HIGH IRON CHAPTER 4
Sean looked at the blonde haired, blue eyed boy for a long moment, then reached out his hand and took it in his own. Scott, Joe, John, and Bill looked at the two and smiled. To Joe it looked like an instant friendship was born.
"I'm Sean, very nice to meet you, Jamie."
"It's nice to meet you too, Sean." Jamie smiled, his sea blue eyes sparkling at the friendship and the warmth he saw in the green-brown eyes of the older boy.
While the two boys looked each other over, the train crew compared watches for the proper time. John and Bill started walking toward the panting locomotive, the excess steam shooting out of her pistons and a feather of steam rose from her generator. Jamie and Sean talked about why they were both riding the rods on a freight train.
Joe walked over to the boys. "Time to mount the caboose, boys. We're heading out." Scott already was lighting the big marker lamps on the rear of the caboose. Joe put an arm around each of the boys' shoulders and the three started toward the caboose. Scott watched Joe walking between the two teens; he felt pangs of jealousy, for he loved Joe in a special way. The thing was, if his grandfather the preacher ever learned that, he would be condemned to hell's fires by his entire family. Scott wondered about Joe and how he felt. Scott had watched Joe for three years now, the same length of time they had worked together on the railroad as a team with John and Bill. Joe, like Scott, did not have a wife or girlfriend at home like Bill and John did, and often they were ragged about it from the two men who did.
Scott kept his thoughts to himself; he knew in his heart that Joe had a special place for young boys and teens that extended past those of normal male friendship in society. Scott knew that, even if Sean was lying through his teeth about his past, Sean would not have been kicked off the train. Joe had that glimmer in his eyes again.
Sean and Jamie mounted the caboose steps, followed closely by Joe. The two teens leaned against the rail as Scott leaned out on the right rear step and swung the green hand lantern in a high arching circle, giving Bill the high ball signal.
Bill pulled the whistle cord, sounding a long blast signaling the train's departure from the yards. The big drivers gripped the rail with the help of the sand shooting onto the rails from the sandboxes. The heavy freight pulled out onto the main line. Scott and Joe entered the caboose, leaving Sean and Jamie propped against the rear rail on the rear platform alone. Scott was about to tell the boys to come inside the caboose but Joe told him to let the boys stay where they were for now.
Sean did not think to warn Jamie about the sudden jerk when the caboose, being the last car of the sixty-car freight, jerked into motion, going from sitting still to 15 miles per hour instantly. Sean, who had hung around the railyard all his life, could tell as he listened to the slack between the cars tighten up with each jerk of the couplers. As the noise got louder, he tightened his grip on the rear rail.
When the jerk came, Jamie was not ready. Sean had tightened his grip on the railing of the rear platform. Jamie was deep in thought when the power and force of the jerk slammed him against the railing. Sean instantly reached out and grabbed him before he completely lost his balance. Sean held the shaken boy in his arms and pulled him close to his chest. "I got ya, Jamie," Sean spoke into the boy's right ear.
"I know you do, Sean, don't let go just yet. I need a friend to hold me now." Jamie spoke softly in a low whisper as if he was scared to say those words to another boy.
Sean wrapped his strong arms tighter around the young shivering boy. A bond of friendship was born that instant on the rear platform of a caboose on a speeding train racing through the night.
Joe and Scott were sitting in the angels' seats in the caboose, talking about the events of the night that changed a normal trip into one filled with mystery and adventure for two teens.
"Joe, what are we going to tell the guys at McComb about those two boys who are riding with us?"
Joe smiled, "Not a damned thing, we'll think of something when we get there. As far as I am concerned, they are cousins of mine. I know it will be at least a two-hour layover but it will be in the middle of the night. They will be asleep by then." Joe clicked on the little electric lamp above his head and clicked open his gold pocket watch - 9:45 PM. They would be in McComb by 12 midnight if not sooner. He closed his pocket watch and clicked off the little lamp. As he sat there looking out into the darkness lit by the half full moon, he thought about his past relationships. He had many friends, Scott being his best in his life of 21 years. They were strangers when they met at the IC railroad station on Mill Street in Jackson three years ago. The year was 1927, the US was booming, the railroads moving ahead full steam.
That sunny spring day would change his life. As Joe and Scott rode in the caboose, Scott lightly dozing, his head bobbing to the rhythm of the rocking car, Joe smiled and let himself drift back to that spring day of May 5th, 1927. He had just graduated from high school the week before. He, like many of his other friends, was trying to figure out what to do in life now. A lot of his friends took up the trades of their fathers - farming, working in the cotton gin, the local stores, and other industries in the rural south.
On the Sunday night before, his father suggested that he catch the local to Jackson and to apply for a job on the railroad. So, early the next morning he stepped aboard the three-car local and settled down in the plush armchair of the Pullman and headed to Jackson. On that first day the rails were silent, that day they did not speak to the fresh 18-year old boy, so Joe slept, leaned back in the red chair. The elderly conductor, who knew the boy to be a son of a railroader, let him slumber, never asking for the heavy cardboard pass he held in his hand.
Joe wondered why his father sent him to Jackson and not to Memphis which was closer to Grenada. Later he knew why. Joe continued to slumber as the local chuffed through the Mississippi landscape, stopping along the way, the conductor calling out the stations: Duck Hill, Winona, West, Durant, Goodman, Pickens, Vaughan, Way, Canton, and finally Jackson. He stepped down from the last car at the large brick two-story station. At the same time, he landed eyes on Scott. The boy looked to be about the same age as he was, with dark hair and pale white skin. As Joe walked closer, he noticed more of the teen, the smooth rounded jaw, the slender nose, and the pencil thin eyebrows, then there were those hazel eyes. Scott saw Joe looking at him but did not turn away. Instead he smiled at Joe and started walking toward him along the brick and concrete platform. Soon they stood face to face. Joe was the first to speak.
"Hello, I am Joe," and stuck out his right hand.
The boy smiled and in a soft but firm voice replied, "I am Scott, nice to meet you, Joe." They shook hands and they both felt an electric shock pass through their bodies as the two soft, smooth hands touched.
"So, Scott, what brings you to Jackson?"
"I live here. My dad works for the IC. So what you doing in Jackson, Joe?"
"My father sent me down here from Grenada to see about getting a job on the Railroad. He is a track inspector."
Joe and Scott both would know when the steel rails would begin to whisper, then speak in loud tones, and, once the rails spoke to the two boys, they would never let go.
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The long blast from the whistle brought Joe out of his memories. He knew that call and he knew it well. Scott at the same time jumped at the sound of the warning cry. Joe reached over and grasped the emergency air valve and turned it all the way. The brakes began to scream as they heated up, trying to bring the train to a stop.
"SHIT, WHERE ARE THE BOYS?" shouted Scott as he scrambled down the iron rungs of the ladder and raced to the back platform of the caboose. Joe was not far behind.
"COME ON, OLD BOY, SIT DOWN!" shouted Bill to his engine while John closed the firebox door. Bill jumped from his seat and closed the throttle with one hand and began to raise the heavy Johnson bar out of its slot and slam it in reverse while the engine brakes locked tight against the wheels, throwing flames of sparks from the wheels and into the night. John jumped to the gangway and hung his head out into the night. He saw what lay ahead; a large oak tree had fallen off the embankment and onto the tracks ahead. He raced to the tender and began turning the brake wheel, setting the hand brakes on the tender. He felt the jolt as each car behind closed in and slammed the tender with a crash. He thought for a brief moment, 'I hope to God the boys in the crummy are holding on tight, because this is going to be one hell of a ride.'
The headlight shone down the tracks and the large tree was moving closer by the second. With each turn of the driving wheels, the heavy train was slowing, but not fast enough. If only he could get it slow enough that, if he hit the tree, they would not derail. Bill wiped the sweat out of his eyes as he watched the tree looming ahead. "John, you might better jump if you see a chance because ain't no way we stopping before we hit that damned tree," shouted Bill.
"Bill, I am not jumping from this engine, no sir." John sat back down in the fireman's seat and braced himself for the impact of the tree with old 1200, while on the other side of the cab Bill did the same.
Scott reached the rear door of the caboose and yanked it open. He saw the two boys holding onto each other and looking pale. The jerk from the slack as the brakes kicked in full force had slammed both of them against the wall of the caboose. Scott grabbed both of the boys and pulled them inside the caboose. Joe helped them inside and led them toward the bunks. "Sean, you take this bunk, lay down on your back and brace your feet against the rail at the end. Jamie, you take the other and do the same thing. NOW, Boys! Sean and Jamie jumped on the bunks and followed Joe's orders while Joe and Scott reached above their heads and grabbed the long iron rod running from one end of the car to the other. Seconds passed.
"BRACE YOURSELF, JOHN!" shouted Bill over the roar of the screaming brakes and the clack of rails. The train had slowed down to about 20 MPH but both men in the cab prayed it was enough because they were out of clear track to do any more.
1200 slammed into the large oak tree. Limbs flew in the air as if a tornado had gripped them, metal screamed as bolts ripped and bent, the front coupler snapped and fell to the track below as limbs snapped off the white marker lamps high on the smoke box, glass shattered as the engine plowed through the tree. The massive drivers ground the tree like fresh meat in a grinder. Bill and John were thrown back in their seats when the engine hit. The tree moaned and bent, then snapped from the force of steel and steam. Old 1200 held the rails and the train continued to slow. John released the tender hand brake and sat heavily down in his seat, his face covered in sweat.
Joe felt the impact and heard the crash and gripped the iron rail tighter. Scott was watching the two boys lying on the bunks, braced, their faces pale from fright. Then came the collision as the slack bunched up, slamming forward into the other cars. Jamie was thrown from his bunk and into the floor where the wood bit into his skin on his face and hands. Sean held on and managed to stay in the bunk while Scott tried to stay on his feet. Joe braced his feet wide apart with his boots touching the stove on one side and the desk on the other. The train slowed, then stopped.
"Jamie, Jamie, you OK, my friend?" It was Sean leaning over him, whispering in his ear as the older teen brushed the blond hair out of the boy's eyes.
"Scott, go up front and find out what happened while I grab the red lantern and go back to protect our rear."
"OK, Joe, will do."
"Sean, you take care of Jamie. Here, let's get him off the floor and onto the bunk." Sean and Joe picked up Jamie and placed him on the bunk where Sean had braced himself.
"Don't worry, Jamie, Sean will take good care of you. Come on, Scott let's get those lanterns and flares lit." Joe was about ready to walk out the rear door when he remembered the air valve. He walked to the space below the cupola and reached up and released it. Joe walked by and tousled the boy's hair and headed out the door after reaching into the flag rack and grabbing two flares.
Scott had lit both lanterns and handed the red one to Joe while he put the clear one in the crook of his arm and climbed down onto the slag ballast of the track. He started off toward the front of the train and the locomotive. Joe walked toward the rear of the train till he was about a quarter mile from the caboose. The big rear markers burned in the distance and the soft glow of the lamps shone from the door and windows. He took the cap off the first flare and struck it; the flare lit and he placed it between the rails.
Scott continued forward, working his way ahead, looking at the wheels and smelling the hot grease. He wondered what in the hell went wrong until he almost stumbled and fell over what was left of the oak tree. He looked and shook his head in disbelief when he saw the glass and bent metal lying on the track, what was left of the pilot and the marker lights on the front of 1200. He continued on. He saw the headlight of 1200 shining out in front onto clear rails and Bill and John standing, looking at the locomotive.
Sean looked down and into the eyes of Jamie, where tears were beginning to run down his face. Sean reached down and grasped Jamie's hand in his, being careful not to hurt the boy any more than he already was hurting.
"Jamie, my friend, please don't cry. I am here for you. Let me get a cloth and some cool water and clean you up." Sean walked over to the sink and pulled down a clean cloth and then over to the metal water cooler where he wet the cloth under the icy stream. Sean wrung the cloth out and walked back over to Jamie, where he slowly wiped away the grime, sweat, and tears from Jamie's angelic face. Sean sat down on the edge of the bunk and gently took each one of Jamie's hands and washed them, removing the dirt and what little blood that was on them, caused by the impact with the hardwood floor of the caboose. Sean then took the cloth and washed Jamie's neck, letting the cool water do its magic. Jamie smiled at Sean, looking into his greenish-brown eyes and at the dark flowing hair, the olive skin that seemed to glow under the yellow lamplight. Jamie wanted to reach out and touch Sean but as he began to lift his hand, visions still fresh of Lord Oliver came to his mind and he drew back. Jamie did not know what to think or do about the mixed emotions racing through his brain. Everything in his mind told him to just get up and run, then in a corner of his mind he heard another voice that said, 'Trust the one looking over you.' Jamie decided he would trust this new voice.
Sean continued his cleansing of the boy who lay before him, washing his arms, trying to soothe the pain. All of it he knew did not come from the jar of the caboose when it slammed into the rest of the train. There was something deeper inside Jamie, a ghost from the past, maybe? What was this ghost? What made this boy run away from home in the first place? Did he even have a home to run from?
"Sean, Sean, you there? What is wrong?" Jamie's soft voice asked.
Sean was just sitting there, looking down at Jamie's wrist and where he noticed the rope burn. Who did this to this sweet boy? A boy no more than 15 years old, maybe younger.
"Sean," Jamie called and he brushed his hand against Sean's face, feeling the warm skin.
Sean looked into the blue eyes of Jamie and saw his puzzled expression. "What, Jamie?"
"You planning on holdin' my hand all night or do you have a ring to put on my finger?"
Sean replied without thinking, "If I had a ring, I would put it on your hand."
Jamie's eyes darkened with fear as the haunting image of Lord Oliver came flooding back into his mind. He tried to pull away but was trapped between Sean on the outside of the narrow bunk and the wall on the other side.
Sean was fast to react to the sudden fright of Jamie. "What's wrong, Jamie? Did I say something wrong, did I hurt you? Please tell me."
Tears swelled up in Jamie's eyes as he tried his best to pull back from Sean and melt into nothingness. How could he tell Sean what he had gone through in that hotel room with Lord Oliver? He did not know. Jamie sighed and just lay there with the tears leaking down his face. He knew that Sean had seen the red marks from the braided rope on his pale skin and there was no explanation for them but one. The dark truth of why he was running from everything that he knew about and at one time loved. He knew that he could not run from his past, no matter how hard he wanted to. The firm grip of the olive-colored hand continued to send a warmth into his heart that he had never felt before now. His brain told him it was a trick, his heart told him it was friendship. Jamie was torn between his memories and of the feelings he was feeling now. Could he trust Sean? Could he trust anyone with his past? So much had happened in such a brief time that he did not know if he could even trust himself.
Sean let go of Jamie's hand and moved closer to the face half covered in the straw-blonde hair and the sea blue eyes that were draining the pain and sorrow trapped inside. Sean wiped Jamie's face with the cloth, then gently sat Jamie up and he moved around behind the boy and wrapped his arms around him and just held him. Jamie felt the strong arms circle his chest and felt the warmth, the friendship, but most of all he felt safe for the first time in many years. To most people home was a safe haven from the outside world; to him it was hell. A mother he never saw and drunken father who enjoyed beating him and degrading him as worthless. An older nameless brother he never met. A dark past that wanted to haunt him forever. Sean cradled Jamie in his arms, not saying a word. He held Jamie with loving care as if he was his own brother. Maybe Jamie was a godsend from Heaven. He knew there was a strong heart and powerful soul, only Sean had to find the key.
The moon hung in the sky behind a bank of clouds as Bill looked at 1200. The headlight was dimmer without the extra glass that the fallen oak had shattered on impact. There was a gaping hole where the front coupler once pointed out like a ram of an ironclad. The foot boards had been ripped away and only the steel hangers were left. Bill pulled his bandanna out of his back pocket and wiped his face, his eyes almost misty as he looked at his proud locomotive with his bloodied nose. John walked around 1200, looking at the wheels to see if anything was hung under the two pilot wheels. They looked free, the big drivers had ground up the tree so there was no worry there. He could only hope that the brakes and the reversing of the engine did not leave flat spots carved into the steel tires. Yes, John knew that 1200 was nothing but a machine built of iron and steel and fired by coal and water, but he wanted to weep. They had came so close to death and he felt it in his still racing heart as he thought about his wife and newborn son at home. What would they do without him there? He slowly walked along the crushed rock and cinders to the tender, shining his lantern, looking at the wheels and smelling the hot grease. He knew that Bill was thinking the same thing as he was. John saw the clear lantern approaching on the other side and knew it was Scott, coming to inspect the damage done. He walked around to meet him. The three men gathered in the glow of the headlight. It was time to decide what to do next.
"I'm sure glad to see both of you in one piece. That was quite a scare you caused." Scott smiled; it was all he could do. He now could put his fears to rest about either of them being hurt or killed. After all, they were a band of brothers bound together by iron and steel, but sealed with a friendship.
"Well, it was a lot damned worse up here on the front end, you lazy damned rear brakie!" John smiled back and slapped his friend on the back. They turned to look at Bill. "It's not that bad, old man. Old 1200 here is solid as a rock; he just got his nose a little bloody, that's all. Damn, you look like you want to cry."
Bill looked over to John and Scott and wiped his face. "I got cinders in me eyes, that's all," and smiled. "How did our boys do?"
"Well, Sean did fine but the crash sent Jamie tumbling to the floor, nothin real bad. He's got some scrapes and scratches on him but nothing to worry about. Do know it scared the shit out of 'em and you know Joe, he just took charge, snapped him out his daydream. I think your encounter with that fuckin' tree disturbed our boys more when they was on the back platform; the brakes gave em a scare but I scared them even worse by opening the door and they still hold'n each other and drug 'em inside the hack."
"I got to check the water, boys. I can't have old 1200 to blow his boiler." John walked toward the gangway and climbed the steps. Bill and Scott heard the clang of the fireman's shovel as John built up the fire and the hiss of steam as the cool water mixed with the steam already there.
Bill turned to Scott. "We have a small problem - If old 1200 is fit enough to travel, which we will find out in a few minutes. It is either to back up to Hammond and telegraph ahead that we need a new engine or we could ease ahead to Kentwood."
"Which is closer, Hammond or Kentwood?"
"Kentwood," replied Bill.
"Do we have any more trains to meet or pass before there?"
"Well, we do have to pass Roseland and there is the small switcher there but they won't be doing nothin' this time of the night. Hell, I bet the damned telegraph operator is sound ass asleep, knowing that lazy fool. The only thing is this, that siding is not big enough for us and neither is that house track there. So you watch me drivers and I will get up in the cab and see if we got any bald spots on the wheels."
"OK, Bill, let 'em rip."
"Once I make sure we still have rounded wheels I will toot the whistle and call Joe in from the darkness." Scott nodded his head as Bill climbed the steps and sat down in the right hand seat. He lifted the Johnson bar and moved it over to the forward notch, then released the engine brakes. He looked at his gauges and saw there was 125 pounds of air in the train line that led back to the caboose and released them. He slipped his heavy woolen gloves back on and reached up and eased back on the throttle. The big drivers spun, then found purchase on the rail, and the big Mikado rolled slowly forward, the couplers clinking together as the slack was pulled out of the train.
Scott nodded that everything looked fine from the ground and Bill reached up and pulled the whistle cord three short sharp blasts to let Joe know that they were ready to roll. Scott walked back toward the caboose as Joe was heading back from his lone watch for trains coming from the rear. Neither of the men was ready for what they would see in the crummy.
As events unfolded and the careful inspection of 1200 by his loving crew was taking place, Sean had calmed Jamie down enough to stop his river of tears. Jamie had opened his heart to Sean about his parents and his unknown older brother, which brought tears to Sean's eyes. Sean held Jamie tighter until he thought he might crush the smaller boy. Jamie poured out his story in between sobs and tears as Sean held and comforted him. Jamie asked Sean about his home life and why he was on the run. Sean told Jamie about his family and the fire and the days he spent in the care of the fire department. Sean left out only one event and one man, Lord Oliver.
After a pause in the recounting of each other's lives and last days in New Orleans. Sean motioned for Jamie to lean up and Jamie did. Jamie turned around and watched Sean as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his bronzed shoulders and arms. Jamie looked speechless. Was this the bronzed god that the British son of a bitch was referring to?
Sean smiled, "It's hot in here and we're not moving." He threw his shirt across the end of the bunk. "Here, why don't you pull your shirt off as well. You're sweating worse than me." Jamie unbuttoned the third button down since the first two hung open, the buttons missing. Jamie reached for the 4th one, then paused.
"What's wrong, my friend, you shy?"
"Umm, yeah, I don't want anyone to see my stripes, the last thing my father ever gave me before he..." Jamie stopped and cast his eyes down. He could not look Sean in the eyes. The tears welled up once more and the stream began to flow as more pain raced through the boy's shattered heart.
Sean reached out and stroked Jamie's cheek, then lifted the boy's head to look at him. "What did he do to you, my friend? What did he do?"
"I can't tell you, it hurts to even remember it, much less to speak about it. It's too painful to bear." Jamie broke down into heaving sobs.
Sean pulled the sobbing boy into his chest and held him for a moment. "Tell me, Jamie, let it free from your heart before it destroys all your joy and happiness." Sean bent down and kissed Jamie on the forehead. "This will be between your heart and mine."
Jamie looked up into Sean's eyes and he saw that Sean was speaking from the heart, no lies, no games, just that of friendship.
"What did your father do, Jamie? Please tell me so I can help, please. I see the pain in your eyes, I hear sorrow in your heart."
Jamie, with trembling hands, reached down to finish unbuttoning his shirt but his fingers refused to listen and Sean reached down and unbuttoned Jamie's shirt and eased it from the boy's shoulders. Once it was off, Jamie turned around and the purple bruises shone out like wagon ruts in a virgin forest. Sean gasped. How could anyone's own father do this to his son? The bruises covered most of Jamie's back, the long thin red lines from the leather belt and the spots where the buckle tried to dig into the boy's flesh. Sean turned Jamie around and pulled him into his arms where bare skin touched bare skin.
"Your father did this? Why?"
"He never wanted me in the first place after my older brother was given up to the state. Ma and Pa never wanted another child but they had me. They considered me just another mouth to feed and someone who would only get in their way. Pa used to never be home, he worked the river, a pilot, but when hard times hit, the steamboat company no longer needed him so he started drinking, and Ma works at a saloon selling drinks and herself for money. Three days ago in the late afternoon when I came home, Pa was there and already drunk. He wanted to know where I had been all day like he really cared. Then he wanted to know if I stole him something he could sell for more whiskey and I told him no. He got mad and grabbed his belt and whaled the tar out of me till I could hardly stand up. Then he grabbed me by the neck and forced me out the door and led me down to the waterfront saloon and shoved me through the door. He told Ma I was a worthless piece of shit and that he should just sell me for what I was worth, a bottle of rotgut, and be rid of me. She pointed to a man in a dark suit, he walked over and they talked for a few minutes. I could not hear what they was sayin', they spoke real low like. The man had a funny accent like he was not from around here, you know like some overseas person speaks real proper like a preacher does on Sunday mornin's, you know. The man got up and pointed to the door. My pa shoved me to follow the man and they led me to the fancy Hotel Lafayette, but instead of us using the front way in, I was led around the back way to a set of stairs and forced up. We went to this here fancy room and the stranger and Pa shoved me on the bed and the man gave Pa five greenbacks. Pa laughed and left the room and the stranger locked the door and put the key in his pocket. The man ordered me to strip naked. I didn't want to. The man grabbed my shirt and the top two buttons were ripped off, then he pulled it off of me like a rag. Then he pulled off my britches while holding the back of my neck. Once he got them off of me, I was naked. I never owned no underclothes, never had no money to buy any. He pulled them down to my ankles and he pushed me on the bed. He held me down while he jerked my shoes off and my britches. He made me lay spread out on the bed like I was a prize at the county fair. He said he only wanted to look at me. He lied."
Sean had tears in his eyes as he stroked the back of Jamie's neck and back as he listened to Jamie tell about the bastard that he knew as Lord Oliver.
Jamie took a deep breath and continued. "I tried to get up but he held me down and before I knew it he had slipped ropes around my wrists. My ankles were next. He held me while he slipped ropes around them, he then got up off the bed and walked to the big window and threw it open, then he walked back over, smiling and saying that I wasn't going to get away like the bronze god that afternoon.
Sean's expression darkened at those last words and the frown grew. Jamie looked up and saw the expression and the pain. "Sean, do you know who the son of a bitch was talkin about?"
"Yes, Jamie, I do. You're looking at him now."
"Noooooo! Not you, Sean, I am so sorry." Jamie hugged Sean closer. The two boys were so close that you could not slip a sheet of paper between them.
"Not as sorry as I am for you, my friend. I will kill that bastard!"
Jamie let out a slight smile. "I did kill him."
"YOU DID? HOW?"
"Well after he said that, he started to rub my body all over and he even jerked on my dick. I could tell he wanted to do it to my butt so he got on the bed and undid his britches. After he pulled his own out, he had to reach behind himself and undo the ropes on my feet. Then he lifted my legs in the air and I saw the chance. I took my left foot and slammed it into his balls. He screamed and grabbed them. I kicked him again in the face and he rolled off the bed with a big grunt and a thud. My legs were free but not my hands. I liked to have panicked for a second but I was so mad and afraid that I jerked my right arm so hard the rope snapped. I guess it was a cheap rope. I untied my other hand. I got off the bed, you see, and found my britches. I got a bottle of white powder from some of the boys along the wharf; they call the stuff Devil powder. They said just a little bit of it and it would kill a person. I grabbed the bottle, pulled out the cork and walked over to the son of a bitch and yanked his head back by his hair. He opened his mouth to scream and I poured the whole bottle down his dirty mouth I made him swallow every bit of it. He tried to fight me and spit it out but I jammed my foot back into his aching balls again, then again. I yanked on my britches and shirt, then my shoes. The man was now quiet. I guess he passed out from the pain. I hauled tail out of there and down the back steps. The next two days I hung around the railroad yards until today and I jumped aboard that passenger train. You know the rest."
Sean had tears in his eyes, flowing down his own cheeks. Jamie looked up and wrapped his arms around Sean's neck and hugged him. Sean hugged him tightly in his arms and yawned. Jamie smiled, "I am getting that way too. Where do ya sleep in one of these cabooses?"
Sean smiled, "Right here, my friend."
"What about the other two guys? I know they're tired after all this stuff that is happening."
"I got an idea, stand up." Jamie stood up and Sean lay down flat on his back. "Now lay down."
Jamie looked at him, then asked, "Where?"
Sean smiled, "Right here," and he kicked off his shoes. Jamie did the same. Sean pulled Jamie down and positioned him on top of his chest. Jamie's head was resting between Sean's nipples, smooth flesh touched smooth flesh as Sean wrapped his arms around Jamie and Jamie wrapped his around Sean. Neither one of them heard the whistle cry from 1200.
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Joe and Scott climbed the rear steps and opened the door. Scott was about to say something when Joe put his finger to his mouth and pointed at the bunk and the two sleeping boys. "When you give the high ball, make sure Bill sees the nice and gentle motion." Scott nodded and stepped outside. He swung the lantern in a high arch but added a special motion. Bill saw it and understood.
Scott blew out his lantern and joined Joe up in the angel's seat. Bill sounded a short blast as the big drivers spun, then began to roll north.
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This chapter is dedicated to all that dare to dream. Also dedicated to a very special friend who knows and understands the true power of love and friendship.
Also to a very special friend who I have acted selfish and ashamed for my actions please forgive me my friend. I wish you the best and will forever hold our friendship dear and close to my heart.
I would like to thank Ed for his help on this chapter and to both him and Willy, who give me hope when I see none with my own eyes.
As always my E- Mail is Swarri1349@aol.com I would love to hear from my readers.
Stephen