IT BEGAN TO RAIN AS THE TRAIN CLANKED AND HISSED TO A FULL HALT with the locomotive’s great skirtlike cowcatcher just twenty paces from the gap that Truslow had torn in the rails. The smoke from the high and bulbous funnel was whipped in the rainy wind toward the river. Steam hissed momentarily from a valve, then the locomotive’s two engineers were chivied out of their cab by one of Truslow’s men.

Starbuck had already returned to the bridge to shout down the news of the train to the Colonel who, standing beside the stream sixty feet below, demanded to know why the appearance of a train should delay the bridge’s destruction. Starbuck had no good answer. “Tell Hinton to come back across the bridge now!” Faulconer cupped his hands to shout the order up to Starbuck. He sounded angry. “You hear me, Nate? I want everyone back now!”

Starbuck edged past the barricade to see the engineers standing with their backs against the locomotive’s huge driving wheels. Captain Hinton was talking to them, but turned as Starbuck approached. “Why don’t you go and help Truslow, Nate? He’s working his way forward from the caboose.”

“The Colonel wants everyone back across the bridge, sir. He sounds kind of urgent.”

“You go and tell Truslow that,” Hinton suggested. “And I’ll wait for you here.” The hissing locomotive smelt of woodsmoke, soot and oil. It had a brass-edged nameplate above the forward driving wheel with the name “Swiftsure” cast into the metal. Behind the locomotive was a tender stacked high with cordwood, and beyond the tender four passenger cars, a boxcar and the caboose. Truslow had men inside each car to keep the passengers docile while he went to deal with the guards in the caboose. Those guards had locked themselves in and, as Starbuck started down beside the stalled train, Truslow put his first shots through the caboose’s side.

Some women passengers screamed at the sound of the gunshots. “Use your gun if anyone gives you trouble!” Hinton shouted after Starbuck.