A Longer Fall (Gunnie Rose #2)(6)

“You can live,” I tried to tell her, but it came out more like a croak.

“Thanks. Glad you woke up.” Ritter had blood on her clothes and she smelled like engines and metal. So did Sarah Byrne. I expected I did, too.

“Who is dead?” I sounded clearer this time.

“For starters, most of the gunnies who came after you. We got out quick through the hole. We shot two of ’em from outside. The old man on your team, the one who carried the ax, is the only one dead from your crew. Jake Tutwiler has a head wound from the wreck and a bullet wound in the arm, not likely to kill him. The big girl was shot in the thigh. That good-looking Mexican who doesn’t smile has a broken nose, a sprained shoulder, and a broken rib or two.”

That didn’t seem like many wounds, for someone who’d been slumped on the floor last I’d seen him. “The other gunnies get the crate? The ones shooting at us?”

“No. Travis and I stopped them. Just in time.”

“Thanks for rushing to help us,” I said. Maybe sounded a little bitter.

Ritter’s lips tightened. “We got to it as fast as we could. We climbed out of the car before anyone else got moving. I twisted my knee, and Travis dislocated his shoulder. He’s got a cut on his chest that will need stitches. We kept about six of ’em off. You heard the shots, I guess. Couldn’t help it that some got in.”

Maybe I should have apologized. I just didn’t have the energy. I looked at my arm, to see I’d been bandaged. Felt like the wound had been slathered with something. “What’s on it?” I looked up at Ritter for an answer.

“A new medicine, supposed to prevent infection,” she said. Her face had relaxed. “It’s hard to find.”

“And yet you had some,” Sarah Byrne said. Sarah didn’t sound like she cared much for Harriet Ritter.

“Yes, I had some.” Ritter sounded real calm.

“What’s happened?” I asked. I had no idea how much time had passed.

“The dead are over there,” Sarah said, pointing.

I lifted my head, trying to get the lay of the land. I was on the ground close to the wreck. The train had been running just about west to east, and I was on the north side in a fallow field. About a quarter of a mile away was a road running parallel to the tracks. On the north side of the road there was a low hill. I could just see a row of bodies lying side by side on the slope. I counted twenty.

“And that many again, or more, likely to die,” Harriet said. “No telling how many were hurt. They’ve put up a tent for the wounded, and got nurses over there. They’re bandaging them up and taking them to the little hospital in Sally, a nurse said.”

How much time had passed? More than I’d figured when I’d first come to. “Who did it?” I said. “How’d the train leave the tracks?”

Sarah Byrne answered me. “Something blew up. I don’t know who set it off. There’s been some unrest hereabouts recently. Maybe it was because of that. Maybe whoever was after your cargo just seized the chance to make a grab.”

“Pigs may fly.” It stood to reason—at least to my reason—the tracks had been blown up to make an opportunity to get the crate. It had happened between towns, when the tracks ran through fields, where there wouldn’t be many witnesses. Maybe the plan had been made up on the spur of the moment, but that was what its goal had been.

“The derailment might have been an accident. Or an equipment failure. Or something on the tracks,” Ritter said, like she’d made a promise to be fair.

“Something on the tracks like dynamite.” Sarah started pacing, her hands jittery around her guns. Her traveling bag was on the ground.

Was mine somewhere close? I had to look for it. Where was my rifle? Though I was worried, I couldn’t seem to get up just now. I would. Real shortly.

“Travis has gone to get his shoulder popped back in place and to gather information,” Ritter told us, though we hadn’t asked.

“You want a drink of water?” Sarah knelt beside me.

More than anything. “Yes.”

She slid an arm under to lift me a little and put a canteen to my lips. The first gulp, though warm and metallic, was just what my throat needed.

“Thanks. You look in good shape,” I said after she’d put my head back down.

“I landed on the asshole we had the talk with—man who hit his wife? Broke his fucking neck, which saved me.”

“Justice,” I said. “Listen, can you look for my bag? Do I have my rifle and my Colts?” Suddenly, I decided to sleep a little.

I woke up, alone, in the same spot. I felt a little bit better. There were more bodies laid in the line on the slope, which seemed very far away. Women wearing white nurse uniforms were going around from one bandaged person to another. Some men had almost completed setting up a tent to shelter them.

I could not spot Sarah Byrne or Harriet Ritter. I could not see anyone I knew over by the tent. By the sun, it was afternoon. I turned my head to the left and discovered Maddy, who had a bandage around her left thigh. It was stained with blood. Her eyes were open.

“Where’s the crate?” I said.

“Under Jake’s arm. He’s propped up against that tree yonder.” She pointed.

I followed her finger to see Jake maybe twenty feet away, kind of behind me and to my left. He was under a big tree, which was smart, since the sun was beating down. There was a bandage around his head. The crate was by his side.