Redemption (A TTTE Story)

Part III: (Not) Lady-Like

August, 1888

Emily sat in the station siding happily. The sun was only halfway above the treeline, with the birds in the distance greeting the new day. Her fire was just being lit.

Then, came a horrid noise. An engine that looked identical to Emily wheezed into the station, struggling with a short line of empty trucks. Even the trucks seemed startled, as none of them were making any noise.

"Nathan?!", Emily called, "Are ya alright?"

"No, I'm not." The engine sounded stuffed up. "I cannae breath at all."

"Ya need a washout," said Nathan's fireman, who was covered head-to-toe in soot, "an' ya need one bad."

"I agree.", said his driver, who was equally dirty.

"We 'ave ta pull the Flying Scotsman today.", Nathan protested.

"But ye cannae race like this! Yull soorly break doon!"

"Race?", interrupted Emily, "What race?"

Nathan's crew stared blankly at Emily.

"Well," answered Nathan, "we been haven a race with the...the....AHH-CHOO!!" Nathan shot steam everywhere, blowing coal dust and soot out of his funnel. He sniffed, then continued:

"We been racin' those Wes' Coasters from London to Edinburgh. It's not officially a race, but th' fact th' goal is ta get there as quickly as possible makes it a race."

"Well, couldn't ya get some'ne else ta pull th' Flyin' Scotsman?", Emily asked.

"There's nay udder engine available.", Nathan replied.

Nathan's fireman climbed down from the cab of his engine, and started examining Nathan's running gear, as though looking for something. Emily watched the man with interest.

"Ye need yur valve gear checked as well," commented the fireman, "I think one uf ya lubricaters is leakin'."

"But 'ere's nay udder engine available!", protested Nathan once more.

Emily pondered for a moment. Then, she beamed. Nathan immediately realized what she was thinking:

"Ack! Ya cannae pull the Flyin' Scotsman, Emily!"

"Rubbish," Emily protested, "I'm jus' as qualified as you are."

"But th' Flyin' Scotsman is not a...a...AHH...."

"....."

"....."

Nathan sniffed. "Figures I cannae e'en sneeze properly anymore. But regardless, th' Flyin' Scotsman is not a lass's job!"

"'nd what makes ya so sure?"

"It's a long-distance run, and the coaches will be very heav- AHH-CHOOO!!"

Nathan blew more steam as soot shot out of his funnel, like how a volcano blows an ash cloud. His poor fireman got blasted with a thick cloud of coal dust and ash.

"My train innae due ta leave fer 'nother two 'nd half hours.", Emily pointed out, "'at'll give ya plenty o' time ta get a washout. Plus, I know 'e line."

"It's not a lass's job, Emily!"

"So you'll jus' pull th' Flyin' Scotsman at half strength 'til ya inevitably break doun?"

"If I must!"

"'en you'll humiliate nay jus' 'urself, bu' th' Great Northern Railway as a whole! Th' West Coasters 'ill ne'er let us forgetit neither! Is 'at what ye want, Nate? Humiliation?"