The train that had pulled out of Fort Worth at midnight was sitting on the tracks, still waiting for a report from the team of workers sent out to fix a broken spot on the rails. Stitch stayed back with the wagon while Abe visited with the conductor. “What’s the problem?” Abe asked as he offered his flask of whiskey to the conductor. “Thanks,” the chubby man said. “It’s been one hell of a night. We thought we’d only have a few hours’ delay, but something must be wrong. The crew searched all night and couldn’t find a thing broken on the tracks. They’re running one final check now. We should be under way soon.” “What made you think there was a break?” Abe acted like he took a drink and passed the flask back. “Had a telegram waiting for us when we stopped here. Now the office in Fort Worth thinks it might have been a false report, though why anyone would want to stop an empty train in the middle of nowhere is beyond me.”
