“N-no. I’m David Houser. Look, sir, this man was a maniac, he almost blew us up! You should arrest him too, for attempted murder!”
The Pinkerton agent rubs his chin. “I agree. He even admitted to nearly blowing this place up.” He takes out another set of handcuffs and approaches you. “Gonna need you to stay calm and let me put these on.”
"He’s not, Manco growled, barging in,“Start the train, he needs to go to a hospital.”
“Hmm…” The Pinkerton agent nods. “Alright, conductor first. Keep this man put, please. We don’t need him blowing anyone up.”
He hurries through the cars, to contact the conductor.
David shuts up.
The Pinkerton agent nods, and heads out of his way to contact the conductor.
A minute passes, and the train starts to move again, slowly. Outside, everyone may see the bandit horses galloping away, some feeding on the grass, while dead bandits lay in the grass. Inside the cars, the smell of smoke fills the air, and blood is splattered across where the good doctor tends Mr. Dowell.
The Victorian woman pipes up. “You are all fools. Should have left us with the gold. Not good sticking yourself in other’s business.”
“Yeah,” laughs the goatee bandit. “Mr. Dowell will be in worse shape if he lives. Haha!”
“You put your weapon down, And we won’t have any troubles. Agreed?”
He places it down, defeated. He looks as if he may die soon.
“So, why did yoy decide to take up thievery?” He asks.
He remains silent. There is only a sign of resentment towards you as he suffers.
“Come now, I’m not going to kill you. Nobody else needs to die today.”
He finally speaks up. “Rot in hell.”
“You liked her didn’t you?” He suggested.
He nods. “Hair as gorgeous as crimson. Ya wasted her beautiful life. How does that make ya feel?”
“Not happy I can tell you. I’m sorry. I should have known. The way she helped you when you were shot, she cared for you. I truly am sorry. I forget, I have perfect aim. I should have aimed lower.”
The bandit sputters more. His life is slipping from his wound, and he could tell. “Should’ve.”
“Yes. A pointless waste of life. I truely am sorry. If it’s any consolation, if you insist on dying, you will join her soon in paradise. Did you have any children?”
“Nah,” he admits. “Just a crush. Anyways, there ain’t no paradise for me or her.”
Gideon looked a bit sheepish. A gunfight had broken out directly in front of him and he had been too dazed to do anything about it. Once or twice his muscles had seized, and he was about to jump into the fray, but it was like glue on his rear, plastering him to the seat. Now there was one, two, maybe six people dead. And he hadn’t even been fired at once.
Standing up, he checked to make sure he had as many cigarettes as he did last time he looked. Still eight. He preferred cigars.
Something or other about a Pinkerton man had been mentioned… That was worth looking into.
Indeed, as the Pinkerton man came through the door, he was huffing and puffing.
“Alright, train is moving! Everyone sit tight. Conductor says it’s still an hour away from New York.”
“An hour?” Gideon murmured. Goodness. Wasn’t there a couple of fellows who got a flying machine working? Why can’t we just take one of those?
“How many did we lose?” He asked solemnly, slowly resuming his seat. It was becoming harder and harder to keep from being gold.
“Seems the only dead ones 'round here was the robbers. Apparently Mr. Dowell got shot too. Doc is working on him. None of the civilians besides him were hurt, thankfully.”