The Last Train to Pinkeyville

Doug Donnan

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

(Western)

"The Last Train to Pinkneyville" 

by

Doug Donnan

[ Pinkneyville Texas / 1883 ]

"It's just what I heard sheriff that's all," Queeg proclaimed with a panting exasperation as he rubbed a frayed gingham cotton cuff

across the tin deputy's badge pinned to his vest. "And that's straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

"That particular horse being Latimer Burlhammer down at the train station... hmm?" Sheriff Gaines interjected with a thoughtful,

finger tip massage of his furrowed brow. Just before this impromptu declaration of doom by his skittish deputy he had been reflecting

over the meritorious commendation for twenty years of devoted service as sheriff of Pinkneyville he had received only yesterday from

the redoutable Mayor Finch and the rather sordid members of the town council.       

"Yes sir the very same. That ol' fool at the depot told me in no uncertain terms that both of the damn Saffron brothers are comin' in

on the 3:05... this afternoon. Man oh man if there's any damn truth in it, all hell's a headin' our way. Don't you think sheriff?"

"Yep, I recon' it just ain't gonna wait for us to head on down to it," Gaines replied as he studied the various rifles and weapons he had

leaning in the wooden rack on the jailhouse wall. "I figure it must have everything to do with the way I handled things with those boys pappy

Cornell Saffron way back in my weaning years as sheriff here. I was obligated to show him a few official government documents that

declared his stake of claim to property was rendered insolvent. He had to git, and he wasn't at all pleased about it. I can tell you

'that' for a court sworn Bible fact."

Outside, as the sun was just peeking over the jagged rooftops of Pinkneyville's meager shops and services, local residents were

beginning to flit and flutter about. Gaines pulled a sturdy Winchester lever action carbine free. He meticulously checked its action and

lengthy blue-black muzzle. Satisfied, he turned about and stared out the jailhouse front window pane at all the comings and goings. He

held the gun at a kind of port-ready position out in front of himself as if he might be standing sentinel atop the catwalk of some long

forgotten military installation or abandoned fort.

"What are you... aimin'... to do now sheriff?" Queeg tried with a stammering respect.

"I recon' me and you are gonna go for a little stroll around town 'Deputy' Queeg?"

"Uh, yes sir. Queeg paled in reply. "I'll just... get my... hat."

"Go on ahead and fetch that scatter gun off the rack. There's some shotgun shells in the top drawer of my desk. Grab a fistful of

them too," Gaines said without turning to face his slightly trembling deputy. "We'll just have us a look-see into this Saffron brothers

business."

*     *     *

( 12:00/Noon)

"There's nothing to fret about Mrs. Broadbeem. We'll handle the whole matter in a neat and orderly way," Gaines explained as he

stood there in front of Wheatleys Feed & Grain trying to allay the apprehensions of one of Pinkneyville's most renowned busybodies.

"Then why the rifle sheriff... hmm?" she puckered in reply. "You don't usually carry such thing as 'that' around town here. I just bet

my Easter Sunday bonnet it has something to do with those two ornery Saffron boys coming back here... hmm?"

Two hmms was two too many out of this old crone Gaines thought to himself. This woman might start a stampede of fear running

through the whole town. This would 'not' help him in the slightest bit. He decided then and there that he had better nip this right in the

bud before it got too far out of hand.

"Well mam, and I offer this to you with all due respect as a humble servant of the entire township here,  you or any of

our other devoted citizens needn't have concerns or worries about matters of this nature," Gaines declared confidently as he tipped

his ten gallon tan Stetson and smiled a toothy grin. "I have been dutifully elected by the fair and law-abiding citizens of Pinkneyville 

as your town sheriff and I am sworn to protect you all. And 'that' is just exactly what I aim to do."

Mrs. Broadbeem stiffened up a bit at this resolute declaration by the now retreating sheriff. Her red rose painted mouth formed into a

tiny hole not unlike the circular entrance to some vacant front porch birdhouse. She clutched her dog-eared Bible to her breast as she

watched him strut across the dry dirt and straw strewn Mainstreet to link up with his entrusted back-up man one Deputy Valentine

(Val) Queeg.

"Oh I see... well alrighty then. But do be... careful," she called after him as if now in some type of quandary. "Good day sheriff."

*     *     *

[ 1:00 o'clock ]

"What's the plan again Cody Jo?" Curley Saffron asked partly out of apprehensive excitement and partly out of sheer

boredom as they sat there side by side on one of the wooden benches of the shaky train's passenger car.

"It hasn't changed one little bit since the last time you asked me twenty minutes ago little brother," Cody Jo replied

without even looking away from the shaded window he was staring out of. "We're goin' into that damn half-ass town and

settle up the score with that all high and mighty lawman Gaines. He's got him another think comin' ifn' he thinks he's gonna

get away pretty as you please with what he done to our Pa way back then. Hellfire we was just knee-high kids when we had to

cut and run. That probably is just what led to Pa's early demise. That and all the whisky drinkin'. Hell he was only seventy year

old or so! That som' bitch Gaines will rue the day he done messed with us Saffrons."

"We's got but three stops comin' along up ahead ya'll," the old black conductor announced from his central position at the top of the

rickety tiki-ta-tak, tiki-ta-tik Pullman car. "La Conchita... Rio Playa... and the last and final stop is 'Pinkneyville'. We'll set a

spell there for locomotive wood and water and then we head on south to El Paso." The conductor tipped his blue sky cap to nobody

in particular amongst the few passengers that were seated there in the coach, and then ambled down the shaking aisle for the caboose.  

*     *     *

[ 2:00 o'clock ]

It was inevitable. Once the Saffron brother's cat got out of the bag it was everywhere in and around the confines of tiny Pinkneyville.

Latimer Burlhammer started the fire and Mrs. Broadbeam was undoubtedly the one who fanned it up into a blaze. The ominous news

was everywhere now.

"Afternoon sheriff," Mayor Finch called out as he chugged across the street in a waddling effort to catch up to the high striding

Gaines. Finch was a rotund little fellow with pigeon-toed narrow black boots that had more business being on a much taller man.

His peacockish gold silk vest was barely buttoned across the breadth of his pushing paunch. He wore a flattish tan catalog hat that he

had shipped in special from St. Louis. It sat atop his head like some sort of overbaked sweet pie or cake.

"Oh hello mayor," Gaines rolled his eyes and then turned around just there in the middle of the street. A supply wagon rolled slowly by

and the driver tipped his hat to the mayor, but didn't even acknowledge the rifleman with the badge. Gaines wasn't caught off guard by

this rather rude snubbing. He shook his head a bit in consternation though. "What's on your mind?"

"Well... frankly... sheriff," he wheezed trying to collect his wind, "it's about this... Saffron brothers matter."

"And just what about this 'matter' mayor," Gaines replied as he set the Winchester's stock butt down by the side of his long Levi leg.

"Well I don't rightly know... just where... to begin."

"Why not start at the beginning then mayor? That always seems to work best for me." Gaines shook his head slightly.

"Yes, yes I suppose so," Finch more or less pondered. "Well, the word around town here is that these boys have a bone to pick with

you. Regarding something to do with their dear departed parent. Now I've only been mayor here in Pinkneyville for a little over two

years. My roots are in Missouri. However, older folks around here say they distinctly remember your eviction affair with a homesteader

by the name of Corny Saffron way back when. Does 'that' ring a bell with you now sheriff?"

Gaines studied down for a second on this squinting little stub of a mayor. That old nosy ass bitch Broadbeem had managed to get right

to the top of the town in no short order. Somewhere the devil himself is smiling at all this the hapless sheriff mused. He now felt like a

tomcat trapped by a house mouse.

"Some folks are simply incapable of forgeting anything that is none of their concern mayor," Gaines replied matter of factly. "However,

if the truth be told, yes I'm reasonably certain that these two boys aren't comin' back here just to visit old acquaintances. There could be

trouble of some kind, but I'm reasonably certain me and my deputy can handle whatever crops up. Fair enough?"

"Well, I just hope that's so sheriff because we can't really afford to have any kind of rabble rousers or outside troublemakers in our

community. We have garnered a rather respectable reputation here in Pinkneyville since I took offic... I mean over the recent years.

I would like to keep it that way 'if' you know what I mean."

Gaines had extreme difficulty fighting back a smirk. He stepped up a little closer to the pocket-watch-checking little mayor. He peered

down and in close with his laser blue eyes from just beneath the brim of his sturdy black Stetson.

"I think I fairly understand 'you' mayor," he responded in an affront with heavy emphasis. "But let's get things settled up between us

right here and now smack dab in the middle of Mainstreet. I'm sworn to serve and protect the likes of you and all these other folks," he

used his gloved right, rifle-less hand to sweep a finger all around and about Pinkneyville as shop owners and residents alike prematurely

locked up their respective doors and the shutthered windows, "and as I informed the overly inquisitive Mrs. Broadbeem only an hour or so

ago, 'that's' just exactly what I aim to do... comprende-vu?" he closed confidently as he partly raised up the muzzle of the daunting, but

currently docile Winchester.

"Oh, and by the by mayor," Gaines flippantly tossed over his shoulder as he strode off to link up with the waiting, shotgun toting Deputy

Queeg, "Thank you so much for the heartfelt commendation and handshake the other day... it 'had' meant a lot to me."

*     *     *

[ 2:30 ]

"The train is 'always' on time sheriff," Burlhammer declared from inside his little iron barred depot ticket and telegraph cage.

"I been here at the Pinkneyville train station every bit of ten years now, and I cain't never recall her comin' down the track even one little

minute late, 'cept for that damn mail robbery we had back in '78."

Sheriff Gaines stood there for a moment studying the wiry little octogenarian with his silvered wire rim spectacles, green film visor and puffy

white elastic arm sleeve garters. Gaines had decided to see if this little fellow might 'voluntarilly' offer up any more information on his own

regarding the impending, ominous arrival of the two Saffron brothers. He would allow him a minute or so. There was still time... but not much.

"Okay Burlhammer here's the deal," Gaines said as he re-pocketed his timepiece. He stepped right back up to the center of the cage's

iron bar window. "What else do you know about this Saffron brothers business besides the fact that they're comin' in on the 3:05? Give

me both barrels of what you know... or think. You've been around this town longer than most of the damn buildings."

"Well sheriff," Burlhammer rotated away from his piddling around at the telegraph table. "I think that these two boys mean to find you

out and have at it with you, but I recon' you got that feelin' inside you already. Now if your askin' me what I think 'you' should do about

it I can only say this much. "Those boys pappy was no good anyways, inside or out. Corny Saffron was a no-account, drunken troublemaker

and that's just a natural fact. You ask anybody who 'really' remembers what happened to him out on his scraggly claim and they'll say he

done got 'exactly' what was comin' to him by the U.S. Government and yourself. Hell, all you done was deliver the bad eviction news

to him up close and official. You was just doin' your damn job. There are still quite a few law abidin'folks, even though they're older now,

who'd back you up on all this sheriff and you can take 'that' right to Mr. Hodgkin's little Bank of Pinkneyville over in town."

This candid summation by the old Depot Master took Gaines quite off guard as he stood there slightly embarassed in the dim light. He

felt almost redeemed perhaps applauded might be a better word at this shoot-from-the-hip appraisal of the whole Saffron matter.

"I see," is all that the sheriff could come up with.

He turned to and slowly walked outside onto the plank and clapboard depot loading dock, still holding the waiting Winchester barrel down

at his lanky thigh.

*     *     *

[ 3: 00 ]                               

Off in the distance down the train tracks the vigilant twosome of Sheriff Jim Gaines and Deputy Valentine Queeg could both detect the

incoming train's cumulus cloud of smoke as it rose high into the asure sky just around the rolling peaks of the rolling tops of the Los

Marquito's Mountain range. The shrill double blast of the engineer's whistle was daunting at best. They stood there, side by side, stoic

but decidedly apprehensive as they watched and waited.

The 3:05 was comin' down the tracks.

But just then:

"Well, lookey there sheriff!" Queeg declared as he caught some movement, activity behind them on the dirt road that lead up to the little post

and beam train station. "Now how 'bout them apples!"

Coming towards the two armed lawmen was a rather sizeable throng of Pinkneyvillians. Some were atop their Sunday buckboards, but most

were on foot walking with a steadfast and determined purpose. The Bible toting Mrs. Broadbeem and the fully vested (with pocketed golden

watch fob and chain) bank chairman Mr. Hodgkins appeared to be leading the way of the self-sacrificing town peacekeepers. They had very

soon gathered themselves in a spreading half-circle just behind the now owl-eyed sheriff and his shocked deputy. The lockjawed townies were

not armed, but they meant business.

"We're 'all' behind you sheriff!" the resolute Mayor Finch called out as he looked around at the all the faces for full effect. 

"Stick to your guns sheriff... the Lord helps those who help themselves," Mrs. Broadbeem declared from her stalwart position just there at

his elbow.

A proud, tingling shiver spread throughout Sheriff Gaines from boot tip to Stetson hat brim. He held his rifle rather low, but his chin much

higher as the burly, puffing locomotive with its singular passenger car and mail-carrying caboose slowly chugged up to the Pinkneyville stop.

It was exactly 3:05.

*     *     *

"You two gentlemen can go on ahead and get out and stretch your legs if you have a mind," the hulking conductor more or less whispered as

he leaned over the two Saffron brothers with a big gold toothed smile. It was as if he knew exactly what was going on on both inside and

outside his train car. "Pinkneyville ain't much to see, but it's a nice little town. Folks here is mighty proud of what they got and fairly do

aim to keep it thata'way. Unless you'd just rather stay on board comfortably and go on off with us to ol' El Paso... hmm?"

The two brothers were ogling out the car's square of window there just to their left. The sight of the crowd and the spread legged sheriff with

the gleaming Winchester rifle was both daunting and debilitating to say the least. Curley took a dry gulp as he switched his wide-eyed gaze

over at his tight fisted brother Cody Jo.

"I recon will be headin' down to El Paso with ya then mister," Cody Jo replied as he unfurled his hands and turned to face the now satisfied

conductor. "I  think that's just 'exactly' what we aim to do... now."

_____ The End _____