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Description
The fireman cracked his eyelids a little. He found himself surrounded by a blurry, waving brown void; a tent in reality. He shifted as to sit up, but he moved to suddenly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his head.
He winced in pain. When the ache subsided, he sat up on his bed, and he began to hear some voices outside.
“He doesn’t seem to have suffered any serious trauma, most of the stress was located in the spine, which fortunately wasn’t broken. However, I did have to stitch up a place where he was struck.” Roger touched his forehead, and he felt a thread weaving in and out of his skin. He gagged a little at the thought of what it would look like in a mirror.
“Do you think he’ll be okay doctor?” said a voice from outside.
“He’ll have to take it easy for a week, however, a seizure is still very likely. When he gets back to work, make sure he only does light jobs, and keep him away from anything that might cause a jolt.”
“So is it permanent?” said the other voice.
The doctor sighed, “Possibly, but if things are on the up and up, he should be back on his feet by next weekend. But, if he shows even the slightest sign of a seizure, I urge you to bring him to the hospital as soon as possible.”
“I’ll notify his boss as soon as I can. Well, you three wanted to see him, so go in if you like, but if he’s still sleeping, please leave him be. In the meantime, I’m going to my quarters. I have some important matters to take care of.”
From in his tent, Roger saw the tent flaps being opened, and two men climbed inside. The first was of a shorter stature, and as skinny as a rail. The second was much taller by comparison, and much bulkier in terms of muscle. In his right hand, a brakeman’s hickey, which he was using as a cane. Still, Roger was pleasantly surprised by his visitors.
“Hey Tom!” said the shorter one, revealing his Scottish accent to Roger, “Are yeh comin’ or what?”
“Oh, alright. I’m-a comin’.” said someone from outside. The tent flaps opened up again, and a third man climbed through. Roger’s eyes narrowed a little, for this one was different from the other two.
“What’s that negro doing in here?” he said. That sentence was something he was very quickly going to regret. Those few little words seemed to light a fuse in the taller one, because before Roger knew it, he was being held up in the air by only his shirt collar, with a bloodshot-eyed brakeman staring him right in the face.
“Now you listen here you reprobate! He is a man! Not a negro, not a darky…”(he went on to say a few more choice words that I’m too much of a wimp to repeat) “...He is a man ya’ hear?! A MAN!! A man who ain’t done anybody wrong, and yet constantly thrown into the grinder because of what he is! I couldn’t possibly care less about your little bump on the head, ‘cause yer’ no better than anyone else on this God-forsaken Earth!”
“That’s enough Johnson!” said Tom. “You know full well that you would’ve said the same if it weren’t for your circumstances! Now put him down.”
“Dag, that Tom!” Johnson said under his breath. “Can’t keep his mouth shut fer nothin’!” Johnson held the fireman up in the air a little while longer, glaring sharp, iron daggers into his face. However, after some more coaxing from the smaller one, Johnson dropped him. The jar from the landing started up another headache, in which Roger curled up, and moaned in pain.
“Oh! Now look what you’ve done!” said the short man.
“Hmph! If he tries that again, I’ll twist his head so far around his spine ‘ll be lodged in his stomach!”
Judging from his muscles, and his temper, Roger could tell this likely wasn’t a bluff.
“Oh shush! You alright bud?” Tom said, giving Roger a hand up.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Roger, “I’ve felt worse.” He was rather befuddled by this man. Roger had directly insulted him, and when someone came to stand up for him, he just told him to lay off.
“It’s just that I…uh...I, don’t know what to say.”
“It’s fine, really it is,” said Tom, in a calming voice. “I’m used to it by now, so no harm done.”
Roger was utterly speechless. The short one, who had yet to be introduced, broke the silence.
“Well, with that nonsense out of the way, let’s introduce ourselves, shall we? My name is Murdoch. Murdoch MacHartley that is. And as for those two…”
“Johnson Huxley.” hissed the tall one.
“And I think you already know my name,” said Tom.
“And you’re Roger I presume?” said Murdoch.
“Mm-hmm. Roger Gads in full.”
Murdoch chuckled, “Well, now that we’re acquainted, how about you tell us a little bit about yourself? Eh, Mr. Gads?”
At this point, Roger just wanted to go back to sleep, but seeing as these men had come just to visit him, he might as well be polite.
“I’m a fireman for the Rio Grande. While I do consider myself good at my trade, I don’t have much to show for it.”
Douglas and Tom leaned in a little closer, but Johnson stayed in his little corner, puffing on his pipe.
“No wife, no kids, no personal belongings, and I live in a cheap apartment building for Pete's Sake! And that Ted doesn’t make things any better for me.”
“Ted’s your engineer ain’t he?” said Tom.
“Yes actually. Though, before he started taking to the bottle, he and I used to be good pals.”
The three men grew more interested but weren’t surprised.
“Yep, he was the best darn guy I knew. Though he started taking to the bottle after his wife left him, and things kind of fell apart from there. That new amendment didn’t make things much better either. Started gettin’ it from the local moonshiners, and from what I’ve seen, they make some strong stuff. And, long story short, he started getting abusive in these last few months, and after one little accident, I wake up here.”
Roger hoped his story would satisfy the three so they’d leave and give him some peace, what he got instead was unwanted sympathy. Murdoch put his hand on Roger’s shoulder.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve been through quite a bit. Of course, we’ve had our fair share of struggles to you see.”
Roger had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get any sleep anytime soon, but he said nothing.
“I used to be an engine driver for the Caledonian Railway, but it was closed down a while back. I had a hard time finding work, and I was pretty much broke by the end of the year. A friend of mine helped me come here, and my travels brought me down to Texas, where I answered an ad looking for abled railwaymen. Ya’ wanna guess who put up that ad?”
Roger rolled his eyes, “Hanks?”
“Precisely!” exclaimed Murdoch. “And he even let me keep my old engine driver’s uniform.”
“Uniform?” questioned Roger. “Why would an engineer need a uniform? What’s the point?! By the end of the day, your just gonna be covered in grease!”
Murdoch laughed at Roger’s inquiry. He knew how Americans ran their engines quite differently than in the United Kingdom, and he loved poking fun at it.
“Well, unlike you Yanks, we like doing our jobs in style!”
Tom, as easily to amuse as he was, spluttered with uncontrollable laughter. Even Johnson snickered a little, but he was quick to return to his stoic self. Tom eventually settled down and was about to tell his own story, but he asked Murdoch too, under the reasoning that he was better with words.
“Giggles over there used to work for a farmer as one of his hands. He’d find every reason on Earth to chew him out and slap the dickens out of him, but Tom had a wife and two boys to feed, so he continued working for him anyway, at least until one day. That old bugger had a grudge on him for a reason that Tom never could figure out. Anyway, he accused Tom of a crime he didn’t commit, and they had him in jail for sixty days. When he came back, he found his family was gone. A note they’d left behind said that Tom’s boss had broken into the house with his gun, and tried to kill them all, so now they had fled elsewhere. It didn’t say anything else, but considering the suspicious lack of the man roaming around, he figured they got to him first. Without a job, and without a family, Tom went on to find work at an oil field. And you wanna know who owned that oil field?”
Roger huffed impatiently, “Ya’ know? You’ve only asked the question twice, but it’s already getting repetitive. So, Hanks?”
“Nope!” Murdoch joked. “It was actually the Standard Oil Company, but they were shut down a while back, so he went to work on another oil field, and this time, it was Hanks Petroleum and Kerosene. Hanks was needing some volunteers to work on his new railway, and Tom was one of the very few who volunteers. He’s a fireman now, and a good one at that.”
Roger grinned, “Well, I suppose it’s nice to see someone else who's good with his shovel.”
“Oh no, I’m not that kind of fireman,” corrected Tom. Roger was befuddled. What could he possibly mean by, ‘I’m not that kind of fireman,’? Did he put out fires? Did he just sit around, take two-hour coffee breaks and just call himself a fireman? His question was quickly answered.
“Since Hanks runs an oil company, he figured it would be best to buy oil burning locomotives so he wouldn’t have to spend as much on fuel. All I do is sit around and control the oil valve. I know it isn’t as respectable as coal shoveling, but it’s a load off of your spine.”
With two of the three down, there was only one man left: Big John.
Both Tom, and Murdoch knew he wasn’t going to say anything about himself, ‘nor did he want them to either, so they decided to just tell Roger his name, and nothing more.
The fireman reclined against the tent wall, and silently thought for a long while. The other three got up and began to exit Roger’s tent.
“Wait,” Roger yelped. All but Johnson turned back.
“I want to work here,” he said. Suddenly, Johnson changed his mind and stormed right back inside.
“Absolutely not! The last thing we need here is a little bigot with a tragic backstory to lean on! As soon as Hanks lets you go, I’m personally gonna chuck you out of here like a javelin!”
Roger cringed a little. It wasn’t one of Johnson’s greatest threats, but he still looked as if could actually do it.
Murdoch glared at Johnson and spoke to him in a quiet, but stern tone.
“You know Johnson, you used to be far worse, but we still kept you on.”
Johnson’s red-hot eyes seemed to go ice cold after that remark. He glanced at Roger’s direction, then back to Murdoch.
“If Hanks accepts him, no matter how bigoted he is, you’d best not lay a finger on him.”
Johnson said nothing for a while, only staring into Murdoch’s glaring eyes. He finally mustered up the courage to let out a sharp, “Fine! But I’ve got my eyes on you, you hear?”
Roger nodded nervously.
Johnson went on, “What makes you want to work here anyway? You got a job, is that not good enough for you?”
Murdoch and Tom glared at Johnson, but he just ignored them. He leaned closer to Roger to make it clear he wanted an answer.
Roger thought. He knew the reason, he just couldn’t quite put it to words. The best he could come up with was, “Well, you’re the ones that took care of Ted last night aren’t you?” Murdoch nodded.
“I just figured you could use a helping hand.”
Johnson clearly wasn’t satisfied, “That’s it?! There’s more than that boy, and you’d best spit it out now!”
Roger was getting a little tired of Johnson’s temper, so he stood up, stamped over to the towering man, and snarled, “Fine! Be like that! Listen, I’m sorry about Tom over there, really I am, but I ain’t gonna take any of this from you!” Johnson took a step forward, but Roger shoved him back with full all his might.
“Now listen here,” Roger snapped, “Maybe there is a deeper reason as to why I want to work here. Maybe it’s your boss’s hospitality? Or maybe, as I said earlier, I just want to give the ones who saved my skin my thanks. What does it matter to you?”
Johnson stood silent. Tom and Murdoch watched from their corner in suspense. If Johnson started anything, they were going straight to Hanks, and it would be the end of their friendship. Instead, they were given a rather pleasant surprise. Johnson relaxed his muscles and released all tension in his body. Then, in a much kinder tone, he spoke to Roger.
“Alright, I’ll admit, maybe I’ve been a little harsh, but there’s one thing you have to think about. You said it yourself, you’re only experienced with coal, while we use oil. You won’t be much use to use unless we get someone to teach you.”
Tom was quick to jump in. “I’ll teach him. I’d consider myself a professional in my trade. Not an expert necessarily, but I oughta get you in the know in no time.”
Murdoch chimed in, “We’ll be like the three musketeers by the end of the week I’ll bet yeh’”
Roger furrowed a brow. “But there’s four of us.”
“Exactly,” Murdoch exclaimed. “You’ll be that fourth guy no one remembers.”
All four of them, especially Johnson, were completely hysterical. When they settled down, the three men of the R.R.A.R.R. all agreed to let Roger have some piece. As they were exciting, Johnson turned to face Roger.
“You know, I don’t completely trust you, not just yet, but I’ll give you this: You got guts kid. I respect that.”
With that, Johnson opened up the tent flaps, and left, without another word. Roger reclined in his cot. He didn’t know why he was so quick to make such a rash decision, but he did have a guess. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a better life here on the R.R.A. Hanks seemed a nice enough person, and his employees were more than willing to help their fellow man. So why not? Roger soon thought less and less about the matter, and promptly fell asleep.

Description
The fireman cracked his eyelids a little. He found himself surrounded by a blurry, waving brown void; a tent in reality. He shifted as to sit up, but he moved to suddenly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his head.
He winced in pain. When the ache subsided, he sat up on his bed, and he began to hear some voices outside.
“He doesn’t seem to have suffered any serious trauma, most of the stress was located in the spine, which fortunately wasn’t broken. However, I did have to stitch up a place where he was struck.” Roger touched his forehead, and he felt a thread weaving in and out of his skin. He gagged a little at the thought of what it would look like in a mirror.
“Do you think he’ll be okay doctor?” said a voice from outside.
“He’ll have to take it easy for a week, however, a seizure is still very likely. When he gets back to work, make sure he only does light jobs, and keep him away from anything that might cause a jolt.”
“So is it permanent?” said the other voice.
The doctor sighed, “Possibly, but if things are on the up and up, he should be back on his feet by next weekend. But, if he shows even the slightest sign of a seizure, I urge you to bring him to the hospital as soon as possible.”
“I’ll notify his boss as soon as I can. Well, you three wanted to see him, so go in if you like, but if he’s still sleeping, please leave him be. In the meantime, I’m going to my quarters. I have some important matters to take care of.”
From in his tent, Roger saw the tent flaps being opened, and two men climbed inside. The first was of a shorter stature, and as skinny as a rail. The second was much taller by comparison, and much bulkier in terms of muscle. In his right hand, a brakeman’s hickey, which he was using as a cane. Still, Roger was pleasantly surprised by his visitors.
“Hey Tom!” said the shorter one, revealing his Scottish accent to Roger, “Are yeh comin’ or what?”
“Oh, alright. I’m-a comin’.” said someone from outside. The tent flaps opened up again, and a third man climbed through. Roger’s eyes narrowed a little, for this one was different from the other two.
“What’s that negro doing in here?” he said. That sentence was something he was very quickly going to regret. Those few little words seemed to light a fuse in the taller one, because before Roger knew it, he was being held up in the air by only his shirt collar, with a bloodshot-eyed brakeman staring him right in the face.
“Now you listen here you reprobate! He is a man! Not a negro, not a darky…”(he went on to say a few more choice words that I’m too much of a wimp to repeat) “...He is a man ya’ hear?! A MAN!! A man who ain’t done anybody wrong, and yet constantly thrown into the grinder because of what he is! I couldn’t possibly care less about your little bump on the head, ‘cause yer’ no better than anyone else on this God-forsaken Earth!”
“That’s enough Johnson!” said Tom. “You know full well that you would’ve said the same if it weren’t for your circumstances! Now put him down.”
“Dag, that Tom!” Johnson said under his breath. “Can’t keep his mouth shut fer nothin’!” Johnson held the fireman up in the air a little while longer, glaring sharp, iron daggers into his face. However, after some more coaxing from the smaller one, Johnson dropped him. The jar from the landing started up another headache, in which Roger curled up, and moaned in pain.
“Oh! Now look what you’ve done!” said the short man.
“Hmph! If he tries that again, I’ll twist his head so far around his spine ‘ll be lodged in his stomach!”
Judging from his muscles, and his temper, Roger could tell this likely wasn’t a bluff.
“Oh shush! You alright bud?” Tom said, giving Roger a hand up.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Roger, “I’ve felt worse.” He was rather befuddled by this man. Roger had directly insulted him, and when someone came to stand up for him, he just told him to lay off.
“It’s just that I…uh...I, don’t know what to say.”
“It’s fine, really it is,” said Tom, in a calming voice. “I’m used to it by now, so no harm done.”
Roger was utterly speechless. The short one, who had yet to be introduced, broke the silence.
“Well, with that nonsense out of the way, let’s introduce ourselves, shall we? My name is Murdoch. Murdoch MacHartley that is. And as for those two…”
“Johnson Huxley.” hissed the tall one.
“And I think you already know my name,” said Tom.
“And you’re Roger I presume?” said Murdoch.
“Mm-hmm. Roger Gads in full.”
Murdoch chuckled, “Well, now that we’re acquainted, how about you tell us a little bit about yourself? Eh, Mr. Gads?”
At this point, Roger just wanted to go back to sleep, but seeing as these men had come just to visit him, he might as well be polite.
“I’m a fireman for the Rio Grande. While I do consider myself good at my trade, I don’t have much to show for it.”
Douglas and Tom leaned in a little closer, but Johnson stayed in his little corner, puffing on his pipe.
“No wife, no kids, no personal belongings, and I live in a cheap apartment building for Pete's Sake! And that Ted doesn’t make things any better for me.”
“Ted’s your engineer ain’t he?” said Tom.
“Yes actually. Though, before he started taking to the bottle, he and I used to be good pals.”
The three men grew more interested but weren’t surprised.
“Yep, he was the best darn guy I knew. Though he started taking to the bottle after his wife left him, and things kind of fell apart from there. That new amendment didn’t make things much better either. Started gettin’ it from the local moonshiners, and from what I’ve seen, they make some strong stuff. And, long story short, he started getting abusive in these last few months, and after one little accident, I wake up here.”
Roger hoped his story would satisfy the three so they’d leave and give him some peace, what he got instead was unwanted sympathy. Murdoch put his hand on Roger’s shoulder.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve been through quite a bit. Of course, we’ve had our fair share of struggles to you see.”
Roger had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get any sleep anytime soon, but he said nothing.
“I used to be an engine driver for the Caledonian Railway, but it was closed down a while back. I had a hard time finding work, and I was pretty much broke by the end of the year. A friend of mine helped me come here, and my travels brought me down to Texas, where I answered an ad looking for abled railwaymen. Ya’ wanna guess who put up that ad?”
Roger rolled his eyes, “Hanks?”
“Precisely!” exclaimed Murdoch. “And he even let me keep my old engine driver’s uniform.”
“Uniform?” questioned Roger. “Why would an engineer need a uniform? What’s the point?! By the end of the day, your just gonna be covered in grease!”
Murdoch laughed at Roger’s inquiry. He knew how Americans ran their engines quite differently than in the United Kingdom, and he loved poking fun at it.
“Well, unlike you Yanks, we like doing our jobs in style!”
Tom, as easily to amuse as he was, spluttered with uncontrollable laughter. Even Johnson snickered a little, but he was quick to return to his stoic self. Tom eventually settled down and was about to tell his own story, but he asked Murdoch too, under the reasoning that he was better with words.
“Giggles over there used to work for a farmer as one of his hands. He’d find every reason on Earth to chew him out and slap the dickens out of him, but Tom had a wife and two boys to feed, so he continued working for him anyway, at least until one day. That old bugger had a grudge on him for a reason that Tom never could figure out. Anyway, he accused Tom of a crime he didn’t commit, and they had him in jail for sixty days. When he came back, he found his family was gone. A note they’d left behind said that Tom’s boss had broken into the house with his gun, and tried to kill them all, so now they had fled elsewhere. It didn’t say anything else, but considering the suspicious lack of the man roaming around, he figured they got to him first. Without a job, and without a family, Tom went on to find work at an oil field. And you wanna know who owned that oil field?”
Roger huffed impatiently, “Ya’ know? You’ve only asked the question twice, but it’s already getting repetitive. So, Hanks?”
“Nope!” Murdoch joked. “It was actually the Standard Oil Company, but they were shut down a while back, so he went to work on another oil field, and this time, it was Hanks Petroleum and Kerosene. Hanks was needing some volunteers to work on his new railway, and Tom was one of the very few who volunteers. He’s a fireman now, and a good one at that.”
Roger grinned, “Well, I suppose it’s nice to see someone else who's good with his shovel.”
“Oh no, I’m not that kind of fireman,” corrected Tom. Roger was befuddled. What could he possibly mean by, ‘I’m not that kind of fireman,’? Did he put out fires? Did he just sit around, take two-hour coffee breaks and just call himself a fireman? His question was quickly answered.
“Since Hanks runs an oil company, he figured it would be best to buy oil burning locomotives so he wouldn’t have to spend as much on fuel. All I do is sit around and control the oil valve. I know it isn’t as respectable as coal shoveling, but it’s a load off of your spine.”
With two of the three down, there was only one man left: Big John.
Both Tom, and Murdoch knew he wasn’t going to say anything about himself, ‘nor did he want them to either, so they decided to just tell Roger his name, and nothing more.
The fireman reclined against the tent wall, and silently thought for a long while. The other three got up and began to exit Roger’s tent.
“Wait,” Roger yelped. All but Johnson turned back.
“I want to work here,” he said. Suddenly, Johnson changed his mind and stormed right back inside.
“Absolutely not! The last thing we need here is a little bigot with a tragic backstory to lean on! As soon as Hanks lets you go, I’m personally gonna chuck you out of here like a javelin!”
Roger cringed a little. It wasn’t one of Johnson’s greatest threats, but he still looked as if could actually do it.
Murdoch glared at Johnson and spoke to him in a quiet, but stern tone.
“You know Johnson, you used to be far worse, but we still kept you on.”
Johnson’s red-hot eyes seemed to go ice cold after that remark. He glanced at Roger’s direction, then back to Murdoch.
“If Hanks accepts him, no matter how bigoted he is, you’d best not lay a finger on him.”
Johnson said nothing for a while, only staring into Murdoch’s glaring eyes. He finally mustered up the courage to let out a sharp, “Fine! But I’ve got my eyes on you, you hear?”
Roger nodded nervously.
Johnson went on, “What makes you want to work here anyway? You got a job, is that not good enough for you?”
Murdoch and Tom glared at Johnson, but he just ignored them. He leaned closer to Roger to make it clear he wanted an answer.
Roger thought. He knew the reason, he just couldn’t quite put it to words. The best he could come up with was, “Well, you’re the ones that took care of Ted last night aren’t you?” Murdoch nodded.
“I just figured you could use a helping hand.”
Johnson clearly wasn’t satisfied, “That’s it?! There’s more than that boy, and you’d best spit it out now!”
Roger was getting a little tired of Johnson’s temper, so he stood up, stamped over to the towering man, and snarled, “Fine! Be like that! Listen, I’m sorry about Tom over there, really I am, but I ain’t gonna take any of this from you!” Johnson took a step forward, but Roger shoved him back with full all his might.
“Now listen here,” Roger snapped, “Maybe there is a deeper reason as to why I want to work here. Maybe it’s your boss’s hospitality? Or maybe, as I said earlier, I just want to give the ones who saved my skin my thanks. What does it matter to you?”
Johnson stood silent. Tom and Murdoch watched from their corner in suspense. If Johnson started anything, they were going straight to Hanks, and it would be the end of their friendship. Instead, they were given a rather pleasant surprise. Johnson relaxed his muscles and released all tension in his body. Then, in a much kinder tone, he spoke to Roger.
“Alright, I’ll admit, maybe I’ve been a little harsh, but there’s one thing you have to think about. You said it yourself, you’re only experienced with coal, while we use oil. You won’t be much use to use unless we get someone to teach you.”
Tom was quick to jump in. “I’ll teach him. I’d consider myself a professional in my trade. Not an expert necessarily, but I oughta get you in the know in no time.”
Murdoch chimed in, “We’ll be like the three musketeers by the end of the week I’ll bet yeh’”
Roger furrowed a brow. “But there’s four of us.”
“Exactly,” Murdoch exclaimed. “You’ll be that fourth guy no one remembers.”
All four of them, especially Johnson, were completely hysterical. When they settled down, the three men of the R.R.A.R.R. all agreed to let Roger have some piece. As they were exciting, Johnson turned to face Roger.
“You know, I don’t completely trust you, not just yet, but I’ll give you this: You got guts kid. I respect that.”
With that, Johnson opened up the tent flaps, and left, without another word. Roger reclined in his cot. He didn’t know why he was so quick to make such a rash decision, but he did have a guess. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a better life here on the R.R.A. Hanks seemed a nice enough person, and his employees were more than willing to help their fellow man. So why not? Roger soon thought less and less about the matter, and promptly fell asleep.