Hannah watched as Carl left the sleeping car and her sister go into Peter's room, closing the door and she quickly slipped down to the end of the car and tapped on the last door. Clifford opened the door and jumped back as she darted inside and shut the door quickly behind her. Harriet caught the action and making sure she was alone went to Clifford's door and pressed her ear tightly against the wood. Inside, she could hear both their voices quite clearly.

"What...?"

"Why didn't you come out?"

"I was in the lavatory..."

His expression was too painful for words and Hannah stifled a laugh. "The train's stopped because of something on the track. We won't be able to move until they free it. The Marshal had a fall in the corridor and apparently one of the trainmen broke his leg." She stared at his face with a wild excitement. "This could be our chance."

"Chance...?" He caught the flush in her cheek and the bright, wild look in her eyes and his thoughts suddenly scrambled. "What chance?"

"To get the justice we all want instead of waiting for the court trial and the sentence." Hannah came away from the door, her hands flat on his chest pushing him back against the window. "You know... what we talked about?"

"Oh jeez, Hannah. We covered all that. It was just talk."

"What about if we did do it, it would feel more like a satisfactory justice'? We could plead to the court not just the loss of relatives but also the anguish of the horrible events on the train. They might even give us more money. Only we would know, Clifford." She leaned closer, each of their breaths puffing against the others face. "Better than all the pomp, didn't you say?"

Clifford stared at her for a second, his mind casting about for a rational excuse but her proximity was bombarding his attempt with other signals and when she still didn't back off, he took her by the arms and clamped his lips on hers.

The move took Hannah by surprise. This was not what she envisioned when, with the opportunity presented by the storm, she had a sudden change of mind and hastily decided to call his earlier bluff. Clifford moved them back toward the bunk, lips still tightly engaged. She could feel him taking command and she managed to get her hand between them and push him away.

"I should have known," she snapped, adjusting her top.

"Known what? You come in here like a wild woman begging me to take a chance—"

"You liar! You know very well what I was talking about." She moved to the door. "If this is how you prove you're a man I can see I made a very big mistake." She reached for the handle.

"Wait! Wait a minute... look I'm sorry. I- you just- I- I couldn't help myself, Hannah. You overwhelmed me." He sagged onto the bunk and shook his head. "I was just talking earlier. I'm not that brave."

Hannah moved back beside him, one hand on his shoulder. "You could be, Clifford. You could be brave... and more... think of what we could do with a lot of money." Her hand curled about the back of his head and he looked up into her face seeing the shy, encouraging smile. "Be brave, Clifford. Be a man. Together we can make things right." She knelt down in front of him and drew his head to hers. "I have to say, I was somewhat overwhelmed myself." Her lips dusted his cheek.

"I liked that feeling, Clifford." His breath came in short puffs and he found her mouth again, this time with mutual insistence. Hannah felt a surge of power and the long restrained sense of desire; Jean was right, a little more of what her sister had did put some light in her eyes, a light that had should been lit long ago to burn with such vivid intensity.

Harriet gritted her teeth and began muttering to herself. First it was Seth, then that Jean bellows and now these two; they all want the money—her money. She checked the corridor and then ran back to her compartment. Seth was still snoring on the floor and Harriet quickly hauled him over to the bunk and struggling, carelessly jammed him underneath, dropping the sheets over the side like the bed had not been made so he could not be seen then she ran back to the lounge and waited for her next opportunity.

"Whatta you mean he doesn't answer?" Ryan pushed his face against the crack by the door and searched what he could of the room.

"The train stopped short and there was a loud crash... hell I even wound up on my ass in the corner. When I called to him he didn't answer."

Ryan banged on the door, hollering Harlan's name. Nothing. He yelled out Devlin's name and got the same response. "Shit! It's still locked on the other side; we'll have to break in there. That means havin' no security for the rest of the trip."

"Can't just leave Harlan without lookin'. He could be hurt bad." Jigger rolled up his sleeves over a pair of rocky looking biceps. "Stand clear, Marshal."

The banging on the door behind them startled both men and Ryan even drew his gun before answering. Stanley gaped at the barrel directed at his face and swallowed hard. "C-Carl says we gotta get outside and free this jam now or the whole train could be dragged down into the gorge."

"Somethin's happened—"

Ryan shushed Jigger and told Stanley they would be right out. "I don't want any of them knowin' anythin', okay?" The two men cast one last look at the door to the prisoner's area and then stepped out into the driving rain.

Holding onto a makeshift safety line, Stanley, Deke, Carl and Jonas Howe were muscling Amos down from the engine. Ryan and Jigger hurried up to give them a hand and they all carted him down the side of the train to the lounge car where Cybil and Jean, along with a shaking Peter Soughton, helped transfer him aboard. Wet wind slapped harshly against the cars and the men fought to stay upright in the slick mud bank beside the train.

"It's his leg," Carl called up to the doctor over the storm. "We gotta free the jam so you're on your own up there. Get him into the lounge car, we need all the weight away from the back of the train."

The women nodded and waved them off, sliding the door closed against the soaking rain. Carl turned to the others. "There's a chunk of bridge support jammed in front of the wheel assembly on the sleeping car." His voice was swept away by the wind and they all huddle closer to hear. "If we don't free it, the bridge could collapse and take the whole train down. The only other thing we can do is uncouple it and leave it behind. We'd have to tackle it on the way home."

Stanley slipped on the greasy bank and Jonas grabbed his arm holding him steady. "If we leave it," he shouted over the storm, "there might not be a bridge when we get back."

Ryan held up his hand. "Let's stop yakkin' and try and free it, if it doesn't work we'll worry about getting' home when the time comes."

"You mean, when we cross that bridge." Deke grinned into the wall of rainwater.

"Okay. I'll get back to the engine. When you think it's possible, give me a signal and I'll try movin' forward."

Ryan nodded and leaned close to Deke. "Go fetch some more rope, we need another safety line and maybe somethin' to haul with." Deke scurried, slipping and sliding back to the kitchen car and disappeared inside.