“Why don’t you start and end with them while I just take my seat? I wasn’t really part of any of this.”

“Either give me some ID or I radio ahead for the cops who’ll be waiting at the next stop.” He pointed to the young men. “You too.”

The quarterback gave a groan and spit up some blood.

“He needs some medical attention,” Stone said quickly. He knelt next to the young man and put a hand on his shoulder, only to have it thrown off.

“I don’t need any damn help from the likes of you!”

Stone rose and said to the conductor, “I think we need to call in a doctor.”

“If he wants medical attention, we’ll get it, but I’m still waiting for your ID, sir,” the Amtrak man said stubbornly.

He just isn’t going to give up, is he?

“I’m getting off this damn train at the next stop,” said the quarterback. He rose on shaky legs.

“That’s fine. You can all get off as far as I’m concerned,” the conductor said.

“What is the next stop?” said Stone.

The man told him. “And you either show me some ID or I radio for the police.”

Stone thought for a moment. “How about I get off the train at the next stop too?”

“Works for me,” said the conductor, staring at him intently. Stone did not like the look on the man’s face; it was full of suspicion.

The conductor pointed at the young men lying on the floor. “Now all you get back in your damn seats and stay there or else you’re going to jail, and I mean what I say.”

The beefy kid Stone had pounded first wailed, “What if I want to press charges against this son of a bitch?” He pointed at Stone.

The conductor said, “Fine, and then that feller”—he pointed at the quarterback—“can press charges against you. And this man,” he added, indicating Stone, “can press charges against you too and your buddies, because what I’m hearing from all the other passengers is that you came after him first. So what’s it gonna be, mister bloody nose?”

Beefy’s cheeks quivered. “Screw it, just forget it.”

“Smartest thing to come out of your mouth yet. And next time you want to brawl just make sure it’s not on my train. You don’t want to mess with Amtrak, sonny boy.” The conductor turned and stalked off.

Stone retook his seat, inwardly fuming. Why the hell had he gotten involved? Now he’d lost his ride.

The woman next to him leaned over and said, “You sure were brave to do what you did. Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Boy Scouts,” Stone said absently.

Her eyes widened. “Boy Scouts? You’re kidding?”

“The Scouts were a lot tougher in my day, ma’am.”