Tarnished Chapter 4 (Patreon)

By the time John walked back to the train, most of the people who had fled into the surrounding forest had made it back. Quite a few of those were milling around outside discussing something.

A few gazes came his way but the people quickly averted their eyes.

That was fine with him, he had other matters to deal with. John made his way to the front of the train and found the engineer and conductor in a heated discussion near two hissing pipes. Their conversation stopped when they spotted him approaching.

The younger of the two men gave the other a light shove. The older man glared back at him but he eventually stepped forward. “We would like to thank you for dealing with the bandits,” he said nervously.

John only grunted in reply. Then he nodded toward the train engine. “Can you fix it?”

“We believe so… But we are going to need to take parts off the walker,” the older conductor gestured over his shoulder at the downed automaton.

“So, what’s the holdup?” John asked.

After rubbing his hands together nervously, the man finally replied. “We weren’t sure if you wanted it intact or not. Walkers aren’t cheap.”

“I have no use for that thing. Do what you need to to fix the train and get us going.” With that, John turned to leave.

“…Um. May I suggest we load it aboard one of the flat cars before we disassemble it. Even if you have no need of it, quality metal and artifice components are always in demand.”

“Fine, just do it.” He went to walk away again when the man cleared his throat.

“What now?” John asked, his annoyance started to show.

“Well…”

“Spit it out man, I have other things I need to check on.”

“We can probably fix the train engine… but with the damaged car, we aren’t going anywhere.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath to calm himself. He knew this job was going to be a hassle, but he hadn’t even arrived at his destination yet. John was a gunslinger, not whatever Mr. Novarez was trying to use him for. He liked things simple. Give him a gun and something to shoot and all was right in the world. He was not equipped to deal with other people's problems. Especially not before he even arrived. But here he was.

“And why is the damaged car a problem?”

“Uh…” The man looked to his partner, then back at him. “It might be best if I just show you.”

John followed the man until they reached the passenger car that had been stomped on by the walker as the contraption was apparently called. The conductor pointed toward the train wheels. They had been knocked off the track.

“Ok, so it’s derailed. Why didn’t you just say that? Have some of these workers chop down a tree and use it to lever the train back on the track.”

“It’s not derailed. Well, I mean it is. But it's not something that can be fixed. When the walker stepped on the car, it bent the front axles. Even if we get it back on the rail, as soon as the car rolls forward, it will derail itself again. If we were moving, this probably wouldn’t stop us, but since we’re stuck in this valley, I don’t believe we can get up enough speed if we are dragging a damaged car.”

John wanted to yell at the man, but it wasn’t his fault this happened. He took a few breaths as he contemplated the problem. Meanwhile, the conductor stood next to him nervously. Eventually, the man’s fidgeting got to John. “You and your partner go deal with the walker and the train engine. I’ll think of something for this damaged car.”

The man nodded in relief and hurried off. Once the man was gone, John stepped back aboard the damaged car. He hadn’t paid much attention to it during the chaos of the fight, but that stupid automaton had done a number on the train. The wooden roof and walls were simply flattened and broken wood was strewn everywhere. But those were simply cosmetic. It was the floor that showed the real damage. A large indent in the metal frame showed just how powerful the impact had been. It was just rotten luck that it was also on top of where the front wheels were mounted.

He wasn’t an artificer, but the wheels looked stout. Apparently not stout enough though. Seeing as there wasn’t anything that could be done for the damaged wheels, that meant they needed to get this car off the track.

It didn’t take him long to round up the workers. A few of them chopped down some trees from the nearby forest to use as leverage to attempt to tip the broken car off the track. While they were doing that, John had the rest of them detach the last car and roll it back a few hundred feet.

That was easy enough. But moving the derailed car turned out to be impossible. The conductor and engineer did manage to detach the damaged car and move the engine forward a few feet though. It wasn’t much considering the damage to the engine hadn’t been repaired but it was enough.

There were a total of forty workers aboard the train. But even with all their combined effort, the broken car was simply too heavy to lift off the tracks. He even conscripted the help of the conductor, the engineer, and any other men aboard.

With the combined effort they managed to get the car to tilt upward an inch or so, but they didn’t have the leverage to tip it completely. Not without a significant investment of time.

After the failed attempt, one of the workers approached him. "Excuse me, Sir."

John tilted his head up from where he had been resting against the train car. He wasn’t as spent as everyone else, but that didn’t mean trying to tip the train hadn’t been exhausting. “Can I help you?”

“No, Sir. It is I who can help you.”

At this, John quirked an eyebrow. “How so?”

“When I arrived to board the train, I was one of the first here. Well… I saw them loading boxes into a secured section in the back. I’ve done mining work before, Sir. Those boxes contain dynamite.”

“And what am I meant to do with that information?” He knew what dynamite was. He had accompanied Daniel Novarez on more than one occasion when he went to purchase the stuff in person. But he wasn’t sure how it helped them in this situation. John knew how dangerous the explosive was and how often it caused injuries and accidents. It made him steer clear of the stuff when possible.

“Well, I know you had planned to start stacking logs under the car to slowly tip it off the track. That will likely take days of effort. But if we stack some logs underneath the center section and place some dynamite, we can separate the car into two sections, making it much easier to lever off with the number of workers available.”

It was true, John had discussed that idea. If they could get the car past its tipping point, it would be easy to get it clear of the track. The problem was it took time to square up timbers so they could be wedged in place and stacked without sliding out from under the train. After discussing the timeframe with the workers present, he prepared a second plan.

If the train engine was repaired before any meaningful effort had been made to remove the damaged car, he was going to simply leave it behind along with the workers and passengers. It wasn’t a plan derived from malice so much as it was out of necessity. He was on a time crunch. The only thing preventing him from telling the conductor to cut loose all the cars and go was the key in his pocket and the letter from his boss to ensure the final car reached Ember Creek safely.

This man just gave him another option. It would be much faster if they had the manpower to simply dump the car over in one go.

John got up and dusted himself off. “You said they were in the back.” He doubted his boss was worried about a bit of dynamite, so he was curious to find out what else was stored inside the carriage. It seemed he would find out shortly.

“Yes, Sir.”

John nodded and began walking toward the car they had detached and pushed a few hundred feet back. When the worker started to follow him, John stopped. “Is there something else I can help you with?” John asked pointedly.

The man seemed taken aback by John’s statement. “I was going to show you where they were.”

John just shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I can figure it out myself, you stay here.”

The man nodded and turned around. John watched him for a moment before continuing toward the train. He seemed helpful enough but that was the problem. People usually didn’t offer to help unless they expected something in return. Besides, he wasn’t about to trust some unknown man he had just met near explosives. For all he knew, this man was a plant from the robbers and they had been after the dynamite from the beginning. It could explain how they knew a lawman was aboard. To an outsider, it may seem paranoid, but John hadn’t survived this long by trusting everyone he ran into.

After reaching the luggage car, he hopped aboard the front. He needed to retrieve something before he went to retrieve the dynamite.

It took him a bit of digging, but he eventually found his trunk. With a bit of effort, he dragged it into the aisle and unlocked it. When he lifted the lid, a veritable armory greeted him. If the robbers had killed him, they would have stared agape at the treasure within. Two lightly oiled long rifles were securely strapped to the top of the trunk along with two more revolvers. Replacements in case his were damaged. He didn’t need those at the moment so he left them strapped in place.

The bottom of the trunk held his clothes on one side. But the other contained his reloading kit along with a waterproofed container full of powder. John ran his hand across that container, not opening it. Very few people used firearms since the advent of pneumatic weapons so most wouldn’t even recognize the greasy grey powder. It was a pain to buy or collect the required ingredients to make more so this had to last him.

Even though firearms were more powerful, they had gone out of style with the advent of pneumatic-powered weapons. People had fallen in love with the idea of the more civilized weapons. John couldn’t blame them. They were cleaner, quieter, and altogether cheaper. The only thing they lacked was stopping power. This is why John had never switched despite people looking at him in disgust when they saw his firearms. But even that small advantage was shrinking with each year. He suspected in another decade or two, he would be retiring his firearms.

He untied a leather satchel and dumped in the spent brass from his fight. His reloading kit contained a press, but he would prefer to avoid having to use it to make new brass if he could. The process was a hassle. After he resealed the leather satchel, he started drawing out ammo from the leather loops that lined every open space of the trunk. The first twelve went into his guns and then he put an additional twelve into his bandoleer. If John ran into any more trouble, he wanted to be prepared. And anything that required more than twenty-four shots, well, he doubted that was something he was walking away from anyway.

After quickly cleaning the barrels and oiling his guns, John locked the trunk and pushed it back into the storage area. Feeling better now that he was properly armed, he strode out of the car and walked toward the back.

Instead of a normal door, John was greeted by a thick metal one with rivets. He fished a key out of his pocket, one that Mr. Novarez had entrusted to him, and stepped up to the door. The key slid into the lock and he turned it. There was a click and John spun the bank-style wheel to retract the security bolts.

When his boss had given him the key, he only said it opened a security door on the train. He hadn’t mentioned what was inside the door. And John was only supposed to open it after they arrived. Well, he needed to get into it now. The door slid open on well-oiled hinges and he got his first peek inside.

In the gloomy confines of the back third of this car, he could see row upon row of boxes stacked neatly and secured against the reinforced wall with rope netting. Those had to be the boxes of dynamite, enough to level a small mountain if he had to guess. But it was the huge stack of papers in the center that caught his attention.

As he got closer to them, he groaned.

They were stacks upon stacks of Terminus Mining notes marked in one, five, and ten-dollar denominations. Completely worthless outside of any town not owned by his boss. This discovery answered a question that had been burning in the back of his mind since he had been given the order to come out here. If there were issues with the indigenous life, his boss could have simply petitioned the government to send some of the army out to enforce peace. Fareen had been pushing hard for Western expansion. They would have jumped at the opportunity to expand their control in the region. But it was clear his boss did not want them meddling.

With the discovery of these notes, it was clear Mr. Novarez didn’t want anyone else interfering with Ember Creek. It wasn’t just his mining interests he was worried about, it seemed Mr. Novarez was trying to turn it into a company town. Something that was highly illegal. If the government caught wind of this, the bare minimum they would do is shut it down. If they wanted to make an example of his boss, they could arrest him, or anyone else that worked for him.

John cursed as a realization struck him. He was the sacrificial pawn in this game. If the government found out, Mr. Novarez could simply point to him and say he was in charge of the whole operation, thus escaping any punishment himself.

For a moment John was tempted to drag the entire stack of bills off the train and burn the entire pile, but he stopped himself. He realized if he did that, he would only end up hurting the people of Ember Creek. If his boss was sending more of this fake money to them, it was likely he was already in full control of the currency in the region. Burning the money wouldn’t change that, it would only cause the people of Ember Creek to suffer.

That didn’t stop him from cursing out the sleazy good-for-nothing bastard. He knew Mr. Novarez was an awful human being, but he never expected him to stoop this low.

John really didn’t know what to do about this situation. It needed to be remedied before someone got fed up and went to the government. Shit like this didn’t stay secret forever. It would require some careful thought to find a solution, but that would need to wait, He suspected he would have other issues to deal with when he arrived.

With a grunt, he turned away from the money and retrieved a box of dynamite. A box was probably more than he needed, but he was in a bad mood and couldn’t be bothered to do this more than once. After exiting the car, he resecured the door and walked back toward the focus of his ire.