The Roundhouse, Part 1.

Photo by fellow modeler Ethan.

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed that little tale. I'm planning on posting more of my W&A Disney/Alternate Universe here. However, don't think this sit is going to turn 100% into a Disney fan-site. There is still a lot of serous model railroading to do. 

2020 is here, and work continued on the W&A RR. One big project I started tackling was the construction of the roundhouse itself. The railroad roundhouse goes all the way back to the early years of the railroad industry with the first known of its kind having been said to have been built in Derby, England in 1839. As steam locomotives grew in size so did the building. Steam roundhouses were dark and drafty places. Usually full of smoke and the thick scents of hot locomotive oil, ash, and soot. Most structures could hold more than two dozen steam locomotives and acted more as a maintenance/storage building then a heavy shop. Since steam locomotives had to stop often to refuel and required much maintenance from their handlers, just about every large yard across the country contained a roundhouse of some size to provide such and turn them if needed.

The Marceline roundhouse has 10 stalls and is made up of two separate buildings. The first roundhouse on the site was a brick structure that contained 5 stalls and was erected in the 1870s. Later, in 1882 as Marceline became a division point and repair and service facility, the need for more stalls saw the construction of a second section. The 1882 house was built from granite quarried at the nearby Stone Mountain. 

From day one, the idea was to scratch-build the roundhouse. Due to the confinements of the layout, the roundhouse would have to be a bisected model. With half of the house being a false-front that faded into the backdrop. The end result would be a 10 stall roundhouse where only 7 stalls could be used. Of that 7, 5 could except any sized locomotive in my fleet. The other 2 would only be capable of taking the 0-6-0 saddle-tank, or one of the 1860s 4-4-0s. 

Early track plan. Note the roundhouse only has five stalls at this stage.

After Tyler developed the trackplan, we made a full size drawing of the roundhouse footprint and track-plan to build the model off. Tyler taking his time and actually drawing an architectural plan.

My first attempt was to cut the wall segments from crescent board and foamcore, then layer them with Plastruct stone and brick sheets. To this method, I built a test wall. Complete with windows. Then weathered and painted it. It looked okay, but it failed to have the desired effect I was looking for. 

Then, I remember a diorama I had built some years back, where I used the wall segments from a Revell Superior Bakery/Weekly Herald/Engine house to make the walls for the shop building. Superior Bakery, the Weekly Herald, and the enginehouse were all variations on the same kit, all using the same basic parts and went together in a similar fashion. One or two areas of the kit have interchangeable inserts, to allow for some variation in placement of doors and windows. I still had two kits left over. A bakery and an Engine house. I had to splice few sections together, but these made up the sidewalls of the structure. The back-walls were made from foam-core. 

A nice touch to the stone roundhouse was the peaked facade, complete with a date engraving. The facade was from an Kibri Town Hall kit. One of the nice things about the Revell parts was the architectural trends that date back to the appropriate era. Such as the 'eyebrows' over the recessed window ledges and the stone support pillars that can be seen inserted in the walls.

The roundhouse roof was made from crescent board. The stone boarders and door frames were made from wood. I wanted the roofs to have the look of a copper plated roof. The roof was laminated with a layer of aluminum foil end to end. The foil was creased and glued over some of the raised detail such as support beams, gutters, and tar patches and helped mold the whole structure together. Panel lines and patches were scribed into the foil. Then the whole thing was primed with rustoleum primer, and painted.

To achieve the copper effect, Polyscale "NYC Jade Green" was diluted with water and washed over the roof. It took a few washes to achieve the look, but the slight green tint really accents the copper roof. A few tar patches using Applebarrel "Pavement" acrylic paint completed the roof. 

Painting the walls of the stone roundhouse was a relatively simple process. They were first primed with Tamiya primer, and then a coat of "Granite Gray" from Applebarrel was applied to the whole structure. a light gray was then dry brushed in a number of coats to bring out detail on the raised surfaces. Finally, some weathered with applied also with drybrishing. I currently do not own an airbrush, so most of my weathering and painting is a variation of dry-brushing and washes. 

Flipped upside down, we can see the dark and smoky interior.

The interior is held up by several beams and joists made from basswood. The whole interior is painted with a mix of camouflage brown and black. Going from brown to black, front to back. I decided not to detail the stalls and instead go for this shadowy smoky black interior in order to hide the fact that the roundhouse is partially a false front. 


The front doors are leftovers from two set of Walther's Roundhouse kits that I built for our model railroad club's own steam facility. These where painted and dry brush weathered. The doors were set up to open inward so as to provide a clean look to the front of the house.



Things left to be done include the entire brick roundhouse, smoke-jacks (Which I intend to have 3D printed) and a number of smaller details around the structure. Construction has also started on the second half of the roundhouse, the older brick house.

Clear The Track (W&A Story)

A Lady and the Tramp Story 

Everything in this story is as accurate as I can make it using information available to me and from my own personal experiences within the Railroad industry. In some places, railroad terminology and slang is used, as well as the correct procedures in the operations of trains that are true to the time frame (1890-1911). I have done all I can to interpret without impairing the feel and atmosphere of the environment.

Lady and the Tramp, The Lion King/Guard, Oliver & Company, The Princess and the Frog, Talespin, and 101 Dalmatians are copyright the dude with the mouse ears and the big castle. This is an anthropomorphic 'Alternate Universe' set in my W&A RR world and takes liberties with the movies and the canon from which it’s set around.

　

Clear The Track

Eddie-Sand

Art By Folly and STB51

Chapter 1: The Shadowman

Hey brother, There's an endless road to rediscover
Hey sister, Know the water's sweet but blood is thicker

Oh, if the sky comes falling down
For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do

March 1892

The cocker spaniel's ears picked up at the quick succession of knocks that came from the front of the Victorian styled home, which was followed by a very audible call. Pushing one of her ears out from in-front of her face she slowly raised her head from the pillows, her heavy eyelids beginning to open ever so slightly to determine if it was still night. Her mate, a gray motley looking fellow, lay with his head snuggled into her shoulders, his chest slowly rising and falling in the early stages of sleep as he snuggled up to his beloved mate. It was early in the morning, and the great house was silent and motionless outside from the soft ticking of a grandfather clock positioned in the hallway. At first, she felt the urge to just lay her head back into the comfort of the pillows and write the knocking off as a product of the cold wind that seemed to bluster against the warm home, but when the young voice of the call boy echoed from the front door again, she knew her slumber was over.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dear, call to take out the Horse and Cart at seven!” A faint squeak of a voice called out from the street below. “The regular engineer has the shakes. You guys want to temp?"

“What perfect timing," her mate moaned as he rolled over to face away from her, eyes still held shut. “I was just starting to drift.”

"It's your turn to answer the door, dear. I got it the last time." She ended her sentence by leading into a soft yawn.

“Do you think if we just stay really still and not make a sound, he will give up and go away?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Dear! Are you awake?” the squeaky voice called again, now more unsure.

“I guess not.” The mongrel said as he sat up, pushing the thick blanket and sheets off. Rolling out of the big feather bed, careful not disturb his cocker spaniel lover, he turned up the gas lamp, which brought a thin glow of light to the room. Standing up and stretching, he looked down at her with tired eyes. “C'mon, Pidge, let’s layoff and tell him to find another. It’s just a fill in job after all.”

Lady rose to a sitting position, heavy eyelids fluttering open ever so slightly, and she gazed over at the clock. With a soft sigh, she resigned her fate to the time, then looked at her mate and shook her head no, her two mahogany furred ears fluttering around her shoulders. She had a way of saying a lot with very few words. Even with her fur disheveled and exhaustion clear in her features, the look she gave him, muzzle cocked and one eyebrow raised questioningly, said far more than any statement. As early as it was, she would not disobey her loyalty.

Grudgingly, he gave in and his gray triangular ears fell forward in defeat. "You win, let me throw something on and I'll take care of him while you make yourself more proper."

Padding to his dresser he got out a pair of slacks. After tugging them on he ambled downstairs, the pads of his paws thumping on the soft carpets. The home he shared with Lady wasn't large, but it was finely appointed and warm and welcoming. It was in a newer part of town, and Tramp sometimes wondered how it was he and Lady had been able to afford such a place. She had always been such a sheltered dog growing up, and he had lived most of his life drifting from one town to the next. Having a home together was something that filled the mongrel up with pride. Flicking on a gas lamp in the hall, he slid up to the front door.

"Hello, Lucky," Tramp said as he opened the door to the glowing lamp of the call boy and a blast of cold night air against the fur of his bare chest. "A bit nippy tonight for you to be out and about."

"Sorry to wake you," the spotted dalmatian pup said with a hesitant smile. As a 'call boy', his job was to go to the residence of the next available crew and alert them of an oncoming duty. So he was used to often finding himself on the bad end of a tired engineer. Short and scraggly, Tramp could see in the lamplight that his clothing bore streaks and patches of coal dust. "But we need a temp. Your regular locomotive, the Dispatch, still had steam in her so I was sent to call. It's the Horse and Cart."

"That's alright," Tramp said with a smile of his own set against the bushy fur of his muzzle. "We weren't asleep anyway. Lady and I will be down there as quick as we can."

"Uh, Mr. Dear, is it alright if I warm up for a bit? I still have to fetch the rest of your crew, and it's bitterly cold out tonight." His words faded off to a faint hopeful smile.

"Of course." Tramp’s annoyance at being pulled from an evening’s rest with his mate was quickly forgotten. "It's going to take Mrs. Dear a few moments to get dressed. Why don't you come into the parlor and warm up?"

After Lucky entered, Tramp closed the door and headed down the hall to the master bedroom where he found Lady already halfway dressed, having slipped into a skirt and blouse. The bed had already been made, and the spaniel was sitting by the carved wooden dresser. She was engaged in sliding on a set of warm woolen stockings. Lady turned her head, silky ears swinging, to see him poke his scruffy gray muzzle around the doorway. She was truly a beautiful spaniel. Though she was in her early thirties she had the young body of a twenty-year-old, with soft honey colored fur and long mahogany colored ears which ended at her mid-breast level. Her docked tail wagged happily against the seat of her denim skirt.

"My, oh my, even in work clothes you clean up well," the mongrel said with a chuckle. "You know Pidge, you're too wholesome for a job like this."

"All these years and you're still a flirt." Lady smirked, brushing her left ear with a hand. Her large brown eyes were twinkling at the mongrel as he leaned his tall lanky frame against the door-frame. "So, what job has us leaving our home at such an inhospitable hour?"

“It's the Horse and Cart. Seems it's ready to move,” His muzzle twisted into a snort, eyes rolling.

The Horse and Cart was a train that started on one end of the railroad and slowly made its way to the other, picking up and setting off cars along the way. It did not have a set schedule and moved whenever it was ready, meaning its arrival could be at any point in the day or night. Its slow and lumbering pace gave rise to its name.

"I can't believe we're going to rush out into the early hours for a wayfreight," Tramp grumbled, crossing his arms, strong and firm from a career stoking locomotive boilers. "You sure we shouldn't just tell the kid to move onto the next crew on his list?"

Lady brushed the fur of one ear, pulling the hairs into neat orderly waves. “It wouldn't be proper. If it helps, look at it this way; we'll get a nice long rest in Chattanooga since we're forfeiting our hours here.” She looked up at him, a soft twinkle in her chocolaty brown providing a promise. While there was no denying Lady's loyalty to the company, glancing over at the darkness though the window glass she found the feather bed to a far more welcoming invitation than the cab of a freight train.

Tramp placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a soft hug, running the bottom of his muzzle over the top of her head. “I know Pidge, just we're not getting any younger, and I would like to start spending more time with you and less on the railroad.”

Lady's eyelashes fluttered and she rolled her head slightly to one side to let him nuzzle her. “Oh, I agree, but well...we shall have to talk about it later. For the moment, duty calls.”

She watched as her mate dug through the closet, quickly throwing on a coat over his work clothes. Once he was dressed he held out his arm out for Lady to take it. Together they went to their parlor to collect Lucky and gather their railroad kit before the trio set out into the night. Lucky led the way with his lantern with Tramp and Lady walking arm in arm behind him. As they left the fine neighborhood behind them, Tramp bent his head slightly down and gave the spaniel a gentle kiss on her forehead. Lady smiled and leaned her head onto his shoulder. 

                                  **********

While Lady and Tramp headed for the railyard, Lucky made a diversion to locate the next two names on his list. The cobblestone streets and stone sidewalks of the little mountain town gave off a damp feel from moist morning air, and their surfaces glistened under a sheen of dew, the carriage wheels creating trails and wakes as they splashed through the puddles. The late hour meant that the gas-lit streetlamps were still burning, and the carriage lamps were all inflamed. Despite the chilly bite, the rising sun meant that the last vestiges of Jack Frost would soon burn off to a beautiful spring day. Jogging down the sidewalk, the young pup found himself at the doors to a public house that served both railroad and highwaymen.

Inside the air was pungent with cigarette smoke, and the floor was covered with a combination of cigarette butts and sawdust. Lucky had no trouble finding his intended targets. The place was practically empty due to the late hour, save for a slim blonde furred female sitting on a bar stool at the counter. Her bushy tail was flicking at the wooden legs. Her face was accented by a cute little muzzle, and a set of big blue eyes and silky eyelashes. A small tuft of a bang fell before her eyes, between two pointed ears, one of which seemed to permanently fold down. A small but fruitful bosom gave away her youthful age, and her thin and firm stomach gave away years of hard work.

“Miss Dust?” he said waltzing up to the older woman. “Angel Dust? You and Scamp Dear have both been called. The Horse and Cart needs a crew. Leaving at seven!”

Angel's floppy ears perked as she looked over her shoulder at the dalmatian As she swung around in the bar stool, another dog approached. In his hands he held two mugs of coco, foaming at the brims. He had just picked them up from the lioness barmaid who was busying herself with cleaning the bar before the morning rush.

She slipped a hand into her vest pocket to produce a pocket watch, delicately flicking the lid open to check the time.

"Sorry, Scamp, looks like we've been called." The lid on the watch closed with a soft click. "Tell Vitani to close our tab."

Scamp's face dropped, triangular flapped ears falling on each side of his head. "Jeez really Angel? We just pulled an evening shift in the yard. Less then a few hours ago. Aren’t we supposed to get some sort of rest?"

Scamp looked much like a younger version of the Tramp, with a scruff of head fur between his triangular flapped ears. His chocolate brown eyes were the same shade as both his parents and his tail seemed to perpetually wag. He was younger than Angel but stood eye to eye with her.

“Afraid not,” Angel shrugged, “But look on the bright side. Over the road jobs pay more then switching. Could be more coin in our hands. Plus, we'll work with your parents. So, that's a plus.”

Scamp's ears flicked back in displeasure as he placed the mugs on the counter top. His right eyebrow arched, and his mouth became a thin line set against the scraggly fur of his face.

"Well, I'm not going back out there on an empty stomach," He started, plopping down into a stool next to Angel. "And we've already paid for these. So, as long as the call boy doesn't mind... why don't we put a little warmth in our bellies before we head for the yard.”

Lucky shrugged. Sure, he had pulled crews from worse then a few mugs of coco. As long as neither were late for duty, he didn't mind. Besides, the pub was vastly warmer and more welcoming than the cold streets.

“Well Tenderfoot, when you're right, you're right,” Angel flashed a toothy smirk and grabbed her mug.

While Scamp practically downed his drink, Angel leaned against the bar and took a kindly sip while Lucky plopped himself into a stool, his back against the counter. Looking the young Dalmatian over, Angel couldn't help but notice a sense of familiarity around him. One corner of her mouth turned up, and an eyebrow rose as she pondered where exactly she had seen the dog before.

“Hey Lucky,” she mused. “I don't suppose you would be related to Patch, would you?”

“Yeah, I guess the family resemblance is hard to ignore.” He gave a disenchanted shrug. “He is one of my brothers. He was the one who got me this job as a call boy.”

Angel snapped a finger as she placed the realization. Her ear flipped forward and she gave a solid nod of her head. "Oh, that's why you seem familiar. I've worked with Patch before. He is a pretty decent guy. Kind of a flirt, though. In a goofy way."

One of Scamp's eyebrows rose as he looked over the edge of his mug. "Who is this Patch fella?"

This caused a smile to break out across her face and she stifled a laugh. She couldn't pass up a chance to tease Scamp. Leaning back in her stool, she crossed one leg over the other and let her bushy tail wag side to side before offhandedly commenting, “Oh, just one of the roundhouse hostlers. A nice fine young man. Very handsome.”

Scamp frowned, causing a crease to form on his brow. Angel couldn't help but think he actually looked a bit like his father when he did that. She found it rather cute. To the side, Angel could see Lucky tilting his head in confusion, as if trying to figure out if the blonde furred female was being serious or not. Angel gave a wink to the pup before taking a final swing from her mug. "He tends to talk a bit much. That's why I call him Squeaky toy."

"Squeaky toy?" Scamp sounded rather concerned at this point, one ear perking slightly. Angel finished her drink, set the mug on the counter top, and plopped down from the bar stool.

"Oh, don't fret, Patch is no one you have to worry about. Honestly, I think he is just working for the boom season. He spoke about wanting to be a newspaper reporter." With that, she leaned forward and gave the mongrel a peck on the cheek and soft press with the very end of her nose. "Now c'mon. We have a train to catch."

Scamp seemed to deflate in relief. He dropped down from the bar stool and with a soft smile, fell by step with his girlfriend and followed her out the door. Lucky on the other hand just rolled his eyes. Where Tramp and Lady were a picture of grace and maturity, Scamp and Angel seemed to be full of the energy of youth.

                            *******************

The gas-lamps gave off a soft yellow glow of illumination, the flames flickering inside their glass housings. The streets were desolate outside of a late night freight wagon here and there. All were seemingly descending towards the train-yards to feed the multitudes of boxcars. Tramp and Lady walked arm in arm on the sidewalk keeping a brisk conversation. They were careful to avoid the many puddles from a recent rainstorm. It was cold enough that they could see their breath in front of their muzzles.

The cold forced the cocker spaniel to clutch ever tighter to her mate. Every so often a brisk gust of wind would roll down the street. She had been thinking about their conversation earlier, about holding back a little on their conjoined careers and focusing more on themselves. They had already had a son and adopted a daughter, and they were in the prime of their lives. It was time to live a little and enjoy each other before they started to get old. Lady looked up at the Tramp, her Tramp. It felt as if it was only yesterday that he had waltzed into her life, yet they had gone through so much together she couldn't imagine life without him.

A sharp wind echoed down the street, making the two dogs huddle closer as they walked down to the rail-yard.

“Maybe we should have grabbed an extra coat,” the Tramp commented. He tilted his head slightly to press his cheek into the side of Lady's crown, softly nuzzling her as they walked. “I don't want you fetching yourself a cold.”

“Oh, don't worry about me.” Lady looked up at her mate and smiled. “Besides, we'll be in front of a nice warm locomotive firebox before you know it.”

“But I'm going to lose circulation in that arm if you clamp down on it anymore.”

Lady grinned and gave her mate's arm a particularly tight squeeze. “Oh, you can take it.”

“Easy there, Pidge. You might break the old man,” he teased, faking a pained expression. “I have your gloves in my coat pocket. They can keep your hands warm until we get to the station.”

“Look at you, my gentleman.” She slid out from under his arm, her dark blue skirt rippling around her legs. “Thinking ahead for me.”

“I'm more thinking of my good coal-throwing arm.” A gust of wind tugged at his triangular ears, causing them to flop a little.

“Tramp!” Lady laughed. Tramp ducked into a remorseful crouch.

“Only joking, only joking.” He gave her a warm smile and reached into a pocket to pull out a set of leather gloves.

He was in the process of handing them to her when a rather more powerful than usual gust of wind caught one of the gloves, and it slipped from his grasp. Tramp and Lady watched as it tumbled in the breeze like a leaf and blew into a nearby alleyway between two storefronts before vanishing into the shadows between the gas-lamps. Tramp moved as if he was about to follow it, but Lady cut him off.

“Oh, I'll get it,” she declared, quickly trotting in pursuit. Tramp crossed his arms and leaned against a gas-lamp, a smirk on his face and a roll of his eyes.

Entering the night darkened alleyway, she found that the glove had come to rest in a beam of moonlight that shined down theatrically from between the roofs. She knelt down and quickly retrieved the glove before tucking it on, taking a second to spread her fingers to be sure it was seated.

Straightening up, Lady glanced about the alleyway. On each side brick walls rose and the space between them was so narrow that she felt she could probably reach out and place a hand on each at the same time. The walls were dirty, and if it wasn't for the handful of barrels and creates that stood in neat piles awaiting delivery, she would have assumed it was abandoned. The alley was L-shaped, and something flickered and burned around the corner. Lady had always been a curious dog, and this was no exception. Looking over her shoulder and mentally reminding herself that she needed to return to the Tramp soon, she allowed herself to peek around the corner and see what exactly the source of the strange glow was.

Walking hesitantly around the corner she found herself in front of a single door mounted on the very back wall of the ally. Three burning torches hung above the door frame casting an eerie glow that pulsated like a beating heart across the alley. Above the torches hung a rather, in her opinion at least, loathsome African mask. It's harsh color patterns and sharp relief made all the more otherworldly by the dim light. The cocker stopped and craned her neck, staring openly at it.

“'S'cuse me, chère, but is there something you’re looking for?” a deep voice with a heavy accent asked, practically in front of the cocker spaniel.

Lady jumped back, seeing that the door had silently opened, and standing on the threshold was a thin dark skinned man leaning on a cane. He was clad in an ill-fitting black suit with a top hat and seemed to tower imposingly over her, his sharp eyes drinking her in. The light from the three torches played with their shadows, tossing them against the brick walls of the alley. Where on earth had he come from? She never heard the door open. She felt her cheeks flush with slight embarrassment at having been caught staring outside his establishment.

“Oh, pardon me, I was uh, just...”

“Preoccupied, it seems.” A sly smile that was as thin as the mustache over his lip split his face as he gave her a tip of his silk top hat. “But that's okay mademoiselle, preoccupied souls are a specialty of mine.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stand in your doorway,” the cocker stammered. Something about this man made her feel rather uncomfortable. “I'll just be on my way.”

Lady started to back away, but was suddenly pulled to a stop. She whirled around to see one of his large hands wrapped firmly around her wrist. She visibly tensed up, her soft brown eyes becoming a little panicked as his smirk grew wider.

“Hey now, not so fast little one. I ain't gonna hurt you,” he said, slowly leading her back towards the door. Her eyes flittered around, trying to find some way to politely remove herself. If worse came to worst, she knew that she could yell and Tramp would come running. She was taken aback however at the sight of their shadows on the far wall. For a brief second, she thought she saw his moving of its own accord. “The winds brought you here for a reason.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.”

“Oh, chère, you're full of bad luck, fears about the future, and I can absolutely feel a wanderlust about you.” He pulled her into the doorway, his violet eyes glittering darkly. “I just want to help.”

“Bad luck?” By now Lady was very confused. She cocked her mouth slightly as she stepped into the shop, allowing herself to be guided by her hand. Still, she went no further than the front entrance. The sun had yet to fully rise and she was far away from the main street, but her curiosity got the better of her. “How do you know I have bad luck?”

Looking around it seemed the shop stretched farther into the building than it seemed was possible. The shelves and cases that she could see were full of strange items and vials, powders, and liquids. The walls were decorated with more masks and the low lighting that was given off by the wall mounted gas lamps gave the whole store an eerie and dark atmosphere. The spaniel had never seen such a place, nor did she feel was she wanting to see it again.

“Oh, it's in the cards, my dear!” The man laughed as he produced a deck of tarot cards from seemingly midair. He began cycling them in his hands in a feat of showmanship that actually astounded the cocker spaniel. “Speaking of which, here is mine.”

The deck of tarot cards vanished and a single pink slip of cardstock appeared in their place. He placed it in the open palm of Lady's hand, and then gently closed her hand around it before letting go. Lady inspected the card, reading it out loud.

“Dr. Facilier, Tarot Readings, Charms, Potions. Dreams made real?” She raised an eyebrow at the last bit.

“Pigeon!” Tramp's voice called faintly from the alleyway. Slowly growing louder as he approached. “Oh Pigeon, where are you?”

Lady spun around and looked back through the doorway. She could see the tall mongrel's shadow cast on the far wall. He had yet to come around the corner in the L-shaped alley. Truth be told, she was glad for the excuse to depart. “Oh, that's my mate. I must be off.”

“Come and see me sometime. I guarantee I could help you in ways you may have never thought,” Facilier said with a wink as the cocker spaniel started out the door. “Mrs. Lady.”

Lady felt an ice cold chill roll through her body and she involuntary shuddered. How did he know her name? She decided not to look back. Instead she looked down at the little card before quickly slipping it into her blouse pocket. She practically broke into a run, jogging around the corner and running into the Tramp's arms. He practically jumped back in surprise when she wrapped her own arms around him in a warm hug.

“Whoa, Pidge. What happened?” He had a look of genuine concern on his face. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

Lady let go of her mate and stood back. The spaniel looked over her shoulder back at the closed doorway and the mask above it, seemingly staring down at them. She took a deep inhalation of air to steady her nerves. “I dunno, maybe I have.”

“Oh, well don't you worry, little Pigeon.” Tramp put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “No ghost will get you as long as I'm around.”

Lady allowed a warm smile to slowly split her maw. Looking up into the handsome features of the Tramp, she felt immediately comfortable. She hugged him again, slipping her head into the crook of his neck and giving him a quick nuzzle. “I think that's all I really need.”

“Good, because we need to get to the yard before we make our own train later than it already is!” The gray furred mutt laughed.

“Right, no more side-trips.” Lady released him, and then as the two walked out of the alley, she slipped her arm back around his. “Lead the way my knight.”

                               **********************

Chapter 2: The Horse And Cart

The Western & Atlantic Railroad worked twenty-four hours seven days a week. The iron rails of the yard looked black and sleek in the early morning light with their harsh patterns made all the more visible by a fine dusting of dew. The switch lamps glowed red and green, looking like baubles that had fallen from a Christmas tree. Even though spring had finally come to the hills and dales of the blue ridges, the morning air had a sharp bite. Standing in the yard minus a locomotive and caboose, the Horse and Cart waited. A yard locomotive, an old demoted "goat" of Civil War ancestry, busily clawed at the way-fraight's end, taking some cars off and adding others, her wheels screeching on the wet rails. Boxcars all locked up tight, oil-cars, and hay-cars, and potato-cars with stovepipe-ends sticking out in the middle; ventilated fruit- and milk-cars; flatcars with truck-wagons full of market-stuff; flatcars loaded with reapers and binders and lots of cotton, flatcars piled high with fresh cut and pleasant smelling hemlock-logs, or bundles of shingles; and cars heaped high with sharp coal that sparkled in the moonlight like black glass.

Entering the warmth of the railroad depot, Tramp and Lady hurried past the empty waiting room and went to the trainmaster's office, careful as to not touch the blazing potbelly stoves as they walked over the polished wooden floorboards. They had hurried over after having left the alleyway. Lady putting any further thoughts of the shadow man's strange behavior off to the side, his calling card pocketed out of sight and out of mind. As they approached the main office, they saw another crew coming out the door. During the day the office was a busy place with engineers and firemen standing before the desk getting their orders while a clerk perched on a stool copied them in longhand into an impressive ledger.

As the Road Foreman, Chief Slade was in charge of train movements and crew assignments plus any number of other problems that hit his desk or were whispered into his ear. He was a coon hound with something of a mean streak in him who cared about the equipment and not much else. He would rather a locomotive kill a dog then break a coupling. Neither Tramp nor Lady missed his glass eye stare or cold voice. His hard glare had the effect of chilling even the warmest of souls.

When they entered the office Tramp checked the call board. This was a giant chalkboard punched with holes in which dowels with T-shaped heads were inserted. On each head was printed a name. Whenever a call list was made Chief would shift the names to correspond with crew assignments, in this way the train crews were made up.

"Pretty confident we’d take the run!" groused Tramp as he examined the board, his hands placed on his hips. Though Chief had already left for home the pegs that read: "Lady D" and "Tramp D" were already moved to their respective spots.

Lady slipped an arm through his and leaned her head gently against his shoulder. “Did you think we really would have turned them down, even if it wasn't for the money?”

Tramp leaned his head slightly to rest his cheek against the soft fur of her ear. "Well, no, Pidge. But I just wish it didn't cut into our time off. We were supposed to get tomorrow off to rest. We've given more time than required to the railroad, and we're not getting any younger. Like I said earlier, I would like to start spending more time with you."

Lady slipped her hand into his. Her delicate fingers intertwining with and giving his hand a soft squeeze. “We're still young, and I'm enjoying every moment we get together.”

“I dunno Pidge, I'm starting to feel like I'm turning into a grizzled old railroad mutt.” Tramp gave the top of her head a soft nuzzle.

Lady smirked, and a sparkle of loving mischief could be seen in her soft brown eyes. “Yes, but I like my grizzled old railroad mutt.”

Approaching the desk, their train orders and initial waybill stack was sitting ready. The train orders having been written upon the Horse and Cart's arrival and the waybills dropped off by the retiring train crew. As Tramp and Lady were gathering their paperwork and signing in the ledger, the back door opened and Scamp and Angel plodded in. On the way into the depot, Angel had started wrapping cloth strips around her hands and between her fingers. She preferred the wrappings to gloves as it kept her fingers free to work the air hoses and brake-stands. The two stopped before passing over the threshold for her to hold one of her hands out to Scamp, who finished tidying up her wrappings.

"Good morning," Lady said cheerily. Her voice was its normal honey smooth tone, even at this hour. Ever since she was a pup living under the roof of her foster parents, Lady was a morning soul.

"Good night is more proper." Angel moaned. "We'd better be put on the extra board tomorrow or be getting paid overtime."

“Look on the bright side,” Scamp chided. “You'll get to see Squeakytoy before we depart.”

Angel rolled her eyes. "Oh leave it, Tenderfoot. I told you, he is just a little flirt. Harmless."

“Squeakytoy?” Tramp questioned, tilting his head to one side.

"One of the new hostlers, this dalmatian kid named Patch, likes to flirt with me." Angel chuckled, shooting Scamp a playful smirk "And It's making Scamp jealous."

Scamp's ears flicked up, and he gave Angel a playful shove. Tramp, however, shared Angel's chortle. Looking over at his mate, he crossed his arms over his chest. Lady looked up at him and they passed a knowledgeable wordless agreement. Between Tramp's womanizing past, and Lady's continual line of potential suitors, they had their own fair share of misdirected interests.

"What happened to the Regina Mill's hogger?" Scamp quickly changed the subject, instead referring to the regular engineer and the name of the locomotive who they were replacing.

"Oh he seems to have come down with an illness, poor soul," Lady said, passing the leaflet of paperwork to her son. "But we'll take over for him and his crew."

"The Horse and Cart," Scamp said looking at his paperwork. "She's a wildcat, unscheduled. That means keeping our eyes peeled for signals and diving onto side tracks to let the scheduled runs get through on time."

He leafed to the next page and shook his head after reading it. A grin was spreading over his tousled maw as he took in the size of the train. "Just look at this switch list, slick! It's quite a mixed bag. Jeez, if they could load it, it looks like they did. It may be 26 cars but her weight acts as if she’s 40!"

Lady nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Heaven knows, it’s gonna be a fun one tonight. Hauling a heavy freight is a lot tougher than pulling around a string of plush passenger cars," she yipped. “But we will manage.”

"Right," Angel barked, taking the paperwork from Scamp's hands. One of her ears flopped before her head, forcing her to look around it. "We have to be alert so I'll keep a pot of thick black coffee at the ready if any of us starts to feel like we're gonna nod off."

She looked over the schedules. Blue eyes dancing back and forth as she quickly scanned the information.

"It's really not too bad," the Pomeranian announced.  "We'll have to go into a siding to let the Express to Atlanta by, maybe get kicked off to the side in one more place." She looked at the station's standard clock. Its regulated hands were ornately pointing to the numbers, each tick and movement of the pendulum immeasurably valuable.

"Time's burning!" she stated.

With that, the crew broke up and headed out, Scamp and Angel to the caboose to be sure it was stocked while Lady and Tramp made for the roundhouse to fetch their locomotive.

                                *******************

The Marceline Roundhouse was one of a number of garages for the Western and Atlantic Railroad's mighty high-stacked wood and coal-burning fleet. It had ten stalls however there usually were only five or six locomotives housed in it. Above them hung a cloud of vapor that smelled of hot oil and steam and good pungent burning wood or the sweet scent of coal. A couple had just come off the mainline, returning from a long evening's run, and still had a fire in them that belched thick clouds into the "smoke rakes", ventilators stuck through the roof which was supposed to vent the smoke but never seemed to fully do that. Two others were puffing a hot black breath as they got up steam pressure.

Inside the roundhouse, Lady and the Tramp approached their iron high-stacked steed: Locomotive number 97. Painted a deep brown with a Russian iron boiler jacket, her steel hide was trimmed out with gold, white, and lots of brass. Spelled in great brass letters on the nameplate was the locomotive's name; “Dispatch”. A crew all but owned their locomotive and they took pride in her. They'd buy her handsome tallow pots (to lubricate parts), bells and whistles, kept her paint touched up, shined the jacket, and polished the brass. Some engineers sank a large amount of their pay into getting real gold leaf paint for the name board or number plates and the Dispatch was no different. Boarding their locomotive and checking the big steam gauge and sight glasses, Lady and Tramp began to prepare for the run. The fire had not been dumped from its last run, and the Tramp was soon shoveling a new layer of fine fresh coal into the hungry fire. The iron horse was built in the 1870s by the Cooke locomotive works and had been recently rebuilt to burn coal instead of the wood the older locomotives once used. She was fitted out with all the latest apparatus for steam locomotives, to which Lady slipped out onto the running board to check the new air-compressor, and wipe the bell.

As she ran a rag over the bell, she could see her distorted reflection looking back in the brass. The light in the roundhouse was low and the air smokey, and for a second Lady thought she saw something dart across the wall from the corner of her eye. Looking over her shoulder, she quickly tossed it off as shadows from the smoke. However, when she returned to polishing the bell, she could clearly see another reflection in it's brass. That of a sharp smiling face with a feathered tophat.

Lady gasped, and recoiled back. Had she not been hanging onto the railing, she could have fallen off the side of the locomotive.

“Everything okay Pidge?” Tramp called from the cab. His worried mug popping out of a side window. Lady looked back at the bell. The Shadow-Man's face was gone. All that remained was her own brown eyes and tan furred maw.

“Yes, yes...just my eyes fooled me to a fright is all,” the cocker responded, calming down. “Nothing to worry about.”

Tramp snorted, a wiry smile forming under his tousled maw. “Just be careful. Would hate to have to sweep that pretty face of yours off the roundhouse floor,” he teased.

Dispatch was a good steamer, as the diamond-stacked locomotives drew wonderful draughts, and it wasn't long before the big steam gauge showed things were at operating pressure. Sitting high in the engineer’s seat box on the right hand side of the cab, Lady cracked the throttle bar, giving the snorting iron horse a whisper of steam and the 4-4-0 glided backwards out of the roundhouse and stopped onto the turntable. Leaning out the cab, Lady took note of a male Dalmatian standing at the turntable's controls. She realized that this must have been the young man Scamp and Angel had been discussing. She waved the Tramp over and pointed him out.

“You don't think?” She said with a knowing glint in her eye.

“I do Pidge, I do believe that is Patch.” Tramp chuckled, slipping his set of brass fireman's goggles up to his forehead. The lens were tinted green, perfect for staring into the corners of a working firebox.

Patch put both gloved hands on one of the massive levers next to the vertical boiler that powered the turntable, and pulled it towards him. With a whir of gears and the whine of steam cylinders, the turntable swung the Dispatch like a man-of-war in a tideway. Once they were lined up with the exit track, he stopped the table and grabbed a hold of the rear stirrups on the back of the Dispatch's tender.

Passing a hand signal along, Lady was assured that he was safely aboard before sending the steam locomotive gliding off the turntable, shrouded in a cloud of its own white vapor. They stopped at the fuel pile where Patch assisted two men with wheelbarrows who waited to top off the coal in the tender. After their fueling they backed through the yard at a walking pace, throwing thick clouds of black smoke in time to the beat of the exhaust, clattering onto the yard track where their freight train was ready with Patch riding the side of the locomotive. Neither Tramp nor Lady spoke to him, all focused on the job of railroading. Lady continued to lean out the cab window, guided by the switch lamps and the glow of Angel's lantern as the Pomeranian trotted ahead of the locomotive. She signaled for the locomotive to stop while she aligned a switch.

Neither canine gave any notice as Patch moved to the gangway and turned to face the locomotive, stepping out to the wet deck steps. Angel had just started walking past the tender and watched in abstract horror as Patch's foot slipped and flew off the wet metal step! With a sharp “yelp”, down the young Dalmatian went, sliding all the way down the wet handrail. It happened so quickly that Angel could only stare with her heart leaping into her throat as Patch suddenly went to the ballast!

She flinched at the harsh "crunch" his ankle made when hit the cinders, and she raced to his side as he fell into a heap next to the locomotive. Reaching for his ankle he gave a sharp groan. Leaning down next to him and quickly seeing the sharp angle of his foot when compared to his leg, there was no doubt in Angel's mind that the Dalmatian’s ankle was broken.

“What happened?” Lady cried from above in the cab. She and Tramp rushed over to the gangway.

“Poor fool has broken his ankle,” Angel replied, placing a hand on the spotted dog's shoulder to steady him. Path couldn't speak through his clinched teeth as pain coursed through his body. Angel looked over her shoulder and started waving over Scamp, who had seemingly seen the commotion from across the yard. “We need to get him some help, and fast!”

Angel, Scamp, and Lady carried Patch to the depot while Tramp tended to the locomotive. The depot agent arranged for a team and buggy to carry him to the doctor.

“That's the first one,” Angel barked as they returned to the locomotive.

Scamp looked at her, puzzled. “The first one?”

“The first accident, tenderfoot. We've got two more to go- they always come in threes.”

“Since when?” Scamp's eyebrows shot up as an expression of disbelief split across his maw. Angel let out a soft chuckle at his response.

Tramp smirked, placing a hand on Scamp's shoulder. “She's teasing you son. It's an old world superstition. You're uncle Jock used to tell me and your mother it was an unavoidable fact of life. Accidents, or at least the mistakes that lead to them, always came in threes. No matter how careful you were." He wrinkled his scraggly furred muzzle and put on a mock Scottish accent, mimicking the terrier he referenced; "But ifin fate didn't have your number called, then yah would come out as clean as a new penny."

Lady didn't join in on her mate's joviality. Instead slipping a hand into her pocket and feeling for the card. The Shadow-Man's words about bad luck rang about her head.

“It's just a superstition.” Angel chimed in. “I've heard it before. But I wouldn't believe in it.”

“Well, I sure don't believe in it” The Tramp declared climbed back into the cab, declaring as he pulled himself up; “There won't be any next ones. Not as long as we all tend to our jobs safely.”

Lady wanted to agree with the mongrel. However, she couldn't help but think that perhaps this was something more. Perhaps this was the shadow-man’s bad luck? Sliding up into the cab behind her mate, she shook such thoughts of future accidents from her head and focused on the locomotive and her new task at hand. She was just being silly. Patch was going to be fine, and that was all that mattered.

Still, the card felt a little heavier in her pocket.

                                 **************

The Western & Atlantic operated on a standard system called Timetable and Train Order. Conductors carried timetables, but had to wait for telegraphed orders at stations before they could proceed.

The Horse and Cart was not on a schedule. Whenever the train was ready to move, it moved. White extra lamps and flags set on the locomotive. As the locomotive thumped over the switches, once again moving to back onto the head of the train, Lady imagined she would be making the trip with the Johnson bar all the way in the corner, hogging for power. The locomotive bumped back towards the train, the circle of Angel's lantern turning in the darkness below. Once the knuckles on the couplers closed the blonde Pomeranian gave the hand signal for "I'm going in-between" and hooked the air hoses together. That done Angel went about the train and knocked off the handbrakes on the rear cars. The train was set up with air braked cars at the head, and the old fashioned hand braked ones at the rear. Tramp had already started the air compressor and it wasn't long before the pump began to give off a soft “pant-pant” as it worked to activate the train's air brakes.

While Angel banged about the cars, Scamp went to the cab and compared watches with his mother. It was very important that the train crew's time pieces all be synchronized. Lady had set her watch to the official clock in the depot, thus her's was the time the others copied. His watch set, Scamp headed for the caboose with Angel joining him about halfway along the train. He and Lady both carried the set of train orders, picked up once the markers had been lit making them officially a "train". These orders would carry them to the town of Curtis Switch. On the locomotive, Tramp walked along the running board to the headlamp with a small can of whale oil. Soon, he had the box-shaped lamp lit and a fan of yellow light flickered to life, stabbing a yellow beam into the morning twilight.

A lantern waved and the highball rose. Clear tracks!

"Clear signals, time to go!" Lady barked as her mate entered the cab again. She placed a delicate hand on the massive throttle bar, genteel female fingers clutching the pulsing iron. Pausing for a second, she took a deep breath, placing her concentration on the machine before her. In that moment, the locomotive became a part of Lady's body. Then, with practiced ease and agility, she pulled the throttle towards her, let go of the handle and wrapped the whistle cord neatly in one smooth motion. With two melodic wails from the whistle and the bell ringing merrily, The Dispatch spun her wheels on the dew laden rails. It took a little sand thrown on the tracks from the locomotive's automatic sanders for the drive wheels to 'bite', then the heavy freight groaned out of the siding. The exhaust plume above the locomotive was highlighted by sharp twinges of orange sparks as the fire worked to keep steam up.

As the train crept out of the yard and started across a large trestle that spanned the creek, Lady leaned out the cab window and the wind caused her long mahogany ears to flutter and flap in the slipstream. The caboose soon cleared the yard, Angel riding the roof while Scamp stood on the rear platform. The former merrily huffing on a cigarette. Ready to go for the handbrakes the instant Lady whistled. As the train's brakeman, or brakedog as it were, Angel would manually apply the handbrakes to help control the trains speed. One short toot on the whistle would send her into motion turning the iron brake wheels mounted on each car. Two long toots and she would release them. Looking back, Lady could see Angel's brake-club sticking out of the latter's overalls strap, a tough piece of hickory shaped like a bat, she'd stick it in the brake wheel and give it a wicked wrench that clamped the shoes to the wheels.

The Tramp tended to the fire while his mate kept to the throttle. Standing at the entrance of the bunker he dug his scoop into the pile of black diamonds, snatching a load to swing around to the fire-doors. Stepping forward he planted a boot firmly on a peddle, and with a click of mechanics, the clam-shell fire-doors slid open, revealing the hungry flaming maw of the firebox. The Tramp's body was highlighted briefly by the sturdy light, as with a quick upward swish, he launched his load of coal into the firebox. The fire-doors clattering closed as he danced with the coal scoop.

"Keep your eyes on that gauge and see that we carry one hundred and forty pounds,” Lady barked over the sound of the drive wheels chattering over the rails. “With the delay from Patch's mishap, we shall have to work hard to get out of the way of the passenger train."

"Don't I know it!" the gray mutt said as he dumped another scoop of coal into the burning maw of the firebox. The burning light reflected through the lens of his goggles and hid his brown eyes. "I'll keep a full head and let her pop on the downhill side.” He referred to the locomotive's safety valves which "popped" open when the boiler had too much pressure. “Have faith in me little Pigeon."

Lady looked over her own arm, hand grasping the throttle lever, and gave him a warm smile. Her docked tail thumped against the leather of the seatbox. "I know you will. I have faith in 'my' Tramp."

                           ******************

The spring sky was quickly changing from utter darkness to shades of blue and purple with a nearly full moon whose light showed the dew and patches of fresh earth on the pastures. The maples and oaks that blanketed the hills were starting to gain their leaves. The little farmhouses and the fields, with the plows standing in the middle, ready for the spring thaw. They made good time towards the valley entrance, rolling past farmhouses whose residents were still in bed. Except to call orders and signals, Tramp and Lady didn't talk much as each was engrossed in his and her job. Tramp kept a warm fire, using the clinker hook to spread the coal it to the sides and back, leaving a red-hot bowl in the middle. Giving the grates a mighty shake he slammed the door shut and watched the steam pressure needle stand as steady as a rock.

Lady concentrated on the set of rails that shone in the beam from the locomotive's headlamp. As she rocked back and forth hypnoticly in the locomotive's sway, she let her mind wander slightly. Patch's accident was still bugging her, and all she could hear was the Shadow-Man's words buzzing in the back of her head.

“We're about to pass the manor,” Tramp's words broke the cocker's concentration.

Looking out from the swaying locomotive, Lady could see a great manor house high on a hillside. It reveled itself as they rolled around a sweeping curve far below it. It was one of the larger homes in the region, built from rich red brick and its roof lined with copper that twinkled in the early morning light. It was set far from the railroad line, but due to its size was clearly visible amongst the dark wooded hillside. Squinting, Lady could just make out a single pinprick of light, probably a candle, in one of the windows. She knew the manor's features well, as it was a landmark along this part of the tracks. It wasn't particularly kind looking, standing oppressively on the hill. Despite the manicured gardens and clean gates, the home seemed to always be empty. However, given the recent events, it looked especially ominous to the cocker.

The Tramp snorted, looking up at the manor. “Place always gave me a bit of the willies. I dunno why. Just looks so cold and lonesome up there. You know, I don't think I've ever seen anyone coming or going there.”

"I like to imagine it was once a very pretty home," Lady said a bit wistfully before turning to her mate and giving him a sly grin.

The Tramp chuckled; digging his coal scoop into the fuel pile. "Some of the boys like to joke that it's haunted."

Lady's ears dropped a little. It seemed Tramp noticed this, as he quickly backpedaled. “Not that I would believe in such nonsense. Beside, if it is, then they will have to get by me and my coal scoop before I let them get to you!” the mongrel teased, causing Lady to giggle.

Suddenly, something flicked across the headlamp's beam. Casting a shadow in the shaft of light. Lady gasped, the shadow seemed to be the shame shape and twisted movement of the Shadow-Man's!

“Something the matter pidgin?” Tramp looked up from his scoop, concerned.

“Something on the lamp, just gave me a startle,” Lady wheezed.

The mongrel dropped the scoop into the coal pile and leaned out the gangway. The shadow flicked away and he found a flurry of wet leaves suspended in the air, tossing and turning in the train's slipstream. They quickly vanished into the undergrowth.

“Just some leaves on the lamp. That's all,” He smiled, leaning back into the cab. “Nothing to worry about.”

Lady returned his smile, leaning back into the engineer's seatbox. She felt her heart rate return to normal enough to let out a soft chuckle. “All this talk of spooks and haunts put had me in a mood.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” Tramp said with confidence as he picked up the scoop once more. “Don't yo fret little pidgin, it would take more then a thousand happy haunts to get through me to you.” He cast her a mischievous wink that made her heart flutter a little.

“Well, just in case, let’s put those grim grinning ghosts in our trail.” The spaniel rolled one of her long ears over her shoulder as she reached her arm up and grabbed the throttle, slipping it forward a notch.

They had left the valley and the manor behind, and were just rounding the bend to meet up with the Toccoa River, who's swift and clear waters sparkled in the rising sunlight. The hillsides of the valley dwarfed the river and the train, imparting a feeling of wonder and humility. The corners of the sky were turning a deep violet as the sun broke over the horizon, turning the ridges of clouds to fire and lighting the deep valleys and rolling mountains of northern Georgia in it's luminescence in a beautiful morning display. As they climbed, the spaniel could feel her locomotive straining under the weight of its load. Closing her eyes, she felt a great thrill unlike no other enter her soul. A thrill that could only be made better by looking across the cab at her handsome lover, his fur ruffled and lanky body rolling as he stoked the fire. She knew there was nowhere else she would rather be. Patch and the Shadow-Man where quickly forgotten.

Lady and the Tramp had run the division almost half of their railroading careers. Unlike Boomers, who traveled from district to district, they were part of a new generation. Times were changing on America’s railroads. Already the Interstate Commerce Commission had put into regulation new automatic couplers to replace the previously used links and pins. Air-brakes were becoming more common as well. And the unions, such as the Brotherhood of Railroad Furs which both Tramp and Lady were members of, were working with the railroads to establish safer practices and rules.

The freight train crossed the old Pot Canal, which the nearby branch line followed. The canal was abandoned when the railroad started hauling the coal. Normally it was filled with cattails as high as a man's head and brush that climbed the sides and hid parts of the waterway. But winter had stripped the leaves from the brush leaving the rock walls and the stagnate waters visible. In winter those waters were filled with ice that seemed to climb and spiral over the locks in a frozen cascade of beauty. Now they stood bare. Although the water lilies were already starting to bloom in those still waters. Soon, the cat tails would return.

Now Tramp had to fire more steadily and Lady had to play with the cutoff on the Johnson bar, for it took power to drag the heavy freight uphill and around the S-curves. The rails followed the river which twisted through the Blue Ridge Mountain range.

"Looks like the kids are doing fine in the back," Lady said as the iron horse danced around another bend, the cars clacking behind her. She leaned out the cab window and watched the heavy freight cars rock and grind over the rails. As they passed around the curves, she could look back and see Angel walking calmly across the car roofs like an acrobat on a tightrope. The Pomeranian had donned a jacket to protect herself from the biting morning wind that swept over the car roofs. The wheel flanges were screaming like fingernails on a chalkboard as they rounded the curve. Just looking at the way they rode Lady could feel the immense weight on the rear coupler of the tender.

"I hope they have a nice big pot on the stove," Tramp huffed as he lugged another shovel full of coal and dumped it into the hungry fire. “And some warm food.”

"I can see smoke from the caboose stack," Lady pointed out. "Enough to be more than just heat." She gave her stomach a pat before turning back around. She kept at the Johnson bar and throttle while leaning out of the cab window, her long fluffy ears flapping and rippling in the slipstream as the heat from the firebox formed a warm bubble around the cab, thus keeping her from feeling the cold. She might have stuck her body further out had the air around the locomotive also not been filled with cinders falling from its smoke stack.

The train rolled over another small bridge where a rowdy little waterfall ran onto some saw-toothed rocks before racing out to join the river.

They rattled along a clear track and stopped at one end of a curve and siding that swept around the river in an almost perfect horseshoe. At the head end was a water tank for freights and coal drags. Lady put the brakes on and whistled for Angel, who then came racing along the car tops locking down the handbrakes till sparks flew from the wheels below. The brakedog was watching for any remaining water on the wooden running boards so that she didn't slip and fall off the moving train. With the sun rise, she had left her lantern back in the caboose.

The timing and perfection of the job was so good that the heavy train groaned to a stop with the tender tank lid under the spout of the water tank.

The Tramp climbed over the coal pile and lowered the spout down so that water would flow from the tank into the thirsty locomotive’s tender. Lady meanwhile took a piece of cloth and polished the gauges and sight-glass in the cab. The signals up ahead, and their train orders, told the crew that they were to hold in the siding and allow an express passenger train to pass.

As they waited, Angel ran back and threw the track switches for the main line just as the whistle of another train came echoing down the valley. Not long after the Dispatch's stop a high-stepping eight-wheeler class locomotive came screaming around the curves with a string of varnished coaches in tow. Angel looked up from the switch at the passenger coaches as they glided past. Through the windows, she could see the passengers in their seats. Most were dozing while some of the ones already awake stared out the glass at the passing world. Others were reading newspapers picked up at the last stop or enjoying a breakfast in the dining car. The passenger train raced past and disappeared around the curve leaving a cloud of dissipating steam and the echoing ringing of its wheels screaming around the next curve.

While the train stood stationary, Scamp walked across the car roofs, reaching the locomotive just as the Tramp raised the spout back into the closed position. The two mongrels scurried down the coal pile and into the cab just as Lady pulled out her fob watch from her blouse pocket.

“I've been checking over the schedule.” Scamp announced as he stood between his parents. “With the delays thanks to Squeakytoy snapping his ankle, we'll reach Curtis Switch in the daylight. We have some switching to do there, so while it's a shame he got busted up, it's pretty slick timing for us!”

The Tramp wiped his hands with a bit of cloth before sitting down in the fireman's seat. “That's good to hear. As it was I was expecting to have to switch in the dark. I'm sure Angel appreciates working the ground in the daylight.”

Lady gave a succession of blasts on the whistle and, up ahead, Angel threw the switch. Dispatch's drive wheels strained to take in the slack on the uphill grade and for a brief second she slipped and spun her drivers aimlessly. However, Lady was quick at the controls and soon the locomotive had the heavy drag rolling again. By this point, it was light enough to see by and Lady had no trouble looking out the front glass of the cab. Scamp was already scrambling over the coal pile and heading for the car roofs. He would walk back to the caboose while Angel waited on the ground. Once the caboose passed over the switch, the Pomeranian threw it back to the main and swung aboard the moving caboose. With a wave of her arm towards the locomotive, she flashed the signal that they were clear. Scamp was about halfway along the train, and he, in turn, flashed the signal the remainder of the way to the locomotive.

As the train rolled around the curve, Lady looked back at the cars. The sun was now casting its first rays and she was able to get a full look at their heavily loaded train. As they crossed the big trestle over the river its cold timbers groaning and creaked under the weight. The cocker spaniel held the whistle down as they crossed, its "call" echoing up and over the hills and ranges. She leaned far out the cab window,
bracing herself on the window ledge, and looked down at the spinning drive wheels.

"Tallow's getting low! You know what to do," she called out.

Tramp grabbed a can with a spout like a tea kettle from the shelf on the backhead, where the heat kept the tallow warm enough to pour, and then he opened the running board door and climbed out. "Keep her steady for me Pidge."

Tallow oil was what was used to lubricate the valves and the bearings. To lube them one had to climb out on the running board of the engine and open up the cylinder cock valves so that oil could be sucked from the cups into the steam chest. It looked simple enough when she was standing still in a roundhouse stall. Grabbing hold of the hand railing that ran along the boiler he clung there for a dizzy moment, trying not to fall off on the ribbon of ballast shooting by below, or brush against the hot jacket of the boiler. The grade was steep and the rails swept around another curve. The drive rods and wheels pounded in the Tramp's ears, screeched as they bit into the rails. He looked back to see through the glass of the cab window Lady, sitting relaxed and proper.

Steadying himself he eased along the running board while the wind cut into his face and his jacket and his fur blew about like a small forest in a cyclone, his triangular ears flapping like two flags. Tramp was experienced in this job, and in competition to his past adventures, this was nothing. Shutting the cocks he returned back down the running board and stepped into the cab. Closing the door behind him and flipping the latch shut.

When the freight train slid into the town of Curtis Switch, squealing through the curves and cars rocking wildly side to side, they had managed to pull back five minutes on their schedule. Lady whistled for a crossing and shut off the steam. Through a cut in a hill, the train rounded a curve and rolled over the switches by the yard tower. As the locomotive passed her wheels cut a rope set over the rails. This ran up a pole into the tower where a pail of coal dropped onto the floor and awakened the signalman, who was fast asleep. He quickly flagged the Dispatch through into one of the yard tracks. Placing her hand atop the brass brake handle, Lady gave one last tug and with the gentle guidance that only skill formed by practice could create, she drew her train to a solid stop.

                               **********

Chapter 3: Curtis Switch To Tweed Hill

Alighting from the caboose, Scamp walked up to the locomotive and stood outside on the ground, craning his neck to see Tramp and Lady poised in the cab. Angel was already running to the nearby tower to receive their switching instructions. “I'll admit it, It's a wonder something didn't fly off when we hit that last grade. I didn't know mom had it in her to drive that hard,” he smirked.

Lady wrinkled her muzzle and gave her son a hard glare.

"Your mother knows how to handle a locomotive and handle her well," Tramp laughed, slipping an arm around his mate's shoulders. "Although I will admit had I not been so busy hanging onto the boiler when I oiled the cups, I would have joined the birds and flew from the gangway on that one bend."

“One crack like that, and you will wish you would have jumped,” Lady rolled herself out from under his arm, and cocked her mouth, giving the Tramp a playful nudge with her elbow. “I got us all here safe and sound.”

"Well, you got us almost back on time. So unlike these two, I don't think I will complain." Angel said with a perfectly straight face as she walked over from the nearby office, which had been constructed from a trackside boxcar that was sitting on the ground minus its wheel-sets. She unfurled a flag on a wooden staff and looked back over her shoulder across the many switches and sidings that gave Curtis Switch its name.

On one sidetrack stood a string of "varnish"; bright yellow with green trimmed passenger cars elegantly furnished inside with fine upholstery. On the other side was a string of ancient wooden boxcars looking gaudy with their brown sides painted with portraits in huge ovals. But the W&A cars had their own subdued love. Painted flat brown, some with black roofs, with "W. &. A. R. R." lettering on their sides. Here they would be picking up some cars of clay that had already been set out from the branch line, parked ahead of the string of boxcars.

"Because we're so late, it looks like we're going to use the main line to switch the transfer," Angel said, pointing down the track to a terrier that was standing by the main switch. "The switch-tender is going to line The Fast Mail for the siding and run them around us," The blonde furred pomeranian reached into her coverall's bib, and pulled out a tin and some paper. Expertly, she rolled herself a cigarette. Turning to Scamp, she found he already had a match lit for her. Angel couldn't help but cast him a sly smile. He knew her so well. "So, tenderfoot. If you like, since I ate on the way up, I'll take care of the switches. You can go grab something to eat while we wait."

“If you don't mind son. I think I'll join you and get something warm cooking for your mother,” Tramp said as he swung around the gangway and climbed down from the cab. “That fire will keep building steam as long as your mom keeps to yard speed.”

A silly grin smeared across Scamp's face. “Finally, that was becoming torture sitting in the caboose smelling that stove!” The young mutt quickly checked his pocket watch. They had plenty of time.

They quickly pulled the pin on the caboose's coupling, releasing it from the train. With the caboose left on its own standing on the mainline, Angel walked alongside the slowly moving train, guiding Lady around the yard. Walking alongside the equipment and riding the end ladders when she was no longer able to keep pace with the speed. They reached into the siding with the clay cars, and the couplers mated without a fuss. Angel busied herself knocking handbrakes off, and she had just dropped down from the end beam of one of the cars when she heard the four quick blasts of a whistle. It was the mail train, whistling for signals.

The brakedog looked up the track but couldn't see the oncoming train because smoke from Lady's locomotive was laying low across the yard throat and between the bordering valley walls in a lazy haze.

She wasn't the only one who couldn't see. Across the front of the yard was a dirt road. A freight wagon with it's horses was jogging across the railroad crossing, and was struggling to make it over the siding. The driver, a young orange tabby cat, slowed down as he crossed the siding, getting one of his wheels stuck in the mud between the rails.

Suddenly there was a loud snap of air, and Angel's heart leaped into her throat. The canine recognized the sound of a train's brakes being slung into the emergency position. The Fast Mail popped out of the haze like a ghost ship. Her drive wheels locked still and sparks flew from the rails. She and her carloads of letters were screaming down the siding, but less than a hundred feet from them stood the wagon. Angel's lower jaw dropped.

Scamp poked his head out the door on the platform opposite the oncoming train. He looked around the car and for a brief millisecond froze in confusion as he saw the wagon lying across the tracks. It's feline driver looking at the oncoming train in terror.

“Scamp! He's stuck on the main!” Angel shouted, eyes wide and ears flat against her head. The blonde furred dog dove behind the clay cars, putting a solid barrier between herself and the potential train wreck.

Tramp and Scamp both recognized the sound of emergency air, and father and son burst out the door to the crummy. Both somehow squeezed through the tiny end door side by side. They hit the dirt to opposite sides of the car and started heading up country. Scamp went one way, his feet trying to outrun his body. His father went the other way, trying to be anywhere but where he was. In the frantic chaos to put distance between themselves and eternity, Tramp had run into a thicket of weeds that had taken over the drainage ditch next to the track. The gray furred mongrel tripped over a particularly thick patch and went down onto his shoulder.

Even though the engineer had slammed the brakes into emergency and pinched her down upon seeing the wagon directly ahead of him, Angel couldn't believe that the screaming ten wheeler that led the fast mail would stop in the remaining fifty feet between her pilot and the wagon, whose team was now rearing in the air wildly. It seemed the locomotive took all day to cover that distance, and she flinched seeing their fireman take a leap off the deck steps to the ground. The cat on the wagon seemed frozen in place as the locomotive overshadowed him. The drive wheels were stock still, and sparks flew from the rails as she ground towards the wagon, shoved forward by her own train. Somehow, the engineer worked his brakes, and with a sudden encouragement of drive wheels and rods flailing in reverse, he brought the mail train down to just above a crawl when his locomotive crashed into the loaded buckboard and came to a stop.

The following silence was broken only by the ringing locomotive bell, which was rocking back and forth from the jolt. The smash was successful in knocking the wagon aside, smashing the boards on one of the wagon's flanks, and releasing the team of horses which bolted for the hills. However, no damage was done to either the mail's locomotive or to the feline who was still gripping the broken rains and looking wide eyed up at the smoke-box and box-shaped headlamp of the ten wheeler.

Lady climbed down off the Dispatch and joined Angel in recovering their shaken men. Scamp had been shaken but otherwise was unhurt. Tramp, on the other hand, was nursing a bum shoulder. The engineer of the fast mail had likewise climbed down from his cab, looking a little dazed. He helped the feline freight driver off the wagon, and the two where checking themselves over to be sure that they where not injured.

“Is everyone alright?” Lady asked as she helped Tramp to his feet. “That was a close one. If that ten wheeler had not slowed down, goodness that wagon would have been in the side of our caboose.”

“I'm so sorry!” A timid voice called out. The feline teamster who had driven his wagon into danger finally snapped out of his frozen stupor, and came running up to the gang of gathered railroaders. “I just didn't see what track the train was on with all the smoke laying around. I thought it was going to be on the main track that runs by the station. When I saw where you were going, well...I froze.”

“Whats your name kid?” Tramp asked.

"Oliver." The kitten shuffled nervously. By the look on his face, it was obvious that he wanted to just melt into the ground. "This is my first week as a teamster. If my boss finds out I damaged the wagon, then I'll be kicked on the street. No question about that. I guess I deserve it. I should just resign before I get anyone else hurt."

By now both train crews and the station manager had gathered around to discuss the incident. Angel stood by Scamp while Tramp leaned into Lady's side. The cocker spaniel was running a free hand over his shoulder messaging where he had softened his fall. The sleeve of his shirt was torn at the blade.

"Now, no need for this talk about resigning for any job," Tramp said, shifting himself off his mate's shoulder. He rolled his own shoulder a few times to make sure that everything functioned. "We've all done something like that. Zigged when we should have zagged. Any soul here who says they haven't is either a liar or a fool."

Lady gave Oliver a friendly smile and put a welcome hand on his shoulder. "We just all have to think before we act. Especially on the railroad." Her tone was warm and soothing. Lady had a way of saying just the right thing to diffuse any situation. "Today nobody was injured and the only damage was a couple of sideboards on your wagon. Which I bet the station master can help you get fixed."  She paused and looked around at the group. “Now, if everyone is in agreement, we'll keep silent about this. Let the lesson be learned and no one gets in trouble.”

“I think I can agree to that.” Scamp nodded his head.

“Seconded,” Chimed Angel.

“Well then, That's settled. I think we all need to get back to work.” Tramp rolled his shoulder blade one final time, echoing a grunt in the process.

As Oliver and the stationmaster went to retrieve his spooked horses, Lady walked the Tramp over towards the caboose to put some ice on his shoulder. Angel and Scamp finished locking down the dropped off cars and preparing to switch in the pick-ups. Scamp already had taken down the waybills, and when they arrived at the caboose, Lady was just finishing doddering over her mate. They sat on the steps of the caboose's rear platform, the spaniel holding an icepack against his shoulder while the gray mutt fidgeted underneath.

“Hold still, it's not going to help if it keeps sliding around,” The spaniel said, holding the pack against his shoulder. “Any better?”

“Much better actually,” Tramp said, looking over his shoulder at his mate. “This is some bad luck we're having on this trip. First Patch, then the mail train, now my shoulder. Maybe something is in that accidents come in three's theory after-all.”

Angel smirked, crossing her arms before her chest. “I was only teasing guys. I wouldn't put much faith in that.”

“Yeah, I ain’t afraid of any silly superstition,” Scamp barked. “We're railroad dogs. Nothing scares us.”

“That's right whirlwind.” Tramp laughed, leaning back against Lady. The spaniel removed the pack from his shoulder. “Besides, you guys have your mother and I to protect you. We're not going to let anything bad happen to our family.” He joked. “No, sirie. Clear skies and smooth sailing. Right pidge?”

Lady was strangely silent. Angel looked at the spaniel expecting her to reassure them. But something seemed different. She had always looked up to the elder cocker, as it seemed that she was a beacon of optimism. Even up till now, she had seemingly cast off the silly superstition. So it took the brake-dog slightly aback when Lady instead looked away hesitantly. As if there was something more on her mind.

“Right Pidgin?” Tramp repeated, nudging her slightly. This time he seemed a little unsure. The Pomeranian could see a questioning look in his eyes. He must know something was up. She looked over at Scamp, who likewise had become silent.

“Well...” she started, pausing for a second to exhale sharply. “Remember that ally this morning. See, there was this man down there. He was a strange man, and he told me that he felt that there was some bad luck around me.”

“What?” Tramp barked, raising one eyebrow sharply.

Lady reached into her breast pocket, and produced a small pink card. Angel watched as she handed it to the Tramp, who investigated it then handed it off to the Pomeranian. She looked the card over front and back. “Dr. Facilier, Tarot Readings, Charms, Potions. Dreams made real,” She read out loud before handing the card to Scamp. “That sounds really dubious, if I don't mind saying.”

Tramp furrowed his brow and snorted. “A bit more then dubious. Sounds just plain silly. I'll buy a lot of things in this life, but I am not buying that. You say this man told you that you were bad luck? Why, I ought to find him and tell him just what I think about him telling my mate such nonsense.”

“I know. You're all right.” Lady placed a hand warmly on the Tramp's shoulder. “It's just that, nonsense. Silly stuff that we should think too much about. Like we told Oliver, it could happen to anyone.”

“I wonder what he wanted.” Scamp pondered, looking the card over a few time. “It sounds like he makes his money in spooking people.”

“Heavens, he probably just thought that if I believed him, I would give him my businesses,” Lady sounded like she was attempting to assure herself more then anyone else; she took the card from Scamp and slipped it back into her pocket. “Oh, let’s forget I said anything. Okay? We have too much to deal with today then to be thinking about shadow-men and superstitions.”

                                   ****************

Angel sat down on the edge of a boxcar roof. Her legs dangling over the side, and one of her hands wrapped around a grab-iron on the roof. The Dispatch was throwing large clouds of smoke into the air as she worked to start her train. They had finished switching, had a small bite of breakfast, and received their new train orders. These would carry them on to the town of Cape Suzette. Once the train was moving, the clouds dissipated into a fine haze. Other than the occasional drizzle of cinder that flecked Angel's blonde fur. As the train departed Curtis Switch, she could see Oliver and the stationmaster hitching up his team to the freight wagon. Angel cocked her mouth to one side. Two were down, one more to go. Despite the Tramp's optimism, she was keeping her eyes peeled for anything.

The car roofs each had a single wooden walk way right down their center. To each side, the tar paper and canvas roofs formed a slick and slippery slide that would lead to a fall and possible death under the wheels. At one end of the car stood a single iron wheel, rising to just under one's waist. Turning this wheel she set the train car's brakes, and if enough were turned then the speed could be arrested. Braking a train was the place for the ambitious, the strong, and the daring. Perhaps that was why, like most brakemen, Angel had developed a callous sarcastic outlook and a slightly reckless style of behavior.

It was starting to turn into a fine spring morning once the sun had banished the chill. The train was now rolling along the banks of the Toccoa River at the bottom of the wooded valley. From her spot atop the cars Angel had a most beautiful view of the changing trees and the racing waters of the river. The rhythm of the train, the beauty of the day, and the wonderful surroundings were making it easy to forget about potential accidents. She continued to walk along the running boards and flatcars. Checking tie-down straps, handbrakes, and car doors. Anything that would have required inspecting by the brakeman she checked and double checked. Stopping only to cast a wave at a passing alligator steamboat as it wallowed its way upriver. Exchanging a few blasts of its whistle with Lady, who quilled the Dispatch's own chimes. She could see the steamboat's Dalmatian crew waving from the pilothouse. Angel sparked a wonder if they were related to Lucky or Patch. It seemed those spotted dogs were all from the same family in one way or another. Walking down the roofwalks towards the caboose, she could clearly hear the sounds of Scamp's fiddle emanating from inside.

“Hey, kid!”

Angel swung around on her heels at the unfamiliar voice. A hand reaching for her brakeman's club to use as a weapon should the owner be looking for trouble. At the end of the boxcar, the head of a scruffy white terrier poked just above the roof. He had been hiding between the cars, riding the end-ladder. He cast her a slick smile." You wouldn't happen to have a smoke, would yah?"

One of Angel's eyebrows arched. She had met many bums and bos riding the cars for free. However most of the time they tried to stay hidden and out of the way of the crew. For a brief second, she wasn't actually sure how to handle this, a free-rider actually was calling out to her. “Depends, what are you doing on my train?” She questioned.

"Isn't it obvious?" He chuckled, climbing to the car roof. His matted and patched overcoat fluttering in the train's slipstream. “I’m riding it."

“I can see that much,” She clutched her brake-stick a little harder, holding it in front of her. It wasn't uncommon for criminals to hitch rides out of town when they were in trouble, and alone as she was atop the car roofs she wasn't taking chances.  

He held his hands ahead of him showing her he meant no harm. “It's all good kid. I'm not looking for trouble. Just looking for a smoke.”

“You're not afraid of me chucking you over the side?” She lowered the brake-club.  

"Nah, you don't look the type. I've ridden trains with your crew before and never seen you as much as raise a finger towards an honest dog hitching a ride as long as we cause you no trouble. They call me Dodger by the way."

He held a hand out for her to shake.

Angel gripped it with her free hand, the club still held on the other. “Angel. Look, you can't ride between the cars. If you slip, you'll fall under and get crushed.” She pointed a thumb down the string of cars. “We have an empty about three cars forward. You can lie low in there.”

"Say, thanks kid. You really are an angel. Both in looks and brains," He gave her an exaggerated bow, and then brought the hand he had been shaking and gave it a polite kiss on the wrist, wrappings and all, as if the two where meeting over a dance in a ballroom rather than the cartops of a rocking freight train. "Now, how about that smoke?"

A sly smile split Angel's maw as she gave a quick roll of her eyes. She reached into her vest's inner pocket and produced a small tin full of cheap tobacco, and a slip of paper. In one swift move, she had a cigarette rolled and with a quick flick of her pink tongue sealed. Dodger reached out to take the drag, plucking it between his lips. He produced his own match and lit it. "That was pretty good. I'm guessing you learned that from the streets." He commented as he drew a puff on the drag.

“Nah, any good raildog can roll a smoke while riding the side of a train,” Angel had just finished another roll for herself, and plucking it between her lips, allowed Dodger to light it with his match. “Let's just say I was taught my tricks in the school of hard knocks."

“Never is there a better education,” Dodger said, tossing the used match over the side.

“I can imagine,” She pulled a long drag to get her stout going. “So, where are you heading?”

“I dunno,” He shrugged “Just anywhere. I'm a traveler on the wind, so to say. I hopped you guys back at the depot in Curtis Switch.”

“That's how you got on without anyone noticing. We were all busy with the accident.”

“Yah, no worries though,” Dodger winked at her. “I won't cause any trouble. In fact, I owe you and your crew some thanks.”  

“How so?” Angel asked. Flicking her cigarette.

“Well, let’s just say I like to look out for the little sport who was driving that cart. An old friend of mine. You guys not only helped him out, but probably saved his job. Good thing too, kid's had it tough.”

There came a few blasts on the steam whistle from up ahead. Judging by the smoke plumes coming from the Dispatch's stack, Lady was hogging for power as they started to climb out of the Toccoa River valley. Angel could feel the train's slack roll out as they started upgrade. The locomotive's exhaust was becoming deeper in tone.

“We'll be passing through the next town in a bit after we mount these grades,” The brakedog turned to face away from Dodger and look up the line of rocking railroad cars towards the locomotive. “You might want to make yourself scarce if we stop. Those yard-bulls are no strangers with a club.”

She felt something get stuffed in one of her back pockets and swung back around to see Dodger climbing down between the cars. The mongrel blew her a kiss, and with a quick wave, slid down the ladder and out of sight. Angel reached a hand into her back pocket and pulled out a few coins. Payment for travel. With a soft chuckle, she slowly shook her head. She would have to look out for the Dodger; a man like that usually led a short life and a merry one.

                                 *********

The whistle's wail joined the tolling bell as they rolled across the wooden and iron trestle that tossed the W&A across the Toccoa River. They were quickly leaving the valley behind, the lush river banks giving way to rolling wooden hills. Here the railroad began a steep climb up and between two ridges. It seemed that the builders of the W&A had figured it wiser to have their road make a harsh climb through the mountains rather than follow the meandering river valley which made a great crook around the range. While this saved some time, it took some steam to make the grade through their shortcut.

Lady pulled herself onto the cab windowsill, her ears fluttering like banners along her head and shoulders. Her chocolaty eyes where focused on those two ribbons of iron, and her skilled hands with their delicate fingers began clutched at the throttle and Johnson bar. Experience telling her where to put her nose into the bone, and where to pull back and play it safe. The exhaust beats began to merge into one great roar as the drive wheels dug into the rails, the locomotive swaying side to side in a low bob. Inside the cab, Tramp braced himself with his back against the cab wall, legs spread. One hand reached out to grip the injector, his sight locked on both the big steam gauge and the water glass. The Dispatch may have been an elderly locomotive, but all that meant was that she was worn in all the right places. Her brasses and bearings showed no hint of running hot, and Tramp topping off their tallow supply meant that they sailed along with nearly a clank. Looking down at his pocket-watch, Tramp noted that his cocker mate had clawed back another few moments. Moments she would need when they tackled the ridge and gravity slowed their train to a crawl.

Tramp closed the fire-doors and sat atop the seatbox, pulling out a pipe and a wad of tobacco. He lit the pipe off and calmly smoked, his eyes watching the water sight glass on the boiler. His attention was quickly drawn to his mate on the other side of the cab. Watching with amusement as Lady slid back down from the windowsill, and hiked her skirt past her knees, reveling her legs. Her boots were unlaced and clunked against the cab deck. In a show of supreme flexibility inside the small confines of the locomotive cab, she grabbed each leg one at a time and pulled her wool legging off before tossing the article of clothing across the open throttle lever. Once her legs were free, she slid the boots back on, laced them, and down went the skirt.

“They were starting to get hot.” She simply explained, placing a hand back atop the throttle lever and returning her attention to the track in front.

"Sometimes, I forget just how flexible you are," Tramp smiled sheepishly at her, taking each of the abandoned leggings from atop the bar and tucking them into a cloth bag inside the fireman's seatbox. Returning to her side of the locomotive he removed his pipe and gave her a soft kiss atop her head, where her ear met her crown.

“Sure, you forgot,” A sly grin crossed her muzzle as she leaned her head towards him, welcoming the sign of affection. “You're such a mutt. But I like my mutt.”

“Well, if that's the case...” The gray mongrel placed his pipe on the windowsill and grabbed his brown vest and unbuttoned it, allowing it to slip down each arm to join her leggings. He now stood with only the white cotton shirt covering his torso. Shirt unbuttoned, and sleeves rolled up, his fur bristled as he replaced the pipe in his mouth. Lady felt her cheeks heat up at the sight of her lover undressing. It was something that the Tramp didn't miss. “What, it was getting hot.”

“Oh yes,” The spaniel grinned. “Such a mutt.”

The sound of coal moving about the tender caught both dog's attention. Looking over her shoulder, Lady saw their brake-dog carefully sliding down the coal pile. Angel had climbed down the end ladder on the first boxcar and stepped onto the tender deck, no simple task on a moving train with both the boxcar and the tender rocking back and forth. Additionally, there was the plume of smoke and cinders that was filling the air. It was always thicker towards the front of the train.

“Hello!” She greeted cheerily as she stepped down onto the footplate. “Just came to check on things. What's up?”

“Hello Angel, welcome to the party!” Tramp put a hand on the pom's shoulder to help her step down from the coal pile and to the locomotive's cab deck. Standing next to him, Angel found herself looking up at the much taller dog. He ruffled the scruff on her head affectionately. “How's things at the tail. She's not bouncing you guys too much back there is she?”

“Tramp!” Lady laughed “I heard that.”

Tramp ducked his head down while Angel snickered. “Sorry Pidge, we were only chatting about the weather, honest.”

Grinning smartly, Lady grabbed an oily rag and tossed it at her mate. The mongrel caught it before it struck him across the face. Smirking, he tossed it right back at her. The spaniel ducked as it hit and draped itself over the throttle bar. Angel shook her head, no matter how mature they may seem; Tramp and Lady where still a giddy young couple at heart.

“Why don't I check the water in the tender? Leave you two for some girl time,” The Tramp stepped to the coal pile and started to climb over it, heading for the hatch at the very rear of the tender. Angel stepped over the rocking tender gangway and into the cab proper. Standing before the back-head, the blonde female glanced over the gauges and sight glass, her body rocking to the steady beat of the exhaust. Obviously she was fascinated by the great machine.

“Ever thought of moving to the head end?” Lady questioned, a little knowingly.

Angel's floppy ears went backwards for a split second, but she quickly perked them back up again. “Huh? Oh. Uh. I dunno. Maybe one day.”

“Why don't you check the fire? I'm sure the Tramp won't mind if you toss a scoop or two in there. Let him rest that shoulder of his for a little. Stubborn mutt doesn’t think I can see him wincing here and there,” The spaniel’s voice took on a motherly tone.

Angel looked unsure all of the sudden. Looking over her shoulder as if to be sure that she wouldn't be spotted before grabbing a coal scoop and climbing into the tender bunker to draw some of the coal load down towards the footplate. “Well, I have been practicing,” She smiled as she dug her scoop into the pile of black diamonds before swinging around to the fire-doors. “Don't tell Scamp.”

“A lady's promise,” Lady felt a small bubble of pride in her chest at seeing her potential daughter in law take on a new role. The young woman had changed greatly since the day Scamp brought her into their lives. It seemed that the railroad had empowered her and given her a new ambition. Something the motherly spaniel was keen to encourage. For the next mile, Angel took over firing duties. Dancing with the scoop and carefully managing the locomotive's roaring heart. She was a little shaky, and Lady could see the pressure gauge needle ever so slowly dropping. But it seemed that Angel was one step ahead, and never did she let the big brass gauge drop too far or too quick.

"Have you fired a coal burner before?” The spaniel asked. “Perhaps we ought to have you start learning on some of these trips.”

“Once, other than that I've only done woodburners. But that's only been moving locomotives around the yard,” With another scoop full of coal she stepped forward to plant a foot firmly on a peddle, and with a click of mechanics, the clam-shell fire-doors slid open. “But, I'm a fast learner and I can't think of a better dog to learn under,” With a quick upward motion, she tossed her load of coal into the firebox.

“As flattering as that may be, the Tramp is the true fireman in the family. He was railroading long before he met me, and long before you and Scamp were even born,” Answered Lady, laughing. "Do you happen to remember the story of an ambitious young engineer who picked himself up out of a wreck with a broken arm, and stepped into a new engine, and pulled his train through to the end of the run?"

“I always thought that was just another story about the great and mighty Tramp,” Angel responded, looking into the tender bunker to grab another load of coal. “I've come to learn that there was a lot said about the Tramp, and most of it exaggerated.”

Lady reflected a little on this, as she made an adjustment on the throttle and checked over one of the many gauges that cluttered the locomotive's backhead. “Well, there is always a grain of truth to every tale. I've learned enough about the Tramp to know more about the dog underneath that legend.”

“How is his shoulder doing anyway?” Angel asked, hanging the coal scoop back up.

“It's a little sore, but nothing a few nuzzles from his lover won't cure,” Came the male's response. Angel looked up to see the Tramp slipping back down the coal pile. “Also, you and I need to have some proper lessons on firing. That is if you ever do want to end up on the head end.”

Angel blushed, “Thanks. I think I will take you up on that. But for now, it may be best for me to get back to Scamp. Besides, you'll need me on those handbrakes soon,” She started climbing the coal pile once again, turning to look back into the cab once she was on the deck. “If you guys need me. Just holler with the whistle.”

With that, Angel grabbed at the ladder to the first boxcar, and with agility that only she seemed to possess, gracefully pulled herself onto its roof. Her fur was briefly highlighted in a golden glow by the sun, clothing rippling and whipping in the wind, before she vanished down the running board.

The Tramp sat back atop the fireman's seat-box and leaned back into the leather cushions. He sat puffing on his pipe and watched the water sight-glass. For a few brief seconds, he allowed himself to relax, his stubby tail wagging at the seat of his trousers. Soon, they would be hitting some heavy grades and he would need to start knocking at the fire-doors with the scoop. For the moment however, it was time to take a break. “Scamp sure knows how to pick them.” He chuckled. “Just like his old man.”

“1900,” Lady announced suddenly. Her eyes still glued to the rails outside. Tramp's ears perked. “I think by 1900 we should be ready to move on from the railroad. Or at least, being a road crew.”

Tramp removed the pipe from his mouth. “Been thinking about what I said this morning?”

“A little.” The spaniel admitted, suddenly feeling the card in her pocket. “Okay, a lot actually. But I don't think I'm quite ready to just leave the locomotive tomorrow. Scamp and Angel are just now getting their bearings at being out on their own. I feel like we should be there for them a little longer.”

“Then 1900 sounds like a good year to retire,” He puffed on the pipe a little. “Just enough time for us to start stepping back and taking things easy, but still keep our seniority.”

“That doesn’t mean we can't start looking for other jobs on the railroad.” She went on warmly. “I have been debating about management out of Atlanta. Perhaps working with the locomotives.”

“I can see you working well in a management position. Something that keeps you active but gives you a life.”

The spaniel looked over at her mate, her brown eyes growing soft. “Still, what about you? And Scamp? And Angel?”

“Oh, Scamp and Angel are young enough they can hold their own. I wouldn't be surprised to see either of them still on the irons in 20 years. I'll get a job as a foreman in a roundhouse.” He looked at her so lovingly, as if she was the most delicate thing, even with her sitting at the controls of a rolling freight train. “I've got twice the speed and cunning as any dog half my age. I can do well in a roundhouse.”

“Oh, well, there is one other thing dear. I'm not getting any younger and well...” Lady's voice trailed off and her tail stopped thumping against the seat.

“Oh, that's not true Pidge. You're as beautiful and graceful as the day I first saw you, more so in fact, and you're still very young. With your intelligence I wouldn't be surprised if they made you president of the whole damn railroad!” Tramp's voice was full of confidence. He was grinning from one big, floppy ear to the other.

Lady felt the skin on her cheeks heat up. She gave him a pensive look, and there was little doubt that he could tell something big was on her mind. “Well. See. I sorta well....If possible...I want another litter!”

Tramp was slightly taken aback by that announcement. He opened his mouth to reply, but Lady whipped her head out the window, something obviously having caught her eye. This discussion would have to continue later. The mongrel moved over to the gangway and joined her into peering ahead of their train. They were currently navigating a long curve, and coming around the bend was someone waving a red flag.

“Let’s talk more about this later.” Lady said as she reached over to grab the brass handle of the air-brake valve. With a twist of her wrist she made a gentle application followed by a long single blast on the whistle; down brakes.

                              Chapter 4: Tweed Hill

Angel had just reached the caboose when she heard Lady's call for the brakes. With a sigh of discontent at having just reached the very tail of the train and being called back, she swung around and grabbed the nearest brake-wheel and gave it a good hard tug. As the blonde pomeranian worked her way up the train, she could feel the cars shudder as the brake shoes clamped hard and slowly began to draw down the speed of the train. Looking down the string of bucking and rocking boxcars, she could see they were on the steepest part of the downgrade. She swung herself from train car to train car, curly tail wagging in the wind. Gritting her teeth she twisted each wheel until the brakes screeched from the car wheels.

Slowly the train started to draw to a stop. As the distance closed, Lady leaned out the cab window to clearly see that the figure with the flag was that of a badger. Between Angel and Lady's efforts, The Horse and Cart gracefully slowed to a stop with just the slightest of squeals. They stopped with the cab of the Dispatch just alongside the flag waver. Lady gave one final toot on the whistle to let Angel know that she could rest, and then leaned out the cab window. After emptying his pipe, Tramp started to climb down the gangway, stopping just before the last step so to subtly slip a hand into the tender to grasp the butt of the rifle that was stored there. Just in case. Both dogs were already silently wondering if this would be their next accident.

“Good morning,” The Tramp called out cheerily, his ears perking. “What can we do for you?”

"Hi! Give me a moment." The Badger paused to catch his breath, placing his hands on his knees, his flat cap held clenched in his right hand. His red flag dropped to the dirt alongside the tracks. "Sorry. That run was a bit more than I am used to."

"Yeah, I can see that," Tramp chaffed, one eyebrow rising as he took in the young fellow's roundness. He looked up when Lady gave him a stern cough. Her looks from above simply said; be polite.

“I'm going to pull a guess that you guys are the Horse and Cart, right?”

"That would be us," Lady replied from above. "We're running off the schedule as an extra, but we have the block from Curtis Switch. Our train orders run us to Cape Suzette."

"Oh, that's a relief." The young badger blushed before sticking out a hand, "I'm the brakeman of a freight train that's stalled on Tweed Hill. Names Bunga. First time in this division. Just caught us all by surprise."

They call me the Tramp, doer of all trades and master of none, and that's the lovely little Lady at the throttle." Tramp put his hands on his hips and nodded his head welcomingly.

“A new hire? Welcome to the railroad,” Lady smiled reassuringly down from the cab window, “Don't worry. You're not the first to stall on Tweed Hill, and probably not going to be the last. We'll find a way to get you moving again.” She looked down at the Tramp. “What do you think dear? Cut the locomotive and go give them a push?”

Tramp nodded. "Sounds like a fine solid plan to me Pidge. As long as the kids are okay with it.”

"Oh, thank you!" A tone of relief could be detected in Bunga's voice.

"Alright, well no use standing here on our furry tails making smoke," Tramp quickly checked his pocket watch. "Call in the signals Pidge and let's get Angel up here."

Lady grabbed the whistle cord and gave a succession of quills calling the brakeman to the head of the train. As soon as Angel reached the cab, a plan had been set in motion. Angel and Scamp would stay with the Horse and Cart, whose handbrakes had been tightened on. Scamp would remain in the caboose while Angel walked down the track with a red flag to stop any oncoming trains the same as the badger had done. Tramp, Lady, and Bunga would take the Dispatch towards the hill and give the stalled train a shove up the grade.

With their new brakeman riding the coal pile atop the tender, they glided down the long grade towards the bottom of the hill, a drizzle of cinders and ash falling behind them from the stack. It wasn't long before Lady was forced to close the throttle as they approached the great hill just outside the Tweed Ranch. The grade sat between two farms. On one side was the well-kept and painted farm house and barn belonging to the Widow Tweed. One the other side of the right of way stood the rustic Slade homestead. The tracks climbed an embankment between the two, and here the line reached an incredible percentage of climb. This wasn't the first train to lie down here, and by thunder, it would not be the last. As it was, the crew had got steam up and was working to bring the stalled goods train back down to the bottom of the hill in preparation for another go. With the bell clanging, the Dispatch drew to a stop just short of the caboose, Lady giving a warm greeting with her whistle.

“No wonder they stalled,” Tramp commented, looking out the fireman's side of the locomotive. His past experience kicking in. “I see a lot of handbrakes half applied, even from here. They probably locked her down when they descended that last grade and lost the momentum to carry them up the next. That's a rookie mistake.”

"I think they can be forgiven, they are a new crew after-all," Lady agreed. This area of the railroad was known as a "sucker hole." It was easy to get carried away with arresting a train's speed going down the last hill, and not realize you still had to climb the next. "I can see by the sand on the ballast they've backed up and tried to climb it a few times. Poor dears."

The goods ground to a stop with a great explosion of slack. Most of the train was on the level, the locomotive, a great Mastodon with tiny drive wheels, sat huffing at the base of the hill. Tramp tossed his coal scoop into the pile and spun the handbrake wheel. While Lady slipped off the seatbox and dismounted to meet with the train's conductor. Being a helper locomotive engineer didn't change the hierarchy. Until they parted couplings at the very end, Lady was under the command of the shack who ran the goods.

"Good morning," She called out cheerily, grabbing a hold of the caboose hand-railings and pulling herself up onto the back platform. To her surprise, she was greeted by a rather young feline with great green eyes and a golden coat of fur that was covered by black circles. A cheetah in a pair of suspenders it would seem. However, it wasn't the species that took Lady by surprise; it was the other girl's age. She couldn't have been any older then 16 years of age. "We've come to assist. Uh, you wouldn't happen to be the conductor? Would you?"

The young feline blushed before sticking out a hand, “Yep, that's me, the name's Fuli and man am I glad to see you! We've been stuck here for a good hour.”

"Well, let's see if we can get you out of this," Lady said as she politely shook the girl's hand. Fuli's sleeve slid back as her arms shook, and Lady couldn't help but notice the hint of a tattoo on her arm. If she was to hazard a guess, it appeared to be a paw-print of some sort. "You must be new to the Western and Atlantic, I don't believe I've seen you before."

“Yeah, just hired. The whole crew here is the same. We all got out of cubbing with an experienced crew a day ago. I'm new to this whole railroad thing,” Fuli leaned out the side of the caboose and looked forward along the freight cars towards her locomotive. “I see you've already met Bunga. Our brakeman.”

Lady turned around to see the honey badger scurry up the end ladder of the caboose. She gave him a warm smile and a kind wave, receiving a hearty salute in return before he disappeared over the edge of the roofwalk. “So, what happened?”

“We ran the brakes down the last grade, and couldn't get them off until we were halfway up the hill here. By then, it was too late.” Fuli put her hands in her pockets and let out a disappointed sigh. “I know, rookie mistake.”

The engineer, who Lady didn't think she knew either, peered back from the cab. The spaniel could tell he was young and appeared to be a male lion with a streak of red atop his head. The W&A was on a hiring run, and if the experience seen here was the best they could find, then it was no wonder the railroad was pushing people as green as Patch into locomotive service as a stop-gap. However, lessons had to be learned, and she was sure that Fuli would never let her crew make this mistake again.

"Well, I got a good head of steam and a decent fireman. My suggestion to you is to bunch up your slack and have us put our nose against the caboose. That way we could each take the weight of half the train. Then, when we get to the top, cut us free and away you go!"

Fuli thought this over, before quickly nodding her head in agreement. “Yeah, that sounds like it will work.”

Returning to the Dispatch, Lady found that Tramp had been busy. The mongrel had latched the fire-doors open and was busying himself over organizing their fire so that it would produce the most heat with the least amount of provocation. The steam gauge read steadily with not a waver on the needle. Lady quickly caught the Tramp up with their decisions, and sliding atop the engineer's seat-box, she set the Johnson-bar forward and gave two blasts of the chime whistle. following Fuli's hand signals, they brought the Dispatch just to the caboose, and gently closed the couplings with an audible “click” of setting pins.

Fuli hand signaled the engineer of her train, and with a great clatter of couplings and a rocking of freight cars, they bunched up the slack on the goods. Lady and Tramp could feel the weight of the train now sitting on their pilot beam. For a few seconds, they sat there at the bottom of the hill, Tramp standing with his scoop at the ready, and Lady sitting on the windowsill of the cab. One gloved hand wrapped around the throttle, the other around the Johnson-bar. Then, Fuli leaned out from the caboose's rear platform, raised her arm into the air, and gave the “Go ahead” swing.

Two great blasts came from the Mastodon's whistle, echoed by Lady on the Dispatch's own chimes. A great blast of smoke and sparks erupted from the Mastodon’s stack as she began to pull on her train, picking up the slack by starting each car one at a time. Lady waited until she saw the slack rolling out reach the middle of the train before tugging on her throttle. The little American dug her drive wheels in, and throwing a thick blanket of smoke, sparks, and cinders into the air over her shoulder, put her weight into the rear of the train with an audible groan of steel.

The train started its climb. The sky above the snorting iron horses was thick with smoke and cinders. A joyful smile split Lady's muzzle as she saw the slack rolling out stop about midway down the train. The Dispatch was pushing her end, and now it was up to the Mastodon to set the pace.

Their pace was slow, moving against the out of beat tune of twin exhaust stacks. The grade was long and set against a curve. So Lady had a great view of the whole train as it snaked its way into the gentile radius. Tramp kept knocking at the fire-door, bouncing between the tender, and the blazing furnace. Anytime a black spot appeared in the fire, a load of coal was quickly upon it. The two locomotives seemed to be shouting at each other. Careful ears could pick up in their exhausts a speech as if the Mastodon was shouting to the Dispatch that “No I can't” while the Dispatch shouted back “Yes you can!”

“How are you holding?” Lady asked her mate.

“Never been better.” Tramp joked, bouncing back and forth from the coal bunker to the open firebox doors. His fur glistened with sweat. The fire was pulsating on each beat of the exhaust, timed to the clatter of the coal scoop in the mongrel’s hands. “If I pass out, just chuck me in.”

“I would rather not,” Lady cracked the throttle open another notch. Slowly she built power with the advancement of each notch. “It would ruin the fire, and I don't think I would get much steam.”

Suddenly the Mastodon let out a ferocious series of rapid fire beats, tossing thick plumes of smoke into the air. Her drive wheels spun momentary as she found a wet spot on the rails and slipped. Suddenly the slack rolled in and out in a great iron clatter of couplings. For a brief moment the whole weight of the train was on the Dispatch's pilot beam. The graceful Cocker grit her teeth and clutched the throttle, feeling the immense weight as if she herself was taking the whole of the train on her own canine shoulders. Were the Dispatch to slip, they would stall and have to start again at the bottom.

Yet the old locomotive did not. She held the train firmly for the mighty freight hauler at the head. The mastodon gripped the rails with her many wheels and the train stretched out again as she bore her fair share of the heavy iron. Both locomotives timed their motions and with a slow yet steady churn of side-rods, the train continued to climb. Up ahead was a small crossing over a dirt road which ran between the Slade and Tweed homesteads. The Leo engineer didn't bother blowing the whistle. Instead the brass bell atop his locomotive clanged to life. With the amount of smoke, noise, and sparks being tossed into the air, the whistle was not needed, and every ounce of steam that could be used was spared for the task of turning wheels.

Lady could see Fuli poking her head out of the caboose, a gleeful expression on her face as it became apparent they would just climb the hill. Looking trackside, she could see a female vulpine running from the Tweed farmhouse to the clotheslines. The vixen was quickly retrieving the wash before it got ruined by the two huffing iron beasts and their rain of cinders and ash. Their pace began to pick up, the freight cars taking on a rhythmic rock and bounce. The crest of the grade appeared, and with a great whoosh of steam and a clank of side-rods, the Mastodon slid over the hump and began to pull the slack.

Fuli scampered down the stirrups of the caboose, and just as the caboose crested the grade, pulled the pin on the coupling between her and the Dispatch.

Lady jammed the brakes on, and the Dispatch and the goods parted ways, with the goods continuing downgrade whistling a joyous “Thank you” while the Dispatch drew to a halt at the very top of the hill. Lady peered out at the departing train from her spot sitting on the engineer's side windowsill, and Tramp leaning out the fireman's gangway. Both dogs watched as the freight train vanished down the line with Fuli waving a pleased goodbye from the rear platform of the caboose.

Once the smoke from the two locomotives dissipated, Lady dropped the bar into reverse, and with three blasts of the chime whistle, they began their slow trek back towards the Horse and Cart. Lady sat sideways on the seatbox, her head craned around the back of the cab to peer over the tender's flank as they reversed.

“You know, I don't think I saw the needle on the gauge even flick,” The spaniel teased as she looked at Tramp, still keeping an eye on the track. She rolled a shoulder in order to toss one of her long ears behind her back. “Pretty good work for an old mutt.”

Tramp allowed his mouth to turn up in a sly grin. “Thanks. You know something pidge? I think I might I have a future as a coal miner if this whole railroad thing doesn’t work out.”

                                  *************

Chapter 4: Tweed Hill to Cape Suzette

By the time Tramp and Lady had tied their locomotive back onto the Horse and Cart, built up air pressure for the brakes, and done a test to be sure that all the brakes were working, they were an hour behind their posted schedule. Climbing Tweed Hill a second time was far easier, using the train's own momentum on the down grade, with Angel riding selective handbrakes, to help push them out of the sucker hole and up the hill. The next several miles were a series of curves as the track wound its way down towards the riverbank again.

Cape Suzette was a riverfront town situated at the very end of the navigable waters of the Toccoa River. The railroad had to pass between two large rock formations blasted out of the mountainside to reach the town. Due to its location as the farthest the big steamboats could go, the town had found prosperity as a freight transport hub. Not too far into the past it had been a serious competition between the railroad and the steamboats as to who would be the most effective at transporting goods and people to the big city of Chattanooga. Races between boats and trains occurred almost daily. However, the railroad always had the upper hand as it was capable of accessing the interior of the state. Something the water-bound steamboats could never do. In a way, it was this fact that caused Cape Suzette's size to be stunted, as traffic and transportation barreled on by to the much bigger cities of Atlanta and Chattanooga.

Still, there was business to be made and money in the streets. Two large shipping companies worked out of Cape Suzette. Both of which had accounts with the W&A, and therefore, the Horse and Cart. As it was Lady had brought the train to a crawl as they negotiated several railroad crossings through the town's heart. Tramp rang the bell continuously, alerting their presence to the many wagons, walkers, and bystanders. The railroad line ran through the town before sweeping between the town and the riverfront and it's many docks and storehouses. The depot was situated between the railroad and a jetty out into the river and served both trains and steamboats alike. The railroad line split into a three track yard here, with multiple tracks branching out into the many storehouses and docks. The signal by the depot indicated the Horse and Cart to stop here and take on new orders. Lady closed the throttle on the Dispatch and drew the train to a stop on one of the yard tracks. Sitting in the yard, the air was pungent with the smell of hot creosote and coal smoke as it drifted down from the locomotive's stack.

“Lunch is served!” Angel called as she walked alongside the stopped train, heading for the locomotive. Under each arm was a wrapped bundle of warm sandwiches and a cooler with fountain sodas. “Fresh off the stove. Well, as fresh as tenderfoot can make them.”

She reached up to hand the bundles to the Tramp. “I was just thinking it was getting time to rustle up some food.” He said as he handed one of the bundles to his mate.

“Smells divine.” Lady sat sideways on her seat-box, her legs folded crossways around the Johnson-bar. She took her gloves off and hung them across the throttle lever. Placing her package in her lap, she unwrapped it and started to eat.

"What can I say," Angel shrugged. "I'll make a good cook out of tenderfoot yet. We already had lunch in the hack while we waited for you guys to build air back on the hill."

Lady delicately took a bite out of her sandwich. “If these are anything to go by, then you've done well. As long as he doesn’t inherit his father's cooking skills, I think he will be fine.”

“What do you mean? I can fend for myself.” Tramp plopped down on the fireman's seat-box, leaning against the windowsill. His sandwich was quickly unwrapped, and he began to take big bites, downing his food. “After-all, when I was on my own and riding free, I had to eat when I could and what I could.”

“Remember that one time you forgot to take the innards out of the turkey?” Lady pointed out, “That was a thanksgiving to remember.”

“I thought we agreed to never talk about that.” The mongrel deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh dear, did we?” Lady tilted her head to one side and fluttered her eyelashes at him. “I must have forgotten.”

Tramp balled up his napkin and tossed it at the cocker spaniel, who skillfully caught it in midair before it was to collide with her muzzle. She stuck her tongue out at him, teasing the mongrel.

“Speaking of mistakes,” Angel chimed in. She placed her arms on the footplate and placed her head atop her hands. “I believe our unscheduled stop outside the Tweed Ranch constitutes number three.”

“I'll drink to that!” Tramp barked, tipping his glass bottle of fountain soda in the air.

“Smooth running from here on out!” Lady reached into her breast pocket and looked at her fob watch. “And we still have a good few miles to put under us. Is Scamp collecting the train orders?”

"He is," Angel said, turning around to look back at the Cape Suzette depot several tracks over. "Although, it looks like our orders might be changing.”

Lady's ears perked as the sounds of raised voices reached across the train yard towards them. She could see that some sort of commotion was going on at the platform. Scamp was standing to the side, an uncomfortable look on his face while the uniformed station agent argued with a female Urside. It seemed whatever the issue was, the bear was winning. She spoke with a lot of arm waving and pointing at the station agent.

“I'm heading back to the caboose,” Angel announced. “I have a feeling that I may need to get ready to inspect and prepare to accept another load.”

The brakedog wasn't wrong. It wasn't long after she had marched down the tracks, her boots crunching in the ballast as she carefully looked over each wheel set and coupler on the freight train, then Scamp trotted over from the depot. A set of train orders printed on their onion skin paper clasped in his hand as he practically jogged over to the simmering steam locomotive.

"Hey Pops, hey Mom," He greeted as he grabbed the hand-railings and pulled himself into the locomotive cab. He held out one set of paper to Lady, who began to read over it as soon as it was in her hands. "New orders. Seems like it was a good thing we rolled into town as late as we did. Not only do we have another load we need to switch in, but we also have some passengers."

“Passengers?” One of Tramp's eyebrows arched. It was common knowledge that one could buy tickets on the Horse and Cart. It was one of the few freight trains that allowed passengers to ride, part of the quark of stopping at most every town. However, few elected to take the option as it meant a slow and laborious ride with lots of waiting inside a caboose while the crew switched. “That's a bit surprising. Who would be desperate enough to want to pay money to ride this train?”

"Beats me," Scamp shrugged. "But pops, that's not the interesting part. I just sat and watched this woman haggle a load of printing machinery onto our train. Turns out she's the owner of Higher For Hire Packet Company, one of the local shipping lines. Seems her steamboat crew pulled a boner! They left a valuable cargo on the dock when they left this morning and she needs it on the first train to Chattanooga.”

“She knows this is the Horse and Cart, right?” Lady didn't sound too sure of this woman's sanity. Owning a steamboat company only to ship by rail on the slowest freight train available didn't make much business sense. “Goodness, we've been put in almost every siding we've come across, and at the rate we're moving, we will be lucky to make Chattanooga by nightfall.”

“That's the slick part, check your orders again mom.” Scamp smirked.

Lady reread the orders, her eyes widening as she saw the timestamps. Her tail began to tap against the leather of the seat. “Oh wow! Our priority rose!”

“Yep, apparently she paid extra to get us green signals.” The conductor crossed his arms over his chest. “Apparently, her client is that important.”

“Well, if it's all settled then, tell them we will start switching as soon as the crew finishes lunch.” Tramp raised his second sandwich to his mouth before taking a walloping bite of it.

                                *******************

Angel secured the back door of the caboose, holding it open with a hook that slid into a loop attached to the wall. The car was perforated with the warm scents of Scamp's cooking and hot coals from the stove. However, it had also become rather hot, between the closed windows and the fire in the stove. The brakedog started opening windows and vents, working to circulate air through the wooden walled car. Looking at the desk that was tucked into one corner of the car, she shook her head. The pile of waybills was half finished, and Scamp had yet to even touch the train's wheel reports. She knew it would be a dash to completion right before they rolled into Chattanooga. The Pomeranian stood next to the desk and started to go through some of the papers, sorting them in value.

A series of knocks on the door-frame at the rear of the car caused Angel to look up from the desk. Framed in the doorway was a young Dalmatian. She seemed equal in age to Angel, and around the same height. However, the spotted dog was a bit rounder, especially on the thighs and chest. Her pink sundress fluttered slightly in the wind, the cinch drawn tight around her midriff. "Oh, hi! Excuse me. But I'm looking for the next train to Chattanooga! This wouldn't happen to be it, would it? Well, I suppose it would have to be. It's the only train in the station and all...But you know it's always better to check. Oh I have my tickets right here!"

She said all of that without taking a single breath while thrusting out a set of tickets at Angel, who stood there dumbfounded, her muzzle cocked to one side. "Uh, yeah. Sure. You do realize this is a wayfreight. We don't normally carry passengers."

“Yeah, I do. But it was either this or I wait until evening, and my boss wants me gone like, now. Which I get, but at the same time I would rather ride a passenger train. But I've never been in a caboose before so this is actually exciting! Then again, I don't think you have a parlor car, which is terrible.”

Angel hesitated on a response. “Oh, kay...well, as long as you understand that this isn't going to be the lightning express,” She took the set of tickets and sat down at the desk. Opening the desk drawer, she hunted for and eventually found the paperwork for ticketing. “I will admit, it's a bit unusual. I don't think we have ever had passengers on the Horse an-”

“You're cute!” The Dalmatian interrupted, she brought a hand up under her chin and looked over Angel thoughtfully. “You know, in a tomboyish sorta way. Ever had a girlfriend?”

The way the girl looked her over sent a rush of heat through Angel's golden fur. The Pomeranian put down her pen atop the paperwork and looked up from the desk. "Wow, that's quite the question to just toss on a girl, oh spotted one."

“Oh yes, where are my manors? I didn't properly introduce myself. Yes, Two Tone Dearly...or Radcliff. You know, I could never remember which one is which. Two Tone, on account of well...,” She kicked up the hem of her skirt, showing one of her legs. It was jet black with white spots, the exact opposite of the standard Dalmatian’s coat, and her arms, head, and legs. Angel couldn't tell where the patterns flopped, but she had a feeling if she asked, the girl might think nothing of just showing. She dropped the skirt and gave a polite bow towards Angel. “And you would be?”

“Angel.” She gave a polite nod of her head in return. “Pleasure, I should say.”

“Angel, that's such a lovely name.” She leaned forward, hands clasped together. “Oh, I bet if you cleaned up a bit, groomed that fur, and maybe changed your outfit, you would be just a dish!”

“What’s wrong with my outfit? I happen to like it. I'm a railroad dog. It's functional.”

“Oh, nothing wrong. It just says sassy, spunky, tomboy. Which, I dunno, if that's the look you're going for. It does suit you, and I can see why you like it. But I think you could do better than that,” She walked around Angel, examining her. “I mean look at those pants! They're practical sure, but oh so unladylike. I mean, I get why you would wear them, but...why? If you like I can totally help you!”

Angel opened her mouth and snapped it shut again. She was too embarrassed to say anything. She stared at the Dalmatian questioningly, unsure what to make of their new passenger, until she heard another voice call out from outside the caboose. Obviously female, it had both a tone of urgency and a slight hint of stiff upper crust. "Two Tone! You in there?"

“That's my boss, I'll be right back.” Two Tone practically jumped out the end door and onto the back platform. “Coming Miss Georgette!”

Angel stood up from the desk and followed the ditzy Dalmatian onto the rear platform. Interested in where this would lead. Outside, standing impatiently in the ballast next to the track, was a poodle. She stood with a hand on each hip, and a slight scowl spread across her sharp muzzle. Angel could tell by her well-groomed fur and fine dress that she was of some affluence. The dark brown tulip bell skirt and striped shirtwaist was standing out in the grit of the trainyard.

“Ah, there you are Two Tone.” Georgette glanced around the Dalmatian and pierced through the brakedog. As if Angel was the odd one interloping on a private conversation. “I see you're already settling in. Now, Ah-hem, do you have my list?”

“Right here!” The Dalmatian reached into a side pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. “Don't chu worry! I'll be back with all the sweet, sweet, fabrics you require!”

“You better darling. If I don't get this line of dresses out on time...” Georgette's mouth turned up in a grim smile. Even though her tone was kind and lofty, her words were deadly serious. “I'll make the next batch with your fur. You got that!”

“Yes maim!” Two Tone raised a hand to her head in an exaggerated salute. It was apparent that her boss's harsh words had not their desired effect. “You can count on me!”

Georgette rolled her eyes. It seemed that somehow she didn't fully trust the ditzy Dalmatian to take her word. The poodle glanced around Two Tone and her eyes landed on Angel. A grim scowl crossed her sharp muzzle as if she did not approve of the female brake-dog. Angel in return just gave a smug smile and a calm nod of her head. Just from her attitude around Two Tone it seemed this high strung poodle found herself far above dealing with the likes of the common pup. However, any further knowledge would be denied to Angel. For Georgette gave a harsh snort before turning tail and quickly departing, seemingly eager to be out of the train yard. But not without one final finger wave back at Two Tone.

“Wow, she's a piece of work.” Angel scoffed.

“She's not so bad once you get to know her.” Two Tone wistfully declared. “She is just upset that we missed the passenger train and she wouldn't ride this one. Also...I may have totally set her new clothing line on fire this morning. Totally not my fault! Though I guess I shouldn't have tried to dry them out with an open lantern.”

One of Angel's eyebrows rose, and her ear's slid forward. A million different questions were shooting through her mind, none of which she was sure would make whatever situation Two Tone had just described any more clearer.

“That's...rather unfortunate,” the Pomeranian made a mental note to keep the kerosene locker closed and latched.

As Georgette left, she stormed past Scamp, pushing the pup to the side with a rough “Out of my way!” Scamp frowned, crossed his arms and stuck his tongue out at the poodle's retreating backside. Thankfully for him and her, Georgette did not see the conductor's insurrection. Turning back to his train, Scamp motioned with one of his arms for Angel to join him on the ground.

“Hey, Angel! Tie down the handbrakes and come down here. We have some switching to do!”

Angel stepped fully onto the platform and started to crank down on the caboose's handbrake. As she did so she motioned with her head for Two Tone to go inside. “I will be back. Go inside, sit down, and don't touch anything. Especially the lamp locker.”

“Okay-dokie” The spotted canine waltzed inside and plopped herself down on one of the bunks. Angel looked inside to receive a gentle wave of the other girl's finger tips. The Pomeranian hoped to whatever deity was out there that the stalled freight train was the final they had seen of their misfortune. The last thing they needed was to roll into Chattanooga with the burned out hulk of their caboose.

                              ***************

Departing Cape Suzette, the Horse and Cart followed the riverbank for a short while before diving between the ridges and starting the climb out of the valley. The tender had been topped off with water, and while they switched out several cars, newly attached to their train was a wooden gondola loaded down with canvased machinery. Scamp was climbing over the car, double checking the canvas covering and tie-downs while the train was underway. Overhead the sky had started to turn gray, and a slight drizzle of cold rain could be felt as winter seemed to make it known that it was not yet spring's turn to rule the countryside. Inside the caboose, the coal stove kept the wooden cabin wonderfully warm, and a pot of coffee and the warm unclaimed briskets from lunch on the stove-top filled the car with wonderful aromas. Angel sat in the cupola, her feet on the windowsill, relaxed as she waited for Scamp to come back inside. Her tail was slowly wafting back and forth, thumping against the leather cushion of the cupola seat. Two Tone sat comfortably on a bunk, cross-legged, apparently in a world of her own as she stared out the glass window. Watching the occasional raindrop splatter and roll down its surface. The two girls had been riding in silence since they departed Cape Suzette. Angel was seemingly unsure how to start a conversation with the newcomer and Two Tone seemingly more interested in the passing landscape. Although it seemed that anytime she thought Angel wasn't looking, the Dalmatian’s eyes drifted up towards the girl in the cupola.

Returning to the caboose, Scamp climbed down the end ladder and stepped through the door. “It's starting to rain out there,” He declared as he reached over to the coat hooks to grab a parka. “Good thing we made sure to wrap that printing machinery in canvas. They were so quick to load it were lucky they tied it down at all. ”

“Oh! Why hello there!” Two Tone cried upon seeing someone new. Angel, who was in the cupola, grit her teeth as Scamp looked at their new passenger, confused. This being the first chance he had to actually meet the girl, he stood a little taken aback by the sudden unfamiliar face in their domicile. The Dalmatian shot up from the bunk and sauntered over, purposelessly rolling her wide hips. “Hiya handsome. Where did you come from? Well, obviously outside because you weren’t here a minute ago.”

“Uh, hi.” Scamp took a hesitant step back. “The names Scamp. And you would be?”

Looking down from her seat, Angel tried and failed to keep the scowl off her face. Two Tone seemed oblivious. Her eyes flashed as she took in the sight of the sharp young dog. “My name is Two Tone, it's truly a pleasure to meet you!” She gave a polite curtsy.

Scamp snickered seeing the pom’s feathers get ruffled. Now was time for some payback for Patch. He put his hands on his hips and cocked his mouth assuredly. His brown eyes as warm as the coal stove. “Pleased to meet you. So, what brings you into our rolling abode at the hind end of the Horse and Cart?”

“Oh, see I work for a seamstress. I'm her assistant, and well, I'm sorta fetching some bolts of cloth for her. She needs it like, now. So she sent me on the first train to get it,” Two Tone sat down on a wooden toolbox that doubled as a bench, and leaned against the wall. “When she saw that the next train was a freight train, she decided not to come along. Which I'm glad she did! This is so much more fun than riding a passenger train and listening to her whine about the seats...although I will admit, it's loathsomely slow, which I'm not glad about. But still, this is fun!”

“Well, welcome aboard. It's a bit unusual; we don't get very many visitors back here on the tail.”

Angel rolled her eyes. “Do you just come onto, oh I dunno, every dog you meet?”

“Nah, just the cute ones,” Two Tone waved a hand, completely missing the sarcasm in Angel's voice. “Oh wait...you two are a couple, aren’t you?”

“Ah, that didn't take you long,” Scamp crossed his arms and chuckled. “Sorry miss, but this pup is spoken for.”

“Ah shoot. That means she's spoken for too,” The spotted dog thumbed up into the cupola at the now blushing Pomeranian. Scamp couldn't help but detect a little more disappointment at Angel being off the menu more than himself. “Oh well, can't blame a girl for trying.”

Scamp sneered while Angel blushed. He leaned against the desk and put a hand on each side, lifting himself up to sit atop it. His tail thumped against it's wooden surface. “Yep, proudly spoken for. And trust me. Not a better railroad dog is out there.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere Tenderfoot.” Angel leaned out of her seat, looking down into the caboose, her floppy ears bobbing with the motion of the train before her smirking face.

“Oh good, maybe I should flatter you more often.” Scamp looked up into the cupola and gave Angel a goofy smile. Two Tone frowned, having been shot down by both crew members. She resigned herself back to one of the bunks, sitting down on the blanketed mattress. Looking around, she noticed a fiddle lying on the bunk next to her.

“What's this?” The Dalmatian asked inquisitively, picking up the stringed instrument and it's bow.

“Oh! That's mine.” Scamp declared, peering around the cupola cabinets. “It's good to pass the miles with. If you like I can play a little.”

Two Tone stood up and handed the fiddle and bow to Scamp, who expertly balanced it on his shoulder. The mongrel drew the bow across it a few times, just to get a handle on the instrument. Then he launched into a busy reel. Suddenly the whole of the rolling caboose was full of the sounds of music. The sounds of the fiddle were rolling in rhythm with the clicking of the caboose wheels over the rails. Sitting back on the bunk, Two Tone smiled, patting her hand on the mattress in tune to the beat. “So, how did you guys end up together?”

“That's another fun question, Spotted One.” Angel said lightheartedly, tapping a foot against the floor to Scamp's tune. She was starting to open up a little. “Let's just say we sorta ran into each other and no matter how hard we tried we couldn't break away.”

“Not like we tried mind you.” Scamp pointed out.

“You can say that again,” Angel smiled sheepishly, climbing over the edge of the cupola and slipping down the narrow ladder. “I couldn't get you to bug off.”

“That's not how I remember it.” The fiddle rolled into a crescendo, as if Scamp was laughing with his instrument.

"Really, because I remember a wet behind the ears “wild dog” who couldn't beat up his own shadow." She bantered playfully.

He scoffed. "That's it, get out of my caboose."

Angel feigned a hurt look. “You wouldn't kick a girl out into the rain, right when she is about to put some nourishment on the stove?”

"Fine. But only because I'm starving. Besides, I cooked lunch."

“You mean, I held your hand while you cooked lunch.” Angel wagged her tail quickly as she reached into the pantry to see what they had in their food supplies. “I think some hot chocolate is fit for this little rainstorm. We can put some in a thermos and bring it up to Tramp and Lady. That sound good to you two?”

“Oh yes,” Two Tone nodded her head. “Just lovely.”

Angel started to pull out the fixings, placing them on a shelf on the wall before checking the amount of coal in the stove. Her ears could pick out a faint tapping sound over Scamp's fiddle playing. At first she thought the stovepipe may have been rattling. But it was soon clear that something or someone was knocking against the glass of one of the windows.

“Scamp, stop playing for a second.” Angel's voice was suddenly very serious, enough so that the mongrel halted instantly. An ear perking as he too listened for something usual. Angel then distinctively heard a set of taps on the glass of the cupola. Her attention brought back to the cupola windows, standing on the ground floor and looking up, she saw Dodger standing on the roof of the caboose, wrapping his knuckles on the glass and motioning forward.

                          *********************

Angel could hardly breathe. She was racing down the wet roofwalks as fast as her feet could carry her. Behind her was Scamp, ahead was Dodger. All three wore identical, determined expressions as they stepped from car to car. If their fur and clothing hadn't been dampened by the rain, it would have ruffled against the wind from the train's slipstream. Instead, they became even more soaked as wet cinders fell from the locomotive's exhaust. The pair was too engrossed in their mission to care. A dull yellow glow was provided by the oil lantern held in Scamp's grip.

“It's right up ahead. I saw it sparking as we passed around a bend.” Dodger reveled. “You sure we don't want to stop the train?”

“If we stop on this grade in this rain, we'll never get started again.” Angel explained.

“There, I see it!” Scamp barked.

Up ahead the wooden gondola loaded with Higher for Hire's printing machinery was rocking back and forth in the downpour. Almost the whole of the car was full of its cargo. The canvas covering fluttering and cracking in the crosswind like the sails of a ship. There was however a little space on each side to walk and climb.

Climbing down the end ladder on the boxcar, the three dogs quickly hopped into the wooden car. The gondola was much like a flatcar, only it had sides up to chest height. Underneath the car rose a rope of white smoke and the occasional spark. The sound of iron on iron reached the ears of the approaching canines. One of the great wooden brake-beams, which the brake-shoes where attached to, had become hung up on one side of the front wheel set. It dragged against the wheels and threatened to come apart. If it broke it's chains, it could drop to the rails and derail the train.

Angel bounded to the handbrake wheel, and spun it limply. It would be no use until the brake-beam could be knocked free.

“If we can't get it free we'll stop the train and break out the tools,” Angel barked. “If we have to go back to the bottom of the grade and start again, we shall. Better then spilling our guts out on in the dirt.”

Scamp leaned out the side and waved his lantern. “I'll tell mom and dad to slow down.” A quick two-fold call on the whistle echoed back as Tramp and Lady acknowledged the signal.

“Thanks Tenderfoot,” Angel threw a leg over the side of the car, and started to slid over. “Want to give me a hand Dodge. Repay me for that smoke earlier.”

Dodger assisted Angel as she pulled her other leg up and over the side until she stood clinging to the outside of the car, facing the train. Slowly she edged her way along the side of the car. Several iron rods ran lengthwise underneath the carbody. Called truss-rods, these helped brace and support the wooden vehicle. Looking down to be sure that she had enough room; Angel took a deep breath and then dropped one foot, and then the other onto the outermost rod. The whole of the while the Pomeranian was buffeted by rain and wind.

“You got some guts kid,” Dodger grinned as he held onto Angel's shoulders, helping her keep her balance. “Not many girls I know aren’t fazed by this.”

“Oh, this is easy,” Angel looked down at the track. “The hard part is going to be getting back up.”

She took a deep breath, and in a graceful arch slid herself underneath the car and atop the truss-rods, vanishing from sight to the two males above. She reached an arm out from underneath and gave a thumb up, letting Scamp and Dodger know she was okay. Then she set to work.

The world underneath the train was a wet, windy, and wild one. Angel lay on her back across the truss-rods. The iron bars digging into her shoulders, arms, and the swell of her rear end. Her tail dangled down and she had to be careful that she didn't scrape it on the rolling ballast and wooden crossties just inches below. Her triangular ears flicked and fluttered, and she used her hand to push both them and her bang back so they wouldn't fall in front of her face. Facing forward she was looking up at the underside of the wood-planking that made up the floor of the car. Above and below the axles and wheels rolled, aside from the set that was grinding against the brake-beam. Wind and spray lashed at her, but thankfully Lady slowed down so as to make her existence just all the more bearable. In a way it was like she was floating on her back just above the earth. The biggest deterrent came from the sticking brake-beam. The air was thick with friction smoke and Angel was constantly being showered in sparks. The girl grit her teeth and curled her legs so that her knees were tucked against her chest. She shimmied down the truss-rods so that she could place her feet firmly on the brake-beam. Her eyes narrowed and cheeks puffed as she grunted, putting as much force into the beam as she could with her legs. When that didn't work, she reeled back and started kicking with the bottoms of her feet.

After a few kicks, she felt someone dive under the car alongside her. Looking over she could see Dodger slipping down across the truss-rods. The white terrier had removed his coat and pulled his red bandana up over his muzzle to help keep the smoke out. “Need a hand?”

“I could use some feet actually,” Angel put her own against the beam. “Together?”

“Like birds of a feather,” Dodger quipped. The terrier put his boots against the beam, and together the two dogs reeled back and let loose.

After a few strikes, the beam broke free and fell back under its own weight. The railcar, now free to roll, jerked suddenly and Angel found she had to hold on tight to keep from sliding off into the abyss. She momentarily let her tail fall, and a started yelp left her lips when the tip just brushed along the gravel below. Dodger it seemed had similar trouble, for she saw him reach his arms out to brace against the truss-rods.

“Scamp, try the handbrake!” She hollered into the wind. She watched as the chain that ran from the handbrake to the beam tightened, and the beam moved freely back and forth. Scamp testing the brake wheel above. “Alright! I think we got it. We're coming up!”

Angel poked her head out from underneath; looking up at Scamp was hanging out over the side of the car. The young mutt reached down and grabbed a hold of Angel's outstretched arms, and with a great tug pulled the Pomeranian out from underneath the train and over the side of the car like a great furry fish. She was soaked thoroughly and her clothing stuck to her matted fur. Right behind her was Dodger, who climbed up assisted by the two railroaders. Like Angel, he was soaked.

“Thanks for your help,” Angel said, extending a hand for him to shake. “That was one way to take a bath.”

Dodger pulled his bandana down back around his neck. “No sweat kid. Doesn’t serve me well if the train I'm riding on wrecks. ”

“Would you like to come back to the caboose?” Scamp asked, fetching Dodger's coat and handing it to him. “I bet you it would be a bit warmer then whatever hiding spot you've been holed in on our train.”

“Nah, No offense but I wouldn't be caught dead riding the tail end. Wouldn't do my reputation well, if you understand.”

Scamp nodded in understanding. He reached down to grab his lantern and leaned out the side of the car. With an upward wave he passed the order along to resume speed. Up ahead, Lady whistled a response on the Dispatch's whistle. Turning back around he prepared to ask Dodger to at least take a cup of coffee or chocolate with him, or a smoke. But his ears flicked back in surprise to see that the terrier had vanished.

“Where did he go?” He asked Angel, who was now double checking the handbrake. She looked over at him and shrugged. Scamp walked over to the end alongside Angel and looked down between the cars. “That was slick.”

“He is an interesting character,” Angel commented before shaking as a chill ran through her wet body.

“Let’s get you dried,” Scamp said as he took off his coat and wrapped it around her shivering shoulders before giving her a tight hug, using his own body heat to help warm her before they started back towards the caboose. “I'll make that hot chocolate. That was some slick work down there.”

“Thanks Tenderfoot, I've got an extra shirt in the caboose so I'll change out of these wet rags.” Angel put her head on his shoulder, and shivered again. “Just as long as you promise not to kick me out.”

“Deal.” He grinned from one floppy ear to the other.

                            **************************

Chapter 6: The Pridelands

The rolling hills had started to give way to countryside and farms as the valley widened out. Lady cracked the throttle and gave the locomotive a good head of steam. With their new priority, they started to pick up time. The rods began to pound and the cab started to rock back and forth in a rhythmic pitch. The cocker spaniel started to feel a growing pleasure in her chest as they gained speed, it was just her and the locomotive, and in that second nothing else mattered. Her eyes rooted to the rails ahead and the ties as they slipped underneath her at a growing speed. The flat and straight track gave her the opportunity to pick up time, and Lady was not going to ignore such an offer. She threw the throttle wide open, and pulled the Johnson-bar back into the last notch, high on the quadrant. The great machine seemed suddenly animated with a demoniac energy, and soon they were shooting through the rain-wet countryside like an avenging bolt from the hand of a colossal god. Behind them the growing momentum caused the train cars to rock side to side, a cloud of smoke and sparks being tossed into the air and left in their trail. The spaniel worked with a fine intelligence which only the initiated could understand; for an engine is a steed who depends upon its engineer. She eased the steam when it could be spared, but kept the locomotive on the run.

Tramp worked the locomotive's injector. He had given his mate the best fire-bed he could, and she was using it to it's advantage. Every so often he would grab the latch to the clam-shell fire-doors and peek inside to inspect his fire. The flames glowed in time to the exhaust beats, the coal bed red hot and producing plenty of heat. He had set himself up to get the maximum amount of heat with the least amount of work. Thus, together, they coaxed, cajoled, threatened, and goaded the wheeled monster until, like a veritable thing of life, it seemed to strain every nerve to do their bidding, and whirled them faster and faster.

“Still thinking about the shadow-man?” He asked, after doing one such check on the fire.

Lady shuffled on her seat. She hadn't been. But was now. “A little yes. He was a rather loathsome character.” She grabbed the whistle cord and pulled it signaling a grade crossing. “I was just being polite, listening to him. I didn't think anything of it until we started having problems.”

“I still want to find him and tell him exactly how I feel about him telling you that. The nerve.” He grabbed the coal scoop off its hook in the tender and started shifting coal about the tender bunker. “He can keep his superstitions. Bad enough we already have that three strike nonsense hanging over us.”

“Oh, I don't believe in that 'accidents always happen in threes' trick,” She thumbed her fingers on the throttle bar, feeling a little guilty at having even mentioned the shadow man in the first place back at Curtis Switch. “But we have had an unusually high number of problems this trip.”

“When was the last time we ever had a perfect trip?” The mongrel chuckled. “You've been told that you have bad luck, so every little thing stands out like a sore thumb. Your luck is your own. And as far as I am concerned, there is no one else whose luck I would rather share.”

“That is a fair point.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the card. Looking it over, she examined the words printed on its face. “You're right. It's all just a coincidence.”

She held the card out the window and let go, the wind snatching it from her fingers. Looking back, the graceful spaniel watched with amusement as the pink slip tumbled and turned in the train's slip stream behind them, vanishing into the landscape.

The Horse and Cart was now passing through the largest plantation south of Chattanooga. Known as “Pride Rock,” the rolling lush farmlands ran along each side of the track up to the base of the mountains. One of which had a large rock formation that stood out and gave the plantation its name. Locals called the valley the Pridelands. In the distance Lady could see a great columned plantation home. Unlike the rotten and cold mansion they had passed earlier that morning, Pride Rock's house was palatal, warm, and welcoming. The family that owned this plantation had done so since before the Civil War, and were well known and respected among the business communities along the W&A RR.

By now the rain had ceased, although the air was damp and full of the scent of moisture, shafts of light where showing through the clouds as blue skies poked through. The surrounding landscape was damp and muddy, and the drainage ditches on each side of the tracks were full of standing water. Leaning out and looking down from the cab, Lady could see her own reflection in the ditches as they raced along. Turning her head to face forward, she could inspect the raging side-rods, appearing as a blur against the red painting drive wheels.

A white picket fence bordered one side of the tracks. Up ahead the shell paved road to Pride Rock's great home crossed the tracks at a diagonal. Lady grabbed the whistle cord and gave the standard signal of two long and two short, her eyes glued to the rails ahead. Suddenly a female shriek and the wail of horses erupted alongside the train. Lady whipped her head to the side and saw a black horse-drawn wagon loaded with cotton bales bounding towards the grade-crossing. The horses tripped and the wagon was sent sideways towards the train. The cocker spaniel grabbed the whistle and gave a single blast, the signal for “down brakes”, and then grabbed the brake handle.

“Hang on!” She shouted before swinging the brass handle all the way over into the emergency position. With a sudden whoosh of air and a crash of steel and wood, the brakes jammed on the cars which were equipped with the newfangled braking system. Up atop the car roofs, Angel grabbed a brake-wheel and held on as the slack tossed her forward and slammed her gut into the cast iron brake-wheel. In the caboose the slack blasted through like a shock wave, sending tools, lanterns, coal buckets, and paperwork flying. Scamp grabbed onto a cabinet and held on, eyes wide as a wrench flew through the air at head level. Two Tone on the other hand was caught completely unaware and she found herself going head over heels across the bunk she had called home.

It was too little too late. There was no way the train would stop in time. The spaniel grabbed the whistle cord and held on, the whistle screaming as the wagon flew sideways and hit the pilot of the Dispatch with a great crash. Wood shattered and the horses where suddenly free, bounding off alongside the train. The driver of the wagon, who Lady noted looked to be a young lioness in the few seconds that she saw her, was catapulted over the pilot of the locomotive and landed in one of the muddy drainage ditches. Bits of wood and clouds of cotton clicked and bounced down the running board. The cocker spaniel ducked down in time to prevent any from striking her.

The train slid along the wet rails, wheels sliding and drive wheels locked solid as the train shrieked to a standstill. The Dispatch's bell rang back and forth from the sudden abruptness of its stop. The broken remains of the wagon, now completed unrecognizable, slid off the pilot and clattered to the rails in front of the locomotive. Lady gave a quick set of whistle blasts to call Scamp and Angel to protect their now stopped train.

Tramp's boots slammed into the mud track-side as he took a leap from the cab deck and started running towards the site of the smash. Lady was taking a more cautious approach, stepping down the ladders delicately. “I saw her hit the mud just after the crossing!” She called after her mate.

Down at the home, the crash and the screech of brakes from the train had attracted attention, and it seemed a number of field hands, and one of the great lions who owned the home, were running towards the railroad right of way. Tramp reached the crossing first, and quickly found the figure of a lioness lying on her back, eyes wide, in the murky and muddy water of the drainage ditch. She couldn't be much older than Scamp or Angel, and by her now splattered and torn dress, she was one of the residents of Pride Rock. She raised her head and looked at the Tramp as if he was an apparition in the fog. Obviously still startled by what had just happened.

“Well, that's one way to take a bath,” He reached a hand out for the girl to grasp. “Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, I think,” She grabbed his hand and with a few shakes got up to her legs. She quickly felt herself down to be sure nothing was broken. “Nothing broken at least.”

“Kiara,” A voice called out from the road. Tramp swung around to see a male lion, his mane a rich red and flowing around his shirt collar, hop the white fence that bordered the railroad track and practicably leap over the ditch. He reached the tracks at the same time as Lady. The spaniel had first stopped to retrieve the train's first aid kit from the toolbox. “Kiara! What happened? Are you hurt?”

“I'm fine dad, I promise,” Kiara said, obviously a bit discombobulated from her flight through the air. “I just...oh no, the wagon!”

“Forget about the wagon, as long as you’re okay.” Her father placed a hand on each of her shoulders and embraced her in a great hug. Tramp stood back, the lion was quite bulky, almost twice his size. He repeated; “What happened?”

“I lost control of the horses. I think the sound of the train spooked them.” She looked over at Tramp and Lady, both of whom stood next to their train. “I'm sorry dad. Just wanted to get this last load in the barn before supper.”

“You could have been seriously hurt,” Already a crowd was starting to gather just on the other side of the white picket fence. Kiara's father waved to a blue feathered avian, who quickly pranced down the hill towards the tracks, a hand holding a large sunhat, almost as large as his horned beak, to the top of his head. “Zazu, please take Kiara to the house and get her cleaned up. Her mother and I will talk about this later.”

“Yes sire,” Zazu gave a curt nod of his head before extending a feathery hand to the young lioness. “Come now, let's get a bath drawn for you.”

“Sorry dad.” Kiara repeated once again, ears pined back against her head; her sopping wet fur and dress suddenly making her look rather pitiful. The young lioness slunk off. Her dress and skirt plastered to her legs in a great wet heap, following Zazu towards the great stately home in the shadow of the rock.

For a few seconds, they watched Kiara wander up the road a bit. Her father took a deep sigh, settling his thoughts, before turning to Lady and Tramp. “I'm truly sorry about all of this. Are you and the rest of your crew alright?”

“A little shaken,” Lady grasped her mate's hand. “But we're fine. The locomotive took most of the impact, and there doesn’t even seem to be a scratch on the pilot's paint. I saw our brakeman and conductor scrambling to inspect the train for shifting loads or anything that could have happened in the emergency stop. They survived.”

“That's good!” The lion crossed his arms over his chest. “I'll have some of my field hands assist with getting the wreckage of the wagon off the tracks. Try and recover some of the lost cotton. My name is Simba, by the way. The Master of Pride Rock.”

“Tramp, and this little thing is Lady.” Tramp replied, cocking his head in Lady's direction.

“Oh, it's a pleasure. Despite the circumstance.” Lady smiled.

Simba returned the smile. Obviously relaxed now that his daughter was safe. “I apologize for all of this. I'll contact the railroad and settle any debts. Is your train okay to travel?”

“Oh don't worry about that.” Tramp thumbed towards the locomotive. “Honestly, I'm surprised we got this mess all stopped in such a short distance. That was pure luck”

“Luck, that's all it was. Some incredibly fortunate luck,” Simba agreed, looking back at the house. “Not many have been hit by a freight train and walked away. No, it's I who owes you thanks.” Simba grabbed the mutts hand tightly and gave the Tramp and hearty handshake. Turning to Lady, he gave her an aristocratic bow, before taking her hand and giving the top of her wrist a gentile kiss. The spaniel looked away bashfully, eyelashes fluttering. “Alright, let’s get whats left of that wagon out of your way.”

                                  *********

Once what was left of the surrey had been removed from the tracks and the pilot of the Dispatch, and Scamp finished walking and inspecting the train, Lady called in the flags with the whistle. Using the chimes to tell Angel to return to the train, the young pup having ran behind to flag any oncoming trains. After everyone was on board, she cracked the throttle and started the iron horse trotting. Simba stood track-side on the other side of the fence. The lion held a hand up and gave a wave to the engine crew, which Lady responded with a few jovial blasts on the whistle while Tramp started pulling the long cord that rang the bell. The drive wheels spun for a brief second before biting into the rails and drawing the train into motion.

It wasn't long before the Dispatch had the train rolling through the countryside. Putting Pride Rock and it's dynasty behind. The pounding drivers and gentle rocking of the train helped put Lady's nerves at ease, and she had once again returned to a welcome rhythm at the throttle. Still, the accident plagued her mind. “Bad luck strikes again,” She finally commented.

“How so?” The Tramp said as he lugged yet another scoop full of coal into the firebox. The tender bunker was starting to get low; soon he would have to rake coal from the back towards the front.

“You saw what happened,” The spaniel took a deep sigh. “We almost killed that poor girl.”

“Easy Pidge,” The mongrel hung his scoop up on the hook in the tender bunker. “Just think, that whole mess just proves that you're not bad luck.”

“I'm afraid I don't follow,” She rolled a shoulder blade to toss one of her ears behind her back before sitting sideways on the seat box to face him.

“Well, look at it this way. That accident was a one in a million,” He started counting off on his fingers. “We could have killed her, or been ditched ourselves when the slack rolled in as it did. Angel could have been tossed from the roof or Scamp hurled from the tail.”

“You're not really making me feel any better,”

“But that's the point! Those things didn't happen. Because of luck...good luck!” He winked at her. “The kind of good luck that accompanies skill and intelligence. Such as this crew happens to have. It was also good luck that the mail train stopped before it hit that cat, and good luck we happened upon Fuli and her train and were there to lend a hand. Don't you fret little Lady. Nothing but good luck can follow!”

Lady giggled, a wide smile on her muzzle and a warm twinkle in her eyes. “I suppose you must be right. We were so fortuitous that the only thing we lost was time. All these things happening to us...it's not bad luck dogging us. It's our own good luck protecting us.”

“Of course I'm right,” Tramp put his hands on his hips and thrust his chest out, a smug smile on his maw. “Just have to find the right angle on the situation.”

“Watch it,” Lady teased, gazing fondly at her mate. “Oh darling, have I ever told you, you're wonderful?”

“Oh, you go run your locomotive.” Tramp chuckled as he retrieved his coal scoop and started climbing into the tender.

“Oh, but I mean it. You're quite a breed of dog.” She settled back into the engineer's seat, making an adjustment on the Johnson-bar.

“What? You mean a mutt?” The gray furred dog called from the tender. He had started to drag coal forward with the scoop.

“Yeah, but I like mutts,” Lady wrapped a free hand on the whistle cord and gave a few jolly blasts.

Up ahead the train rounded a curve and approached the small town of Grizzly Flats. Here a siding allowed trains to pass and a water tank sat by a small single room depot. The train order semaphore signal was in the lowered position indicating the need to pick up new orders. Lady sighed. No doubt their delay at Pride Rock would change their order in the schedule once again.

“We have new orders!” She hollered back towards the tender, ears fluttering around her shoulders in the breeze from the window. “Shall we stop for water as well?”

“Yeah, let's top off the tank.” Tramp replied while quickly kicking open the water hatch and looking inside.

Lady grabbed the whistle cord and gave the signal for brakes before grabbing the handle. Angel was her usual prompt reliability, and between the brake-dog and the engineer, the Horse and Cart slid neatly alongside the Grizzly Flats Depot, bell tolling, with the tender hatch just under the water tank spout.

**************

Chapter 7: The Angel and the Rat

Tramp stood atop the tender, one foot on the water spout, holding it down with his weight as it replenished the tender tank. While he focused on their water supply, Lady was causally walking around the locomotive, her skirt fluttering around her legs as her boots crunched in the gravel. Oil can in hand; she was examining the panting machine with a motherly delicacy. She rolled her shoulders to toss her long silky ears behind her back once again, careful not to let them fall into the tallow cups she was so diligently filling with oil before running a gentile hand, palms flat, over the rods. Feeling for any slop or heat.  Her docked tail wagged as she slightly bent over to examine the cross-heads. She heard the sound of gravel crunching as someone approached, assuming that it was either Angel or Scamp.

“Well, I'll be. Hello ladeee,” A male voice cooed. Lady's ears perked as she spun around. Standing next to the locomotive was a mongrel who she had never laid eye on before. Dodger stood with a charming smile and his hands shuffled in his coat pockets. “This is a nice surprise. I was expecting some ragged mutt to be up here on the hog. Not a lovely thing such as yourself.”

Lady chuckled softly, her cheeks burning at the complement. “Oh, my. May I ask who it is who levels such a complement?” She placed the oil can atop one of the crossheads.

“The names Dodger,” He offered a hand in welcome. Lady stared at it, her eyes moving up his arm and his tattered sleeve. His smile was warm and inviting. “Of course, you can just call me the Dodge,” He gave her a wink.

She pushed one of her long ears back with a hand before offering it to him. “I think I shall just stick with Dodger, thank you kindly.”

He grasped her hand and gave it a soft gentlemanly kiss atop the wrist. “Suit yourself. Of course, what may I call you? I like to know a girl's name before she falls for me.”

“My name is Lady, and before you ask, I'm already spoken for. So the chances of my falling are rather slim, I'm sorry to say,” She rolled her eyes,

“Oh, why must you shoot a man down so quickly?” He smirked, obviously unfazed by the spaniel’s deceleration. The mutt leaned against a black split rail fence that boarded the tracks, relaxed. “Shame. A beautiful skirt who runs a railroad locomotive. You must be full of surprises. Had I known such a pooch like yourself was up front, I would have hidden closer to the locomotive.”

Lady blushed again. She should have found his words distasteful and vulgar. Perhaps had they come from a rougher looking dog she would have, but this mutt had a charm about him. The same roguish feel she had first found in the Tramp, albeit definitely not as refined.

“Listen, I dunno if you guys knew it. But I've been hitching a ride since Curtis Switch.” He held up a hand defensively. “I know, I know. I'm a terrible dog. But listen. There are some real sketchy looking scruffs hanging out back there.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, causing Lady to squint her eyes and peer down the string of cars curving off into the woods. “I don't know if they are planning on hopping your train. But I figured I would give you the heads up.”

“Oh,” Lady cocked her mouth and shuffled slightly, her eyes darting from up the track back towards the tender and her mate atop it. She quickly processed this news. Free-riders were not a new concept, and she knew they ranged from the downtrodden just trying to get by to wanted criminals. The spaniel rarely came face to face with them as they tended to stay away from the locomotive. Dodger, it seemed, was an exception to this rule. Something that quickly endeared him to the cocker. “Well then, I am obliged for the warning, please excuse me while I let my mate know. Oh, and of course you shall be careful too.”

“Don't worry about me; this is as far as I intend to go on your train. Keep your eyes out little lady,” The mutt gave her a shrug of his shoulders before hopping the fence heading for the tiny station and no doubt the saloon across the streets. He stopped and spun around, looking back at the engineer. “Say, do me a favor. There may be someone waiting for me in Chattanooga. If you see her, tell her I'm sorry I missed her.”

“I shall,” Lady cast him a sincere smile, thankful for the heads up. She put both hands on the fence and leaned against it.

The white terrier grinned from one floppy ear to another before pursing his lips and blowing her a kiss. Lady looked away bashfully as he vanished from sight around the depot. She chuckled to herself as she returned to her locomotive. Grabbing the oil can and flicking the lid on a tallow cup open.

                                      ************

Angel walked steadily along the car roofs towards the locomotive, having just released the handbrakes. Her curly tail was wagging happily behind the seat of her trousers, her brake club in hand. Lady had just whistled off their departure, having received new orders to meet a passenger train before arriving in Chattanooga, and with the clatter of couplers and the businesslike barks of the Dispatch's stack, the slow goods train was just starting underway again. The Georgia-Tennessee border was only a few miles ahead, and it would be a steady climb through thick wooded hills before they reached the river city. She walked to the very front of the first car in the train, and sat down on the edge of the roof, looking down across the tender at Tramp and Lady.

The Tramp, noticing her sitting on the roofwalk, climbed over the coal pile and handed her the slip of thin paper with their new orders written on it. “How are you guys holding?” He asked.

“Oh, tenderfoot tried to catch a wrench that was sailing through the air with his face, “She chuckled.” He's fine, heck, maybe it knocked some sense into him. How about you guys.”

“Never better,” Tramp joked. “Pidge seemed to be taking that whole bad luck thing to heart a little. But the way I see it, we've had nothing but good luck the whole of this trip. Look at all we've been tossed, and yet we're still rolling strong.” He winked at her. “Next stop, Chattanooga!”

“Sounds like a wonderful plan to me!” Angel smiled agreeably. She read the orders, quickly memorized them, and then handed them back down to the Tramp. “Thanks. I'm heading to the caboose. Believe it or not, our passenger actually knows how to make some pretty good coco. If our supplies weren’t almost gone, I would see what else she can make.”

“Be careful, Pidge says that some bums may have hopped our train back at Grizzly Flats. Not the good kind. If you see anything, come and get me. Okay,” Despite the offbeat way he spoke, Angel could tell by the way his tail swung anxiously side to side that the father was concerned.

“I'll keep my eyes open. Thanks,”

“Alright, stay safe you guys.” Tramp gave her a warm smile and a nod of his head before climbing back over the coal pile.

The air was warm and the sky had opened up, although behind the train the thick rainclouds could be seen hovering as they continued their own march south. By this point, the Horse and Cart. had grown. Having picked up and dropped off more cars along their trip. Clambering over a flatcar loaded with slate shingles for roofing, Angel could no longer see both ends of the train as it rounded a curve. Looking down the line of cars, her ears perked as she noticed that something seemed out of place. One of the boxcars had a door slightly ajar. She cocked her mouth as she thought back. That boxcar she had seen with its door shut in Grizzly Flats. She knew about Dodger riding their train, but he had been hanging out in one of the empties near the rear. Spinning the brakeclub in her hand, she decided this was worth investigating. She figured that if it turned out to be the thugs she could hold her own enough to grab the Tramp. She had a club after-all, how bad could they be?

Walking across the car roofs, she slowed down and took careful steps across the roof of the car in question. Leaving the roof walk she carefully slid over to the edge just above the door. The blonde-furred female pulled out a thick strip of rawhide and tied one end to the door-frame. This would help her enter and exit the car from the roof. Angel then dropped down over the side, and kicked the door open before dropping into the car.

She immediately wished she hadn't. Landing on the wooden planking inside the rocking car, she found herself facing a set of angry glares and sullen faces. Their clothing was all tattered and dirtied, and they all carried the scent of cheap tobacco. Three of which instantly reacted to her by circling the brake-dog, knives glinting in the afternoon sun. The forth towered over them, he was a rather bulky rat wearing a torn black coat and a silk top hat. Seeing Angel, he aimed a wicked looking cane at the brake-dog menacingly, an irate snarl on his lips.

“Get her! Don't let her leave!” He ordered, and suddenly Angel found herself in a rather one sided fight. She ducked as one of them, a peg legged bat, split the air with his knife. A swing of the brake club, which thankfully was the size and heft of a small baseball bat, quickly sent the three back a little. Angel grit her teeth and let out a low canine growl, eyes narrowed, as they circled her. The forth one with the top-hat looked on with glee as if watching from outside a ring, thumbing his fingers atop a great iron cane he carried.

“I'm going to take a guess, and say none of you have tickets.” Angel smirked, her eyes darting back and forth to the intruders on her train.

One of the gang, a mouse in an apple-cap and scarf, charged her, reeling his arm back to take a jab with his blade. Angel dispatched him with her club, sending him backwards through the open door of the car. He vanished without even a yelp, his body momentarily tumbling alongside the moving train before disappearing into the dense underbrush on the side of the tracks. Angel felt her confidence increase, one down, and three to go.
 
However this was to be short lived, as the bat clawed at her, getting a good scratch at her shoulder. She swung the club and missed, however it was enough to ward off the third, a lizard, and cause the bat to drop his knife to the car floor. Looking over her shoulder she found the lizard had moved to block her path towards the open sliding door, the green scenery rushing by outside.

The bat took this moment to rush her, and before Angel could swing her club, he shoved her back into the hands of the lizard, who wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly in a harsh bear hug. Angel whipped her head back and forth, managing to get the lizard holding her on the snout with the back of her skull. However she was unable to swing her club, and when the bat reeled back and planted his wooden leg into her stomach, the sudden pain forced her to drop it. The club and the Pomeranian fell to the floor of the car with an unhealthy thud.

“Well done Fidget!” The rat congratulated the grinning bat, “Oh, that was marvelously effective.”

The brake-dog groaned, dropping to her hands and knees. She struggled to pull herself back upright, but the rat, who had been enjoying the show, stepped in. He put a foot on the small of her back and pinned her to the floorboards of the car, tapping his cane just ahead of her muzzle.

“Sorry my dear, but you happen to be our ticket,” He sneered as his remaining cohorts helped him pin Angel down, forcing her hands behind her back and quickly binding them with rawhide. “Bad luck for you, but oh, such wonderful luck for us!”

                                     *******************

Tramp dug his coal scoop into the depleting pile in the tender. His fur was disheveled and covered in soot, the legs of his pants having a noticeable black tinge to them. Sweat rolled down his fur, causing it to stick up in strange tufts, while at the same time running in rivulets through the coal dust. He was being rather careful with the remaining fuel supply. They had taken on more than enough to get to Chattanooga, but with all their stopping, plus helping the stalled freight train on Tweed Hill, he expected to roll into the yard on lumps and dust. Lady kept her eyes on the steam pressure gauge. She too knew of their situation, and was riding with the cutoff pulled back to try and economize as much as she could. Looking at her fob-watch, she sighed. They would make Chattanooga by sundown. That much she was assured of.

But first they would have to negotiate one final pass. Here the Chetoogeta Mountain rose, blocking rail access to the Tennessee border. Rather than climb up and over, the W&A had bored a tunnel strait through. Tunnel Hill as it was known was a quarter of a mile in length and on a steady upgrade. Already the graceful spaniel had lowered her goggles into place. Making herself ready for the onslaught of soot and ash bouncing back from the tunnel roof. She grabbed the whistle cord and let out a single toot; a call to set up brakes in preparation for the downgrade on the other side of the tunnel. She waited for the sudden draw back from the rear of the train, expecting that Angel would start to apply a handbrake or two. When she felt nothing, she leaned out the cab and looked back. Her ears were fluttering around her head, a hand pushing the goggles to her forehead.

“That’s somewhat strange,” Lady commented.

“What's that Pidgin?” Tramp was busying himself with a hammer, breaking a few of the larger lumps of coal into smaller more manageable pieces.

“I don't feel Angel on the brakes,” She grabbed the whistle cord and gave out the call a second time. “We're going to need her after we pass through Tunnel Hill. It's strait down on the other side.”

The train slowed as it started up the heavy grade. Here the tracks ran strait as they climbed several miles towards the tunnel portal at Chetoogeta. The Dispatch's chuffs became low in tone and labored as she slowed down to a crawl. Her drive wheels biting into the rails as she worked to lift the Horse and Cart. over the hill. The tracks climbed through a deep cut. The earth rose on each side of the railroad in a great V with the sides of the cut lush with vegetation, and the air was thick with the scent of honeysuckle. As the train passed underneath a wooden bridge that spanned the cut, smoke was blown back down atop the car tops.

Lady slipped a head into her breast pocket to find her fob-watch. Pulling the timepiece out she found something else caught in her grasp. To her great astonishment it was the card given to her by the strange man earlier in the day. The same card she had let go out the cab window several miles back.

“Well, hello down there.” A male voice, dripping with ridicule, boomed out from above. The Tramp's ears slid back sharply as he looked up from the bunker inside the tender. “Sorry to butt in, but I must side track your attention for a moment, if you will excuse the pun.”

The smoke began to clear from atop the boxcars, reviling a series of shadows. As it lifted, like a theater curtain, it unveiled three unwelcome guests atop the leading edge of the boxcar. To each side of the running board stood the lizard and the bat. The lizard looked a bit unsure, anxiously fondling Angel's now discarded brakeclub. While the bat looked down upon Tramp and Lady threateningly, a frown was upon his scruffy face. Standing between them on the running board was the tall rodent in a top hat. The latter grinned from one ear to the other; his fingers tapping atop his cane in glee and his tattered cape billowing in the train's slip stream.

“Pidge, we have company!” Tramp barked, standing back in the bunker. From his position below, he craned his neck in order to see fully this new threat. From inside the cab, Lady looked over her shoulder, her brown eyes wide with surprise at the sudden intrusion. Quickly taking her attention off the card, she slipped it back into her pocket. The Tramp's eyes narrowed and the gray mongrel let out a low growl. “What do you want?” He spat.

“Oh, we just found something that we think belongs to you,” Their leader sneered.

Angel was shoved forward into the grasp of the rat. Putting a hand on each of her shoulders and holding her tight, his bulk towered over her. The golden furred Pomeranian’s eyes where narrowed and her lower lip curled in disgust. Behind her back, both her hands, which where bound tightly, where balled into fists. She continued to twist and pull at her wrists. Her own stubborn attempt at freedom even though the rawhide held tight. Lady gasped, a hand reaching over to the brake handle.

“Uh uh. I wouldn't do that,” That snide voice again and a knife, glinting menacingly in the sun, was pressed to Angel's throat. The cocker's hand stayed atop the handle, but did not move it.

“Sorry guys,” Angel apologized. “They got the jump on me.”

Tramp snorted, his big ears flopping forward. He causally leaned the coal scoop up against the side of the tender bunker before looking over his shoulder at Lady. He motioned with a hand for her to remain in the cab. At the same time, his eyes drifted down towards the fireman's seat-box, where the train's Winchester rifle was hidden. The cocker followed his gaze and knew immediately what he was requesting. They were caught a little off guard, with her sitting across the cab, and he in the tender. Both removed from reach of the weapon. She remained atop the seatbox, letting go of the throttle and putting both hands behind her back. While it looked as if she was just complying, she was ready to leap forward and retrieve the firearm. Both knew she had never fired it before. It would be up to the Tramp to bring the situation under control before it came to that.

“Allow me to introduce myself and my associates, if I may,” The rat began, removing his top hat and giving a theatrical bow, one hand still firmly on Angel's shoulder. The Tramp rolled his eyes. “You may call me Ratigan, Professor Ratigan if you please. Joining me are my acquaintances, Mr. Fidget,” At his introduction, the peg legged bat snatched Angel's brakeclub out from the lizard and broke it in half in a display of power. Ratigan raised an eyebrow at this before moving to introduce the lizard “Uh, yes...very nice Fidget. And this man is uh...you know who cares. All you need to know is for the time being, this train is under my command!”

“You're wasting your time if you're looking to rob a train,” Tramp spoke coolly, but there was venom in his voice. “We're a wayfreight. Nothing but odds and ends.”

“Oh, my dear doggie, I have no intention of such barbarian an act. No sir!” Angel's ears flicked back and the girl winced as Ratigan laughed practically in her ears. “Oh no. Think of this as just another transaction with a passenger. You stop your train and let me off where I ask, and I in return give you a ticket for my passage...just the ticket happens to be this cute...OW!”
 
The rat let out a shout as Angel stomped on his foot in protest. The rest of his sentience was said though clinched teeth and narrowed eyes. The blonde furred pom could feel his grip on her tighten. “Yes...cute...precious, little thing.”

Tramp looked over at his mate, and motioned with his head forward. Lady nodded her own head in response, and subtlety motioned with her eyes towards the front of the train, up the track, and smiled. Both were thinking the exact same thing. Up ahead was Tunnel Hill. They could make their move in the darkness of the tunnel and try and get the upper hand. The cocker spaniel gently put a hand on the throttle and cracked it another notch, before dropping the Johnson-bar forward another notch as well. 

To the outsider, it looked as if she was just running her locomotive. But the graceful spaniel was actually setting up a trick. The Dispatch's chuffs grew deep in tone and the smoke coming from the stack started to change color from hazy gray to thick and black. To give his mate the time to work, Tramp would have to stall them.

“So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”

                             ****************

Scamp opened the window in the caboose cupola all the way to its frame. His black nose twitched as the sweet scents of honeysuckle filled the cupola from outside. The ends of his maw turned up in a pleased grin as he closed his eyes and took in a few deep whiffs. There was another scent quickly filling the wooden cabin car, this one coming from down below.

“Coffee is such a barbaric drink,” Two Tone carried on in front of the wrote iron stove. She had the kettle at a brew and was busy mixing ingredients from two small tins. Carefully drizzling them with two forefingers into the kettle. Her stick of a tail was whipping back and forth and her ears perked forward. She rocked slightly side to side with the motion of the train. “Like, I get why you would drink it. But it's just so ugggh. All full of grinds and stuff. Tea is far more civilized!”

She poured the kettle into a cup before handing the cup up into the cupola. Scamp looked down, one eyebrow arched dubiously. “Go on,” The Dalmatian encouraged, sashaying her hips slightly, her skirt fluttering around her legs. “Try it!”

The mongrel reached down and took the cup. He took a few trial sniffs of it before taking a sip. Both ears perked suddenly, and his eyes darted back and forth as he held the cup before his mouth. He then proceeded to gulp down the drink. “Wow, that's actually pretty slick!”

“It’s the cinnamon,” Two Tone announced. “I love cinnamon. Actually, I hate cinnamon. At least on its own. It's great with everything else, but have you tried to eat a spoonful of cinnamon? It's just downright horrid!”

The caboose was rocked by a harsh roll out of slack as the train started up the three mile grade towards Tunnel Hill. Scamp had to reach out and brace himself against the walls of the cupola, his cup clattering to the floor. Two Tone yelped as she was pushed into the sidewall. A cabinet door swung on its hinges and the lanterns that hung from hooks on the ceiling bashed into one another, clanging like wind chimes.

“Well, that was a pretty nasty roll out,” The mongrel chuckled, bending over to retrieve the cup from the floor of the cupola. “Either mom slipped up or Angel's napping on the job.”

Looking out the window, his smile started to wane. Now that the train was on a long straightaway, he could see along the line of cars all the way towards the locomotive. It was hard to tell, but it looked like there where three figures standing at the front of the train. Scamp could just make out Angel standing with them, her fur catching the sunlight and glowing gold against the dark grays and browns of the others. “Something's not right,” He muttered.

“Gosh, I wish you guys would stop tossing me around,” The spotted dog complained, patting down her skirt as she turned to sort out the kettle. “That's no way to treat a lady.”

The mutt's ears flipped up when he heard four whistle blasts come from the locomotive. It was a call to attention. Something was going on up at the head end, and he was being summoned to help. With a rough snort, Scamp swung out of the cupola, landing smartly on the floorboards. “Somethings definitively not right. I'm going up front.”

“You mean you're just going to leave me back here?!?” Two Tone gasped.

“Don't worry. If we have to stop for anything, I'll be right back to set out the flags,” Scamp swung around the ladder and reached for one of the cabinets, only to find it to be locked. “What the? Why on earth would Angel lock the lamp and oil cabinet? She knows the rifle is in there!”

Two Tone glanced away a bit uneasy, biting her lower lip. Scamp didn't seem to notice as he quickly opened another cabinet and pulled out a wicked looking piece of iron rod about three feet long. One side had a handle on it; the other was flattened out into a hook. He looked over at the Dalmatian and smiled. “It's a journal box key. Usually used for inspecting the bearings. But it will make a really nasty club if I have to,” He jogged over to the door, and slid the key into his suspender strap and belt before opening it to the back platform. “I'll be back. Hopefully.”

                                 *************

Moving towards the remainder of the coal pile in the tender, the Tramp stood at the very bottom, looking directly up at the three hitchhikers holding Angel hostage. Seeing Fidget glare down at him, he held his hands out ahead to show that he was unarmed. All three flinched slightly as Lady let out four quick blasts on the whistle; a call for signals. Locking eyes with Angel, Tramp just gave the subtlest of nods to alert the brake-dog that something was in motion and to be ready. He turned his hands out and gave a vague motion as if he was catching something. The female's eyes told him she had caught on. “So, professor,” He let the title hang dubiously on his tongue. “What does a fine member of the intellectual league find himself hitching a free ride on a freight train?”

“Why, what an excellent question my fine coal shoveling friend,” Ratigan visibly inflated at the compliment. His fingers tapping on Angel's shoulder forced the Pomeranian to shrug defensively. He dramatically waved his free hand as he spoke, as if he was on a stage before an audience. “Oh, what manner of fate would put such a brilliant apperception such as myself on a simple freight train? I can tell you it was the small minds and peon brains that reside in the last town. Why, they chased me and my associates out! On a rail, so to say. What victims we are!”

“Well, sir,” The bat restlessly twiddled his thumbs. “It didn't help that we tried to rob the bank. I don't think that we um, won any friends...”

Ratigan scowled his lip curling in annoyance. “Fidget, just because you are my most loyal of subjects, do not think I'll hesitate to throw you over the side.”

“Oh, I think that's a swell idea,” Angel chided, a smirk splitting her muzzle. “Then he can join your friend I tossed off a little while back.”

Ratigan growled while Tramp grit his teeth. While he was proud of Angel for keeping her cool during this mess, she didn't have to antagonize him any further. The mongrel was working to free the girl. Last thing he needed was her getting tossed over the side herself before they could put their plan in motion. “Well, hold on now fellas. No need to be sending anyone off or under this train. You guys just hang on tight up there and tell us where it is you want us to stop, and we'll just make everyone happy.”

Looking over his shoulder at Lady, he saw that she had set their trap perfectly. The right throttle and Johnson bar setting, the right amount of air-brake, and the needle on the pressure gauge was flicking with each blast of the exhaust. The cocker had set her locomotive to take deep breaths of air across the fire-grates. Pulling ash, coal, and soot through the boiler tubes and towards the stack. Tramp could already feel a slight rain of ash coming from the thick cloud that poured from the balloon stack. Lady kept looking forward, although he could see her reflection in the glass of the cab window and pressure gauges. She was using them to keep an eye on what was happening in the tender while still looking forward unassumingly. Looking back at the train, Tramp could see the final piece of the puzzle falling into place. Scamp was walking down the running-boards doing his best to be subtle as he moved and hid in the low laying exhaust smoke. Between the look on his face, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed, and the journal key he held in his hands, the young mutt meant business. Tramp just hoped that his son had enough common sense to wait until the opportune moment rather than force the criminal's hand.

Up ahead, the tunnel portal yawned over the tracks. Set into the hillside, the rails vanished into its black opening. Tramp smiled as he looked at Angel, a hand reaching up to his collar to turn the cloth up. “Say, have you guys ever hopped a train before?”

“Does it matter?” The rat shrugged, pushing Angel forward as if threatening to shove her off the front of the boxcar. “This is the only time you need to worry about.”

“Well, just asking. Because we're about to enter a tunnel,” The mongrel could feel his heart pounding in his throat. He could see Angel clamp her mouth shut as she held her breath, eyes closed and ready. Of the four atop the roof, she was the only one. “And well...you may want to hold your breath.”

Ratigan arched an eyebrow in confusion, but Fidget saw. He grabbed his boss's coat and tugged, pointing forward. As the Dispatch pounded through the portal, the blast of exhaust from the stack hit the roof of the tunnel and blew back along the top of the train! With a defining roar the train was plunged into a smoky and sooty darkness. Lady had already dropped her goggles down over her eyes and brought her neckerchief to cover her nose as the air was suddenly full of hot ash and soot. Tramp likewise clamped his eyes shut and looked down. The spaniel’s trap was sprung as the plume hit Ratigan and his gang square in the face. The three bandits shouted in confusion and chaos as they were suddenly plunged into the vapor filled darkness. Their eyes were suddenly burning from the wave of hot ash. The knife clattered to the car roof and vanished over the side, right behind it fell Ratigan's cane.

One shout in particular echoed off the tunnel walls, overpowering even the pounding of the great steam locomotive. Ratigan himself reeled as, in his blindness, he suddenly found Angel's foot landing square in his stomach. The Pomeranian used the panic atop the car roofs to her advantage and in the darkness reeled her foot back and landed a backwards kick as hard as she could. The canine then took a running jump, eyes shut, hoping that she had understood the Tramp correctly. She could feel the adrenaline rushing through her body, head pounding as her feet left the edge of the boxcar, and she was airborne in the smoky darkness of the tunnel. So many things could go wrong. She could fall between the tender and the boxcar and go underneath the train. She could miss the Tramp and land on the coal pile or worse, across the hard steel deck of the tender. She could hit the tunnel wall or roof.

The Tramp could not see Angel, he just held his arms out and hoped that this would work. Sure enough, something landed square across his body. It practically knocked him out and caused him to stumble back. By the female grunt and the way the form still had its arms tucked behind its back, he knew that it had to be her. The locomotive popped out the other portal and into daylight, shrouded by its own smoke. Sunlight suddenly blinded the whole crew, and Tramp blinked his eyes to find himself holding up Angel. Their plan had worked. Lady grabbed the whistle cord and pulled, letting off a wail to further disorientate the three remaining atop the boxcar.

Except now there was only two. As the cloud of fumes dissipated and rose from the tunnel portal it became obvious that the lizard was missing. Tramp could see out of the corner of his eyes the unfortunate would-be-bandit's form falling into the brush alongside the tunnel portal, arms and legs flailing. His landing looked painful, and no doubt he would be nursing a broken something. Atop the boxcar, Fidget was wailing as he rubbed at his eyes, his hands grinding into the sockets in an attempt to remove the remains of only god knows how many cinders. Ratigan grit his teeth and snarled like a feral animal. His eyes were wide open and blood red. His brow was furrowed in anger and his fingers twitched as he realized he had lost his bartering chip.

As the smoke behind him lifted like a theater curtain, it revealed one final figure. Ratigan bellowed as he swung around only to see Scamp wielding the iron bar like a baseball bat. Before the rodent had time to understand what was happening, the young mutt swung and hit him aside the bar with a resounding crack. Mouth wide open, Ratigan collapsed to the roof in a jumbled heap.

Scamp looked over at Fidget, who by now was able to see, albeit as his eyes watered terribly. The bat took one look at his boss lying prone atop the roof, and another at Scamp who was still holding the journal key. Fidget's mouth dropped in surprise, and he held his hands out and waved them in defense. 

“No, no, no.” The bat grunted. Scamp's muzzle wrinkled and he let out a low canine growl. His fingers tightening around the shaft of the iron bar.
 
Fidget let out a toothy smile, and held up a finger as if saying “One moment, please.” Then, the bat turned to the side-edge of the boxcar roof, took a breath, and jumped. Timing his jump just as the train passed over a small bridge. The family all looked over the side as Fidget splashed down into a small creek. His head popped back above water, and sputtering, he shook a fist at the passing train.

“That's my boy!” Tramp cheered. “Well done, Whirlwind!”

“Couldn't have happened to a nicer lot,” Angel snorted. Standing in the tender bunker she turned around to present her bound hands towards the Tramp. “Mind lending a girl a hand?” The mongrel started untying her wrists, careful so as to not bruise them. Once untied, Angel rubbed her wrists and flexed her fingers, being sure to crack her knuckles. Her bushy tail wagged with her new-found freedom. “Thanks. That was a nice catch by the way.”

“Not my first time rescuing a damsel. But I hope you plan on making it the last,” The Tramp gave a stern look as he spoke, dropping the strips of rawhide into the toolbox. “Mind telling me what happened back there?

“Sorry,” Angel's floppy ears folded down as she frowned, her gaze falling to look at her boots. “I guess I thought that if I just took control I would scare them into submission. I could take each of them on my own. But together they overwhelmed me.”

“That part was obvious,” He calmly stated causing Angel to wince. That was the infuriating part about the Tramp; it was hard to tell if he was actually mad. Angel dragged her eyes up to meet his.  The tall mongrel sighed and hunched his shoulders. Shaking his head, he allowed just the hint of a smile cross his maw. “But if I heard you right back there, you tossed at least one of them over the side before they pinned you. That's pretty respectable. Well put!”

“Tramp!” Lady scolded from within the cab. “I don't think we should encourage the kids to openly engage physical contact.”

Something akin to a snicker escaped the mongrel’s mouth. You can take the dog out of the streets they say, but never the street out of the dog. Just as quick, it was gone. “As respectable as that is, you out of all of us should know that brains will always beat brawn,” He said gently. Angel visibly relaxed realizing that he wasn't angry with her. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave a soft squeeze. He was just worried, a fact that she could see etched into the features of his face. In response the blonde brake-dog smiled and her tail began to wag.

“Do excuse my intrusion,” Lady interrupted from her seat in the cab. With one hand on the throttle, pushing it in and out in rapid succession as she worked to control the flow of steam, and the other manipulating the Johnson bar, the spaniel was keeping the iron horse just in check. “However, we are about to descend a rather steep downgrade. I will require those handbrakes back there to keep us under control. As well as steam for the climb on the other side.”

“Right you are Pidgin,” Tramp grabbed the coal scoop and dug into the pile. “I'll have the safeties popping before you know it!”

Angel climbed up towards the boxcar roof. Suddenly finding herself attacked by a rush of gray fur as Scamp enveloped her in a great hug. A silly grin smeared across his face as he practically tackled the girl. “You owe me big for that one!” He barked

“Alright Tenderfoot, I do, I do,” She laughed, playfully pushing him off. Looking down at the crumpled figure of Ratigan as he lay sprawled across the roof of the boxcar, she frowned. “So, what do we do with the great and powerful professor? He isn't dead, is he?”

“Nah, I don't think so,” Scamp nudged the side of the rodent's face with the toe of his boot. His triangular ears were flicking forward. “But that's sure going to hurt tomorrow morning.”

“We can lock him in an empty boxcar,” Angel suggested with a shrug. “It will hold him until we hit Chattanooga.”

                                    *************

Chapter 8: Chattanooga

The sun was slowly sinking below the rising Blue Ridge Mountains, bathing the distent range in a red glow. The clouds, once gray with rain where now resplendent in shades of pink and yellow. A quarter moon was rising, and the corners of the sky where already darkening. Hints of stars where beading through the twilight sky.

Lady sat on the cab windowsill of the Dispatch. Her eyelids were hanging low and exhaustion was setting in on her gentile muzzle. Still, her mouth was turned up in a kindly smile. For the Horse and Cart was slowly gliding across the great wood and steel trestle over the Tennessee River. The air was refreshingly chill against her fur and skin, having been cooled by the passing rainstorm. Before them sat their destination of Chattanooga. Which was the final stop on the Western & Atlantic Railroad. Looking over her shoulder, she could see Angel sitting on the front edge of the first boxcar. Letting her legs dangle over the side. Lady could see the red pulse of a cigarette perched in Angel's mouth.

The Tramp sat on the fireman's seat, slumped with his coal scoop leaning against the seat-box next to him. He looked out the window at the riverside city as if deep in thought. His fur and clothing covered in soot and coal dust, around his eyes where two rings from his brass goggles. Which sat clutched in one hand. Far below them the wide waters rippled and lapped at the trestle's bents. Lady reached into her chest pocket and pulled out the card, tempted to drop it into the river below.

“Last stop,” He rejoiced. “About time, this was tough run.”

“Oh goodness, that is an understatement. I think we've had more happen to us on this one trip then in the whole of the last three months,” She slipped the card back into her pocket before grabbing the whistle cord. As they passed into the railyard, Lady sounded the whistle. The train snaked its way across several switches and underneath a signal gantry.

“Well, it's just about over,” Tramp stood up and looked into the tender, noting that it was practically empty. “What do you think about grabbing some dinner after we sign off?”

“Anywhere you have in mind?”

“Well, I was sort of thinking about Tiana's Place. They are open for the nightlife, and right on the riverfront.”

“That sounds divine. But I was thinking maybe something a little quieter. You know...Tony's is open late,” She slid down off the windowsill, facing him atop the seatbox. Her smiling face framed by those silky ears. “We haven’t had a quiet dinner is such a long time. Perhaps...well...if you think we deserve after the day we have had.

“Say no more little pidgin. Tony's it is.” A wide smile split his tousled muzzle, from one floppy ear to the other.

The Horse and Cart slid easily into the freight yard. Switches being thrown to direct the train over to the storage tracks. Already a switch locomotive was sitting with steam up. Ready to start pulling the train apart and kicking the cars to their respective side tracks while Tramp and Lady led their tired iron horse to the roundhouse.

Lady slipped a hand out the cab window, and gave a gentile pat to the side of the locomotive. Her voice took on a warm motherly tone as if speaking to a young pup. “There, there. We're almost home old girl. You can rest.”

“Hey Pidge, take a look at this. Looks like we have a reception,” Tramp swung himself out in the gangway between the locomotive and the tender, looking up the track. Standing alongside the siding was a brown furred female dog, a saluki by the looks of it. She stood with her hands on her hips, as if waiting impatiently for the train's arrival.

“I wonder what she wants,” Lady looked over her shoulder at her mate. “Perhaps she wants to inspect the train. Let’s be honest, we have had a few more then our fair share of stowaways.”

Tramp slid back over to the fireman's side, and started ringing the brass bell as the train began to draw to a stop. Angel was already on the handbrakes, and with a clattering of couplers and shaking brake-beams and squealing shoes, the Horse and Cart slowly rolled to a stop. Smoke hissing and spluttering from under the Dispatch's cylinders. The saluki held a hand up to her face to deflect the misty shower of water as steam erupted from the great iron horse. It was if the Dispatch took a long easy breath after having run a marathon. Tramp let go of the bell cord, and let the bell ring itself out, while Lady gave one last long blow on the chime whistle.

They had arrived.

Lady slid down the steps and dropped down to the ballast. Tramp stayed in the cab momentarily to do some clean up before they took the locomotive to the roundhouse. Looking down the line of freight cars, Lady could see Angel running along the car roofs, tightening handbrakes and knocking air hoses free in preparation for switching. Already the switch locomotive, an old teakettle whose pedigree no doubt dated back before the civil war, was sputtering down the side track towards the rear of the train, ready to pluck the caboose off and start pulling cars. It wouldn't be long before the Horse and Cart was broken down to its individual cars. Tomorrow, the Horse and Cart would be born again for the southbound trip.

“Hello, can I help you?” The spaniel asked, rolling her shoulders to toss her long ears back. As she approached with some trepidation, she noticed the other girl stood with an air of confidence, hands on her hips. A bulge on one of her hips at the waistline of her skirt quickly told the cocker that she had a firearm. The Saluki's clothing was rather grungy, and looked as she had been down a few back alleys.

“Hey kid,” She greeted with a quick nod of her head and a smile. “I know you guys are busy, but I was hoping you wouldn't mind me checking out your train.”

“You wouldn't happen to be looking for a man?” Lady asked.

The saluki's eyebrows arched in a moment of surprise before she burst out laughing. “Looking for a man, well then, ant we all sister?” The cocker's cheeks glowed red as she realized what she had just said. “Well, so happens that I am. The name's Rita. I'm a Pinkerton looking out for a mongrel. Scruffy bastard, white fur with brown spots. You wouldn't happen to have seen him would you?”

“I'm sorry to disappoint you, but he departed our company back at Grizzly Flats,” Lady slyly cocked her mouth to the side and rolled her eyes. “He was an interesting fellow. Seemed very interested in my attention.”

“Yeah, that's him. Knowing him I wouldn't be surprised if he was undressing you with his eyes,” Rita bluntly stated.

“Oh my,” The spaniel said, taken slightly aback, cheeks blushing even harder than before.

The sound of track ballast crunching underfoot drew both girls’ attention. The Tramp had finished his tasks in the locomotive cab and had dropped down to join the two. “Hello. Who’s your new friend Pidge?” Noticing Lady's crimson tone the mongrel woofed softly and grinned. “Oh, did I interrupt something?”

“Ah-hem,” Lady cleared her throat, quickly recomposing herself. “This is Rita. She’s a Pinkerton.”

“Hiya handsome,” The saluki quipped, eyelashes fluttering as she took in the sight of the mongrel. Tramp's eyes darted side to side, his triangular ears swiveling forward as he looked over at Lady to see how she handled the comment. Seeing her roll her eyes, he visibly relaxed. Rita, seeing him ease, extended a hand, which he took and gave a hearty shake. “That's a firm shake there. Who might you be?” She asked.

“You can call me Tramp.” He smiled.

“Wait,” An eyebrow rose as Rita recognized something. Her eyes quickly danced up and down the mongrel's figure. “Not, “the Tramp.” Well, I'll be damned. I've heard of you. Never thought I would actually meet you.”

“Whatever it is you've been told. I can promise it's exaggerated,” The mongrel laughed. “Unless it's about me settling down with a girl,” He slipped an arm around Lady's. “Because that part is true.”

Rita crossed her arms and gave a sly all-knowing smirk. As if whatever it was that was crossing though her head was better left unsaid. “Well, sorry to bother you guys. Seems what I was looking for isn't here.”

“Well, maybe not,” Lady quipped. “We picked up an extra passenger who I'm sure would love to meet you.”

                                     *********

Angel swung the door to the caboose open and stumbled inside. The blonde canine collapsed onto one of the bunks across from Two Tone, diving face first into the blankets. With a groan of exhaustion she mumbled; “Last stop, Chattanooga. End of the line.”

“Finally,” Two Tone arched her back, stretching out the muscles as she stood up from her bunk. “That was a fun trip. I think I like riding freight trains. Although it's just too slow, and too noisy, and these bunks aren’t that comfortable. So, I guess I don't like riding freight trains. Still, it was soothing.”

“I'm glad someone had a relaxing trip,” Angel's sarcastic tone was muffled by the pillows.

“Don't mind her,” Scamp chuckled as he slipped out from the cupola. “She's a little sore from our earlier misadventure.”

“Even the best of us make mistakes tenderfoot.” Angel folded her arms under the pillow, pulling her head up to rest her chin on her forearms. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes again. Immediately as the thought passed through her mind a ragged clothed bundle of gray fur landed on the bunk next to her. She stifles a gasp of surprise. “Scamp!” She hissed, looking across at Two Tone who seemed oddly bemused. “What are you doing you idiot?” Despite the harshness of her word, her tail had started to wag.

“You look tense. I know a way to fix that,” His silly grin matched his big brown eyes. He sat up and placed a hand on each of the Pomeranian mix's shoulder and started to knead her flesh. Angel's tail began to flick back and forth as she let out a sigh of pleasure. “I know you like this. Don't eat me okay.”

Angel sat up, playfully pushing Scamp aside. A slight hint of flush could be seen on her tan cheeks. “Okay, I won't. This time. But only because that felt really good.” She said impishly.

“Gosh you two are just so cute.” Two Tone giggled. “You know, for a couple of railroad dogs.”

The high pitched shriek of the yard locomotive's whistle caught all three canine's attention. Their heads simultaneously glanced out the rear door of the caboose. Through the windows and doorway they could see the front of the iron horse, sniffing and hissing impatiently as it nosed up to the rear of the caboose, ready to hitch on and pluck the cabin car from the rear of the train.

“Does he have to do that?” Two Tone's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms.

“Alright, move over Tenderfoot,” Angel stood up off the bunk and moved past the Dalmatian towards the desk. She quickly sorted through the leftover paperwork, passing it to the gray furred mutt who began tucking it under his arm. “Why don't you take Spots to the depot when you turn in the paperwork?”

“Aww, does that mean I have to leave you guys?” Two Tone whimpered

“Sorry Spots, but this is the end of the line,” Scamp said. “Angel and I need to start getting this train turned over to the yardmen. That is, if we want to eat before midnight.”

“Oh well, maybe we can meet later tonight for drinks?” The Dalmatian suggested, tilting her head to one side slightly, a hopeful smile spreading across her blunt muzzle. “Tiana's Place is always hopping! Then again, that's a sorta expensive place, and Georgette didn't give me a whole lot of allowance to spend. There is always Gaston's! But then again the décor is just so loathsome, I mean unless you like antlers, that is.”

“There's Tony's.” Scamp suggested.

“You know Tramp and Lady are going there.” Angel deadpanned, raising a hand up to flick part of her bang out of her own vision. “They always go there. The Flea Bite is usually open late. It's cheap, and the drink listing is pretty good.”

“That sounds good to me!” Scamp's goofy grin returned. “If Miss Radcliffe is alright with that.” He turned to Two Tone who happily nodded her head. “Alright then, it's settled.”

“Cool, I'm going to get that switch engine tied on before they decide to ram us,” Angel playfully rolled her eyes, a soft smile on her muzzle. “I'll meet you guys at the depot in a bit.”

                          *****************

Tramp, Lady, and Rita plodded along the train. Sloshing through puddles and avoiding mud from the recent rainstorms. On the nearby adjacent track the switch engine clanked by, shoving their caboose ahead of it. Angel was riding one of the platforms and as they slowly passed she casually and expertly stepped off the caboose and joined the gathering. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Hey Angel,” Tramp warmly greeted. “We're going to unlock that boxcar and check on our passenger. See if he enjoyed his first class service.”

Angel cocked her mouth slightly, “Sounds good. I think I'd like to see this.”

The blonde female fell in line with the small group as they walked down the train. The line of wooden boxcars and flatcars rose alongside them like a great wall. Suddenly silent an inanimate after so many miles of rolling and pitching. Already the switch locomotive was returning, clanking past them on the adjacent track, running towards the back of the train to continue its work of disassembling. Smoke from its stack slowly drifting down and around them in wisps. As they approached the boxcar in question Lady began to find herself wondering if Professor Ratigan was still safely locked inside. Thoughts of his escape and waiting to spring some trap on them began to weigh in her mind. As did the strange card she was still carrying in her pocket. They stopped outside the sliding door of their target. Its wooden walls painted white and emblazoned with tall lettering advertising a tobacco company. Lady's soft brown eyes darted between the Tramp and the train, and she slipped an arm around his, softly biting her lower lip. She was already entertaining how she was going to be rid of that accursed card. The Tramp no doubt sensed that something was bothering her, and he wrapped his fingers around hers silently vowing to protect her.

Angel reached for the latch and flipped it, the hasp and bar falling with a clatter of iron. Then the door was slid open on its track.

Lady sighed in relief, feeling her heart rate return to normal. There, lying on the wooden floor was the great and powerful professor Ratigan, a Napoleon of crime, face down in his own drool. Eyes crossed and obviously very incapacitated.

“Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy,” Angel sneered.

                             ****************

The family walked across the threshold of the depot and into the offices. The gas lamps gave off a warm yellow glow in the retreating light from outside, and the potbelly stoves had been lit to ward off the oncoming chill of the spring night. Tramp and Lady walked arm in arm, Lady leaning against her lover. They had just come from the roundhouse. Having finished putting the Dispatch away and securing the iron horse for the night. Scamp and Angel darted past their parents, quick to sign off on the great ledger book that dominated a large desk, their final act before being freed from service to the Western & Atlantic Railroad. After fond farewells to the older canines, they vanished into the oncoming night. No doubt bound for an establishment with good food, good drink, and good company.

As Tramp signed the great ledger, Lady reached a delicate hand back into her pocket, pulling out the strange card. Looking it over she peeked an eyebrow, wondering how it was that fate would return it to her possession.

“Something the matter Pidge?” The Tramp set the pencil down and looked at his mate, concern spread across his muzzle.

“This,” She handed him the card. “I pulled it out right before the attack.”

“Huh? I though you tossed this over the side?” He examined the car closely. It was as crisp and clean as it had been handed to her.

“Tramp, I did!” The spaniel gasped. “But, it came back. It's because I was jinxed.”

“Oh stuff and nonesuch!” The mongrel bellowed back. “No mate of mine is a jinx. Remember what I said earlier? We have had such good luck today! We had so many chances to really fall into ill. But boy did we all come out smelling like a rose. Why Pidge, you have been blessed with nothing less than good vibes. Trust me.” He crossed his arms assuredly and gave her a solid wink. “If nothing else, you're my little good luck charm.”

“Oh Tramp, your just wonderful,” The spaniel visibly relaxed. Her tail wagged as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I guess I can't possibly be a jinx if I have such a wonderful man such as you by my side.”

“Damn strait little Pidgin,” He placed a hand on each of her thighs and drew her close to plant a kiss atop her forehead. “And if I find that Shadow-Man, I will bop him something fierce.”

Lady nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, letting the Tramp run the underside of his muzzle slide across the top of her crown, gently pressing into where her long fluffy ears met the sides of her head. They separated, only for Lady to find that he clothing now had a hint of black soot from the mongrel fireman. She chuckled, her soft brown eyes beaming with pride and pleasure.

“Alright, lets settle down,” Tramp smiled protectively. “I think we should wash up and find us some chow. But first...”

The mutt walked over to one of the potbelly stoves. The wooden planking of the floor creaked with each of his steps. He grabbed a cloth that was hanging on the wall next to the stove, and using it so he didn't burn his fingers, opened the door on the stove. Inside the red hot coal gave off a bright glow, and he could feel the warmth of the fire as it worked to heat the railroad depot. Then, with a flick of his fingers, he deposited the card into the fire. For a few seconds it could be seen, crackling and charring, before it vanished in a puff of surprisingly green smoke.

“There!” He declared, slamming the door shut on the stove. His tail wagged merrily. “No more bad luck allowed.”

“I should have just chucked it into the firebox in the first place.” Lady declared.

“Nothing too it Pidge,” He reached a hand out for her to take, drawing her close. “Now, about that chow.”

“I think that sounds just grand,” Lady peered up at her mate. Pleased with the work they had done and happy that yet another day on the railroad had come to an end. “Yes indeed. Just grand.”

                                  **************

Epilogue: Lady and the Tramp

The sunlight that drifted through the dirty pain glass window tickled the fur on the very end of the Tramp's muzzle, alerting the snoozing canine to the new day. He responded by wrinkling his maw and snuggling closer to the cocker spaniel he was currently spooning. Her tan furred form was held within his embrace as he dug his maw into the soft fur in the back of her head, exchanging the task of dressing and the brisk spring air for the warmth of the sheets and the sweat feminine soap that made up Lady's scent. She had bathed in the great porcelain tub that sat in the tiny bathroom as soon as they reached their room. To the Tramp's enjoyment, the cocker had neglected to put a single scrap of clothing on before slipping into the bed. At that moment, he could have cared less if the town was on fire; nothing was pulling him out of that bed.

As it was, the bed was practically the only thing in their small bedroom at the hostel across from the railroad yard. It was a lodging house where the W&A regularly put up its crews after trips, a place where they could find a wash and a warm bed to rest before their next call to service. After dinner, the two railroad dogs had found their room at the railroad's hotel warm and inviting. They had parted ways with Angel and Scamp, but no doubt the two younger dogs where together somewhere. Likewise in sleep's comforting embrace.

Another few moments passed, both canines engaged in simply listening to each other’s breathing, and the birds chirping outside. Elsewhere in the hostel, the sound of shoes pounding on the wooden floor could be heard as someone walked down the hallway. Lady dug herself closer to Tramp, bringing her own hands to place atop his. He could feel her docked tail wagging slightly against his thigh. Dinner had flown by in a blur, as had his own bathing beforehand. He barely remembered washing the coal dust from his gray fur or examining his shoulder, which was still aching slightly. Yet here he lay, clean and warm and well fed. It seemed as if the whole of his world had been reduced to him and Lady and their warm bed.

The peace ended abruptly with a series of harsh knocks at the door. Tramp grit his teeth and winced, and he could feel Lady shift as if to curl up defensively from the unpleasant sound.

“Mr. and Mrs. Dear!” A young voice called, obviously that of a railroad call-boy. “Call to take out a mail-train. Departure is at 9:00. Dispatch has a full head of steam and is waiting. You guys up for it?”

Tramp rolled over onto his back, eyes still closed, and sighed in defeat. Couldn't their piece last just a little longer? He could feel Lady shift in the bed. Opening his eyes he was greeted with the sight of the spaniel sitting up, her torso wrapped modestly in the clean white blanket. Her soft brown eyes were wide open, eyelashes fluttering, and a warm smile was across her muzzle. The mongrel felt his heart flutter at the sight of her, those long silky ears flowing over her bare shoulders. How that soft face just warmed his heart. He reached a hand up and ran the back of it gently across her cheek. “Well Pidge, you up for it?”

“Always,” Came her response.

The End

What if I'm far from home?
Oh brother, I will hear you call!
What if I lose it all?
Oh sister, I will help you out!

Oh, if the sky comes falling down
For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do