The Chase (Isaac Bell 1)

The boy looked at Bell, apprehension in his eyes. “He said Mr. Cromwell’s boxcar was gone.”

Bell stared at Bronson. “Damn!” he muttered. “He has fled the city.” Then he gave the boy another ten-dollar bill. “Where are your parents?”

“They’re helping pass out food in Jefferson Square.”

“You’d better find them. They must be worried about you. And, mind you, stay away from the fire.”

Warren’s eyes widened as he stared at the two ten-dollar bills. “Gosh almighty, twenty dollars. Gee, thanks, mister.” Then he turned and ran from the building.

Bell sank back into the chair at the rolltop desk. “A train?” he murmured. “Where did he come by a locomotive?”

“All I know is, every ferry is jammed with refugees fleeing across the bay to Oakland. From there, the Southern Pacific is gathering every passenger train within a hundred miles to transport them away from the area. No way he could have hired a locomotive, crew, and tender.”

“His freight car didn’t roll away by itself.”

“Trust me,” said Bronson, “no freight cars are being ferried to Oakland. Only people. The only moving trains are those coming in with relief supplies from the east.”

Bell came to his feet again, his eyes cold and fixed on Bronson. “Horace, I need an automobile. I can’t waste hours hiking the part of the city that’s not in flames.”

“Where are you going?”

“First, I have to find Marion and make certain she’s safe,” Bell answered. “Then I’m heading for the railyard and the dispatcher. If Cromwell hired, or stole, a train to take him out of the city, there has to be a record at the dispatcher’s office.”

Bronson grinned like a fox. “Will a Ford Model K do?”

Bell looked at him in surprise. “The new Model K has a six-cylinder engine and can churn out forty horsepower. Do you have one?”

“I borrowed it from a rich grocery

store owner. It’s yours, if you promise to have it back by noon tomorrow.”

“I owe you, Horace.”

Bronson placed his hands on Bell’s shoulders. “You can pay me back by seizing Cromwell and his evil sister.”

40

MARION SLEPT FOR SIX HOURS. WHEN SHE AWOKE, she found the tent inhabited by five other single women. One was sitting on her cot, weeping. Two looked dazed and lost, while the others showed their strength by volunteering to help feed the suffering at the kitchen facilities that were being set up in the park. Marion rose from her cot, straightened her clothes, and marched with her new friends to several large tents that had been erected by the army as emergency hospitals.

She was immediately instructed by a doctor to treat and bandage wounds that did not require the services of doctors, who were busy in surgery helping to save the lives of the badly injured. Marion lost track of time. She shrugged off sleep and exhaustion by working in a shelter for children. Many were so brave it tore her heart. After tending the cuts and bruises of a little three-year-old girl who had lost her family, she turned away in tears when the girl thanked her in a tiny voice.

She moved to the next cot and knelt beside a boy brought in from surgery after having his broken leg set. As she tucked him in a blanket, she felt a presence behind her. Then came a familiar voice.

“Pardon me, nurse, but my arm fell off. Can you mend it?”

Marion spun around and threw herself into the open arms of Isaac Bell.

“Oh, Isaac, thank God you’re all right. I was worried about you.”

Bell smiled broadly through the grime on his face. “A little the worse for wear, but still standing.”

“How did you ever find me?”

“I’m a detective, remember? The emergency hospital was the first place I looked. I knew you’d be following in the footsteps of Florence Nightingale, your heart is too big not to help those in need, especially children.” He squeezed her and whispered in her ear. “I’m proud of you, Mrs. Bell.”

She pushed herself back and stared up into his eyes in confusion. “Mrs. Bell?”

Bell’s smile remained fixed. “Not exactly a romantic time or place to propose, but will you marry me?”