Dolly took a deep breath and patted the throttle handle. Clearly solidifying herself to something in her mind. Angel decided to leave the commentary there. But she felt a glowing curiosity in why her companion was suddenly interested. The reverberations as the locomotive crossed a short bridge filled the cab, alerting the crew to where they were.
Knowing that they would need to start slowing down for a sharp curve ahead just before the downgrade dipped sharply, the dalmatian turned her attention to the brass handle, where she began to squeeze on the brakes. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Just a very slow wheeze of air. The train's speed barely changed. Ice on the shoes and rigging were no doubt decreasing its effectiveness. Promptly, Dolly wound the brake on more. It took a little extra time for the frost stiffened air valves under each car to loosen up and for the friction of wheel and brake-shoe to burn off the ice and moisture. The slack rolled out as the couplings went taught, and the train slowed somewhat belatedly.
“I don't like that at all!” Dolly said nervously. “That's almost all the air, not much further to go...and she's barely slowing down. Do you think all the cars are braking?”
Angel leaned out the cab and looked back over the train again. Among the clatter of wheels on rails, she could hear a faint tubular moan as the wind passed over the chimes of a circus calliope loaded on a car directly behind the locomotive. “The inspector cleared us during the test back at Marceline, and the slacks out...” She paused, eyes narrowing as she peered closer at the rocking cars. “or at least, it's out behind the tender.”
Dolly shook her head, her tail 'wapping' on the seat. Angel could see she was getting uneasy, and she could almost see the decision making process behind those big soft eyes as Dolly seemingly debated within herself on what to do. Responsibility was getting her down perhaps. A responsibility that Angel was feeling herself as she looked back over the length of the Benzini Bros and Medici Family Circus. It wasn't only the two dogs in the cab who would be in jeopardy. Only god knew how many lives back there were depending on them to make the right choices.
Ahead, the rails were thickly coated and a shower of ice chips rose from under the J. Kayce Jr.'s pilot on each side. The leading wheels cut through the frost and towards the steel as they charged down the twisting grade towards the Tweed farm. Dolly kept a wary eye on the brake pressure gauge. There would be no air to waste under these conditions. This was a tough game for an experienced engineer, and Angel could see that the spottie was measuring herself up to the challenge. It would require all their air, and perhaps some skill on her part, to hold the train to a safe speed without exhausting the brakes. The pom was starting to share some of the engineer's uneasiness. Suppose they messed up...
Excerpt from "Though Hell Shall Bar The Way."
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3 years, 4 months ago
19 May 2022 21:08 CEST
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