finished.
"What we got here now is civilization," he hollered after us. "It's spreading faster than smallpox. Pretty soon the whole West is going to be like Dodge City."
"More's the pity," Calvin muttered.
Dragging Caesar along with the help of a rope tied round his neck, I followed Calvin down a dusty side street, past deserted saloons and dance halls. There were burned-out places too, nothing left but charred timbers and ashes. No one seemed interested in giving anything to a poor orphan child and his consumptive brother. Even Caesar's most pitiful performance went unappreciated.
Although we didn't make a cent in Dodge, Calvin managed to lose more than half of our money to a pickpocket even more skillful than he was. It was lucky he'd had the foresight to put thirty dollars in his boot, or we'd have lost it all.
After eating a tough steak, more gristle than meat, we ended up in the Grand Imperial Hotel down by the railroad depot. A sign in the lobby said NO MORE THAN FIVE TO A BED , but fortunately for me, the crowds were long gone. The clerk gave us a room the size of an outhouse, but at least it had two beds and enough room for Caesar to curl up in a
corner. The sheets looked like they hadn't been changed in recent history, and soon after I lay down, little varmints commenced biting me.
I swear I would have slept better rolled up in my blankets on the hard ground, but I didn't complain. My wish had at long last been granted—the next day Calvin and I would be boarding the morning train to Colorado. After whispering good night to Caesar, I fell fast asleep, bedbugs and all.
10
A T THE TRAIN DEPOT, CALVIN TRIED TO persuade the ticket agent to let us ride free, but his sweet talk about us being poor orphans got him nowhere. The man had obviously heard every type of hard-luck story the mind can devise. We had to settle for a third-class carriage to Pueblo, Colorado, which was as far as we could go without spending all our money.
When the train came in two hours late, I rushed ahead of Calvin, dragging Caesar behind me, pushing and shoving through the crowd. It seemed everybody in town was aiming to wedge themselves into the passenger cars. In my haste, I almost knocked a lady down, earning a whack from her parasol that brought tears to my eyes.
Calvin and Caesar and I ended up in a car that resembled a long, narrow wooden box with an aisle down the middle and rows of hard seats on either
side. We squeezed ourselves into a place hardly big enough for anyone but a baby or very small child. Somehow I persuaded Caesar to lie down and stay out of sight.
Once we got settled, I thought we'd leave right away, but I swear we sat there sweltering for over an hour while they unloaded the baggage car and then reloaded it. Lord, the flies were something awful. A baby right behind me was screaming in my ear, and the man in front of me must have eaten too many beans for lunch. Between him, the cigar smoke, and the stink coming from the convenience room at the end of the car, I thought I'd never get out of Kansas with my nose intact.
When I started fussing, Calvin said, "If Roscoe hadn't stolen my money, we'd be traveling in a first-class Pullman car, sitting on soft velvet seats in the company of refined persons of quality."
He sounded right testy. Unlike me, the Gentleman Outlaw wasn't used to living like somebody's poor relation. I took the hint, though, and stopped complaining.
Around three o'clock, the train gave a tremendous lurch. The whistle blew and we were off. I was hoping a good cool wind would blow all the bad smells away, but instead, cinders and smoke blew inside and added to my discomfort. So far, train travel was not as grand as I'd expected.
The car got hotter and stuffier. The wheels went
clickety clickety click, clickety clickety clack.
We rocked back and forth, back and forth, like babies in a cradle. All round me, droning voices mimicked a chorus of insects on an August afternoon. My head bobbed up and
"What we got here now is civilization," he hollered after us. "It's spreading faster than smallpox. Pretty soon the whole West is going to be like Dodge City."
"More's the pity," Calvin muttered.
Dragging Caesar along with the help of a rope tied round his neck, I followed Calvin down a dusty side street, past deserted saloons and dance halls. There were burned-out places too, nothing left but charred timbers and ashes. No one seemed interested in giving anything to a poor orphan child and his consumptive brother. Even Caesar's most pitiful performance went unappreciated.
Although we didn't make a cent in Dodge, Calvin managed to lose more than half of our money to a pickpocket even more skillful than he was. It was lucky he'd had the foresight to put thirty dollars in his boot, or we'd have lost it all.
After eating a tough steak, more gristle than meat, we ended up in the Grand Imperial Hotel down by the railroad depot. A sign in the lobby said NO MORE THAN FIVE TO A BED , but fortunately for me, the crowds were long gone. The clerk gave us a room the size of an outhouse, but at least it had two beds and enough room for Caesar to curl up in a
corner. The sheets looked like they hadn't been changed in recent history, and soon after I lay down, little varmints commenced biting me.
I swear I would have slept better rolled up in my blankets on the hard ground, but I didn't complain. My wish had at long last been granted—the next day Calvin and I would be boarding the morning train to Colorado. After whispering good night to Caesar, I fell fast asleep, bedbugs and all.
10
A T THE TRAIN DEPOT, CALVIN TRIED TO persuade the ticket agent to let us ride free, but his sweet talk about us being poor orphans got him nowhere. The man had obviously heard every type of hard-luck story the mind can devise. We had to settle for a third-class carriage to Pueblo, Colorado, which was as far as we could go without spending all our money.
When the train came in two hours late, I rushed ahead of Calvin, dragging Caesar behind me, pushing and shoving through the crowd. It seemed everybody in town was aiming to wedge themselves into the passenger cars. In my haste, I almost knocked a lady down, earning a whack from her parasol that brought tears to my eyes.
Calvin and Caesar and I ended up in a car that resembled a long, narrow wooden box with an aisle down the middle and rows of hard seats on either
side. We squeezed ourselves into a place hardly big enough for anyone but a baby or very small child. Somehow I persuaded Caesar to lie down and stay out of sight.
Once we got settled, I thought we'd leave right away, but I swear we sat there sweltering for over an hour while they unloaded the baggage car and then reloaded it. Lord, the flies were something awful. A baby right behind me was screaming in my ear, and the man in front of me must have eaten too many beans for lunch. Between him, the cigar smoke, and the stink coming from the convenience room at the end of the car, I thought I'd never get out of Kansas with my nose intact.
When I started fussing, Calvin said, "If Roscoe hadn't stolen my money, we'd be traveling in a first-class Pullman car, sitting on soft velvet seats in the company of refined persons of quality."
He sounded right testy. Unlike me, the Gentleman Outlaw wasn't used to living like somebody's poor relation. I took the hint, though, and stopped complaining.
Around three o'clock, the train gave a tremendous lurch. The whistle blew and we were off. I was hoping a good cool wind would blow all the bad smells away, but instead, cinders and smoke blew inside and added to my discomfort. So far, train travel was not as grand as I'd expected.
The car got hotter and stuffier. The wheels went
clickety clickety click, clickety clickety clack.
We rocked back and forth, back and forth, like babies in a cradle. All round me, droning voices mimicked a chorus of insects on an August afternoon. My head bobbed up and
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