Leaving Guthrie and Kate to pack, Clarence headed down the street, surprised to find everyone in town rushing to and fro, whooping, hollering, firing guns into the air, and waving to those who were leaving on the train. Clarence recognized one man—a very tall, lanky fellow—as being the train conductor from their trip westward.
"Please let me through!" Clarence shouted, charging headlong through the raucous mob, shoving people aside as he hugged onto his valise and ran toward the train. "Wait!" he hollered as he drew near. "Please!"
With a frown, the conductor stepped down from the locomotive onto the platform to face the oncoming Englishman. "Yes?" he drawled.
Clarence skidded to a halt and caught his breath. "You-you must wait, please," he gasped.
"You want to board?" The man had a thick, slow voice, and his craggy facial features reminded Clarence of the late Abraham Lincoln.
"Board? Yes-yes, but—"
"Well then, climb on up, son. We have a schedule to keep. We can't afford any delays." With a sweep of his long arm, he pointed at the engine that had recently arrived, now coupled to the caboose. "They've just got here, and they're going to hitch us clear back to the Dumas station. Good thing you made it on time. We'll be leaving in just a few minutes."
He droned so slowly when he spoke, Clarence knew that if he could just keep the man talking, Guthrie and Kate would have enough time to make it.
"Uh-I say, Dumas?" Clarence said quickly, just as the conductor climbed onto the train. "Where—?"
"That's right," he droned. "Dumas station."
"But I thought we were headed to Boston."
"We are. This engine—" Slowly, he pointed again. "—is taking us to Dumas. From there, we'll head back east to Boston, by way of Tulsa, St. Louis, Akron," he droned on, counting off each city on his long fingers, "Cleveland, and Albany." He stared down at Clarence. "Are you comin' aboard or not, lad?"
"Uh..." Clarence glanced over his shoulder, but there was no sign of his friends. He thought quickly. There had to be a way to stall the train, but his mind was suddenly a blank. All he could think of doing was dancing a jig.
"I say, my fine fellow, have you ever seen an Englishman jig?"
"Can't say that I have," the melancholy conductor drawled.
"You haven't? Well then, you most certainly have missed one of the most spectacular spectacles the world has ever seen! Here—" He quickly set down the valise. "Allow me to demonstrate."
Taking one more look over his shoulder in the hopes that Guthrie and Kate would come upon the scene and save him from this self-imposed embarrassment, he swallowed what pride he had left and gave a sudden whoop: "Rah-HA!"
Then he was in the air, elbows swinging, hips jerking, heels clicking, tongue wagging, hair flopping, eyes popping—but no matter what he did, the straight-faced conductor never cracked a smile or looked impressed in the slightest.
Guthrie gripped Kate's heavy suitcase in one hand and supported her with the other, steadying her as they descended the stairs from her room. She said she was fine, but he could not be too careful. She had been shot, and after waiting this long to find his daughter, he refused to be anything but overprotective.
"Mr. Percy and Ms. Cook are waiting outside, Kate," he said.
She squeezed his hand. "Thanks, Walter." She had yet to address him as her father, but he supposed that would come in time. "I was hopin' I'd have a chance to say my goodbyes."
Her girls were also waiting downstairs with plenty of hugs and kisses. "We'll sure miss you, Miss Carson," they said, each in her own way. "You been nothin' but good to us."
Kate had tears in her eyes. "Y'all go on and make an honest livin' now, y'hear?"
"I'll make sure they earn their keep," Cora boomed with a broad smile.
"Me too!" Mr. Percy piped up.
"I'm sure gonna miss you, Percy," Kate cried over the noise in the street and threw her arms around his neck, kissing his scruffy cheek.
"Aw shucks, Kate," he said bashfully, turning red to the tips of his ears. "I reckon I'm gonna miss you, too."
Cora had Guthrie by the neck, gripped in the crook of her arm. "Well, Hon, I guess this is goodbye—so here!" She thrust a soggy paper sack at him that dripped green gobs of a thick, foul-smelling liquid. "My stew! I remember how much you liked it!"
"Oh..." Guthrie paled slightly at the sight but attempted a brave face. "Yes, thank you."
"You'll look out for Silas too, won't you?" Kate made sure.
Percy nodded. "Sure thing, Kate. Anything for you."
She smiled warmly at him and turned to Cora, hesitating. "Thanks, Cora," she said. "For everything."
The big woman nodded. Letting Guthrie go, she grabbed Kate in a fierce hug and bellowed, "Don't forget to write, Hon!"
"We must be leaving." Guthrie turned to Percy and extended his hand with sincerest gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. Percy."
He met Guthrie's firm handshake. "You take care of yourself, mister—and her."
"Pip-pip! Tally-ho! Rah-HA!!" Clarence danced in a frenzy.
The conductor had seen enough. "Are you done yet?" he droned. "We have a schedule to keep, you know. We can't afford any delays. We've got to get over to Dumas, as they'll be expecting us to arrive on time."
He turned slowly on his heel and headed for the engine. In a moment, the whistle blew fiercely, and smoke started billowing into the morning sky. The wheels edged forward—
"No! Wait!" Clarence cried, grabbing up his valise and keeping pace with the engine. He could see the conductor's craggy face through the high, soot-covered window. "You must wait! Here—I'll pay you to wait just a little while longer!" He flipped open the valise and dug around for his American currency.
"No bribes, lad. No delays. Company policy, son." The whistle blew again, loud and shrill, and the townspeople reached a crescendo in their farewells and cheers.
"But—" Clarence desperately protested.
"Clarence!"
He whirled to find Kate and Guthrie heading toward him, and he almost felt relieved. This feeling was fleeting, however, for the train was picking up speed, and Guthrie seemed to be carrying both Kate and her luggage along. Clarence glanced back at the train, just as the passenger car passed him by. He could have easily jumped onto the step, but he wouldn't have considered leaving his friends behind. They were the only reason he was going to Boston, after all.
"Do hurry!" He beckoned. Then he caught the attention of a friendly looking fellow on the passenger car. "Here!" Pointing to his valise, he swung it up, and the fellow caught it. "I'll be back for that!" He ran to his friends. "Is this it?" He reached for the suitcase.
"Uh-yes, sir," Guthrie said. "These are Kate's belongings. All that we have is in your valise."
Kate struggled to keep up in her dress, and Guthrie had her around the middle, her feet barely making contact with the ground as he helped her along. Clarence took the suitcase and charged after the train, finding the same fellow who'd caught his bag, now with a very intrigued look on his face.
"Here!" With all his might, Clarence heaved it upward.
"Got it!" the kind fellow grunted, catching it with both hands and straining to haul it into the car.
Clarence kept pace with the caboose, glancing over his shoulder every other moment to check on Guthrie and Kate's progress. The train continued to pick up speed, and as the passenger car pulled ahead, their destination became a freight car, then a coal car, and then another freight car as each one passed by in turn. Clarence wondered if they would even make it to the trailing engine.
He could not help but remember the last time he and his butler had chased after this very same train. It seemed like a lifetime ago, almost as if he had been an entirely different person. He had whined and cried at the time, so pathetic. The memory of it made him shake his head.
He was different now. Faster. Stronger. Able to survive this wild American West with only a few bumps and bruises to show for it. He couldn't help but wonder if this trip had made him more like his adventurous father.
He met Guthrie and came alongside Kate, reaching around her middle to assist.
"We'll make it, old boy!" he shouted.
Guthrie nodded. With Clarence's help, they jogged toward the trailing, rear-facing engine.
"Toss me up!" Kate cried.
Guthrie and Clarence exchanged doubtful looks.
"I can do this!" she reassured them.
"Very well." Guthrie looked over at Clarence. "On three."
They counted, keeping pace with the engine. Then they heaved her upward.
Seemingly in slow motion, she sailed through the air, her dress rippling, until her boots made contact with the steps, and she gripped the railing with both hands. Clarence whooped in triumph.
"Give me your hand, Walter!" She held out one arm and beckoned to Guthrie.
He nodded. His heart pounded fiercely, and he could tell that his body had not yet regained all of its strength. For a moment, this concerned him. But then he looked up at Kate, smiling down at him with her hand extended. His daughter. And he knew there was nothing that could ever keep him from her again.
With ease, he took a running leap and grasped her hand, landing on the step and gripping the rail to steady himself.
"Your turn, Master Clarence!" he called with a smile.
"Yes?" Clarence eyed the railing. "Quite."
Gritting his teeth with determination, he breathed a quick prayer and, without further hesitation, sprinted forward and lunged for the platform. His fingers curled around the railing, and he felt Kate and Guthrie's hands grab hold of his arms, but his legs—
"AAWWW!"
His feet slipped and he fell, boots flailing under the engine, fingers slipping from the rail. With all his might, he pulled, and his friends tugged at his arms, but there seemed to be a suction of air dragging at his legs as the train picked up speed. Slowly, an inch at a time, Guthrie hauled him upward, back to the railing, until he could regain his footing on the steps. Both Guthrie and Kate clung to him.
"Very good, sir," Guthrie said with relief. He wiped at his brow. "We made it."
They fell against the door to the vacant engine room and sat down, shoulder to shoulder, catching their breath and watching the town of Santa Fe disappear into the distance. Not one of them was really sad to see it go. As far as Guthrie was concerned, they were lucky to have escaped with their lives.