They ran north through the day, running parallel to the Front Range. Hollister had no idea how fast they were going, but after about two hours they switched again and traveled due west, the elevation starting to rise. Hollister expected they’d be in Absolution by early evening.
The countryside grew more wooded, with pine and aspen trees coming nearly down to the tracks. They slowed as they traveled through a few towns and villages but before long, most of civilization was left behind. Hollister found Chee in the armory car, the hatch in the roof open, seated behind the Gatling. He looked up at the young man.
“Anything to shoot out there, Chee?” he asked.
“No, Major,” Chee said.
“Jonas or Hollister, Chee, don’t forget,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Chee mumbled.
“What are you looking for, Chee?” Hollister asked.
“The woman, sir,” he answered.
“The woman? Shaniah?”
“Yes. She’s coming.”
“Really? How do you figure? That horse she was riding looked fast, but I don’t think he could keep up with this train for very long.” Hollister pulled one of the Henrys from a rack and started loading it with wooden bullets.
Chee merely shrugged and Monkey Pete, entering the car, interrupted them.
“We’re fifteen minutes out of Absolution, Major,” he said.
“Monkey Pete, if you’re here with us, who exactly is driving the train?” Hollister asked.
“It’s got an automatic control system. Steers itself.”
“Really? And does it stop itself if there’s a missing rail or a cow in the way?”
“Yes,” Monkey Pete said, the expression on his face a mix of disgust and irritation as if he’d just been asked the most obvious question in the world. “Fifteen minutes, Major. We’ll be stopping at the platform in the town.” He left, returning the way he had come.
Hollister looked in surprise at Chee, who just shrugged. “I have no reason to doubt Monkey Pete, it is quite an amazing train,” Chee said.
“I’ll say,” Hollister muttered, returning to loading the modified Winchester. “Chee, I never did ask Winchester this, but I’m wondering about these wooden and silver bullets.”
“Sir?”
“Well, suppose we need to shoot something that isn’t a Deathwalker. What if we need good old-fashioned lead? Suppose I need to shoot Slater or one of his gun thugs, and these wood bullets don’t slow ’em down enough?”
Chee racked a round into the chamber of his Winchester. “Whether it’s wood or silver, I suspect it’s going to hurt, sir.”
A few minutes later, the train slowed, then stopped, as Monkey Pete had promised. It stood next to the platform, which appeared to be on the outskirts of town. The sun was moving behind the mountains to the west.
“Monkey Pete, me and Chee are going out to have a look-see around the town. See if there’s a marshal or anyone can give us any information. You stay here. Don’t let anyone on the train unless it’s us.”
Monkey Pete climbed up in the chair Chee had vacated behind the Gatling. He pushed the lever next to the seat forward and the roof hatch hissed open. The chair shot up and out the opening, giving him a commanding view and field of fire.
“No worries, Major. I’ll be sure to keep a sharp eye,” he said.
“If we run into trouble, we’ll fire off two shots from a Henry. You hear ’em, you lock this train up tight and don’t let nobody in.”
“Don’t worry Major,” the engineer said. “I know how to keep trouble off my train. What do you want me to do if you don’t come back?”
The question caught Hollister a little off guard. He hadn’t considered it. This felt more like a reconnaissance mission than an impending conflict. Still, he supposed there could be trouble ahead. It would be good to have a plan in place.
“If we can’t make it back to the train, you stay locked down. Send a wire to Pinkerton and have him send the army. And I mean the whole army. If those things are here, we’re going to need artillery, cavalry, the whole shebang,” Hollister said.
“Chee, I’d like Dog to stay with Monkey Pete. We don’t know what we’re up against. I figure Dog could discourage just about anyone from taking an unauthorized tour of the train.”
Dog had been lying on the floor half asleep, but he sat up and stared at Hollister at the mention of his name. Chee instructed Dog to stay with Monkey Pete. Hollister couldn’t be sure, but he thought Dog looked disappointed at the prospect of missing the chance to eat someone. “He’ll stay here, Major, and I’ve told him to pay attention to Monkey Pete.” Hollister looked at the engineer and shrugged.
“I have no doubt,” Hollister said. “Chee, let’s go.”
Hollister had decided to leave the Ass-Kicker on the train. It seemed too dangerous to carry it, walking into a town full of innocent civilians. Instead, he just carried one of the Henrys, as did Chee, both of them looping two belts of ammo under their dusters. One of the things Winchester had done to their Colts and rifles was to modify them so they were all the same caliber. They could use the same bullets to load either gun, but he hoped he wouldn’t miss the Ass-Kicker.
There was no station, just a wooden platform next to the track that allowed them to step down off the train. In the center of the platform, a set of stairs led down to the dirt. Off in the distance the main street of the town stood rimmed by a half dozen two-story structures with one other street crossing it, and that was it. The whole town.
A clicking sound came from behind them and they turned to see Monkey Pete still in the Gatling seat. He was working another series of levers. With a hiss of steam, steel panels appeared out of the sides of the train, covering the doors and windows. “I’ll be damned,” Hollister muttered. He looked at Chee in amazement, but the young man just shrugged.
“Where to, sir?” Chee asked.
“I’m not sure. Ain’t it kind of odd no one comes to meet the train? Monkey Pete said the Central and Pacific train comes once a week. I assume this isn’t the day the regular train comes, so wouldn’t people be curious?” Hollister asked.
Chee shrugged. Hollister noticed the young man’s face had turned to stone. He was studying the town and the surrounding terrain like he expected trouble.
It took them less than two minutes to reach the outlying buildings. They marched into the center of the town. A signpost named the street they stood on as First Street, while the cross street was Second Street.
“Creative,” Hollister muttered gesturing at the sign.
There was a hotel on one corner; a hardware store, bank, and assayers office occupied the others. Hollister counted three saloons, a laundry, general store, restaurant, and another building with a sign over the door that just said O FFICE, with no indication of what kind of office might be inside. This comprised the entire business district of Absolution.
Beyond the two-story buildings lining the two streets were a few small houses and what could only be described as huts. There was no one on the streets. With dusk approaching, there were no lights, they could smell no cook fires or wood smoke, there were no horses tied to hitching posts anywhere they could see.
“Where the hell is everyone?” Hollister asked out loud. “It’s going to be dark soon. We need to get back to the train. Wait till daylight.”
Chee’s eyes went everywhere. To the corners, roofs, and every nook and cranny. He saw nothing and no one. Then a noise came from down the street.
Hollister cocked the Henry and carried it at port arms. Chee did the same.
“Saloon,” Hollister said.
They separated, Hollister stepping up on the wooden sidewalk, Chee remaining in the street. The saloon was named the Rambling Rose. The swinging doors moved slightly in the breeze. Hollister waited as Chee backed his way up onto the sidewalk, taking a position on the other side of the doors. They quickly cut through the doors, rifles at the ready.
The saloon was empty.
But it looked like the last customers had left in a hurry. On the bar sat a few mugs of half-drunk beer. A bottle of whiskey stood at one end, an empty glass tipped on its side next to it. There was an abandoned piano along one wall and two of the nearby tables still had cards and chips and partially full glasses and ashtrays. To the left of the doorway a set of stairs led to the second level.
Chee advanced slowly on the bar. Holding the Henry in his left hand, he drew his Colt. Hollister stood ready. Instinctively, he felt no one was here, but something was also very wrong in Absolution.