"John Frewling, special agent for the Carnegie Lines."John Frewling, special agent for the Carnegie Lines. I'm here looking for a man who robbed one of our trains. Made off with five thousand dollars in gold from our payroll, an unknown amount of cash from the mail car, and killed two mail clerks and our engineer." He sipped his whiskey, controlling his instinctive sneer at the low quality. Obviously the public room here got the cheap stuff. The bouncer's eyebrows drew together. "If'n he robbed th'mail car, how come the Federal Marshal ain't here 'stead a'you?" Frewling smiled a tight little smile. "Because I know the man, sir. I've looked into his past and know his habits. The Federal Marshal's office tends to post a reward and hope for an informant. As well, they automatically assume that all train robbers go to either Nevada or Mexico." He gave the "x" the proper throat-clearing pronunciation. "They're searching in the wrong Territories." "Hmph. |