Chapter 1

Some milestones in life, like a graduation or a wedding day, are big and obvious. Others are just as big, but so subtle that the casual passerby isn't likely to notice them.

The biggest milestone in Josh Archer's life, at least as far as he was concerned, came early one June morning as he walked into the Camden and Spearfish Lake Railroad office to tank up his coffee. Out of habit, he glanced at the call board, since he'd been making a lot of runs recently, and the odds were about even that he'd be working on engine maintenance, or out on a run.

The call board was cryptic, but reading the messy green chalkboard was second nature:

Josh's eyes stopped when they hit the third run listed. He read it over and over again, scarcely able to dare believe what he was seeing was real. It wasn't the first time that his name had appeared in the "ENG" column; it had been there off and on since the pit runs had started up for the summer two months ago -- but always before, the "BRAKE" column had read "Bud" or "Walt" or, occasionally, "Ed". Bud owned the railroad, at least, along with some investors and the bank, and Walt was his dad, who'd run engines since long before Josh was born, and Ed, while not on the engineer's list at all, was the head diesel maintainer. Though Josh had been officially in charge of the train, there'd always been someone watching over his shoulder.

But Danny Evachevski was a college kid, that only worked in the summer. Josh had gone to school with Danny, been a good friend and fellow football player, but he only had a few months experience as a brakeman, spread over three summers. Now, Bud was turning Josh loose -- and on the SD-38s, no less! The '38s were new this spring, at least, new to the C&SL -- they were fifteen years old, old MoPac units, but were half the age and nearly twice the power of the other engines. Josh couldn't help himself; "Ho-ly Shit!", he said, out loud.

"That you, Josh?" Bud's voice sounded from inside his office.

"Yeah." Josh walked over to the office door, which was open. Inside, Bud sat behind his cluttered desk, a cup of coffee stacked on a stack of papers.

"I take it you just saw the call board."

"Are you sure about this, Bud?" Josh asked. It still didn't seem real.

"Oh, hell, you're ready," Bud said. "Think about it. K-Pit is the easiest run, you've only got two cuts. Danny can handle that. Chris is the greenest brakeman, so he's best with your dad, even though they've got more cuts."

Josh nodded. "Well, yeah, that makes sense," he said. "But why me at all? What happened to Diane and Bruce?"

"You didn't hear? I figured your dad would have told you when he got home."

"Hear what? I didn't see Dad. I went out to work with the dogs, and didn't get home until after he went to bed."

Bud shook his head. "You need to gossip more. Diane's out of it, for the summer, at least, maybe longer. You knew she was pregnant, didn't you?"

"Yeah, sure," Josh said. He'd spent many hours riding engines as a brakeman with the little redheaded woman engineer with the firey disposition. Do your job right, everything went all right, but if you screwed up, she'd all over your ass in an instant.

"The doctor gave her an ultrasound yesterday. She's got twins, and he sent her to bed rest for the next five months, right on the spot. That means Bruce is going to have to pick up for her down in Lordston." Bruce and Diane Page were both qualified railroad engineers, although most agreed that Diane was the better one. Normally, one made the local steam engine run in the summer with the Lordston Northern Scenic Railroad, and then did some switching with the LN's little diesel, while the other made a road run for the C&SL. "He may be able to get in a couple runs a week for us, but the way we've got things set up, he and I will take care of the west way freight." Bud explained. "Maybe we can concentrate things a little and skip that one once in a while. That looks like the summer, unless we can diddle things around a little. We may have to switch you around a little, but figure on doing K-pit at least four days a week; we may try to skip a Wednesday run sometimes."

Josh nodded. "That's a ten hour run, if everything goes right," he said. "That's assuming we don't have to stay in the hole for B-pit too long."

"Yeah, you're looking at some eleven, twelve hour days," Bud agreed."At least you're not going to have to drive up here from Camden every day like John. But, you'll make out. As of today, you're on the engineer roster, not the utility roster. That's about another two and a quarter bucks an hour, plus time and a half over forty. If Ed needs you to work on something, that'll have to be on overtime, too."

Josh let out a long, low whistle. Most weeks, that would mean a couple of hundred bucks extra. Maybe more. "I suppose still slow in the winter, though?" he asked.

Bud nodded. "Probably have you in a day or two a week, but you can still draw unemployment and play with your dogs."

Josh felt about twelve feet tall when he walked out of the office. He'd been sure that this was going to happen sooner or later, but figured it would be a few years farther off, say, when his Dad retired. But, so soon, just a week over a year since he'd graduated from high school! Then again, though, neither Bruce or Diane had been much older when they'd started running rock trains for the C&SL, and he was more experienced now than they'd been, then. Of course, the rock trains had been a lot smaller, usually single-unit jobs, and the old, small units at that. But, the new barge loader down in Camden had a lot bigger capacity, and that meant more rock to move.

He went out to track two, where the two big engines sat nosed into the piggyback ramp, where they'd been left last night, with nearly a half mile of empties stretched out behind them. On a big railroad, the engines would be given to the engineer by the hostler all ready to roll, but it didn't work that way on the C&SL. Josh gave the engines both a walk-around while he had diesel fuel running into their tanks, and the way they went through diesel, that took a while. Danny showed up as they were filling, carrying his lunchbox, and Josh told him to keep an eye on the fueling while he finished his inspection. They didn't get much time to talk; that could come later.

In a few minutes more, the fueling was complete. Josh helped Danny drag the fuel lines back to the fuel dock, always a messy job and a smelly way to start the day, then they got down to business. "You've made this run before, this year, haven't you? "Josh asked. He hadn't had much time to see Danny since he'd been home from college; their schedules had been too different.

"Yeah, about three times," Danny said. "Now I guess it's going to be permanent."

"Looks that way," Josh said, looking at his watch. "We haven't got much time. I don't know which way the ladder switches are set, but probably not for us, so you'd better throw that before we get rolling. I'll ease you out to the throat switch, you'll have to throw that, too. You'll have to unlock the mainline switch, and throw it back to the main and lock it when we leave."

"I know all that," Danny said.

"Just making sure," Josh said. "I don't want any screwups, today, of all days. Is your radio working?"

"Yeah, I checked it with the office," Danny said.

"Better get hiking. I'll get these things running."

As Danny started up the tracks, Josh realized he must have sounded rather curt and authoritarian to his old friend. As he climbed up to the second of the big six-axle units, he made a mental note to apoligize, but not too much. But damn, it was his ass that was in the sling, now, if something screwed up. He'd always understood that, in a way, when he'd been braking for someone, but now the responsibility was on his shoulders, and he really knew how it felt. Now, in his gut, he realized where his dad was coming from, where Diane had been coming from. Things were going to have to be a little different between himself and Danny, now, and he hoped that Danny could understand that.

Starting the 602 was easy -- these engines were a lot less fussy about starting than the older GP-7s and GP-9s. Before they'd finally turned 302 into a parked parts supply, sometimes it had taken all hands, including Ed, a profane hour to get it running. This one started right up from internals, and Josh stood and watched the gauges for a minute until he was satisfied that everything was working. He stepped out onto the catwalk, and leaned out, to see that Danny was still a long way from the end of the train, then went to the front end and got 601 running. As it warmed up, Josh reached for the radio's microphone, and called, "Keyhole brake from Keyhole lead for radio check." The C&SL had learned years ago, that "K-pit" sounded a little too much like "B-pit" on the radio for comfort, and had modified the radio call sign.

"Five square, Josh," came back over the loudspeaker.

"How you coming?" Josh called back. He glanced at the brake pressure gauge; train air was coming up nicely. He checked the EOT readout; train air was coming up nicely at the back end too.

"Almost up to the first switch," Danny replied.

"Let me know." Josh glanced at his watch. Pretty close, but they should be rolling on time. He settled back in his seat and thought for a minute. By the time they handled the stuff at either end, it was going to be pretty close to twelve hours pay time a day, plus he suspected that he'd get in some engine maintenance time too. The plan had originally been that he'd mainly work at maintenance, with some road crew time to fill in, but it was turning the other way around. Sixty, maybe even seventy hours a week. That was the way the C&SL worked -- busy as hell for eight months, then slow as hell for four. He'd known that when he'd agreed to Bud's offer to send him to diesel maintainer school. At the time, it had seemed like an advantage; he'd have plenty of time off in the winter to work with the team, among other things, but already, he was a little homesick for those three-month summer vacations that had ended so suddenly four summers before. Working that much was going to put even more load on Tiffany; he'd have to talk to her about that, and soon, too.

"Keyhole lead, switch is thrown. Ready when you are," Danny's voice sounded on the loudspeaker.

Josh beeped the air horns to announce that the train was going to be moving, then put his hand on the throttle. Almost instinctively, he looked over his shoulder, to make sure that Bud or his dad wasn't standing there watching, and any remaining doubts about the reality hit him. Still, it was with an excitement bordering on awe that he opened the throttle slightly. With 5,000 horsepower, and a train full of empties, it wouldn't take much. The train began to slowly creep backwards, and Josh looked at his watch. 0700, right on the nose. He took a look back down the train, to see Danny hurrying ahead, to throw the yard switch. A few seconds later, he could see the green flag, even before he heard Danny's report that the switch was thrown. He saw Danny get up onto the step on the last car, and added a notch to the throttle to hurry things along. As the engines stepped up their pace, Josh glanced over at the office, and noticed Bud standing there, watching. It was clear that Bud was taking a big step in sending the kids out with the biggest train the C&SL ran, and he had a right to be worried about it, Josh knew. Well, he'd do his damndest to not screw up, and do his best to see that Danny didn't, either. He waved at Bud, who waved back.

It made sense, Josh thought. Even though K-Pit may have been the biggest train, it was also the easiest. It only had to be switched a couple of times, and simple ones at that; it wasn't limited by weight, but by the length of the #2 track, the longest one here in the Spearfish Lake yard, so even with a much longer train they weren't working every ounce of power, like the GP-9s had to do on B-Pit.

By the time he'd reached the yard switch, he knew the tail had to be reaching the throat switch. "How we coming?" he radioed Danny.

"Couple hundred yards, yet."

There was a bush alongside the tracks that Josh knew he wanted to stop beside. He cut the throttle, and touched the engine brakes slightly, letting the train slow to a stop nicely short of the bush. The yard crew at the barge loader was supposed to make up the train with the same length each day, but there was the one time early this year when they'd added an extra six cars. Thank God it had been Roger braking, instead of him, and Bud at the throttle. They'd had a hell of a mess getting three cars back on the tracks. As the train came to a stop, Josh radioed, "OK, how far?"

"About fifty yards," Danny reported.

"Do it," Josh replied. If it had been his dad running the engine, the tail would have been more like twenty yards from the switch, but Josh would rather have Danny walk an extra thirty yards, rather than risk running the last car five yards too far. As he waited, he checked the gauges again; everything was fine.

"Keyhole lead, the throat switch is thrown, and I'm on," Danny reported.

Again, Josh beeped the horn and blipped the power of the big SD-38s, and set it to creeping again. It wasn't far to the next switch, but it was quicker to have the brakeman ride the step on the last car out to it. He now knew the train was the right length; his target to stop this time was a busted fence post a little farther up, and he cut this one a little tighter. "About thirty yards, and I'm off," Danny reported again.

Josh went over the gauges one more time. Train air was looking good from the EOT, the little idiot box at the far end of the train that monitored it there and continually radioed readings to the cab of the 601. Everything else was normal. In a few more seconds, Danny radioed again, "Keyhole lead, the switch to the main is thrown, and the track is clear."

One more time, Josh set the train to moving. He couldn't see the switchstand, since the curve of the train blocked it for him, but he knew from the passing scenery how far he had to go. Finally, he could see the switch, with Danny standing next to it. He cut the power at about the right spot, and let the head end drift backward out onto the main. As the train stopped, he transitioned forward, and when he'd seen Danny lock the switch and stand up to start toward the train, he fed the two engines a notch of throttle. The train wasn't moving very fast when Danny reached for the grabiron and swung up onto the front step of the lead engine.

Josh opened the throttle wider, and radioed, "Spearfish Lake, Keyhole is eastbound on the main at 0707."

"Roger that," Bud replied from the base station radio. "Take it easy and have a good trip, Josh."

Even though the train was long, it was empty, and it didn't take long to get it up to speed; Josh had it running at schedule speed by the time he blew for the Lakeshore Drive crossing just short of the state road overpass. Danny settled into the fireman's seat. "Hey, sorry to sound like Diane, back there," Josh said. "But, you don't know how different it is to be in her shoes."

"A little nervous?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Josh admitted. "Look, we've been buddies for a long time, but we've got to be all business when we do this. I'm not going to give you a big lecture, but there's no room for screwing around when we're operating."

"OK, Diane," Danny smirked.

"Look, that's how it's got to be," Josh said. "If you'd rather, I can ask Bud if we can swap you with Chris in the future."

"You don't have to do that," Danny replied seriously. "If I get out of line, feel free to jump on me."

"I can get along with that, if you can," Josh said, feeling a little of the tension ease.

Danny shook his head. "It does feel sort of strange. I never expected this to happen, back when we went on that first double date with Marsha and Amy."

It had been a date to remember, a real life-changing milestone for Josh, and for Danny, too. Marsha and Amy were the daughters of some old friends of the Evachevski family, with a summer cottage in the area. Danny had never gotten along with Marsha too well, but had gone along with a double date, since Josh wanted to go out with Amy. They were heading down to Albany River to go roller skating, but never got there; a car went off the road in front of them, and when they stopped to check it out, they found that it was driven by Ed Sloat, the C&SL diesel maintainer. He'd had a heart attack, and his wife had been injured in the crash. Josh and Amy had given Ed CPR for what seemed like forever. While Danny tried to staunch Jill Sloat's bleeding, Marsha had taken Josh's car and raced off to call an ambulance. Not only had it saved two lives, it had cemented four kids that had been pretty awkward with each other into a tight group. But the real big change came two mornings later, when Josh's dad had kicked him out of bed and informed him that he wasn't looking for a summer job any longer, he was now a trainee brakeman. Even though Bud had to come up with special insurance for Josh and Danny, still short of 18, he figured he owed the kids big time.

That one incident had led in a direct line to the two of them sitting in the cab of the 601, running K-pit eastward. It was a solid summer job for Danny, one he'd had for several years now, but the railroading bug had really bitten Josh, and Bud knew it. He'd called Josh for work on evenings and weekends all through school, and then given Josh the offer of a lifetime: if he wasn't going to college, Bud would send Josh to diesel maintainer schooling. College had never seemed quite real to Josh; he jumped on the offer. The only downside came when he'd informed Amy, just a year ago, that not only was he not going to join Marsha and Danny and her at Western State down in Athens, he wasn't going to college at all, and from that moment on, she wasn't a part of his life any more. Which was all right, in a way; while he and Amy had had a good time together, somehow it had never seemed like it was going to work out. Their backgrounds were just too different, and they were bound to draw apart, anyway, he could see now.

"So how are they, anyway?" Josh asked. They had been friends, after all.

"Oh, pretty good," Danny said. "I guess you knew that I gave Marsha a ring, just before school got out."

"No, I didn't," Josh said. "You going to do it soon?"

Danny shook his head. "Going to wait till we graduate," he said. "That's only two more years. The big reason I did it is that the girls are off to Europe this summer, and, well, I'm not going to be seeing Marsha till fall."

"No kidding," Josh nodded, mildly curious. "All summer?"

"Yeah, the whole shebang. Some kind of a college thing. Their granddad is picking up the tab, and it was too good to turn down. I'm really going to miss her. I'd have liked to have gone, but I needed the money."

Josh didn't need to ask about that. It was a point of pride with the whole Evachevski family that they didn't ask Jennifer, the oldest Evachevski daughter, for money, though she'd have given it to them. Jennifer could have paid their way through college and bought the whole railroad besides, out of her petty cash fund; in fact, Josh remembered Phil saying one time that she owned a piece of the railroad, anyway, as an investment. Eight platinum records, at last count, and several million-dollar movie deals had something to do with that. Garth's college had come before Jennifer hit the big time; Brandy, the next oldest daughter, had made it through college on a combination of athletic and academic scholarships; Tara, the youngest daughter, had hit the academic scholarships pretty good, too, and held down a series of jobs, and Danny, the youngest, had been recruited for football. That hadn't panned out, but he was a good infielder, and the baseball team was glad they'd picked him up on the rebound; a half ride there, plus his railroad job and loans was getting him through college.

"Well, you'll be stacking it up this summer," Josh said. "I can see lots of time and a half."

"Just as well I'm working," Danny said. "Without Marsha around, there's not a lot else to do. At least, you've got your dogs to play with. You still have 'em, don't you?"

"Still have them," Josh said, blowing for the Busted Axle Road crossing. He laid on the horn really hard, sort of in hopes that it would wake Tiffany up. Typical teenager, wanted to sleep till noon. If she wanted to work the dogs any, she'd best be doing it while it was still cool.