The heavy piston rods moved in a continuous rhythm, driving huge metal wheels along the endless track and producing the typical clackety-clack sound of a steam locomotive. In a boxcar, near the back of the train, a pair of brown eyes peered at the passing scenery through a gap in the wooden slats.
Hannibal Heyes, owner of the brown eyes and the eldest of three young stowaways on board, hoped it wouldn't be long now before he saw the mountains. In the first light of yet another day riding the train the countryside was beginning to get hilly. Several days had passed since Han, his cousin Jedediah Curry, and his cousin's friend Billy, had scrambled aboard, and here they had remained undetected, thanks to a large pile of smelly straw.
The journey to Colorado had taken a lot longer than expected, rendering them hungry and thirsty for a lot of the time. With only two canteens between them, sixteen-year-old Hannibal had taken it upon himself to scavenge for food and water every time an opportunity presented itself. Leaving the boxcar was only practicable, however, when the engine took on wood as well as water, and only if there was adequate cover so he wouldn't be seen. This meant staying alert as the engine slowed and listening to the sounds outside in the hope of predicting the length of the stop. If he was lucky enough to have observed a farm near the tracks he would leap from the train the minute the engineer dropped the water spout and run hell bent for leather to the farmhouse. Here he would buy, beg, or more commonly abscond with any food he could find, top up the canteens from the nearest water source, then race back to the boxcar before the locomotive moved off again. A couple of times he had almost been too late. It was exhausting and stressful and he would be relieved when it was no longer necessary.
Han also didn't like leaving the younger boys alone, especially his cousin. Jed's face was bruised and his ribs sore, the result of being brutalised by Fox Flanagan, a villainous boxing promoter who had abducted him and forced him to fight in his carnival troop. Aided by his new-found friend and mentor, Josiah Tweedie, and his daughter, Isabella, Han had spent months searching for Jed, and once they had been reunited their departure from Trail Town, Missouri, had been swift. There was no doubt in Han's mind that if Flanagan ever caught up with them they would be killed. Not only had he absconded with the promoter's best prospect in years, he had also emptied his strongbox of a considerable amount of money.
Hannibal looked thoughtfully at Billy. He knew nothing about this boy, except that he didn't say much and had been the victim of regular abuse by Flanagan. It had come as no surprise when Jed had insisted they take him with them.
A loud clatter accompanied by a rough jolt disturbed the sleeping boys and two pairs of sleepy blue eyes opened.
"What was that?" asked Jed for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"Just the train switching tracks."
"Oh." Jed didn't hide his disappointment. "How much longer do ya figure?"
"I'm sure I don't know," Han answered patiently.
Jedediah frowned at his cousin's use of his given name. Flanagan had renamed him 'Kid' because he thought Kid Curry was a good name for a fighter, and Jed quite liked it. Not that he wanted to become a professional boxer. He had his heart set on becoming a gunman just like the ones he read about in dime novels.
"It can't be long now," added Han. "If this train goes much farther, we're gonna end up in the ocean."
Jed's frown turned into a grin. "I'd like to see the ocean."
"A few days ago you were excited about seeing the mountains."
"I was. I am. But I'd still like to see the ocean."
Rubbing his eyes Billy sat up and asked tentatively, "Is there any water?"
"Sure." Han tossed a half-empty canteen onto the straw next to the boy. "Help yourself."
Billy took a large swig then passed the canteen to Jed who also took a gulp before asking, "Don't suppose there's anythin' to eat?"
With a half smile Han reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a shiny red apple; the only piece of food left from his last foray. "Share it," he instructed, throwing the fruit into a pair of grubby, but eager, hands.
"Don't you want some?"
Han shook his head. "Ate mine earlier," he lied.
Later that morning, the sudden sound of the locomotive's whistle alerted them that something was about to happen. Han, who had allowed himself to doze for a while, immediately focussed his attention outside the boxcar. Houses instead of farms now spread across the landscape and in the distance he caught his first glimpse of the snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains.
While Billy anxiously looked on, Jed ignored the pain in his ribs long enough to crawl over to join his cousin.
"What's goin' on?"
Han smiled. "Look out there."
"Wow!" exclaimed Jed. "Billy, come look. It's the mountains!"
The train rocked as it switched tracks and the whistle sounded again followed by the sound of the brakeman's heavy boots on the boxcar roof.
"We'd better hide," advised Han.
Accompanied by the clanging of the brass bell mounted on the engine, they burrowed into the mound of straw, covering themselves as best they could before the locomotive screeched noisily to a halt. Almost immediately the large boxcar door was pulled back allowing in a rush of fresh air; then there was a scraping noise as if something was being attached to the boxcar's entrance.
Amid the sound of men's voices and the loud chuff-chuffing of the idling locomotive, Han was certain he detected some grunts and squeals. He nudged Jed and Billy whispering, "They're loading livestock. We've got to get out of here."
Suddenly, there was a loud clattering of cloven hooves bringing with it yet another potent stench as a large herd of pigs was chased up the attached ramp. At the sight of three figures emerging from the straw the startled animals turned and ran back down only to be driven up once more by the men on the ground. Reluctant to enter again, most of the pigs skidded to a halt near the doorway.
Finding the exit blocked the stowaways flattened themselves against the boxcar wall and sidled along it toward the door. But as the pigs ventured further into the boxcar the boys soon found themselves hemmed in by the agitated creatures. Having been raised on farms, Han and Jed knew that under stress pigs could become aggressive and deliver a nasty bite. Billy had no such knowledge, but Flanagan's threats to feed him alive to hogs if he misbehaved made him doubly fearful.
With a pounding heart Han peered through a gap in the wood. The herd was almost fully loaded now, and he knew that as soon as the last creature was clear of the ramp, the door would be pulled closed and locked, thereby trapping them inside.
"Listen," he whispered to the other two, "when I go, you follow real fast, but watch your step on the tracks; we don't want any more bruises or broken bones. Ready?" Having received nods of understanding, Han silently counted to three then lunged through the open door.
Taken by surprise, the pig herders could do little to stop the boys as they tore down the ramp, scattering the last of the pigs in all directions.
Running as fast as they could they made it through the stock pens then continued straight ahead toward row upon row of idle freight wagons. Han glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to see that nobody appeared to be chasing after them, but in case he was mistaken, he panted, "Keep going... we're not out of this yet."
Careful not to get their fingers caught in the iron couplers they clambered between the first two wagons they came to then ran on to the next train, repeating this process twice more. As they cleared the last one and sprinted along the gravel between two sets of tracks, a man clad in an overcoat with big sturdy boots and carrying a large oilcan appeared from behind an engine.
"Hey!" he yelled, waving an angry fist. "Get outta here. You're trespassing!"
At the sound of his cry several railwaymen appeared further up the line and more shouts and the waving of fists and tools were directed their way. Ignoring them, the boys set off along the tracks until clambering over couplings and running on loose gravel began to take its toll on an already hurting Jedediah Curry.
"Gotta...stop," he gasped, leaning his hands on his knees as he tried to expand his painful ribs.
Billy and Han skidded to a halt. "You gotta keep runnin', Kid," urged Billy.
"Don't...don't think...I...can... Can't... breathe." Jed clasped his arms around his chest.
"We can't stay out here in the open," said Han, looking around for somewhere suitable for his cousin to rest. Spying a couple of small wooden buildings, he changed direction. "This way."
Grabbing an arm each, Han and Billy ushered Jed into the shadows between the two shacks where he immediately sank down to the ground. Leaning back against the rough wood he thirstily licked his lips. It was only then Han realized that in their haste to leave the boxcar they had left the two canteens behind.
"We can't stay long, Jed."
"Stop callin'... me that. My name's Kid... not Jed."
"Well now, for someone who says he can't breathe you're sure finding enough air to gripe at me!" complained Han, good-naturedly; grateful that the youngster's breathing was becoming easier.
"I can hear voices," cautioned Billy.
"Okay, Kid, time to go." Han put a sarcastic emphasis on his cousin's moniker of choice. Knowing that they needed to maintain some kind of cover he pointed to a line of workers' tents. "Over there."
Jed slowly got to his feet and trotted alongside the others.
The line of tents marked the rail yard boundary. Passing through the empty camp they found themselves staring across an area of scrubland toward a city and a range of snow capped peaks beyond.
Jed gave a low whistle. "Is that Denver?"
"I hope so," replied Han. "That's where we're meeting Mister O'Sullivan." Although a little unnerved at the mass of buildings ahead of them Han was determined to sound confident. "But first we have to cross that crick."
Cherry Creek bordered Denver to the southwest, joining the South Platte River on the west side of the city. Its days as a focal point of the Colorado gold rush were over, although it still attracted the occasional panner trying his luck in the once gold-rich gravel.
Having followed the bank for a while, they eventually came upon a narrow bridge constructed out of plain wooden slats. From here they could see yet another crossing which, although more substantial was very busy, allowing vital passage in and out of the city. After some consideration Han opted for the small one. He didn't want to risk them being separated amid the throng of horse-drawn wagons.
About halfway across Jed stopped, his hands once again resting on his knees.
"What is it?" Han asked, not unkindly. "You outta breath again?"
Jed pointed. "I'm looking at the crawdads down there. We should catch some."
Han and Billy followed his gaze into the clear running water to see a number of creatures with eight legs and two large claws.
Han smiled. "Another time maybe."
Standing there on the bridge over the middle of the creek all three suddenly became aware of a chill breeze drifting along its course. It was spring and the days were getting warmer, but here in Colorado the mountains were loathe to shake off their snowy mantle, thereby making any air that drifted across them flesh-numbingly cold. Jed Curry shivered, instantly making Han feel guilty that he was wearing a winter coat while his young cousin was in shirt sleeves.
"Here, put this on," he said, quickly removing said coat and placing it around the shivering shoulders. He glanced at Billy. "How about you? You cold too?"
Billy shrugged indifferently. During his time with the boxing troupe he had learned that you didn't complain about anything unless you wanted to be on the receiving end of a fist, and although Hannibal seemed like a decent person, Billy was not about to risk putting a foot wrong.
"We need to buy you two some warm clothes," said Han, adding with a cheeky grin, "It's not like we don't have any money."
One thousand, four hundred and sixty five dollars had been the final tally of the cash he had removed from Fox Flanagan's strongbox. It was a sizeable stake — one that could take them anywhere they wanted. Endless hours in the boxcar had given Han plenty of time to think, exploring numerous possibilities for the money and their new lives out west. There was one thing he could not forget, however, which was that Josiah Tweedie had taken a considerable personal risk in helping them escape. And although, as they said goodbye, Han had pressed some of the money into the man's hand by way of thanks, he still felt duty bound to present himself to Mister O'Sullivan as arranged.
Suddenly realising that all the money was stashed in the coat which Jed now balanced precariously on his shoulders, Han hastily removed a large bundle of bills from each of the pockets and stuffed them down the front of his shirt, just in case. Then, feeling both excited and apprehensive he led the way, leaving the creek behind them.