“Broomfield station!” The conductor yelled and rang a bell which roused us. Next to me, Stumpy and the white husky dog, King Arthur, also seemed to be waking up and getting their bearings.
Across from us the little girl was asleep with her head on her mother’s shoulder. Her mother was also asleep, her head resting lightly on top of the little girl’s. Neither of them woke as we got up and exited the train.
“Have a nice day, boys,” the conductor said as we stepped off the train car on the depot side of the tracks. The train rolled off toward Denver, revealing Grandma and her gig waiting for us on the other side of the tracks.
We stood there for a second, myself, Stumpy and King Arthur, just staring at Grandma sitting atop her gig. I didn’t know how she could have known that we’d be on the Denver Interurban. But at the same time, it felt like exactly the kind of thing that she would know.
“I see you got a dog,” Grandma said, nodding at King Arthur. “A dog is a sensible animal,” she continued. “Easy to follow down a path, I imagine.” Then she stared at King Arthur almost jealously and said, mostly to herself, “Not like a squirrel.”
Grandma shook her head as if clearing her thoughts and then ordered, “OK, get in!”
King Arthur ran across the tracks and jumped up to the floor of the gig. He curled around Grandma's feet and left just enough room for Stumpy and myself to step onto the gig.
“He’s soft and warm,” Grandma said. “Feels good on my feet this cold morning. What’s his name?”
“King Arthur,” Stumpy said. “
“Like the flour?” Grandma asked. And then she turned directly to the husky and said, “Hello, King.”
We rode the rest of the way home in silence.
###
Mr. R. H. Peabody of the Amalgamated Mining Trust sat in his overstuffed chair inside his personal Pullman car. The train was chugging slowly up the foothills south of Boulder as it headed toward the Moffat Tunnel and then on to Glenwood Springs, Mr. Peabody’s destination for the weekend. He looked east out of his window and had a panoramic view of the plains, as his train had already gained quite a bit of altitude.
“I don’t see any smoke out there, Dempsey” he said to his assistant, Paul Dempsey.
Standing across from Mr. Peabody, Dempsey steadied himself against the steep grade by holding on to a brass rail attached to the ceiling of the Pullman car for exactly this purpose.
“They were captured, sir, before they could carry out the plan.”
“Captured!” Mr. Peabody yelled. “How did they get captured in that whistle stop? Who caught them?”
“Our source tells us that they were captured by an old lady, sir,” Dempsey said sheepishly.
“An old lady!” Mr. Peabody yelled. “I paid for professionals, not penny-ante crooks who can be stopped by the women’s auxiliary!”
“We think she had help, sir. We’re trying to find out more information.”
“You find out. And tell me as soon as you know something more. Where are they now?” Mr. Peabody asked.
“Boulder County Jail, sir. But don’t worry, they won’t talk. And no one would believe them if they did.”
“See to it that they don’t talk,” Mr. Peabody replied. “To anyone!”
###
In a cell in the Boulder County Jail, the second bandit scooped up his breakfast greedily.
“Mmmm! Chili for breakfast. This is the life!” he exclaimed to his cellmate.
Across from him sat a large, imposing man with a vertical scar running down the left side of his face and into his beard stubble. He gave no response at all to the second bandit. He just stared at this guy slopping chili into his mouth.
“And I tell ya!” the second bandit continued. “He was nine feet tall if he was an inch. And the smell!”
###
The train pulling the Pullman car belonging to Mr. R. H. Peabody of the Amalgamated Mining Trust turned west into the south rim of Eldorado Canyon for its trip up to the Continental Divide and the newly opened Moffat Tunnel. Mr. Peabody sat alone reading a newspaper, having already dismissed Dempsey to deal with the bandits.
The train soon entered a tunnel, and the Pullman car became too dark for Mr. Peabody to read. He was used to this, having made this trip many times. And he was looking forward to emerging from this particular tunnel and seeing the amazing view from the train traveling near the top of the south rim of Eldorado Canyon.
Not far in the distance, Professor of Anthropology Harold Long and his wife, Mildred, were settling down to have a picnic lunch at the ruins of the old Crags Hotel which had burned down nearly twenty years prior. Professor Long was lecturing Mildred about the site while Mildred dutifully set out the picnic lunch that she had packed before their hike.
“See these broken bits of china?” Professor Long picked up a sliver of ceramic plate from the small rocks on the ground. “These will be studied for centuries to come so that we can better understand what this site was used for.”
“Yes, Harold.” Mildred replied as she poured coffee from a thermos.
“And the foundations will remain in place for hundreds of years, long after nature has taken back this land.”
“Yes, Harold.” Mildred responded.
To their left, high on the south rim of Eldorado Canyon, a steam engine emerged from a tunnel chugging black smoke as it pulled cars out of the tunnel onto a relatively flat grade near the top of the canyon. Visible only from the inside of Eldorado Canyon, this grade extended about a third of a mile until it entered another tunnel.
Had Professor of Anthropology Harold Long been looking at the railroad grade instead of the ground at this precise moment, he would have been able to show Mildred something of far more anthropological interest than some broken bits of china. Standing atop the cement tunnel opening as the steam engine pulled out was a humanoid figure approximately nine feet tall. As the black smoke from the engine slowly cleared, it would become obvious to anyone looking that this creature was covered from head to foot in a brown, matted fur. It held its arms down, apart from its body. Its knees were bent as it balanced carefully over the edge at the top of the tunnel entrance.
Just as Professor Long was telling Mildred that he hoped they would be lucky enough to find an original mustard ladle from the Crags Hotel flatware collection, the Broomsquatch observed a Pullman car emerge from the tunnel. On the roof of the car was carved a large circle with a perfect “X” chiseled through the center.
On seeing this marking, the Broomsquatch took a large, graceful step from the top of the tunnel on to the slow moving Pullman car. He made no sound as he steadied himself on top of the train car, which was now traversing the scenic, third of a mile stretch at the top of the south rim of the canyon.
A cool breeze mixed with coal smoke ruffled the fur of the motionless Broomsquatch on top of the train. Directly beneath him, Mr. R. H. Peabody of the Amalgamated Mining Trust set down his newspaper and looked out the window at the magnificent view that unveiled itself below him. Professor Long saw none of this as he continued scouring the ground for a mustard ladle.
Mildred, on the other hand, saw the whole scene unfold clearly in the distance. She said nothing to Harold as she watched the Broomsquatch stand motionless atop the train. He ducked slightly as the train entered the tunnel entrance at the west end of the ridge. She would report to the Merri Mix that they should monitor telegraph traffic for news about the disappearance of Mr. Peabody in the mountains along the Continental Divide.
Mr. Peabody’s Pullman car darkened as it entered the tunnel. He could see nothing, as his eyes had not adjusted from the bright sunshine outside.
Suddenly, there was a great crash through the roof. Mr. Peabody could smell coal smoke mixed with a dank smell of a dead animal. Two great arms swooped down from the ceiling in the dark and yanked him directly up from his chair and out through the newly smashed hole in the top of his Pullman car.
As the train exited the tunnel still heading west, the top of Mr. Peabody’s Pullman car now had a large, splintered hole smashed directly through the roof in exactly the same spot where the circle with the “X” had been carved.
By the time Depsey entered the car to see what Mr. Peabody wanted for lunch, the train had already pulled into a siding at the Moffat Tunnel, and Mr. Peabody had greater concerns than choosing between ham or roast beef.