The Black Train Read Free

“Gauge is dead-on. We’ve done close to five miles already, and we ain’t even been goin’ two weeks. And the coupling work is perfect.”
    “Good, good.” Gast turned his darkened face up to the sun. “My wife mentioned that she spoke with you yesterday.”
    Cutton’s heart felt like a rock that had just slid down into his stomach. “I—Why, yes, sir, I did tip my hat to her, yes, sir.”
    “She tells me you’re a courteous gentlemen—”
    “That’s, uh, right kind of her—”
    “—even though you’re from Delaware.”
    The moment turned rigid. Then Gast and Morris broke out in laughter.
    Cutton almost pissed his canvas trousers, but eventually he got it and laughed, too, however nervously.
    “I’m just havin’ some fun with ya, Mr. Cutton,” Gast assured. He looked down at them both. “You men are doin’ damn fine work. Keep it up.”
    “Yes, sir,” Morris said.
    Cutton added, “We surely will.”
    Gast took his horse off, back down the track line where the flat cars laden with rail and ties sat.
    But Cutton couldn’t help but notice… Gast’s eyes. Just before he’d ridden away, when he’d looked down—the whites of the man’s eyes seemed stained, off-yellow, like maybe jaundice.
    “Is Mr. Gast under the weather?” Cutton mentioned.
    “Not that I know of. Why?”
    Cutton chewed his lips. “Thought his eyes looked a little funny.”
    “Looked fine to me, Cutton, and I got a burr in my ass now.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “He calls me Morris but he calls you Mr. Cutton. Shee-it.” Does he?
    “bet’choo suck his willy ever nat, huh?” Morris bellowed a laugh and slapped Cutton hard on the back. “Let’s go to the whorehouse again tonight. Have us some fun.”
    Cutton easily remembered Morris’s idea of fun. He was drenched in nervous sweat. “Maybe. I’ll see how I feel after we’re done with work.”
    Cutton looked one more time at the staked head. No one noticed, no one cared in the least. Just another killing of a rowdy slave. He shook his head when Morris offered him a chew.
    And noticed something.
    Ain’t that the damnedest…
    The whites of Morris’s eyes looked a bit sickly. Tinged a pale yellow.
    Just like Gast.
    He shook his head. Must be the light or somethin’, he dismissed.
    “You two!” Morris shouted to the two strong-arms in the field. “Get these slaves back on the line. Time to get back to work.” He slapped Cutton hard on the back again, billowing dust. “See ya tonight, buddy.”
    Morris got back to his business. The slaves began to branch off into their assigned groups, and soon tools could be heard clanging.
    Cutton mounted his horse but held up a moment. His gaze still hung on the severed head and its yawning dead face. Is this really justice? he wondered. Then the most unbidden inclination told him it was more than that.

C HAPTER O NE
I
    “So you just leave, just like that?” the voice whined. “That’s so you, Justin. When there’s a problem, all you do is get on a plane and fly away.”
    Collier felt cramped in the rental car, and annoyed that the squawking phone call was diverting him from the scenery. “Evelyn, dear, I wouldn’t define a divorce as a problem. It’s merely an event. The problem is the notion that you and I ever thought we could be compatible marital partners…but that’s a moot point by now.”
    The tiny cell phone seemed to vibrate when she objected, “What’s that supposed to mean!”
    “Look, Evelyn, I have to finish this book. The deadline is next week. If I miss my deadline, then there’s the theoretical possibility that my publisher would cancel the contract in which case I’d have to pay back the fifty-thousand-dollar advance. Now, put your little thinking cap on and consider those ramifications, since you’ll likely get half of that advance in the divorce settlement.”
    Silence. Then, “Oh.”
    “Yes, my love. Oh. Along with half —and I repeat: HALF. Of everything else I’ve earned.”
    Another