The Insane Train (22 page)

“I intend to if I ever get back to civilization.”

Frenchy climbed up on the ladder, leaning back. “What about that stuff in the supply car?”

“What stuff?”

“All them dang records of Baldwin's.”

Hook looked down line. “Damn,” he said. “They didn't take their records?”

“Given their planning skills, they ought go into law enforcement,” Frenchy said.

Hook lit a cigarette and watched the buzzards circle in the blue.

“Frenchy,” he said. “Without that caboose on, you figure you could make that grade the first run?”

“Guaranteed,” he said. “What the hell you up to, Hook?”

“Move those records into the bouncer, Frenchy, and uncouple her from the train. I'm staying here.”

Hook watched the train disappear into the prairie, black smoke lifting into the blue. When it had faded, the silence pressed in. He let Mixer out of the caboose and waited as he sniffed and marked out his territory.

“Come on, Mixer,” he said. “I've got to call Eddie.”

He found a pay phone at Shorty's filling station and broke out a dollar's worth of change. Lighting a cigarette, he waited for Eddie to answer.

“What do you mean you are still there?” Eddie asked.

“Frenchy couldn't make the grade with the bouncer on,” Hook said. “And I knew what a hurry you were in to get the outfit cars rolling.”

“Goddang it, Hook, couldn't you have left the caboose and come back with the train?”

“Hell, Eddie,” he said. “You wouldn't leave
your
house behind, would you?”

“I don't know what you're up to,” Eddie said. “But Topeka's got that hearing scheduled in a couple weeks. You damn well better be there for it.”

“The Chief doesn't run out here, Eddie. How am I supposed to get there?”

“I suggest you catch a bus, walk if you have to, but if you don't show up for that hearing, you can check in your card. There's not a damn thing I can do for you.”

Hook dropped his cigarette on the floor and squashed it out with his foot. Mixer looked at him through the door of the phone booth.

“Alright, Eddie, I'll catch a bus out, but don't blame me if the pickpockets move in while I'm playing footsie with the disciplinary board.”

When he stepped out of the booth, Shorty waved him over to the station.

“Jeez,” he said. “That's an ugly dog, even for these parts.”

“He has a winning personality,” Hook said. “When do you figure to have the water on out to the fort?”

“Well,” he said, burying his hands in his pockets, “them lines out there ain't been used in quite a spell. You might have leaks sprouting up here and there.”

“I'll leave all that to the experts, Shorty,” he said. “I'm just a goddang yard dog and not a very good one at that.”

“Yes sir,” Shorty said, clamping a cigarette between his teeth. “The pressure's up, and the fort's downhill. Don't see a major problem.”

“You should think about applying for a maintenance job out there.”

“Yes sir. I've been giving that some thought, alright. Pumping gas ain't what it used to be.”

 

Andrea laid her broom down and covered her mouth with her hands. Her eyes lit up, and a smile spread across her face.

“Hook, what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Frenchy wasn't sure he could make the grade with the caboose on, so I decided to stay behind.”

“Wonderful,” she said. “You'll be staying here awhile, then?”

“Eddie's insisting I make the hearing in Topeka. In the meantime, maybe I can help out.”

“I can use all the help I can get.”

“Let me check in with Helms, and I'll be back.”

Hook found Doctor Helms going into the guardhouse, and he followed her in. Anguished sounds emanated from the cells, and molten eyes peered through the bars. Van Diefendorf, his skin as translucent as a newborn, stared out from under his blond brows. Without the effects of the chloral hydrate, the evils had reared up from out of the darkness.

The heat seeped from the thick walls, and the rooms stank of perspiration. Van Diefendorf paced back and forth, the wildness apparent in every jerk and pause. He turned about, rubbing at his crotch, his tongue darting from his mouth like a wild animal.

“I thought you left?” Doctor Helms said to Hook.

“Frenchy didn't think he could make it up the grade with the caboose.”

“I see,” she said, taking up her chair. She crossed her legs, long and cylindrical, and the white of her thighs darkened under the folds of her dress.

“I'll be taking a bus out, first chance,” he said. “How's Doctor Baldwin?”

Before she could answer, Roy came in with his arms loaded with blankets.

“Lordee, the law is here,” he said.

“It's only the unlawful fears the law, Roy,” Hook said.

“It's only the unlawful knows how fearful the law is,” Roy said. “I thought you'd be on your way to civilization by now.”

“Soon,” Hook said. “How are you doing?”

“Thing is,” Roy said, pushing back his hat, “I'm getting used to these boys, and that's a right scary thought.”

“Maybe you have a lot in common.”

Roy dropped the blankets in the corner. “That's just it. Me and these boys see eye to eye on a good many things, including our estimation of yard dogs.”

Hook turned to Helms. “About Doctor Baldwin?”

“He's in the officers' quarters,” Helms said, adjusting her skirt. “Doctor Baldwin is not doing well, as you know.”

“I'll stop by,” Hook said. “Maybe cheer him up.”

 

Doctor Baldwin lay in a makeshift bunk, his arm drooped over his eyes.

“Doctor Baldwin,” Hook said.

At first Baldwin didn't answer. But then he groaned and turned onto his side.

“It's you,” he said, wiping at his face with his hand. “For a minute, I thought we were still on the train.”

Hook knelt at his side. Baldwin smelled of sweat and sick. “How are you feeling?”

“I can't get enough sleep,” he said. “I'm worn out.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

He pulled himself up on an elbow and then lay back down. “Nothing,” he said. “Doctor Helms brought me soup earlier. How's the transfer going?”

“We'll have utilities on soon. In the meantime, everyone is trying to get the place cleaned up. This fort has been empty for a good many years.”

When he looked over, Baldwin had fallen asleep, so Hook slipped on out.

Andrea had sent Seth to grub out the ordnance sergeant's quarters, and she had put the women to sweeping out rooms in the barracks. Santos, Oatney, and the boys had nearly completed their cleanup and were picking up stray limbs from the sidewalks.

Hook helped Andrea set up the bunks that Helms had located in the supply shack. The heat mounted throughout the day, and a hot wind blasted in from the southwest. Years of dust had settled into every cranny, and scorpions scurried about, their pinchers raised in defiance. Spring storms had loosened boards from porch roofs and scattered them about the grounds.

After Helms managed to get credit at the local bank, Roy walked to the village, where he bought a truck from Shorty to bring in groceries from the nearby city of Woodward. He returned with sacks of potatoes, slabs of bacon, and a dozen crates of eggs. Much to Helms's chagrin, he'd purchased three five-gallon cans of milk, which were already tainted from the heat by the time he returned.

At noon they ate egg sandwiches and swilled tepid milk. By that afternoon their lips cracked from the dryness, and their eyes burned against the hot winds.

Andrea and Hook took a break under the shade of an elm while the girls finished up the cleaning.

A scream suddenly issued from out of the barracks, and they both stood, looking at each other.

“Oh, Lord,” Andrea said. “Something's happened.”

When they reached the barracks, they found Seth bent over Anna. Her wails reverberated in the barren room and sent chills down Hook's spine. He knelt next to Seth.

“What's happened?” he asked.

Seth pointed to the porch board that was firmly attached to the bottom of Anna's foot. The nail had exited between her toes, and blood pooled on top of her foot.

“Oh my God,” Andrea said.

“He stuck me with his hook,” Anna wailed.

“We'll have to get it out,” Andrea said.

“I can't stand hearing a woman cry,” Seth said.

“He's killed me,” Anna wailed. “Oh, oh, oh.”

“How do we get it off?” Hook asked.

“Put your foot on the board, and I'll pull her leg up,” Andrea said.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” Seth said.

“Go call a doctor, Seth,” Andrea said.

“The hook did it to me,” Anna cried.

“Okay,” Hook said, placing both of his feet on the plank. “But do it fast.”

“Yeow!” Anna screamed. “It hurts. It hurts.”

Andrea took hold of Anna's leg and on the count of three yanked her foot free from the board.

Anna slumped onto Hook's shoulder. Together, Hook and Andrea dragged her into the officers' quarters. When they came in, Baldwin lifted onto an elbow but then turned back to his sleep.

By the time the doctor and Seth arrived from town, Anna's toes had swollen into a strut, and red streaks shot up her leg. The doctor, a man in his fifties with glasses thick as milk bottles, administered injections. He took a pill from his stock and peered up at them.

“Puncture wounds can turn nasty,” he said. “It's hard to say where that nail's been. I'm sending an ambulance out to pick her up, so we can keep a watch on her for a few days.”

He closed his bag and walked to the bunk where Baldwin lay. After a few moments, he went to the door. Hook followed him out.

The doctor turned. “About that man in there?”

“That's Doctor Baldwin, owner of this place, and he hasn't been doing well.”

“So I can see.”

“Perhaps you could take a look at him while you're here?”

“Well,” he said.

“He's been under considerable stress,” Hook said. “He isn't coming around like he should.”

“Sure,” he said. “I guess I can take a look.”

Andrea and Hook waited on the porch steps. When the doctor came out, he sat down on the railing. He took off his glasses and wiped them clean with his handkerchief.

“I can't quite make it out,” he said. “There's some confusion and malaise, and his heartbeat is irregular. The odd thing is that his body temperature is low.” He slipped his glasses back on and folded his handkerchief into his pocket. “There's no obvious underlying cause that I can see.”

“What should we do?” Andrea asked.

The doctor picked up his bag. “I would recommend a few days in the hospital. We could run some tests. Perhaps it's nothing more than stress, but I think it prudent to check it out. I'll have the ambulance pick up both him and the girl.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” Hook said. “I'll inform Doctor Helms.”

 

“What?” Helms said, peering over her glasses. “And who is supposed to run things around here in the meantime?”

Hook shrugged. “The same person who's been running things all along, Doctor Helms. Doctor Baldwin has hardly been able. Anyway, the doctor felt it necessary.”

Helms walked to the window, which was covered with hand-forged bars.

“I should have been consulted,” she said.

“I had no idea you would object to his medical care,” Hook said. “That's not the issue. There were a great many things to consider. This place doesn't run itself, you know.”

“Perhaps it
was
inconsiderate.”

“The fact is, I think it's time that Doctor Baldwin be removed from his responsibilities so that we can move on with things.”

“Perhaps with medical attention, he will improve?”

She turned. “I simply don't have the time to attend to this institution and address Doctor Baldwin's personal problems.”

Hook reached for the door. “I told the locals a job interview schedule would be posted.”

“And so it will be,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, “the personnel records were left behind in the supply car. I have them stored in my caboose.”

“See that they are delivered. We'll need them for the interviews.”

Hook closed the door behind him.

 

When the water and electricity came on later that afternoon, a shout went up from the barracks. Baths were in order, and clothes were washed and dried. The women scurried about with their hair stacked on their heads and towels under their arms. And as evening fell, the locusts hummed in the cool, and the inmates laughed from their rooms.

When the hot winds had abated, Hook and Andrea walked about the old fort. Shadows stretched from the ancient buildings, and ghosts from the past whispered in the treetops. Mixer roamed out, sometimes disappearing from sight, only to race back from the prairie at full speed, his tongue lolling from his mouth.

At the far side of the grounds, they came upon a spring. Water bubbled up from its sandy bottom and spilled into the rocks below. They sat on the bank and put their feet into the frigid waters. Andrea leaned against him and laughed, her toes curling with the cold. Her hair shined in the red of sunset.

As dusk fell they walked through the fort cemetery, the old headstones leaning with age. They read names long since forgotten to the years. Andrea knelt at each, running her fingers over the time-worn letters. At a young corporal's grave, she paused for the longest moment, counting the years between birth and death. They walked on through the evening then to find Hook's caboose, still sitting on the crossing loop.

Hook lit the kerosene lantern while Andrea settled in among his books. She picked them up, thumbing through their pages, stacking them to the side.

“This is the first time I've been away from the women for days,” she said. “I didn't realize how exhausting it's been.”

“You've done a great job,” he said.

Andrea leaned back, her face aglow in the soft light of the lantern.

“I was doubtful of you at the start, you know,” she said.

“Why so?”

“Railroaders enjoy a rowdy reputation, especially yard dogs.”

“And now?”

“Now I know why.”

Hook slipped down on the floor next to her, the first stars of evening winking through the windows of the cupola.

“I'll make it up to you,” he said.

He turned the lantern down, and she nuzzled into him, her fingers falling cool and delicate on his ear. He kissed her mouth, the soft pockets of her throat, her heartbeat tripping beneath his lips.