Baker Troop had been on the move now for two weeks. The orders had come suddenly. Jack and Tom and the rest of the Troop were relaxing in the barracks on Sunday afternoon.

“Attenn…Shun!” shouted Sandy.

They all jumped to attention. Silence fell in the room.

“At ease men,” said Lieutenant Richards. “Just relax, smoke if you wish.”

A number of the men lit up cigars and pipes.

“Orders have just come down from General Middleton. We are to proceed West with all possible haste and as much attention as possible. The Prime Minister is quite anxious that the government appear to be doing something.”

Laughter greeted this last remark by Lieutenant Richards.

“Once on the plains we are to make ourselves highly visible, provide protection to settlements that require same and enforce law and order in cooperation with the North West Mounted Police. In general we are to do everything possible to contain the situation and make preparations for the main body of troops which will follow in due course.

“We are under strict orders not to provoke the enemy prematurely. There will be time enough to engage the enemy later.

“There will also be plenty of time for questions later. For now, Sergeant,” he turned to the Troop Sergeant as he said this, “see that the men and their horses are ready to embark by train at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“That’s all men, and good luck!”

With that the Lieutenant departed. Cheers, laughter and shouting filled the barracks.

Jack, Tom and Crutch occupied two seats facing each other. They swayed with the gentle motion of the train as it rhythmically clacked its way west. The country side gradually became more gentle, the rock gave way to earth and inviting lakes as the powerful little engine poured forth steam power relentlessly.

It was now late in the evening. Jack watched through the window of the train as the silent forest slipped by. It was shrouded in darkness.

Jack could hear Bo tormenting Yank two seats back.

“Yeh, it’s you Yanks causin’ all the trouble, always stirring up the Indians.”

“Hell no,” said Yank, “we got enough trouble with our own Indians, we don’t need to trouble with yours.”

“What fur are your traders always comin’ up fur, tradin’ ‘em guns an’ all?”

“We ain’t doing that.”

“Hell, yes, you is!”

“I say we ain’t!”

“What fur is Captain Howard here fur then, with his gatling?”

“Why you know as well as I do he’s gonna help us. That’s a mighty powerful new weapon. We can just mow ‘em down.”

“Yeh, sez you. I bet he’s gonna sell it to the Indians.”

This nagging had gone on since they had boarded the train. They all saw Captain Howard shout orders as he supervised the loading of this gatling gun.

“I’m going back to check on Cloud,” said Jack as he eased himself between the legs of his companions.

Jack braced himself on the seat backs as he moved through the coach.

“See what’s keeping Duffy,” someone shouted to him as he made his way to the rear of the car. “He’s been gone an hour. He must be sleeping with the ponies.”

Jack did not acknowledge the remark. He slipped out the back door of the car and continued his trip to the rear coaches of the train.

Finally he reached the stable coach. He heaved open the door and was hit with a draft of stable smells as he entered.

The horses had been stabled facing forward to avoid losing balance during acceleration or braking.

A foot path for feeding and servicing had been retained on the right hand side. Jack now walked down to the third manger from the end, where Cloud was tethered.

“How are you girl,” he said as he stroked her neck. The horse quietly whinnied acknowledgment and nuzzled Jack in his chest and arm.

“That’s my girl,” said Jack, “How about a nice rub down.”

As Jack picked up the curry comb he had the uncomfortable feeling he was being watched. He raised has gaze. Standing only a few feet away, looking back was Duffy Durrell. He was in the last manger.

“Hi Jack.”

“Hi Duff. They’re asking for you back there.” Jack gestured toward the front of the train. “For some reason they miss you.”

They both chuckled quietly.

“I’ve been feeding a few oats to Yank’s pony,” offered Duffy. He looked vacantly around for a moment. Then he said, “Well, I guess I better be running along. Don’t want the boys getting lonesome do we?”

They both chuckled again and Duffy left for the passenger coach ahead.

Jack turned his attention back to Cloud and set to work with the curry comb. He brushed while Cloud, satisfied to have her master close and stroking her, stood motionless. He finished and was about to hand feed oats to Cloud when he heard a clang at the end of the coach.

Jack looked over. He could see nothing. He could feel the rocking of the coach, but he could barely make out the motion of the next and last coach because of a thick film of grime on the window in the door.

There was no reason for anyone to be between Jack and the end of the train. The last coach contained munitions and dynamite. It was a sealed coach.

Slowly and quietly Jack made his way over to the door. He glanced out the dirty window. He could see no one.

He pushed open the door and stepped outside onto the metal platform. He saw a man straining at the coupling. He’s trying to uncouple the munitions car, thought Jack. He sensed more than saw an iron bar ash upward at his head. He ducked and the bar fell with a dull clank against the metal frame of the coach.

Jack struck out at the man. He landed a heavy blow with his fist on his chin. The man staggered back.

Suddenly the man leaped on the ladder leading to the catwalk on the roof of the train. He disappeared in a moment.

Jack followed up the ladder. Once up he almost choked on the thick black smoke and ash curling back from the stack of the steam engine.

The train rocked dangerously as he blindly crawled forward. The catwalk seemed to buck and Jack carefully clutched at the boards with his left hand before freeing his right. In this fashion he made his way to the forward end of the coach.

Halfway down the next coach, Jack’s right hand came down on the cuff of a pantleg. He surged upward and charged. He tackled the man about the waist and both rolled toward the front.

A fist smashed into the side of Jack’s head. Stunned, he lost consciousness for a split second. He awoke rolling toward the edge of the car. His hands ailed for something to break his fall. Then he was over and falling.

With superhuman effort, Jack’s fingers grasped the gutters running along the edge of the rooftop. For a moment he dangled there, his feet dancing in the window of the coach.

Slowly he eased himself up, finally swinging one leg over the edge of the roof. Painfully he pulled himself higher. He thought  his finger joints would explode from the pressure. With one final heave he rolled back onto the roof, back into the choking smoke.

Confidently he began to move forward again, feeling his way. Abruptly the catwalk ended. At the same time the choking black smoke ended. Jack looked up to see the train rounding a long slow bend in the tracks.

He could also see his quarry, fully a coach away and virtually running forward. He stood and ran as fast as his shifting foot allowed. He now seemed to almost fly forward and he sensed the train begin to decelerate. Then he remembered the planned stop at the water tower to take on more water for the steam engine.

He heard a crack and a ping. He was being fired at.

In a flash he had his shooter in his hand, the attached lanyard flying. He fired.

Then he heard a crack and wood chips flew from the catwalk in front of him.

Jack dodged forward loosing a volley of shots. He saw the man pitch forward between the coaches. Jack heard a slight ‘chunk’ sound as the man fell under the heavy cutting edge of the wheels.

As Jack saw the locomotive chug slowly up to the tower and stop he raced forward to report to Lieutenant Richards.

The Lieutenant and many of the troopers had heard the shots. They all listened excitedly.

“There’s someone trying to sabotage the train, Lieutenant,” said Jack. “I just caught him trying to uncouple the munitions car. I think he’s dead. At least I shot him.”

“Where is he?” asked the Lieutenant, “Better search…..”

Just then a volley of shots rang out and one shattered the window. Another the gas lamp on the wall.

“Ambush,” shouted Tom.