The next morning, Jewelie walked up to Gordon's crew as they strode up to Edward.
"Since you're both so insistent on it," she said, "you two can drive Edward. However, as the board refuses to allow him back into regular service, I've arranged things so that Edward will be shunting at Wellsworth."
"Fine by me," said the driver. Gordon harrumphed.
"Betrayed by my own crew! Again! What's gotten into you two?!" he shouted.
"Don't give me that, Gordon," said Jewelie. "I'll make sure to assign you a new crew. At least you won't be stuck in the sheds."
Gordon said nothing, but stared with clear distaste at the K2.
"Well," he said at last, "you just watch me little Edward, as I rush past Wellsworth with the Express. That'll be a fine sight for you."
Dante laughed at Gordon.
"What is so funny?!" snapped Gordon.
"You? With the express? It's my turn today, jackass," said Dante.
"No it isn't," said Gordon. "I know: your Fat Director said it would be my turn today. And always, as only I can pull the express. When I'm not there, they need two engines."
"Then why didn't I have trouble yesterday?" Edward asked innocently. "Or, for that matter, how did we manage before you arrived? I remember Lily taking the express by herself with no problem several times."
"Pure luck," boasted Gordon.
"Really?" intervened Emily. "I managed it fine before Lily arrived. And for that matter, which express are you talking about? We do have several."
"Why the Wild Nor Wester of course," snorted Gordon. "Which other express trains could you possibly have?"
"There are some unnamed fast trains," said Edward. "There's also the Nightowl and the new nonstop boat train going to Kirk Ronan. I heard it was Olive's idea."
"Don't remind me," huffed Olive.
"The point is, you're not the only express engine here. There's Dante, Petunia…"
"Who is Petunia?" asked Gordon.
"She's a rather unusual engine," said 98462. "A 4-2-2-0 "double single" compound locomotive."
"A double single? Don't be absurd: there can only be single or double, there's no such thing as a double single."
"Well, look at me, then," said Petunia, coming into the sheds.
"My dear, you're a 4-4-0," snorted Gordon.
"Don't let appearances fool you," said Petunia. "My drivers…"
"Are not unusual," interrupted Gordon. "Now move aside: I have work to do."
Petunia was dismayed, but quickly regained her composure.
"You could just say please, you know," she said firmly.
Gordon said nothing, and steamed off to Vicarstown once his driver opened the regulator.
"Goodbye little Edward!" he called. "Look out for me this afternoon!"
Dante departed as soon as the turntable was aligned with him, followed by Edward, who went off to Wellsworth to do his shunting.
"Hey, Jewels…You did the right thing, you know?"
"Of course, Connie," said Jewelie with a smile.
"I'm surprised you let her call you that," remarked Thomas. "You had an issue with that other girl referring to you by that name."
"Hey, speaking of that other girl, whatever did happen to her?" asked Emily.
"Who cares?" snorted Thomas. "At least she's staying away from me and that's all that matters."
"In any case, come on, Thomas. Timmy will be back in action tomorrow, so we have to finish that bridge today," said Conan.
Edward arrived at Wellsworth with some empty trucks from Crovan's Gate and dropped them off, then began shunting. Similar to his time in the Furness, he enjoyed shunting and playing around with trucks.
"Well... Seems even Edward isn't above having some fun," joked Luoc.
"It's been a long time since I've been here," Edward said, stopping in between his shunting.
"I am aware. Line's being well off. Me, MacHarold, and Rolf are getting a bit old, but we can manage."
"Especially now that Greeny no longer lives with us," snorted MacHarold. "Honestly, that Underground Tank was more of a nuisance than a help."
Edward went back to playing with the trucks, surprising them with bumps and sudden stops, while they went, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" as they bumped into each other. "Whatever is happening?!"
The K2 played until there were no more trucks, then stopped for another rest. Contrary to how they're portrayed in the books, most trucks are actually playful, friendly, and good sports. Who cooperate with the engines to deliver goods. While there are exceptions, most instances of trucks being troublesome are more a desire to get revenge for mistreatment than actually causing trouble.
Later on, Edward heard a whistle.
"That sounds like Gordon," he thought. "But it can't be Gordon: it's much too early for the Wild Nor Wester to be passing by."
It WAS Gordon, puffing along very slowly, and very crossly: instead of nice shining coaches, he was pulling a lot of very dirty coal trucks.
"A goods train! A goods train! A goods train!" he grumbled. "The shame of it, the shame of it! Oh, the shame of it!"
He went slowly through, with the trucks clattering and banging behind him. Edward laughed and went to find more trucks.
Soon afterwards, a porter came and spoke to his driver.
"Gordon can't get up the hill. Will you take Edward and push him please?"
"What about Hurricane?" his driver asked.
"Busy elsewhere, you're the only engine I can see here," the porter responded.
They found Gordon halfway up the hill and very cross. His driver and fireman were talking to him severely.
"You're not trying!" they told him.
"I can't do it," snorted Gordon. "The noisy trucks hold an engine back so. If they were coaches-clean sensible things that come quietly-now that would be different."
Edward's driver came up.
"We've come to push," he said.
"No use at all," said Gordon.
"You wait and see," replied Edward's driver.
They brought the train back to the bottom of the hill. Edward came up behind the brake van ready to push
"Steady up there! I'm ready!" called Edward.
"This will be no good, I tell you. No good!" grumbled Gordon.
The guard blew his whistle, and snorting up the hill, they pulled and pushed as hard as they could.
"I can't do it, I can't do it, I can't do it," puffed Gordon.
"I will do it, I will do it, I will do it," puffed Edward.
Edward pushed and puffed and puffed and pushed, as hard as ever he could, and almost before he realised it, Gordon found himself at the top of the hill!
"I've done it! I've done it! I've done it!" he said proudly. The A0 forgot all about Edward pushing from behind. He didn't wait to say "Thank you", but ran on so fast that he passed two stations before his driver could make him stop!
Edward had pushed so hard he was out of breath when he got to the top, and Gordon ran so fast Edward was soon left far behind. The guard waved and waved, but Edward couldn't catch up.
He ran on to Maron, and there, the driver and fireman said they were very pleased with him. The fireman gave him a nice long drink of water, and the driver said, "I'll get out my paint tomorrow, and give you a beautiful new coat of blue with red stripes. Then you'll be the smartest engine in the shed."
Edward gave an appreciative smile.
Later on, he received a visit from the Fat Director.
"I heard all about your valiant effort to push Gordon up the incline, or as we shall now call it, Gordon's Hill, from his guard. It's proud of you I am indeed, and I think it's time Lord Harwick and I stopped letting the board outvote us on matters such as keeping you in service. How would you like to take over building the Peel Godred Branch Line?"
"Thank you sir, I'd be delighted!" Edward replied. "But what will happen to 87546?"
"He'll be sent back to the Great Northern ASAP," the Fat Director answered. "That mogul's proven to be more of a hindrance than a help to the Peel Godred project, and he certainly hasn't improved in terms of behaviour. For the time being, you'll still be allocated to Vicarstown, but you'll be spending most of your day building the Peel Godred, with occasional other jobs. Does that sound alright to you?"
"Of course, I have no problem with that," replied Edward.
On that day's board meeting, two matters were at hand: how to avoid being absorbed into the LMS, and Edward.
"Topham, why? Why are you so insistent on keeping that old scrap iron? You should have sold him for scrap long ago."
"He may be old, but he's more efficient than 87546," said the Fat Director. "He proved that when he pushed Gordon up without trouble."
"Bah! That K1 is better than that old iron," snorted a board member.
"He most certainly is not," argued Lord Harwick. "I know: I saw, he was performing very poorly. Edward, on the other hand, kept pushing even when he was tired."
"Do you really wish to send away such a modern locomotive? If you are really willing, with one condition: you'll purchase 3 engines, two from the GWR, one of your choice."
"We have no need for three more locomotives: Gordon is more than capable of covering," said the Fat Director. "As are all our other locomotives."
"Then we will not allow you to have Edward replace 87546. A GWR 4300 or 4200, then. And another engine of your choosing."
"Sir Topham and I have already agreed to have Edward returned to service," said Lord Harwick.
"You cannot, not without the board's approval."
"Well, this time, you two have no say in this," Lord Harwick said firmly. "Any further discussion on replacing Edward and all of you will be fired"
"Fine. We shall let you commit this mistake," snorted a member of the board.
The saloon railmotor arrived at Tidmouth, signalling the teatime pause. Once that was done with, the other matter was discussed: A letter practically demanding the NWR become part of the LMS. Lord Harwick believed greatly in the railway's future, as did the Fat Director, and was eager to fight off any plans for closure or absorption into the LMS.
"I don't think this small railway can survive on its own. What is so wrong about joining the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway?" asked a board member.
"This railway has a future, I believe in it," Lord Harwick said.
"That is no real argument," a board member pointed out.
"What is in for us by joining any other railway?" countered another.
"Rubbish, Glen," snorted the first board member. "If we become part of the LMS, we'll get a share of all the company's profits, plus some new locomotives."
"Which would mean goodbye to our current fleet, George!" snapped Glen.
"Nonsense. The Manning Wardles are heavyweight industrial shunters. Plus, the only engines that would get the axe would be the older ones, am I right?"
"And what will happen to Lord Harwick and Sir Topham?" a third board member cut in. "They could lose control and be replaced by a boss who isn't fair or kind."
"And wouldn't it be better for this island to be connected to a nation-wide set of rail?" George asked. "We can get more people to our island if we join the LMS."
"Tourism isn't worth losing our independence, George, you know that very well," said Glen.
"My vote is already cast," said George. "I say we join the LMS."
"Mine is also cast. It's not worth it," said Glen. "We should stay independent."
After two hours of deliberation, a conclusion was reached: a majority were in favour of the NWR maintaining its independence.
"I shall contact my see if he can help us convince the LMS to not absorb us," said the Fat Director.
"You're wasting a good opportunity. In a few years, you'll see I am right," said George.
At that moment, the stationmaster came into the saloon.
"Sir Topham Hatt, I have some rather disturbing news," he said. "Olive derailed outside of Killdane. You're needed at the accident scene. Selena will take you aboard the breakdown train."
"What are the details of the accident, Gobby?" asked the Fat Director, rising from his seat.
"Speeding, that's the cause," Gobby replied. "She was trying to do some kind of record run with a passenger train."
The Fat Director understood at once, anger filling his mind.
"I'll be having some stern words with Olive when I meet up with her," he said.
At the site of the accident, Olive was regretting her idea greatly. She wasn't too damaged, but the coaches were mostly smashed.
Her driver and fireman each had broken limbs, with the latter currently chewing her out.
"What in the name of Machan were you thinking, Olive?!" he shouted.
"I was trying to…reach 100 miles per hour…did I do it?"
That response angered everyone further.
"No, you didn't: you crashed!"
That voice was one Olive knew well…and dreaded. The Fat Director stepped over to her front.
"100 miles per hour….on an 87-mile long main line? What were you thinking Olive?"
"I was thinking of proving I'm still a top-line express engine," said Olive. "I have to: Gordon's come to replace me after all, if I could prove I was faster, that wouldn't happen."
The Fat Director sighed in exasperation.
"Olive, Gordon isn't replacing you: I wouldn't replace anybody. A new express engine is needed, however: trains are getting longer and heavier, and what will you do when coaches become too heavy for you to pull?"
"Uh, I, uh…Thomas," she muttered.
"What's this I hear about Thomas?" asked the Fat Director.
"He told me…you brought Gordon here to replace me…"
"Right, when I get back to Vicarstown, I'll be having some stern words for him. However, next time you hear rumours about replacements or anything, I want you to ask me about them first. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir," said Olive sadly.
"You'll need major repairs. I'll send you over to Vickers Shipyard. Once you're repaired, you'll be on slow goods for the rest of the month."
People had been injured because of her recklessness. As she was put back on the rails, Olive decided to bury the hatchet with Gordon when she next saw him.
Thomas, on the other hand, refused to admit he had been in the wrong.
"Gordon started it!" he claimed. "He called me useless!"
Conan slapped himself again.
"Thank you, Conan," said the Fat Director. "And as for you, do you really think trying to pit Gordon and Olive against each other wouldn't lead to complications? Also, Gordon didn't start anything."
"He did too!" insisted Thomas. It was like this for an hour, the Fat Director and Conan tried to get Thomas to see he had started it, the E2 refused to blame anybody other than Gordon.
Eventually, Edward puffed into the yard, after finishing his rest at Maron. He was dismayed to see Thomas in an argument with the Fat Director.
"Oh dear, this can't be good," he muttered. The K2 approached them.
"What is happening here?" he asked.
"These people are blaming me for causing Olive's competitiveness," snorted Thomas. "I did no such thing, it was Gordon!"
"Can you tell me the full story, sir?" asked Edward. The Fat Director nodded and told him everything.
"I have to agree, Thomas. You started it," said Edward. "Gordon may have insulted you, but making him and Olive fight each other was all your doing."
"That wasn't what I intended!" snapped Thomas. "And did I make Olive do that run? No, so I'm not at fault!"
It was becoming clear Thomas was not going to change his mind on his stance. Conan, Edward, and the Fat Director kept trying to reason with him, but he wouldn't stand down. It ended with all of them red-faced and very cross.
"Fine, if that's how you want to be," said the Fat Director, "you'll be working as an express pilot for the next week, and nothing else."
"What does that mean?" asked Thomas.
"It means we'll do nothing but arrange coaches for the expresses," answered Conan.
"That's not efficient: who will look after the other trains?" Thomas pointed out.
"Do you want a worse punishment? I can have you stuck in the shed for the rest of the month," said the Fat Director.
"No sir…"
"Good."
"I'm sure Timmy can look after the other trains," said 98462, puffing up next to Edward. "He's a very capable shunter, I can vouch for him."
"And you'll be willing to help with the construction of the bridge?" asked Thomas.
"Wait, it's still not finished?" asked 98462.
"No it is. I was joking," snorted Thomas. The E2 then spotted Gordon sleeping in a siding.
"Don't even think about it," warned Edward, but Thomas ignored the K2 and steamed alongside the A0. He then blew his whistle. Gordon was startled!
"Wake up, lazybones! Why don't you work hard like me?"
And Thomas ran back to the sheds laughing. Gordon groaned: he was not in the mood for jokes.
"I really gotta find a leash for him," said Conan to the Fat Director. The Fat Director nodded in agreement.