says or does. I could do it this way," she said, turning the pages. "Look at all this!?"

Jim stepped to the doorway in time to hear the conversation. "I expect you two to pull your weight now and give Artie a hand cooking and cleaning," he said, trying to sound stern. "Maybe you can learn enough on this trip to give up this crazy lifestyle and settle down." The two girls turned glaring eyes on him as his partner chuckled, shaking his head. "And I also would like to see this disappearing act tonight," Jim said, looking pointedly at Christian.

"Maybe she can make you disappear," Lori said, putting the book down. "Haven't you had enough for one day?" She turned to face him, fists balled on her hips.

"Let's make dinner disappear," Artie said quickly, seeing another argument forming. Fireworks were beginning to be a constant threat between Jim and Lori. "And scoop up Sophie; I don't want her by the hot stove. I don't need a singed furball". Jim leaned over and looked on the floor, his eyes scanning for the kitten. "She's in the box," Artie said, nodding toward the shelf in front of Lori.

Jim stood up and leaned over the counter, seeing the kitten in a small wooden box. The tiny form was curled into a ball but the head was up and the dark eyes watched him. "What is she doing in there? She should be on the floor looking for a mouse." At Jim's voice, the kitten stood up and meowed loudly. "Yes, you," Jim said, "need to find a mouse." The kitten meowed again, moving to stand on her back paws and stretching her front paws out to him. "Oh, fine, you little freeloader." He picked her up carefully and held her against his chest, patting her head. "It still doesn't explain why you were in an old box," he purred to her, walking to the dining room.

Artie was setting the platter of meat onto the table as the girls sat down. He straightened to watch Jim enter, "because she won't stay on the floor. Every time I say the word mouse she looks nervously under the stove and then cries to be picked up. And when I put her on the counter she wants to run around on the stove. Christian suggested putting a box on the shelf and she jumped right in."

The girls giggled, "cats love boxes," Christian said. "I think you two might be spoiling her."

"My mother never let cats in the house," Lori added, watching Jim sit down and lower the kitten to his lap. "Why don't you give her a plate at the table?"

"I would but you're sitting in her spot," Jim said, watching the kitten stand on his thighs and try to climb onto the table. "Sit," he said, gently putting her back in his lap. The kitten immediately hopped up and swiped at his plate, the tiny paw stretching out. "Ok, hold on," he said, putting some small pieces of chicken on a bread plate. He put the plate on the floor and lowered Sophie down. "Though I should give you raw meat, maybe you would get the idea." The kitten immediately began chewing on the chicken. Jim straightened in his chair to see everyone watching him. "What? Maybe if she grows a little more, she won't be afraid of mice."

Artie rolled his eyes as he handed Jim the platter. "Here, eat some before the girls take it all," he said, winking at Lori and Christian. "Between them and Sophie, I need to get to a store before we travel much farther."

"We stop tomorrow afternoon," Jim said, "which would be a good time for more demonstrations." He held the platter as Lori tried to take it, winking at her, "unless you two would both like to disappear tonight? You could transfer to that Express." He released the plate as she rolled her eyes.

"I was thinking about more questions to ask you two," Lori said, "another round of last night's game?" Artie grumbled something as he picked up a bowl of vegetables, stirring them.

Jim groaned, "What now? My favorite color or what books I've read?" He leaned over to give the kitten a soft piece of carrot, "how about a card game with limited talking? Something entertaining like strip poker?" He grinned as the girls glared at him. "We play a lot of card games while traveling. It's relaxing."

"If you two play strip poker," Christian said, raising an eyebrow at Artie, "I don't want to know about it." Lori snorted as Artie handed around the bowl.

"I think am exciting game of cribbage would be much safer," Artie said, looking between Jim and Lori. "I imagine you two could argue enough about that to keep you occupied." Jim and Lori exchanged a look. "And I can tell you about my disappearing acts. I used to work as a magician, you know."

The girls turned to him, both clearly interested, as Jim groaned, leaning over to pick up the kitten. "You can help me play cards tonight, Sophie," he said, putting her back in his lap. The kitten curled up in a ball on his lap and yawned, the tiny tail curling around the delicate face, "All right, you rest now while I eat," he patted her head as he picked up his fork again. He looked up to see everyone staring at him again. "What?"

tbc