Starring
Pete Duel and Ben Murphy as
Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry
Guest Starring
James Drury as
Sheriff Lom Trevors
Kurt Russell as
Deputy Artie McCain
James Garner and Loretta Swit as
Trace and Rose
Sean Murray and Mike Vogel as
Joe and Matt
Michael Landon, Karen Grassle, and James Stacy as
Andy and Beth Carter and Mike Griffin
Betty White and Joan Plowright as
Clara and Ida
Bernard Fox
as Preacher Brown
Harry Morgan
as Dr. Silas Gordon
Stephen Gierasch as
Zeke “Hooter” Jackson
Maxell Jenkins, Merlin Olsen, and Katherine Cannon as
Jack, William, and Alice Sinclair
John Smith and Mark Slade as
Mr. Charles McAllister and Sam Winston
Tom Lester as
Owen, the telegraph operator
Henry Beckman and William Demarest as
Clancey the conductor and Bob the Brakeman
Ned Beatty and Victor French as
Ed the engineer and Fred the fireman Mystery on the Snow Train Express - Part 2
by moonshadow
PART ONE RECAP: When we last saw the Kid, he was tangling with some Miwok braves...The Kid took a step forward and swore, grimacing in pain. Looking down at his left bicep, he saw an arrow sticking through his jacket, blood seeping out on both sides around it. He pivoted about and headed back towards the trees. Reaching them, he pitched forward, his right arm braced against the tree trunk, still holding onto his Colt. He leaned his head against the tree, warily watching the braves as they advanced towards him.
“I can't pass out now!” he whispered as he slid to his knees. Despite the pain, he managed to get turned around enough to keep an eye on the advancing braves.
“There's a train full of passengers who are countin’ on me to help save ‘em!”
~*~*~*~*~*
Forcing himself to get to his feet, the Kid darted a quick look in the direction the arrow had come from. “There’s a third brave!” he groaned, firing a warning shot towards him. The Indian dove for cover behind some rocks and Curry swiftly turned to point his gun straight at the other two Miwoks.
“You two,” he commanded, motioning with his gun, “stay right there or I’ll shoot – hands in the air!”
The two braves dropped their bows and slowly raised their hands.
“Tell your friend he’d better get over here, too, or he’s gonna get you shot!” The Kid cocked his Colt for emphasis.
One of the braves called out to the one hiding. A moment later he came out with his hands up.
“Guess we can all understand each other just fine,” Curry muttered.
After getting the three braves down on the ground and their arms trussed up using the coil of rope Hooter had insisted he take with him, the Kid finally took the time to glance down at his wounded appendage and grimaced. “Not gonna get any easier; might as well go ahead and get it over with before I have time to change my mind.”
Picking up a large rock, he wedged his wounded arm in the crook of a tree trunk with the arrow shaft sticking out on both sides. Taking a deep breath, he grit his teeth, braced himself against the tree, then brought the rock down as fast and as hard as he dared, breaking off what he could of the arrow shaft on the right. Repeating the actions, he did the same to the other half. Cursing a blue streak, he threw the pieces to the ground, then tied his bandana around the wound.
“Lotta good that does me!” he grimaced. “Sure wish I could just pull the whole arrow out, but I can't afford to lose that much blood. The rest of it'll havta wait until after I get to the telegraph office.”
Getting the braves to their feet, he marched them back in the direction they had come from.
“I don’t know if you'll understand this or not, but I’m gonna take the three of you to that shack we passed not too far back. Shouldn't take us more'n ten minutes. You’ll be okay 'til I can get word back to your tribe and they can come get you. The buildin’s an old line shack that’s seen better days, but it’s warmer than bein’ out here in the cold and I need to keep you from followin' me.”
~*~*~*~*~*
Once they reached the windowless shack, the Kid motioned for the braves to sit down, then secured each one to something solid. Ready to leave, he turned around at the door for a final look, his eyes resting on the pot-bellied stove in the corner. With a resigned sigh he went back inside.
“Guess it won’t hurt none if there’s a fire to help keep the chill away. It's more’n you’d do for me, but...” He glanced down at the badge pinned to his coat. “We’re all just doin’ our jobs, right? You're protectin' your friends and I'm protectin' mine.”
Throwing wood shavings into the stove along with some thicker wood pieces, he struck a match and tossed it inside. He checked the braves’ bindings once more, then pulled the door shut. Using rope that he’d found in the shack, he tied it around the door handle securely and looped it around a nearby tree trunk.
“There, that should help keep you nice and safe inside, at least long enough for me to get to the telegraph office.”
Curry glanced up to get his bearings. Still studying the sky, his brow furrowed, and his mouth turned down in a frown. “Great – just what I need – snow clouds! And, by the looks of ‘em, it’s not gonna be long ‘til they start dumpin’ snow on me!” Resigned, but determined, he squared his shoulders and tucked his injured arm close to his body.
“It’s sure not gonna be an easy trip back.”
~*~*~*~*
THE TELEGRAPH OFFICE
Trudging up a snow-covered hill, cradling his wounded arm, the Kid's brow furrowed when he first caught sight of the building. “You’re a puny-lookin’ thing, but if you've gotta workin’ telegraph inside, you won’t hear me complain.” He made his way to the door and stumbled inside. Pushing the door shut, he leaned against it and released a deep sigh of relief. Not seeing anyone else in the small room, he pushed off the door and took a step forward, undoing the buttons on his coat one-handed.
“Hello?” All of a sudden, as the warmth of the room engulfed Curry, a wave of lightheadedness washed over him. He swayed and caught himself from falling by grabbing onto the counter.
“Hey – you okay, mister?” a voice called out with concern as a man rushed towards him. The man came to a halt when he saw the blood on the stranger’s coat. “What happened to you?”
Hunched over the counter, the Kid shook his head. “It’s my arm. Three Miwoks braves were trackin’ me. Thought I’d lost ‘em, but I was wrong. One got me with an arrow. You the telegraph operator?”
“Yep.” The man guided Curry over to a chair next to a table against the wall. “Sit down here and we’ll see ‘bout getting you patched up.” Taking note of the badge on the Kid’s coat, he breathed a sigh of relief. The operator went back to the counter, reached below and brought out a small bag, then glanced over at his patient. “You think you’ll need stitchin’ up?”
Trying to ease himself out of his coat with a minimum of pain, the Kid muttered, “Sure wish I didn’t!” He freed his good arm, shrugging it off his shoulder and continued. “I broke part of the shaft off on each side and threw a bandana ‘round it, but I didn’t have time to see what the damage was.” He hissed in pain, then bit down on his lip as he undid the bandana and slid the arm of his jacket over the wounded area.
The operator sucked in his breath. “That looks pretty bad, mister... sheriff...?”
“Jones, Thaddeus Jones, and I'm a deputy. It
does hurt – more than I realized. Guess the cold was helpin’ to numb the pain.”
“I’m Owen.” The man glanced at Curry. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what in the Sam Hill brought you all the way out here to this remote telegraph office, alone and walking in all that snow? Must’ve been mighty important to risk tangling with Indians?”
“It is,” the Kid nodded. “I need to send an urgent message to the sheriff in Cheyenne and the nearest fort.”
“I'm sorry, Thaddeus,” Owen shook his head, “but the line’s dead – would you believe it? Either it came down on its own with the snow and all, or someone cut it! I’m just sitting here waiting for it to get patched up. They say it can’t be fixed until tomorrow.”
Curry’s head jerked up. “Tomorrow’ll be too late!”
“Well, maybe this’ll be some good news. Before it went down, I got a wire from Cheyenne. It has the names of two men who are on that train. They've asked that the sheriff hold them until they get to the next town. See for yourself.” He handed the telegram to the Kid.
Curry’s eyes widened at what he read. He stuffed the paper into his coat pocket. “Twenty- four people are dependin’ on me makin’ it back in time. Is there another way back? Hopefully one that might be shorter?”
Owen assessed Curry before answering. “Well, once you get doctored up, you look like you might be able to take the other route. It’s trickier and requires more skill, but it’ll take you less time to get back to the train.” He hesitated. “There’s a snowstorm coming in real soon.”
The Kid nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. This other route you were talkin' 'bout – can a horse make it?”
“Shouldn’t be any trouble and it'd make the ride back quite a bit shorter.”
“Would you be willin’ to lend me one?”
“Well, seein’ as how you’re a deputy and all, I guess that’d be alright. There’s a real sturdy chestnut mare in the first stall in the barn. Her name’s Lightning and, like her name, she’ll get you back lickety-split.”
“Speakin’ of time...” Curry grimaced as he glanced down at his wound. “I hate to bring it up, but we’d better get this arm taken care of. It’s startin’ to hurt more than it was.”
“Good thing for you I’ve got something to help ease the pain a tad.” Owen poured some liquid almost to the brim of a mug and brought it over to the Kid. “Here, drink this straight down to the bottom without stopping.”
The Kid shook his head. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t; I’ve gotta be alert and able to ride. Soon as I’m done here I havta get right back. Can’t do that if I’m drunk.”
“Well, if that’s the way things have to be...” Owen frowned. “The rest of that shaft’s gotta come out first, then I’ll have to sew up both the entry and the exit wounds.”
Curry looked at his arm, then considered the mug in his other hand. “Maybe I’ll drink half.”
“Half’s better'n nothing. I’ll give you something to bite down on while I work on your arm. You wanna try taking off your shirt and henley or...?”
The Kid shook his head. “Just cut through ‘em. They’re ruined now anyway.”
Owen waited while Curry downed half the liquid, then handed the mug back. “I’m gonna get some snow to help numb the area. It’ll slow down some of the bleeding as well. Be right back.”
The Kid nodded, then winced at the throbbing pain. He grabbed his elbow below the wound and cradled his arm protectively against his body.
Owen returned with the snow and rummaged around in a drawer. “This oughta do the trick; it’s thick enough.” He brought a large wooden spoon, along with a bucket, over and handed the spoon to Curry. “Bite down on that. The bucket’s to catch the melting snow and whatever else might drip.”
The Kid swallowed, then put the spoon between his teeth.
Owen set to work cutting the shirt and henley away from the wounded area first and dropped the pieces into the bucket. “Okay, hold on tight and bite down on that spoon. I’m gonna pour some of this whiskey over your wound.”
“I am!” Curry mouthed around the spoon. He gripped the side of the bench with his other hand and squeezed his eyes shut. Owen took a tighter grip on his arm. As the whiskey found its target, Curry groaned and stiffened, his fingers digging into the side of the bench.
“All done. You can relax a bit while I pack your arm with snow.”
The Kid allowed his muscles to gradually become less rigid. He opened his eyes and removed the spoon from his mouth, then exhaled. “That was the easy part,” he muttered wryly. “I can hardly wait for the rest!”
While packing the snow around the wound, Owen answered, “I won’t lie to you; it’s gonna hurt like the dickens, but I’ll do it as quick as I can, I promise.”
“Yeah, I was already on borrowed time without gettin’ shot by an arrow. I don’t have extra time to waste; those people are countin’ on me to come through. Their lives might depend on me.” The Kid heaved a deep sigh. “Truth be told, if the fort can't send help in time, then the Miwoks might just kill all the passengers. They've got the train blocked on both sides so it can't move, and they want us to send out two men who sold 'em bad whiskey and killed five of their tribe. They gave us a deadline of noon tomorrow.”
“Well, Thaddeus, think of it this way. By taking the extra time here, right now, you’ll be able to make up that time when you take the shorter route back. You won’t be in any danger of bleeding out or falling off your horse while you do it, neither.”
“Yeah, that’d be a good thing.”
“While we’re waiting on that snow to do its job, why don’t you share what happened with the Miwoks? You never did get to finish that story.”
“Not much to tell,” Curry shrugged. “I just used an old trackin’ trick and luckily it worked. Two of ‘em ended up in front of me ‘stead of behind me and when they saw my gun pointed at ‘em, they decided to surrender rather than fight.”
“But you said there were three of them and there's only one of you!”
The Kid shrugged. “They only had arrows; I had a gun. The only thing that went wrong was I didn’t know there was a third brave. The odds were in my favor; they knew I could get all three of ‘em before they could get me.”
“So, then what did you do?”
“Got ‘em all tied up and left ‘em inside an old line shack. Built a fire before I left so they wouldn’t freeze. Figured that once I got back to the train, I could get a message to the Miwoks to tell ‘em where their scouts were.”
Owen gave the other man a searching look before he spoke. “Most men would’ve shot them.”
“I’m not most men,” the Kid shrugged. “Like me, they were just doin’ their job. I couldn’t blame ‘em for that. It’s none of our faults that we’re in the mess we’re in.”
“You’re a good man, Thaddeus. As my granny used to say, ‘What goes around, comes around.’ You should have good luck with your plan for saving the train.”
“Sure hope so. It’s been a while since we’ve had any good luck.” He watched the operator warily as he began to remove the snow.
Owen glanced up. “Yeah, it’s time. Get your teeth clamped down good and tight on that spoon. Oh, here’s this, too.” He placed a fair-sized stone into Curry’s palm. “Squeeze your hand around that as hard as you can. Concentrate on trying to crush it. And please, try not to jerk around too much.”
The Kid nodded. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself for what was to come. He bit down on the spoon, then curled his fingers around the stone and clenched it in his fist in a death grip.
“I’ll count to three and then pull it out. Ready? One, two...” He yanked the piece of shaft from Curry’s arm. Seeing the Kid’s expression, but unable to make out the garbled words coming from his patient’s mouth, the telegraph operator grinned. “I know; I lied. A little trick I learned from my pa. The good news is it’s out and all I’ve got left is to stitch up those two holes and you’re done. The bad news is that you didn’t crush the stone. More good news: you get another chance.”
Owen washed his hands and got the threaded needle. “You know the drill; bite spoon, pulverize stone.”
The mute glare he received in return didn’t seem to affect Owen as he set about his task. Before he began, he glanced up. His patient’s eyes were squeezed as tight as the hand around the stone and beads of perspiration were trickling down his face. “Just a little word of warning, the underside of your arm’s more tender, so you might feel this a tad more than the last one...” As the operator pulled the thread through for a second time, he heard a loud, snapping sound and darted a quick look at the other man.
Curry’s eyes were wide open.
An incredulous expression filled both of their faces.
The Kid opened his mouth and pieces of wood dropped to the floor.
“Good gravy - you broke the spoon in half!” Owen exclaimed as he looked at Curry in concern. “Your teeth okay?”
Moving his jaw slowly and feeling around carefully with his tongue, Curry nodded. “I think so. Might have a few splinters in there, though.”
“I’ll get you some water to rinse your mouth out while I bandage up that arm.”
“You’re all done?”
“Sure am. Told you I’d be quick. Here, rinse then spit it out in the bowl. Uh, you might not wanna look at what’s in there, though.”
“I’ve probably seen worse.” The Kid shrugged. “But I think I’ll take your advice anyway.”
Owen finished wrapping up Curry’s arm, then tied the ends of the bandage. “There you are; almost as good as new. Just be sure to keep it as clean as you can. There might still be some bleeding, but nothing to worry about. You’re good to go, Thaddeus.”
“Thanks, Owen; appreciate it.” He reached out to shake the man’s hand, then grinned. “Guess I can let go of the stone now, huh?”
“You wanna take it with you as a little souvenir? Or maybe you’d rather have the arrow shaft?”
The Kid shuddered. “No thank you to both of ‘em – I’d rather forget, if you don’t mind!”
Owen held out his hand, palm up. “Give me the stone, then. I’ll set it on my desk to remember today. Maybe one day I’ll have kids. I can tell ‘em all about the tale of the brave man who was shot with an arrow and how I saved his life so he could save a train full of folks.”
Curry dropped the stone into Owen’s hand with a grin. “I’m sure you’ll tell a very good tale, Owen.”
The telegraph operator grinned in return. “A very good tale, indeed. Oh, I almost forgot – I need you to sign for the horse before you leave so I can get paid and you'd better tell me what your message is and who I'm sending it to.” He grinned. “It works better that way.”
The Kid grinned in return. “Where do I sign?”
Before Owen could reply, the telegraph started clicking. Both men turned to stare at it in surprise.
“Well, whaddya know? They must’ve got it fixed!” Owen exclaimed. “I can try sending that message of yours now while you’re saddling up.” He glanced at Curry's arm. “You need any help with that?”
“No, gettin’ that telegram sent is more important than you helpin’ me. I might be slow and clumsy, but I think I can manage.”
The operator laid two pieces of paper on the counter. “Here you go; just sign down there at the bottom for the horse and put the other information on this piece.”
“I sure appreciate you gettin’ that telegram sent.” Curry scribbled
Sheriff Lom Trevors, Porterville, Wyoming, and wrote down the words for the telegram before he began his trek to the barn. Snow pelted him as soon as he opened the door.
It was a while later before the Kid led the animal out of the barn. As he stepped outside, his shoulders sagged. The snow had started falling thicker and faster. He trudged over to some nearby trees to tether the mare and stopped to look around.
“This couldn’t've waited a couple hours, huh? Isn’t there enough already on my plate without havin' to fight the weather, too!?” He had just started on his way back to the office, when the telegraph operator stuck his head out the door.
“Hey, Thaddeus!” Owen called out. “I’ve got some more good news for you. Your message went through; said they’ll send it on to Cheyenne and the fort.”
“That’s not good news, it’s great news! Thanks for patchin’ me up, lendin’ me the horse and for tellin’ me ‘bout that shorter way to get back to the train. That’ll make a big difference; might even help save a few lives.” He grinned. “Hey, maybe you can add all that into your story!”
“You’re welcome. I’m gonna go in and write all that down right now so I’ll remember it,” he chuckled. “Take care of that arm and keep an eye out for the Miwoks.”
“Don’t worry, I will; sure don’t wanna mess with any more of ‘em!” Guiding the horse to a nearby tree stump, Curry took advantage of it. Mindful of his arm, he stepped up onto the stump, then mounted up. Kid waved and began his journey back to the train. He had only traveled a few minutes when a howling wind began, swooshing through the air and swirling the snow sideways.
Curry scowled up at the sky. “C’mon, Lightning, let’s get goin'. Hope you don't mind if we pick up the pace a bit. Heyes hates it when I'm late and he starts worryin'. It’s just gonna be a little bit harder to navigate, but we can do it.”
~*~*~*~*~*
BACK AT THE TRAIN“They’re coming back again!” Artie shouted from his position at the window of the second car.
Hearing the pounding of running feet on top of the railcar, Heyes called out a warning, “Lom, watch out they don’t try to climb in the windows!”
Grim-faced, the sheriff nodded and glanced up at the roof and waited. However, despite the warning, not one brave was seen.
“The windows aren’t their target!” cried Artie, pointing. “Look, they’re doing something to the stoves!”
The chimneys of the stoves were being stuffed with rocks and dirt so that it caused the smoke to back up and start billowing out into the car. Cries of triumph and whooping accompanied the sound of feet jumping up and down as the braves ran along the car roofs, leaped to the ground, then made their way back to their tribe. With a brief lull in the attacks after that, Lom, Artie and Heyes took stock of the situation.
Passengers began to cough and gag, their eyes watering.
“With the broken windows partially covered, there isn’t much choice,” Heyes choked out. “We’re gonna have to pull the window coverings down to let the smoke escape.”
“Lotta good that did us!” Lom snapped when they were finished tearing down all the coverings. “You two got any other bright ideas?”
“Let’s see if they damaged the other stove as much as this one,” Heyes began. “If not, then I suggest that we all squeeze into the first car and fortify it as much as we can, using what we’ve got left. It’ll be tight quarters, but at least we’ll be all safe together.”
Grim-faced, Lom nodded. “Let’s get started.”
“We’ll just have to keep the Miwoks off the roof and away from the stove or it’s gonna be an awfully cold night for everyone,” Artie added as he left to check out the stove. He returned in a moment and announced, “They didn’t get it – we just might make it through the night!”
“Okay, everyone,” Lom called out. “Gather your belongings, as well as anything that can be used to cover or tuck into the broken windows, to make a comfortable place to sleep and that you might be able to be used as a weapon – if the situation calls for it. We’re going to be squeezed in here together like sardines, but at least we’ll have body warmth to share. Clancey brought a broom and dustpan so we can sweep up the glass and whatever else is on the floor.”
The lawman turned his back to the rest in order to face Heyes and Artie. “This is gonna be a tough night for all of us,” he spoke quietly. “I was hoping that maybe Thaddeus might be back by now and we'd at least have some good news to help lift folk's spirits. We could all use something positive with everything that's been happening.” He drew in a deep breath and looked at Heyes. “You think he’s run into any trouble?”
Heyes gave the lawman a long look before he answered. “He knows what he’s doing, Lom. He won’t let us down.”
“I know I’ve only known him for a little while,” Artie grinned, “but he sure looked like he was able to handle almost anything – or anybody.”
His remark made the other two men chuckle; they nodded in agreement.
Lom turned to his newest deputy. “Well, Artie, let’s go see what we can do to help folks get settled before it gets dark.”
Artie nodded. “I saw some old blankets back in the last car where the doc is. I'll go get 'em and start passing 'em out to folks.”
“Good idea. I'll start delegating jobs to help keep their minds occupied.”
“You two go ahead; I’ll be right with you.” Heyes stepped away to the doorway, to stare out in the direction his partner had disappeared. The sun had already set, dipping behind the snow-capped mountains and darkness was settling in.
“Lom’s right; it’s gonna be a long night. Sure hope you’re doing better than us, Kid,” he whispered. “Watch your back and bring us some good news – we sure could use it!”
~*~*~*~*~*
Sometime later, apart from the rest of the group, Heyes, Lom, and Artie were once again huddled together, talking quietly.
“Got any ideas on which two it might be?” Lom inquired.
“It's easier to say who it isn't at the moment.” Heyes shrugged.
“Yeah.” Artie nodded. “We can rule out the women and Jack – that's six. That narrow's things down a bit.”
“Pretty sure that Doctor Gordon and Preacher Brown can be ruled out, too,” Lom mused. And, we might as well take the whole train crew off the list while we're at it. That cuts our number of suspects almost in half.”
“Well, we're looking for two men,” Heyes ventured. “Two men who know each other and work together. On the other hand, if they wanted to throw us off the scent, they might not be traveling together. It'd be a good tactic so we wouldn't suspect them.”
Lom frowned. “That would definitely make our job harder. We'll continue this conversation in just a few minutes. Right now it's time for me to talk to the passengers.”
Lom stepped back, cleared his throat, and called out, “Now that things have quieted down some, I need everyone to stop what they’re doing and gather 'round long enough so we can talk things over before anything else happens.”
Once everyone had drawn near, he continued, “There’s no reason to state the obvious, we all know what’s going on. The only thing we need to find out is who’s responsible for our situation. My two deputies and me will be coming around to speak to all of you – and that includes the women – ‘cause you never know what you know that might help us figure things out.” He glanced around meaningfully, then turned to look out the door.
“I don’t think any of you will, but I’d definitely advise you not to try to sneak off. Think real hard about who you’d rather deal with – us or the Miwoks.” He paused to allow that to sink in. “Go on back to your seats and try to relax. We’ll be by to see each of you as soon as we can.”
Muttering and casting glances at each other, the passengers returned to their places. The three lawmen followed them with their eyes.
“Let’s split up; it’ll take less time to find out what we need to know,” Lom suggested. “I’ve already got a few suspicions and they top the list of suspects. Like we said before, some folks we can cross off the list right away, like William, Alice and Jack Sinclair, and Doc Brown – he boarded the train with the Sinclairs.”
Lom looked at each man in turn, then continued. “We need to get everyone’s story. You never know what someone might've seen or heard. Our main goal is to find out where each one boarded the train and, if they were in Auburn, what they were doing there. Don’t be fooled by tall tales; they might try to confuse you with lies, so beware. Joshua, why don’t you start with your card-playing pals, Mike and Trace, and his lady friend, Rose. You want to take those two soldiers, Matt and Joe?”
Heyes nodded.
“Artie, you work on Preacher Brown and Hooter, then chat with Clara and Ida. I’ll tackle Charles McAllister, Sam Winston, and Beth and Andy Carter. Of course, I’ll have to play it by ear as far as speaking with the Carters, so I’ll leave them until last. Doc said she was doing better, but the danger's not over. No need to get her upset unless we absolutely need to.” He paused and counted on his fingers. “That’s seventeen - all the passengers. Add the train crew of four – who aren’t under suspicion. Then there’s the three of us, plus Thaddeus; that makes it an even twenty-four in total.”
Lom took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “And somehow, we have to find the two who are guilty ones. Remember, the main questions we need answered are: if they got on in Auburn, what each one was doing there. Did they have business there? Can they provide an alibi? And, who could have visited the Miwok reservation? That should help us narrow it down some. Once we’re done, we’ll meet back together in the second car, compare notes and alibis, and talk things over. Okay, deputies, good luck.”
The trio made their way back inside the first car, splitting off in different directions.
~*~*~*~*~*
Two men sat on the floor, apart from the others, playing a game of cards.
“They’re getting ready to start asking questions,” the man in the blue shirt stated quietly as he absently tossed a card on the pile.
“Yep,” agreed the man in the brown jacket.
“Wish we hadn’t done it,” blue shirt mumbled. “How’d we know anybody was gonna die?”
“Wish we hadn’t either, but wishing’s not gonna change anything. It wasn’t like we did it on purpose, you know.” He gave the other man a hard stare. “Hey, look at me!” Waiting until the man had complied, he said succinctly, “It was an accident.”
Blue shirt didn’t look convinced. “They’re gonna ask us questions – we won’t be able to answer ‘em! We’re gonna get caught!”
“We will if you keep yapping about it!” brown jacket hissed, darting a quick look around to make sure nobody had noticed them. “Just stick to our story; that’s all we have to do, and things will work out just fine.”
“Wish I could believe that.” Blue shirt sighed glumly.
“Get your mind off it. Think about something else until it’s our turn. And, for your sake, I hope you remember what’s at stake if you mess things up!”
Blue shirt lifted his eyes to direct a belligerent glare at brown jacket. “You think I don’t know that?! I’ve got way more to lose than you – I won’t mess things up!”
“See that you don’t.” Another card was tossed onto the pile.
~*~*~*~*~*
