Cherie Priest - Dreadnought

Tankersly said, “What the hell is wrong with you, man? What if they do board us? What if, somehow, they stop us and you survive it-then what?”

“Then nothing,” he replied, as easy as thanking the porter for a cup of coffee. “They know I’m on board, and they won’t shoot me.”

“Then maybe someone should!” The private swung his revolvers around and pointed both at the ranger, who didn’t move a muscle.

He only said, “You? You want to shoot me? I guess you could, and I could even see where it might make sense to you. But keep this in mind: I could’ve taken you down one by one, throwing your corpses overboard without thinking twice about it. For the last five minutes I’ve had a nice fat shot at a whole row of you dumb sons of bitches, all of you with your backsides ripe for the aiming at. But I didn’t shoot you, because I ain’t got no problem with you. I’d like to see you succeed. I’d like to make it to Salt Lake City in one piece, and killing you off won’t do anything to help me reach that goal.”

He looked like he wanted to spit again, but maybe he was out of tobacco, or maybe he didn’t want to pull down the window and get another blast of cold air in the face. “Hell,” he said instead. “I’ve said it since I got on board, and I’ll keep saying it until I get let off or get thrown off: I’m not here to fight against you, on behalf of the Confederacy or the Republic or anybody else. Y’all leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone, like I’ve left you alone all this time. And that’s the best offer you’re going to get from me .”

Somewhere beyond the window, the whistle blew again. Even Tankersly looked over his shoulder, sensing it was close. And since the ranger hadn’t drawn, and hadn’t budged, the private reluctantly turned away. But he said, “I’m watching you, Korman.”

To which the ranger said, “Knock yourself out. Maybe I’ll do a little dance.”

Mercy turned away from the conversation and went to a spare square of window in order to see outside. At first she thought the glass was going opaque from too many eager breaths being puffed upon it, but then she realized that the visibility was shrinking from outside, not within. A dusting of snow billowed down through the pass-which she could see, just barely, because of the way the track bent ahead and showed her the curve of the train.

There it was: a gap cut between the mountains. At this distance, it looked immense, though she knew that the ranger must be right, and it couldn’t be any wider than a quarter of a mile. Feeding into it were about a dozen tracks, all lined up side by side so they made a pattern of stripes squeezed into the narrow corridor.

And off to the south, she could see it now: the Shenandoah .

It streaked up to meet them, a bullet of a machine, drawing only four cars as opposed to the Dreadnought ’s eight (if she included the snowplow fixture, which was of such terrific size and weight that she might as well). It was behind them, yes, and coming up from an arcing track that surely added more distance to their flight. But even from her spot on board the Union train, Mercy could see that the other engine was flying like lightning. Surely it was difficult to judge, but it couldn’t be her imagination that the Shenandoah was gaining ground, and as her eyes tracked the gap and the other engine’s path, she could’ve sworn that the ranger was right-it wasn’t a matter of if, but of when .

The foremost door on the third passenger car blew open and Captain MacGruder came shoving through it, with Inspector Galeano at his side. The captain pointed out a spot on the defensive line and told the Mexican, “There. And we’ll put your partner at the first car so we can make use of you both.”

The inspector pulled a gleaming, silver-wheeled pistol out of a carved-leather holster and let it spin as he twisted it with his wrist and up into his hand. “ Sí, señor. Wherever you need me.”

Then the captain turned his attention to Horatio Korman and said, “You, come with me.”

To Mercy’s mild surprise, the ranger did not object. Instead, he immediately stepped into the aisle and replied, “I thought you’d never come around.”

The nurse saw where they both meant to go and she asked, “Come around to what? Where are you two going?” Instead of answering, they moved to the rearmost door and opened it. She followed, even though she had a feeling that one or both of them was on the verge of ordering her not to. Before the wind had died down from their crossing of the couplers and the gap, she had entered the caboose behind them and drawn the door shut, clipping off the wild, freezing air and sealing them into something like a very uncomfortable vacuum.

She turned around just in time to see Captain MacGruder level his service revolver at Malverne Purdue and tell him, “Out of the way, Purdue.”

But Purdue was already on his feet, Winchester in hand and aiming right back at him. He said, “No.”

The caboose was empty except for the five of them: Mercy, the ranger, the captain, Purdue, and the loyal Oscar Hayes, who looked like he’d rather be almost anywhere else at that particular moment. The silence that fell in the wake of the no was thick and muddled with the ambient roar of the train and the wind, and the occasional whistle of the incoming train and the Dreadnought itself, which finally saw fit to answer the Shenandoah .

The ranger had not yet drawn either of his visible guns, which had been returned to him after the last stop. But one hand hovered in a warning, prompting Mercy to wonder how she’d not yet noticed that he favored the left.

Without lowering his gun or so much as blinking, the captain said evenly, “Purdue, I know you’ve heard it. Have you seen it, out the window here?”

“Nope.”

“They’re gaining on us, and soon they’re going to catch us. If they beat us to the pass, we might be done for. Do you understand me?”

With equal deadpan delivery, the scientist said, “I do, but I believe my experiments are more important than a few casualties.”

“Believe what you want. That engine is moving four cars, and it’s pumping on a new draw-the same kind as our engine, but lighter and more powerful. That’s not fear, that’s a fact-isn’t that right, Ranger Korman?”

“That’s right. The V-Twin system will move that engine with almost twice the power of the one we’re riding now, and they’re pulling half the weight.”

“The Dreadnought can outrun them.”

“The Dreadnought is towing too much to outrun that Rebel sprinter,” the Texian insisted.

“Then we’ll shoot her off the tracks. I remain unconcerned,” said Malverne Purdue, who also remained ready to fire at the drop of a hat.

Horatio Korman said, “Maybe, maybe not. But if she gets ahead of us, and gets any lead on us-as she almost certainly will-they’ll take out the tracks and then we’re all of us dead.”

“We’ll blow it off the tracks before it passes us.”

His patience running thin, Captain MacGruder said, “It’s not going to get a chance to pass us, Purdue. We’re going to drop some weight and outrun it. We’ll beat it to the punch if we can shake some of our load; but we can’t let them get ahead. We’re all done for, if we do.”

Purdue said, “Well then, I guess we’re all shit out of luck, because you’re not unfastening this car,” he said, indicating with a thrust of his shoulder the rearmost vehicle, the hearse. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? You wouldn’t disrespect the war dead like that, would you, Captain?”

“Right now the needs of the living come first. Now, get out of the way, Purdue, and let us have a go at those couplers.”