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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.”
“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.”
*************
“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 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
For you, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do
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