Boise to Kansas City

"I'm not going back!" she shouts over the roar of the wind and the rail. I take a step closer and she pops a hole in my hat. The baggage car is rumbling and shaking, but her little hand is stone steady with the tiny .22 pointed right between my eyes. I have to admit, I'm impressed. She's only twelve and already a crack shot. Then again, maybe she didn't intend to miss.

"This is where you jump," she smiles at me, but her eyes are dead serious. She waves at the open side door and the corn fields blurring past. I watch her for a moment, she's only got one more bullet. No, no need to risk it.

I've fallen off of my share of trains, but never on purpose. I step off into the cool night and the ground rushes me like a squad of coppers swinging nightsticks. I curl up and try to roll with it, but its bad. Even when my body stops moving, my head spins like a top. I think I've got some gravel up my nose. My arms are numb, but my hip is stinging. The walk back to town is going to be long indeed. That's alright, I'll still get my payday.

I finally muster up the energy to stand. The train is already a speck in the distance. My hat is lying in a ditch. The wind picks it up and chucks it around. I have to chase after it.

The train's headed west to god-knows-where, but that don't matter. I know where she'll wind up. Her daddy's in Kansas City and so are the diamonds. I'll catch a bus in Boise and cool my heels till she shows.

I finally stumble over and catch my hat. The hole in the brim is hardly big enough to fit my pinky. She got one good shot off. Can't let that happen again. Next bullet won't be a warning.