With a hiss of steam that always sounded to him like the sigh of a spent man, the 6:15 from Big Sky pulled into Rattlesnake Gorge's station.With a hiss of steam that always sounded to him like the sigh of a spent man, the 6:15 from Big Sky pulled into Rattlesnake Gorge's station. John Frewling teased his watch from his waistcoat by the chain. Snapping it open close to his vest, he squinted slightly at the numbers to make them focus. 6:16; close enough for most folks, but he'd have a word with the engineer before he claimed his luggage. Easing his lanky frame from the second-class carriage, Frewling adjusted his bowler hat to shield his eyes better from the glare of the morning sun, just coming over the mountains to the east, and strolled towards the front of the train. |