The Railroad Mystery

Written by Moe Zilla, Published on 12/3/2008, Re-published on 5/19/2010

Gabby was trying to sleep. He positioned his chair at the center of a morning ray of sun, tucked his spectacles into his faded overalls and started to close his eyes. He'd just eaten his breakfast of cold beans, and washed red dribbles of sauce from his long, white beard. He slouched lazily into the wobbly chair outside the train depot when his hound dog began to bark at a nearby tree.

Gabby woke later that afternoon, puzzled — his dog was barking again. He squinted to see if he could spot smoke rising over the edge of the mountain. Normally, the locomotives would come around the mountain, and before he’d see the engines he’d watch white puffs of smoke rising up in the sky. Gabby couldn’t see the white smoke rising. And his dog wasn't barking at a coming train.

His dog was barking at a robber.

Violent hoofbeats struck the dirt trail that ran along the tracks. Hunched over a horse's neck, a rider furiously spurred the animal in a reckless gallop. "Yah! Yah!" he shouted, as the horse rushed past the train depot. Gabby reached for his spectacles, but by the time he'd put them on, the rider's voice was fading off into the distance. "Faster, faster! We've got to get away!"

Gabby was startled by the loud chugging rhythm that was building up behind him. While the thief rushed by, the train that he'd robbed was coming into the depot. The tremendous chugging was powering long pistons, turning the wheels below the engine. As the steam and smoke spewed into the sky, it reminded Gabby of the celebration they'd had when the first train arrived at the depot back in 1897.

But now trains were so commonplace, and people were figuring out ways to rob them. A frantic man jumped from the cart before the train had come to a stop. "Which way did he go?" the man demanded of Gabby.

"He went that-away," Gabby said casually, pointing towards the woods.

* * *

If anyone is responsible for the robbery, it’s me, the young engineer told himself. A Pinkerton detective had offered to protect the passengers, but the engineer declined the offer. His route was too remote to be targeted by robbers – or so he thought.

The train had moved gracefully through the forest, across the trestle bridge and up the mountain, and as the passengers admired the passing scenery, they were interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. The thief had mounted the top of the train, and tied a rope near the side of the car. He'd jumped over the edge of the passenger car and kicked his boots against the glass window. Breaking through to the inside, he pulled out his revolver to frighten the passengers into compliance.

"Watches, jewelry, and wallets," the train robber snarled, as he held out a loose burlap bag, pointing his gun at each passenger. A red bandana hid his face up to his forehead, and when the train slowed to approach the depot, the mysterious robber had leapt from the car to mount the horse waiting for his getaway.

But where was the robber now? An investigation revealed that the thief's horse was calmly eating leaves near the tracks. The thief had abandoned the horse to hide out in the woods. The engineer didn't know a soul in the town, and now the town was counting on his crew to catch the criminal. The thief could easily make his getaway in the night. If they couldn't find him soon, all of the valuables he'd stolen would vanish along with him.

* * *

Back at the depot, a skeptical reporter was interviewing the passengers.

"Our lives were in danger!" whined a skinny minister.

"He knocked glass into my hat!" his wife complained.

"And he was nearly seven feet tall!" explained one overweight storekeeper. "I would've tackled him myself, but a monster that size would've obviously resisted my attacks."

The sheriff motioned to the reporter to join him by the corner of the shack. "So you're looking for a man who's also part monster?" the reporter teased. The sheriff snorted in derision, but didn't say a word. He just motioned up the track to a tall aspen tree.

"The horse was tethered to that tree," he said solemnly. "It was waiting for the train to come by."

The reporter considered this new information. The train had been traveling since dawn all the way from Denver — nearly 300 miles. But how had the thief known that the train would slow again for the depot, and how had he arranged for a horse to be waiting nearby?

"It could've been one of us," the sheriff said sternly.

* * *

As darkness filled the sky, a winded mechanic huffed back to the depot. "It's no use," he said sadly. But he was startled to see a crowd of people at the depot, grumbling like an angry mob.

The robbery meant bad times for a town that was already having trouble earning money. The railroad was bringing them fewer passengers, since another rail line now traveled straight through the mountain using a new tunnel. Fewer passengers meant fewer customers for the grand hotel downtown, which meant fewer people buying food at the restaurant. The local farmer had to auction off his prized livestock — and already his workers were worrying about getting paid.

The sheriff was worried, since the crowd of people made it impossible to tell who had exited the train when it arrived at the depot. The reporter watched intently, jotting details of the scene. "I apologize to everyone in this town," the engineer interrupted quickly.

"Word is you turned down an escort by the Pinkerton detectives," the sheriff said with intrigue. "How do we know you didn't commit the robbery yourself?"

"Maybe you had an accomplish tie a horse for you at that tree!" an angry farmer shouted.

"Or maybe you robbed the train," the sheriff shot back at the farmer. "Where's your proof that you didn't? Where were you when the train was robbed?"

"I've been working my crops since sunrise," the farmer said angrily. "I even had to send my farmhand, Zebediah, into town this morning to buy me a new axe head — because I was too busy with the plow!"

"I'll vouch for that," said Zebediah, a tall, gangly man.

"I still say it was the engineer!" shouted a voice in the crowd.

"Maybe his mechanic robbed the passengers while the engineer was driving the train!"

Standing beside the train's engine, the mechanic froze with fear. He'd always been a little uncomfortable around strangers, since he had a strange birthmark on his forehead. It always seemed as though people were staring right through him.

"He could take off his bandana, and then circle back to pretend he was chasing the thief!" a voice shouted from the crowd. The sheriff's eyes scanned the mob searching for the speaker, when he stopped at a strange face. The suspicious man had a strange stare that was cold and unfriendly, like an animal trapped by a prowling mountain lion.

"When did you pull into our town," the sheriff asked cautiously.

They'd never met him before, but they recognized his face – his features had appeared on over one thousand wanted posters.

"It's Alvarado, the famous train robber!" shouted the farmer.

"I saw him ride into town this afternoon," the reporter whispered to the sheriff. "That would give him plenty of time to set his horse in place, and then jump on the train."

Alvarado prepared to fight as the crowd surged forward with rage. Then, a pistol fired off into the night. The crowd turned to see the sheriff, looking determined and proud.

"Alvarado's done his time," he said, "and now he's innocent until he's proven guilty."

"Where's the stuff you stole?" a voice demanded.

"I know who robbed the train," said a voice.

The crowd turned to see Gabby, the old man who tended the station. There was a moment of silence, and the crowd began to laugh at him.

"Gabby," the sheriff said with desperation, "do you know the truth? I can only stop the crowd from turning violent if I can find the guilty man."

"I didn't see the robber," said Gabby, "but I sat right here as he rode his horse on past me."

"And after listening to you folks talk, I've figured out who was on that horse."