The train car was full of quiet but disheved young men, quietly reading or snoozing amid the peaceful clickety-clack, clackety-clack of the train. They all looked similar, except one man, appearing to be in his mid-twenties, who was well-dressed and well groomed, yet coated in a fine layer of unidentifiable grime. However, as he was seated in a corner seat while staring blankly out of the window, nobody noticed him much.
One man yawned, and then another. The late afternoon sun glinted with golden rays across the train car, making the faded red cushioned train seats look bright once more, and time seemed still.
Suddenly, there was a series of clinking and squeaking sounds outside one of the doors. Everyone looked up and attentively looked at the door, with some men placing hands on their holsters.
One more loud squeak and then door to the room violently swung open, and a youth with long and wild blonde hair tumbled in and nearly fell to the ground. He was followed by a train attendant, who was holding and peering at his pocket watch with an air of thinly veiled disdain. The attendant took a sharp breath in and shut his watch with a vengeance. He looked up and coldly stared at the wall on the other side of the train. “This is your train car, please remain in it and under no circumstances are you to wander the train – food will arrive shortly – no more shenanigans will be permitted. Good day.”
The attendant turned back without so much as making eye contact with anyone in the train car, and spitefully clicked the door shut behind himself.
The blonde lad, who looked to be about fifteen, turned his head away from the closed door and slowly took in the room full of men who had become very still, and were all staring at him. The lad straightened himself up, grinned, and with his chin lifted high, announced, “My name’s James Thistle ’round these parts. Pleasure to meet you all.” James scanned the room for approval, and observed a wide array of indifferent and bemused nods. However, the man in the corner didn’t take his eyes off the window.
James Thistle sauntered over to the corner and plunked himself down in the seat in front of the man staring out the window. “What’s your name, sir?”
The man in the corner breifly locked eyes with Thistle, with a lifeless and guarded stare. Then he looked back out the window, and uttered one word: “Dusty.”
“That’s a good name,” Thistle grinned hopefully at Dusty, hoping for a response. He recieved none. Thistle’s smile faded, and he rose from his seat, and looked around. Several of the other men quickly glanced away, while some were asleep still.
But from the other side of the train, a man with a gold tooth and a scraggly beard grinned at Thistle, and motioned for Thistle to approach. James Thistle smiled and nodded, and walked over to the man with the golden tooth, and extended his arm for a handshake.
“What’s your name?”
The man with the gold tooth laughed. “How many people ye shot so far, why don’t ye tell me that?
The lad’s face fell. “None yet. But I know who I’m after — and it’s a matter of honor that I get ’em.” He looked at his boots for a moment, then stared boldly into the gold-toothed man’s eyes. “I’m certain I’ll succeed.”
The gold toothed man’s eyes lit up with derision, and he heaved a hoarse and gargled laugh. “James my boy, you’ve barely been walking untied from your mother’s apron strings! Oh ho ho.” He wiped an eye. “You poor waif, only weaned last Easter –”
Many other men in the room chucked, and Thistle’s face was bright red. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Dusty called from across the room.
“Shet up, Howard, ye doddering scold.”
Howard, the gold toothed man, fell silent, and glared at Dusty, who in turn stared back lifelessly until howard sneered and went back to his game of checkers.
Dusty turned to Thistle, nodded briefly, and then motioned with a tilt of his head toward the seat across the table from himself. Hesitantly, Thistle walked over and slowly slid into the seat.
There was an awkward silence for a moment. Dusty sighed deeply, glanced out the window, and then looked intently into Thistle’s eyes. Thistle, somewhat disoriented, waited.
Thistle shook his head, placed his arms on th table, and leaned in. “My boy,” Dusty said slowly in a low voice, “if it’s joining the Grimes you’re after, you’ll need a little more than honor… or less, depending who you ask on this godforsaken train.”
Thistle still said nothing, and leaned back slowly while staring back with a furrowed brow and folded arms.
The train continued to clickety-clack away though the orange light of the lowering sun. Dusty sighed, and then bowed down, studying his own dirty fingernails with a mixture of apathy and deep thought.
Then on of the door to the train car squeaked and swung open, and an attendant came in with a covered silver platter. The men in the cabin cheered, and unnoticed by anyone else, a wry smile briefly snuck across Dusty’s face, only to fade back into a weary calm.
Leave a Reply