I Went Down (NaNoWriMo Read-Along)

35 Dapper Jack

The weak afternoon light dropped down through the glass ceiling of the rail station. It had a slightly greenish quality, for there was a fine layer of algae creeping over the many small panes from the external framing, where water collected despite the curve of the roof. In the submarine mood below, the wide halls echoed with the boot heels and conversations of several hundred people starting or ending their journeys. Dapper Jack went to one of the side halls, where a sign hanging above a narrow window advertised ‘Baggage Drop.’ From his billfold, he removed a slip of paper and traded it for his tan leather satchel. He undid the buckles and checked the contents: a change of clothes, a paper wrapped sandwich. The man at the window, chewing a plug of tobacco, rolled his eyes and returned to his contemplation of the latest horse racing results on the smudgy back page of the newspaper.

From the main hall came the screeching and whooshing of an arriving train. It was half past two. Dapper Jack shut the satchel and went to the platform. A mass of people was disembarking. From the first class car descended Pelagoans in two and threes, looking weary and glad to have passed safely from their far northern cities across the wild Plain of Angiers and reunited with civilization in the form of Delta Mouth. Further down the platform were the Angiers from the small settlements springing up at the edges of the city, far enough from the delta that there was space for farmland or a few horses, but close enough that they could come into the city for work. There was a different weariness on their faces as they prepared to start an evening shift. Dapper Jack joined a group of Plainsmen trading places with the incoming workers, headed home with meager pay in their pockets. He followed them to the far end of the train: third class, with flat wooden benches. One of the windows was cracked and inexpertly covered with newspaper. So much for Baccarat’s fancy rail line. But then, the third class cars were full of Angiers, long haired men with dirt and grease beneath their fingernails. The first class accommodations would be a different story.

He took a seat near the back of the car, where he’d be able to see if anyone entered from the rest of the train. The seats filled up quickly until there was standing room only. Dapper Jack kept an eye on the other passengers. The last thing he needed was for one of Baccarat’s men to notice him. Loyce, for instance. Hopefully they would all be on the later train with their master. He turned up his collar and slouched down in his seat. His gloves he stuffed into an inner pocket of his jacket; the cool air of late autumn was quickly being overwhelmed by the body heat of the massed people in the train car. The compartment was nearly full when the train slowly lurched into motion. Outside the window the steel skeleton of the train station slid away and the backsides of slouching buildings appeared. The train began to pick up speed; the passengers who hadn’t gotten seats clutched at railings, seatbacks, and each other.

The train made a few stops at the smaller stations that clustered around the city. More Plainsmen packed into the car and it became clear that Jack was lucky to have a seat. At the third stop, several men carrying large, paper-wrapped parcels shoved their way inside and wedged their cargo in amongst the other passengers. The seated position then seemed less auspicious, for there was a packet of cheap shoes which came to rest directly in front of his face. The leather was inexpertly finished and the smell less than pleasant. But it hid his face when the conductor came through to collect and punch the tickets. The man’s voice was vaguely familiar—some lesser soldier from the Ornette?—but Jack did not try to see his face around the mass of shoes. Now was not the time to find a fight. He waited and watched the stations roll by outside the window.

When the train arrived at the station he wanted, the passengers had thinned out a little but he still had to fight his way through the thick crowd in order to disembark. They were keeping a strict schedule and he nearly didn’t make it off the train at all. As soon as he had hopped down onto the platform the conductor was there. Dapper Jack pulled his hat down over his face, but the conductor was only leaning out to wave his arm at the driver up in the locomotive at the other end of the train. The driver gave two sharp blasts on a whistle, and then the train was chugging out of the station again.

Only a few other passengers had disembarked and they hurried through the station building and disappeared quickly. The single ticket window was already closed; the platform was empty.

Where was Merritt’s man? Waddell had assured him that the Captain approved of the plan and would assist him in any way possible. All the arrangements were made, and that included someone watching the station to meet Dapper Jack.

He looked around again, but the platform was still empty. He walked across the tracks and through the tiny station building. Outside there was a narrow track that served as a street in the small town he had chosen as the rendezvous point. The air was cool and dry, but some recent moisture had damped down the dust and frozen it to the ground. Dapper Jack sighed and put on his gloves again.

There were a few horses tied up in front of the faded buildings. A post office, a dry goods store, the requisite saloon. A woman was leaning from an open window in the upper storey, with bare shoulders and hooded eyes looking down on the street. Was the town big enough for two whores, or was she the only one?

Jack turned his attention back to the street. The ride he needed now was a four-legged one. It would be regrettable if he had to steal a horse. Once, every horse he rode had been broken by his own hand. Of course, there was no time for that now.

He started toward the saloon. There were several horses there, and the greatest chance that the owner wouldn’t come out to miss his animal for a while.

As he stepped out into the street, there was a sharp whistle from his left.

Against his better judgment, Jack looked over his shoulder and saw a familiar scrawny figure. Andin. The boy was leaning against a hitching post in front of the little dry goods store. Next to him, there were two horses.

Jack sighed and changed direction.

Andin did not stand up straight until Dapper Jack was a mere three steps from him. Then he sprang up and began to loose the reins from the hitching post. “Hullo,” he said. “I brought you a horse.”

“Why didn’t you bring it all the way to station?” Jack asked in exasperation.

Andin glanced down the street at the station building with a scowl. “I don’t like the railroad,” he said. “This is as close as I get.” He tossed one set of reins to Jack and jumped up onto his horse as quick and lithe as a rabbit. “Lieutenant Dorsane is waiting.”

Jack rubbed his horse’s neck under its mane and breathed in the animal’s scent. He spared a thought to wonder who had broken it to carry a man on its back before he swung up into the saddle.

Andin was already prancing away. “What should I call you?” he asked over his shoulder. “It would be confusing if you and your cousin were both lieutenants.”

“Most people call me Mister Dorsane,” Jack replied. “If you have cause to address me, you might try that.”

“Okay,” Andin said. “Mister Dorsane.” There was a hint of a grin on his beardless face. He was even younger than the little Ibai girl that Jack had left lying by the canal in Delta Mouth, and likely just as innocent of the consequences of his actions. “We’re heading for the hills,” Andin continued. “If we get separated, you’ll find the others at the butte with three fingers.”