[Lady Justice 11] - Lady Justice and the Cruise Ship Murders Page 11

  “So what will you be doing while we’re traipsing up the mountain?” Luke asked.

  “We’re still a long way from Anchorage where the Stewarts and the gold are to board a plane back to Missouri. I’ll be doing some shopping just in case we can’t get our hands on the gold tomorrow on the trip to Glacier Bay. Are you all set for tomorrow?”

  “Yes, we know what to do,” Luke replied. “While everyone is on deck gawking at the stupid icebergs, we’ll search their cabin for the gold, but we’ll have to be very careful. I think the old cop is suspicious of us.”

  “Maybe if you’re lucky, he won’t be alive tomorrow to get in your way!”

  It was about eleven-thirty when the van pulled up on the wharf.

  We were all supposed to board the White Pass Railroad for a trip up the mountain and our group was to board the bus to the railroad depot at twelve-thirty. We just had time to eat a bite of lunch in the Lido buffet and grab our passports.

  I was surprised when Mark handed me the bag of gold. “Walt, I’d like you to take this to Mr. Reyes for safekeeping.”

  “So what are you going to do?” I asked. “Aren’t you going on the train?”

  “No,” he replied. “Amy and I are going to have lunch with Mr. Quimby. Because of his research, he knows so much about my great-great grandfather and I want to know it all. It’s like I’m just getting to know something about my roots. I may never have this opportunity again, and besides, we have some shopping to do if we’re going to lay our trap for the thieves. You all go and have a good time.”

  I had really been looking forward to this excursion.

  The first prospectors to head north to the Yukon from Skagway took the White Pass Trail. It was a twenty-mile journey from sea level to the summit at three thousand feet, which marked the border between Alaska and British Columbia.

  The Canadian authorities wouldn’t let the miners go further without adequate supplies that would weigh nearly a ton. The only way up was by foot and the hardy souls made multiple trips up and down the trail in the dead of winter, fighting blizzards and temperatures of sixty below zero, with hundred pound packs on their backs.

  Once their provisions were at the summit, it was another twenty miles along the White Pass Trail to the shores of Lake Bennet where they would have to construct boats to carry them on the next leg of their journey. From there, it was still over five hundred miles to the Yukon gold fields.

  I couldn’t begin to imagine the hardships they faced and the physical torture that they endured to satisfy their lust for gold.

  It had been estimated that over a hundred thousand men and women headed north, and of that number, between thirty and forty thousand actually reached the gold fields, and of that number, maybe four thousand actually found gold and only a few hundred became rich.

  Not very good odds.

  In 1898, some enterprising fellows decided to build a railroad along the White Pass Trail.

  Given the fact that the bed for the tracks had to be hewn out of the side of the mountain, they decided on a narrow gauge railroad. The rails were a mere three feet apart on a ten-foot wide roadbed.

  Dynamite had not yet come to Alaska, so over four hundred and fifty tons of black powder explosives were used to blast away the mountain. Tens of thousands of men worked on the construction gang, many of which were suspended by ropes to plant the explosive charges.

  Construction began in May of 1898. They worked through the harsh winter and had reached the summit by February of 1899 and the shores of Lake Bennet by July of 1899. A fantastic feat!

  We were to ride the train twenty-seven miles to Fraser, British Columbia, board a bus to take us back to Skagway via the Klondike Highway, with a stop at Liarsville, just outside of the city.

  Being a narrow gauge railroad, the cars were not wide. Two passengers could sit on either side of a narrow aisle. It was definitely smaller in width than the airplane that had brought us north.

  All of the seats faced the engine end of the train. Upon reaching Fraser, the seats would be reversed, the engines would be moved to what was formerly the rear of the train and the whole kit and kaboodle would go back down the mountain with the passengers that had been brought up the mountain on the busses. We would just be trading places with them. What a system!

  When the train started chugging out of town, the first landmark that we passed was the Gold Rush Cemetery. A conductor-type person had been giving us a running commentary on the town and the railroad since we left the station.

  As I listened to him tell the story of Soapy Smith, who’s grave we had seen there, I couldn’t help but smile. Only a few hours before, another piece of history had been unearthed there and we had been part of it. Maybe when our little adventure was over and the news of the gold had been published by Quimby, our exploits would become part of his daily banter.

  It was an incredible trip up the mountain.

  As I looked out the window, I could see the mountain rising almost vertically on one side and the river hundreds of feet below on the other. The tracks on the narrow roadbed seemed to be suspended in mid-air. I couldn’t help but marvel at such an engineering feat, built a hundred and fourteen years ago with the most primitive of tools.

  At one point, the conductor said that if we looked directly below, we could see remnants of the original White Pass Trail.

  We craned our necks and saw a tiny path, maybe three feet wide along the edge of the cliff.

  The conductor said that the trail had become known as the ‘Dead Horse Trail’ because over three thousand horses had died trying to carry the prospector’s supplies up the mountain.

  As I looked at the tiny path, another thought occurred to me. John Stewart had trod that same path years ago, braving the hardships of the Alaskan winter on his six hundred mile journey to the gold fields, and had returned the same way carrying a bag of gold that I had held in my hands just a few hours earlier.

  A tear ran down my cheek as I envisioned the journey of that hardy pioneer.

  We had been snapping pictures furiously. Around every bend were waterfalls and other natural wonders. The conductor announced that we were approaching the sixteen-mile marker and the first of two tunnels that had been dug through the side of the mountain. At that point, we were a thousand feet above the floor of the gulch. *

  He warned us that once in the tunnel, we would be engulfed in total darkness.

  The approach to the tunnel was a sharp hairpin turn that gave us a fantastic photo opportunity of the engine entering the gaping hole in the mountain.

  The conductor was right. Once inside, it was dark as pitch. It took maybe thirty seconds from one end of the tunnel to the other.

  He informed us that we would be coming up to the second tunnel, which was even longer, in two miles.

  I decided that I wanted to get a clearer photo of the next tunnel and announced that I was going to go out to the platform for a better shot.

  Maggie wasn’t so sure. “Walt, that could be dangerous. The way the train is jerking back and forth, you could fall.”

  * See photo on page 223

  I supposed that was a possibility because the railroad had published the warning in their safety tips, “Ride on platforms at your own risk”.

  I had seen others come and go to the platforms without incident, and besides, if the hardy souls of yesteryear could hike the mountain in the dead of winter, I ought to be able to at least hang onto a platform.

  Ox announced that he was going with me. He needed some air and also wanted some pictures.

  When we stepped out onto the platform, the cool mountain air was quite a shock. The sun had been shining brightly, so we had only worn light jackets. After all, we were only going to be inside a train and then on a bus.

  We were in the second car from the engine and there were four more cars behind ours, all filled with tourists just like us.

  The approach to the second tunnel wasn’t as dramatic as the first. There was no hairpin turn so I had to
lean far out over the platform to get a shot of the engine entering the tunnel. The train slowed down to a crawl so that everyone on board could record the moment for posterity.

  Ox crowded in beside me and together we snapped away until we were engulfed in darkness.

  “Ohhh, this is really creepy,” Ox said.

  The words were barely out of his mouth when I heard the door of the car behind us snap shut.

  I was about to ask who was there when a hand grabbed the back of my jacket and lifted me over the top of the rail. I could feel Ox being manhandled at the same time.

  It was only an instant that I was suspended on the edge, but it felt like an eternity. Then there was a shove and I felt myself falling into the black void.

  The train picked up speed as it exited the tunnel.

  Judy turned to Maggie, “Our shutterbugs should be returning soon. They must be freezing their butts off out there.”

  “Can’t have that,” Maggie quipped. “Walt doesn’t have any butt to spare.”

  Another few minutes passed.

  “Maybe we should check on them,” Judy said. “Sometimes I don’t think Ox has enough sense to come in from out in the cold.”

  “You’re probably right,” Maggie replied. “The last thing we need is for them to come down with a cold and spend the rest of the trip sneezing and coughing.”

  They went to the back of the car and looked out onto the empty platform.

  “What gives?” Judy asked.

  “Maybe they went into one of the other cars,” Maggie offered.

  “The safety rules said, ‘Passengers are prohibited from crossing aprons while the train is in motion’. I remember Ox reading that to me.”

  “Have rules ever stopped our guys before?” Maggie replied. “Remember, we dug up two graves just a few hours ago.”

  “You’ve got a point,” Judy said.

  Gingerly, they stepped across the apron connecting the two cars and went inside. No Ox and no Walt.

  “Now I’m getting worried,” Judy said.

  Just then a conductor came up the aisle. “You really should return to your seats while the train is moving,” he said.

  “I’m not going anywhere until we find our husbands!” Judy replied indignantly.

  The conductor looked perplexed. “You --- uhhh ---- both lost husbands?”

  “They went out onto the observation platform just before we reached the second tunnel and we haven’t seen them since.”

  Now the conductor was getting concerned. “What are their names? I’ll call them over the intercom and ask them to return to their seats. Okay?”

  Judy and Maggie returned to their seats and moments later they heard the announcement over the intercom.

  “Your attention, please. Will passengers Walter Williams and George Wilson please return to your seats.”

  Minutes passed and there was still no sign of them.

  The conductor returned, “We’re almost to the summit. We’ll have to stop there so that Canadian customs can check everyone’s passport. We’ll search all of the cars while we’re stopped.”

  Once the train came to a halt, it was twenty minutes before the conductor returned. “I’m sorry. We have searched every car. Mr. Williams and Mr. Wilson are just not on board.”

  “Then we’ll just have to go back to the tunnel,” Maggie said with tears in her eyes. “That’s the last place that we saw them.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the conductor said. “It’s seven more miles to Fraser where the engines will move to the rear of the train. We’ll pick up the bus passengers and then head back to Skagway. We’ll watch for your husbands on the way back.”

  “You damn right you will,” Judy said, getting in the man’s face, “because we’re coming with you!”

  “Aren’t you supposed to board one of the busses?” he asked.

  “If you think we’re going to go tooling down the Klondike Highway while our husbands are somewhere out on those tracks, you’re crazy. We’re coming with you! End of story! Any objections?”

  The conductor saw the fire in Judy’s eyes. “Uhhhh --- no objections. I think we can work it out.”

  Thankfully, the train was barely moving and it was just a few feet from the platform to the roadbed.

  Ox hit the gravel first and I landed squarely on top of him. Reflecting back, I’m thankful that the opposite did not occur.

  I heard the air leave his body in a big ‘WHOOSH’ as I made contact with his midsection.

  Our momentum had carried us to the inside wall of the tunnel which was a mere couple of feet from the rails where the train was picking up speed.

  We pressed our backs against the wall and watched the sparks flying from the wheels as they passed over the iron rails.

  After the train had passed, we laid still in the darkness.

  Finally, I said, “Ox, are you okay?”

  “Don’t know,” he replied. “I’m afraid to move.”

  I felt my body parts and everything seemed to still be attached and functional.

  I struggled to my feet and suddenly everything hurt. I supposed that was a normal occurrence after being thrown off of a moving train.

  I heard Ox moan in the darkness as he stumbled to his feet. “I --- I think I can walk, but which way?”

  I could see the light from the way we had come, but the other direction was utter darkness.

  “Let’s walk toward the light,” I suggested.

  “Isn’t that what people say right after they’ve died?”

  At least his sense of humor was still intact.

  We trudged toward the tunnel entrance and when we emerged it took a few minutes for our eyes to adapt to the light.

  Ox gave me the once-over. “You look like crap!”

  “You’re not exactly the picture of health yourself,” I replied.

  Our clothes were torn and red splotches were seeping through from our cuts and scratches.

  “Coulda been worse,” he said. “I’m guessing that whoever pitched us overboard was hoping that we’d be crushed under the wheels.”

  “Do you suppose that the ‘whoever’ was our gold hungry friends hoping to get us out of the way so that they would have an easier go at the Stewarts?”

  “That would be my guess,” he replied, “unless you’ve made some enemies on the cruise that I don’t know about.”

  “So what now?” I asked. “The map showed that the second tunnel was about halfway between Fraser and Skagway. I don’t see us walking either direction.” Just then a gust of wind sent a chill through my body. “I’m certainly not crazy about spending a night here on the mountain. With these light jackets, we’d freeze to death.”

  “Didn’t we hear that the train comes back down the mountain from Fraser after picking up the bus passengers? Ox asked. “Maybe we can hitch a ride back.”

  Then it hit me. “Bus passengers! Maggie! Judy! They must be going nuts!”

  “Oh, Lordy!” he replied. “I wouldn’t want to be on that train right now. Judy will be tearing the place apart!”

  “So how do we stop a moving train?” I asked. “I’m not real big on standing on the tracks waving my arms.” I looked over the edge of the roadbed to the river hundreds of feet below. “If they don’t see us and stop, there’s not much wiggle room here.”

  “Let’s build a fire,” he said. “Right in the middle of the track. It would be hard to miss the smoke billowing up in front of them.”

  “So what do you propose, rubbing two sticks together?”

  “I have something more modern in mind,” he said, removing a lighter from his pocket.

  The lighter had a picture of a scantily clad lady with the inscription, “Let me light your fire.”

  “Cute!” I said.

  “I picked it up at one of the tourist traps in Ketchikan,” he said. “I got it for Dooley back at the precinct. I figured that he would appreciate the art work.”

  “Works for me!”

  We ga
thered sticks that had fallen on the mountainside of the roadbed and scooped up handfuls of dead pine needles. I put the wood together just like I remembered from my Boy Scout days, Ox flicked his Bic, and soon we had a roaring fire going. The warmth felt wonderful and we settled in to wait for the train. All we needed now was a bag of marshmallows.

  Suddenly, I realized something was wrong --- there was no smoke. The old dried stuff was burning cleanly. “We need green stuff,” I said.

  Once again, I was glad I had Ox. The big guy reached up to the lowest hanging boughs and snapped off leafy branches. Once we had a nice pile, we settled in again.

  Several hours had passed before something told me that the train was not that far away. Because it would be coming out of the tunnel, we wouldn’t actually see it until it was right on top of us.

  Then I remembered a scene from an old cowboy movie and I placed my ear against the rail.

  “Train coming!” I muttered.

  “Who do you think you are? Tonto?” Ox asked.

  “You try it!”

  He put his ear to the rail. “Yep! Train coming!”

  We heaped the green boughs on our fire and gray smoke billowed into the sky.

  We could only hope that our smoke signal said, “STOP!”

  We stood in front of the fire wildly waving our arms as the train emerged from the tunnel. We had made sure that there was sufficient room on the mountainside of the tracks just in case the engineer wasn’t paying attention. *

  Apparently he was, because as soon as the engine cleared the opening, the big wheels locked and the train came to a screeching halt.

  Maggie and Judy hopped off and came running. They threw themselves into our arms and held us tight.

  Maggie was sobbing uncontrollably and Judy was trying to put on a brave front but finally couldn’t hold back.

  After the waterworks had subsided, Maggie held me at arms length. “Are you okay?”