“How’s the coffee?”

“Thicker than mud and hotter than the fires of Perdition. Want some?”

“Yes.” Karl sat and regarded the gauges, then accepted the mug of coffee. He watched the boiler pressure slowly drop.

“Add more coal, Blackie.” Karl’s mouth was still numb from his prolonged stay in the elements.

“Can we go any faster?” Silas spared Karl a worried glance. He was riding with a baffling man.

“This is a passenger engine, not one of the freight locomotives. We should be able to get her up to about seventy miles an hour if we push it.” Karl referring to the drive wheels of the locomotive. The connection of the push rods of the steam cylinders dictated the use of a train. Rods connected to the outer rim of a drive wheel took more effort to drive at a faster speed; perfect for heavy trains pulling long consists. They connected most passenger trains close to the hub so they could go faster with less effort. This night, they were using a passenger locomotive for a cargo train. She would take more effort to reach speed, but once the locomotive got there, she would fly like a bat out of hell.

“We’ll stay closer to fifty,” Karl watched Silas adjust the coal feed.

Silas raised an eyebrow as he worked.

“I’m uncertain what the cold will do to the train.”

“That’s a good enough reason.” Silas topped the coffee cups, then placed the coffee urn on a steel heating plate fixed to his side of the boiler. “If I’m such a good worker, why do you hate me?” busying himself with checks of the firebox and boiler water levels. Opening the firebox doors produced gouts of smoke that drew up and out of the cab through the upper vent. “We’re burning cold.”

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Reaching up, Karl pulled on a lever, closing one of several dampers. “We may have to run heavier on the coal.”

“Now?” Both men were talking loudly in the noise of the locomotive and passing air. For them, it was as if they were talking normally, a state of sound they were used to.

“Not yet. Let us see how this works.” Karl once again turned his attention to the path ahead of the train. He estimated they were nearing Harris, well into the burn area with wind driving the snow straight across the tracks.

He borrowed the wooden wedge and worked at his side window, for once hesitant to open his mouth with an insult. It was one thing to taunt a man to action; it was another thing entirely to draw pain for no reason, other than joy.

Karl was no fool. He knew his reputation, but what people saw as cruelty was just the truth. Too many men walked the world thinking they could do no wrong and Karl knew different. That kind of arrogance got people killed.

Checking the boiler heat and pressure gauges, he saw the temperature was slightly up and the pressure increasing.

“Well?” Silas had regained his seat and was watching Karl.

Karl simply pointed to the front of the train. Silas turned to keep watch out his window, reaching forward with a rag to wipe the window with brisk movements.

Well, he thought with a shrug, at least the old bastard had not snapped his head off. There seemed to be some kind of truce in place, dictated by the silent Swede. But Silas had to admit he needed to know the answer to his question. He had to know why Karl hated him, if it was himself or the color of his skin. Not knowing the answer to that question was a driving force in his life, a definition of his being. Respect was only something a man could give, not a gift to the ignorant.

Giving the adjustments a few more minutes with no better results; Karl stood and pulled his clothes tight, then reached up and opened the emergency access door. Pulling himself up, he looked over the top of the cab at the valves atop the steam dome.