Lilac wanted to rob the train. And he knew how. He could visualize it happening so well it felt like he was remembering, when in fact he hadn’t done anything related to the caper but think about it. It was so well formulated in his mind that he imagined nothing could go wrong. He realized he might be the first man to think up an actual perfect idea. Overcome with pride, he grinned.
He did most of his thinking on his back porch. The pear tree provided shade and the ocean was just visible through the shrubbery. He was comfortable on that porch. When he was comfortable, he became a vigorous thinker.
While he was thinking about robbing the train, his friend, Paduallis French arrived carrying a milk crate crammed full of bottles of yellow liquor. Paduallis distilled molasses into rum, but he hadn’t yet gotten good at stopping the wash from boiling over and staining the liquor. It tasted fine anyway.
Before he could set the crate down, Lilac stood and pointed a finger at him.
“You’ll be my horse wrangler.”
Paduallis stopped, crate in the air, and looked at Lilac like he thought the man had lost his wits.
“I brought drinks,” he said.
Lilac waved his hand as if drinks were the least important thing he'd ever heard of. Of course, he hadn't heard Paduallis speak because he was still thinking about the train.
“Your cousin has horses?” It was spoken as a question, but he knew Penny French had horses. They were the big ones with thick legs. He also knew their specialization was wagon pulling but figured they could be ridden as well. They were strong enough.
Paduallis set the crate down carefully, but the bottles still clinked. He took one out, held it up to the sky as if he wanted the sun to shine through it, which it couldn't with the trees in the way, and then he uncorked it.
“She does,” he said.
“Big ones,” said Lilac. So, he had a horse wrangler. He would be the leader. El bandito principal. All that left was the need for a pistol-whip. Tourists weren't often the rambunctious type, but having someone who knew how to use a firearm might make the whole operation smoother.
Paduallis took a drink. He winced at the heat of the liquor.
“Are you still thinking about robbing the Narrow-Gauge?”
Lilac was tapping his chin, scrolling through names in his head like prizes on a fairground spinner. When Paduallis asked it, he felt starbursts across his body. Better than piss tingles.
“Next Tuesday seems best,” he said.
Paduallis scratched his hairline with the mouth of his bottle.
“I never heard of anyone robbing a train in the twenty-first century. Especially the Narrow-Gauge. It’s barely bigger than a roller coaster.”
Lilac didn’t feel like arguing. He wanted to rob the train. He wouldn’t stop wanting it until he did it. He shrugged.
“We’ll be the first.” First and most famous. He could already visualize the headlines.
PORTLAND POLICE PUZZLED
TINY TRAIN TERRORIZED
SHERIFF RANDY BIGGS DEMANDS JUSTICE.
OUTLAWS OR ICONS?
He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure of the public’s support. They would see the robbery for what it was, a finger to the system. He would be an antihero. Prince of thieves.
Paduallis tried once more.
“It’s a tourist train. There isn’t anything to rob.”
He offered his bottle to Lilac, who took it and sipped. He also winced.
“Tourists have watches, don’t they? And phones. And wallets.”
Paduallis looked dubious. He drew from the bottle again but didn’t argue.
Millie was more difficult. She was the only person Lilac knew who owned a gun. A .22-caliber revolver with a baby blue grip. He liked the fact that it was a revolver. It fit his vision. The baby blue didn’t, but he wouldn’t be choosy. Millie was also his sister.
“I won’t steal from tourists,” she said.
“Why not tourists?” He wasn’t sure if there was something specifically sympathetic about tourists he had forgotten.
“It’s an evil thing to do. They don’t deserve my gun in their faces.”
“You can keep a third of the booty.” As soon as he’d said it, he knew “booty” was the wrong word. He was embarrassed. Given the opportunity, he’d try to amend his error.
“Obviously,” said Millie. “There’s three of us, so we’d each get a third, or were you going to take more than your fair share?”
He had planned to take half. It was his idea. He deserved the king’s share. But Millie was being difficult, and really it wasn’t about the money. Not for him anyway.
“You can keep half,” he said.
“Two-thirds.”
And so, Millie was convinced.
The rest of the planning was easy. Lilac drove to Party City and bought ten sets of handcuffs. They were plastic, which wasn’t ideal, but at least they looked like metal. He only knew there were handcuffs at Party City because Millie brought some to her bachelorette party last October. They were pink and the chains were fluffy. When he saw the metallic ones at the store, he was so relieved, his tear ducts went tingly.
He also bought a cowboy costume for Paduallis. The package included cow print chaps, a holster and orange-tipped revolver, and a hat as wide as a trash can lid. They were each supposed to provide their own outfits, but Lilac had known Paduallis most of his life. If he wasn’t distilling, he was drinking, and if he wasn’t drinking, he was either sleeping or feeding the squirrels nested in his garage. He was apt to show up on Tuesday wearing sneakers and a tank top.
Penny French was delighted to be rid of her horses for the week. She stuffed them and all their gear into a U-Haul trailer and went to the movies. She didn’t ask Lilac why he wanted them. He felt a little regretful about not being asked because he’d written and rehearsed a three-page lie starting with the words,
“Whatever happened to horse racing?”
On Tuesday evening, they drove the trailer into town and parked behind the Boys and Girls Club. It was closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays due to lack of staffing. Then, they each took turns in the truck stripping down and donning their costumes.
Millie came out wearing a bowler hat, bolo tie, and jeans that went up to her ribs. Paduallis put on the Party City gear but refused to take off his sunglasses. Lilac argued that outlaws didn’t have sunglasses back when they were robbing trains. Paduallis took a gulp of yellow liquor, spat, and said,
“They didn’t have plastic handcuffs either.”
Lilac was last to dress up. He took his time, carefully stuffing the legs of his khakis into his black leather boots. He buttoned his pinstripe dress shirt up to his neck and buttoned his best man’s vest over that. Finally, he placed the authentic felt ten-gallon hat on his head and straightened it in the mirror. He felt a warmth in his chest when he saw his reflection that could only be described as satisfaction. Tucking a black pillowcase into his belt, he climbed out of the truck.
He hadn’t been able to find any genuine handkerchiefs, but Millie had some extra neck warmers from ski season that were basically the same thing. Before they saddled up, Lilac made sure each of their faces was covered.
Each of them had enough riding experience to know which way to pull the reins and how to stop and start a gallop, though as soon as they set out, Paduallis began complaining that he was too drunk to ride.
Lilac felt tingly about the eyes again, though this time it was not a happy feeling. Paduallis French was getting on his nerves. If he kept wobbling about in the saddle like that, people would notice. If the wrong people noticed a drunk-looking cowboy, they might never reach the train.
“Try harder,” he said in a shaky voice.
People noticed though it was probably more the horses than Paduallis’s drunkenness.
Some people stared. Others pointed. The children they passed were most excited. Their mouths gaped open as they tugged on their parent’s arms. One was brave enough to approach.
“Can I pet your horse?” she asked.
Lilac knew he ought to let her. It might strengthen his infamy. The girl would remember the day she touched the Narrow-Gauge Bandit’s horse. But his insides felt like oily metal and Paduallis had frustrated him.
“She bites,” he said. The girl snatched her hand away and scuttled back to her family.
The Narrow-Gauge railroad ran between the cruise ship pier and the east suburbs in a tight loop. Two miles of oceanside tracks. Tourists from Tampa and Tuscaloosa filed into the two cars every hour, rode for forty-five minutes, and then filed back onto the cruise ships.
The view from the train was lovely. A smattering of islands. A lighthouse. A civil war-era fort built from refrigerator-sized blocks of granite.
When Lilac, Millie, and Paduallis arrived at the pier, the sun had just dipped behind the trees, tinting the waves purple. Gulls floated above silently. A trio of busking cellists lent an eerie tune to the scene. Lilac felt peculiar. Not the plain excitement, he’d expected but an apprehension of the nearness of their deed. Of course, he was not so nervous he might quit. More than ever, he wanted to rob the train. But he was restless.
They waited a hundred yards from the station in an empty dirt lot. The train was back, but not yet boarded again. Tourists milled about the platform, some taking photos of the three riders from afar. Lilac didn’t mind as long as their faces were covered. He wanted infamy. This was the first step.
Paduallis started drinking again as the tourists began to board. Lilac gave him a mournful look.
“You’ll fall off your horse.”
Paduallis gulped, gargled, and swallowed.
“I’m awfully nervous.”
Millie took the bottle from him and guzzled for a few seconds before handing it back.
“It’s an evil thing to do,” she said.
Lilac felt like his hands were someone else’s. He tightened his grip on the reins. The train lurched forward and moved away at a steady jogging pace.
“When?” said Paduallis.
They’d discussed the details numerous times. Lilac wished he’d written a step-by-step to keep Paduallis from further bungling, but such a document would be incriminating. He wanted to rob the train, but he also wanted to get away with it.
“As soon as it’s around the corner.” The engine reached the corner.
He felt like he’d drunk a pitcher of coffee. He pressed his eyes closed, hoping to speed up the passage of time. He opened one eye.
The first car rounded the corner.
He shuddered. He’d never felt so unusual before. Like his brain had turned into a clementine and the wedges were coming apart.
The second car disappeared.
Paduallis whooped and kicked his horse. And the three of them burst forward.
They caught the train in a minute and a half. Sure enough, Penny’s horses could ride. If he hadn’t felt so uneasy about their coming crimes, he might have been terrified by their speed. The horses passed the carriages in three seconds.
“Is it still driving?” shouted Paduallis. It was. They were just galloping fast. In fact, they passed the engine too, though it was meant to be their destination. Each rider had to wrench on their reins to slow.
By this point, the passengers were watching, likely wondering if they’d accidentally signed up for a reenactment of some sort. Some were probably delighted. A cheap fare for a ride and a performance. Others were certainly already rolling their eyes. They’d come for the elegant ocean views, not rough-housing rodeo clowns.
The engineer was also watching. His face was even more full of befuddlement than the others, for he knew there was no reenactment planned and could only wait to see what might transpire. He was short and barrel-shaped. No hair, save his eyebrows, and pink-cheeked like a choir boy, though he looked to be nearly seventy.
When they drew even with the engine and its engineer, Lilac gave the signal. They hadn’t practiced or discussed the motion, but in his extreme discomfort and desire to gain control of his surroundings, he pumped his fist like a truck driver, hooted once like a barn owl, and hopped aboard the train.
While the engineer didn’t seem confident about which regulations forbade costumed horseback riding, it was evident to Lilac the man was well-versed in stow-away dealings. He hadn’t been aboard the little train for a full second when he received such a thump on the back of the head that he dropped to his knees and grunted.
“No free rides, buddy,” said the man, and he thumped Lilac again. All he could do was sit there and try not to pass out. His eyes were full of speckles, and his tongue tasted like copper Pop-Rocks.
The blows continued for a minute or so, not getting much worse nor better, though the likelihood of unconsciousness seemed to be growing, as did Lilac’s desire for it.
Then, he realized it had been many seconds since the last knuckle hit his head, so he gave an immense effort and opened his eyes.
He was surprised to see Millie in the engineer’s place, the violent man nowhere in sight. He breathed sharply to invigorate himself. The speckles gave way to smudges, and he smelled fireworks.
“Get up, Lilac,” said Millie.
He did as she said, though not without some resentment. If she had been the one receiving a beating, she might have had more patience.
“Where’s the engineer?” he said.
“Gone.”
It was a bad answer, but he didn’t much care. So far, none of the robbery was going as anticipated and frankly, he was ready for the conclusion.
“Alright, have you counted the tourists?”
Millie had a twitchiness to her that he wasn’t familiar with. Instead of standing and looking in one direction, while they talked, she kept glancing everywhere and nodding like a sprinkler head.
“Bunch of them jumped when I did it. There’s a couple left though. Hiding under the seats.”
Lilac nodded. He wasn’t sure what “did it” meant, but things were close to finished. He’d have time to ask her after.
In the next moment, he felt the vigorousness of the idea return. He stood as straight as he could on a wobbling surging train engine, adjusted his hat low over his eyes, tightened his neck warmer, and went to find the tourists. He realized he’d forgotten the handcuffs, but he wasn’t bothered. The robberies were quick and victimless. He wouldn’t need them.
There were two in the first car. Two old ladies crouched low behind their seats.
“Well, Howdy Ma’ams. This is a stick-up,” he said in his best dusty drawl. He tugged the pillowcase from his belt and held it out.
“All your fineries, please.”
The ladies scrambled for their purses and sunglass cases and dropped them in, their hands shaking terribly.
Lilac was thinking about headlines. He turned and strode into the next car. The train backfired twice, which was odd. He didn’t know trains to backfire, but he wasn’t an engineer, so he didn’t think about it for too long.
There was one in the second car. A man, maybe forty, with blond hair and a bad sunburn. He cringed as Lilac approached.
“Please, don’t do it,” he said.
“I’m a reasonable fella,” quoted Lilac, “give me the gold and I won’t have’ta.” He stuck out the sack, and the man emptied his pockets. A phone. A wallet. Keys. Some nickels, and a gum wrapper. Lilac tipped his hat.
“Sir,” he said.
This time, he watched Millie shoot the man. All his vigor left him. Like soup through a sieve. There was less blood than in the movies. The sunburned man jerked in his seat and then went still. Lilac felt a strange distance between his thoughts and what he was seeing. As if he were watching everything transpire on stage from the back of an auditorium. He looked out the window and saw that Paduallis was gone.
“Where’s our horses?” he said. He didn’t really want to talk to Millie. He felt a degree of frustration toward her for changing his plan. It was all meant to be illustrational. A performance with stakes. Somewhere between a reenactment and an actment. But, there was no one else to talk to, so he looked at her.
“Paduallis took them.” She continued to twitch about like a marionette.
“Where?”
She shrugged, which looked funny given her shiftiness.
“Back to town. Soon as I shot, he bolted. I knew it was an evil thing to do.”
The resentment bubbled and popped its way out of his throat.
“It wasn’t til’ you made it. I wish you hadn’t come.”
He noticed she was crying He felt quite poorly, but couldn’t think of a thing to say. If he hadn’t been with her, he felt he might cry as well.
“I told you it was evil,” said Millie, still brandishing the gun. It looked foolish in her hand now. A cheap rubber fake, no better than Paduallis’s. Though the barrel was still smoking, Lilac almost believed it had never gone off. Then he saw the dead man again. He had to frown deeply to keep from choking.
They stood there for almost a minute, Millie weeping down her sleeves, and Lilac trying his hardest not to. A siren in the distance wrenched him from his wretchedness.
“The law,” he muttered. He couldn’t help himself. Between two heartbeats, he’d become a desperado once more. Millie gave him a queasy look, but he wasn’t dampened.
“We’ll foot it,” he declared, marching towards the exit. The sack of contraband, bumped heavily against his back, deepening his satisfaction.
“If we run like hell, we can disappear in the shrubbery. If we’re lucky, we can slip the law in the dark.” It wasn’t nearly dark, but the words felt right. He reached the door, flung it open, and looked back at Millie.
She hadn’t moved. Her gun arm was limp at her side. The top of her neck warmer was soggy with tears. She just stood there quivering not looking at anything.
“Millie, they’re closing in,” he said. “Look lively.”
She looked at him and opened her mouth, but she didn’t speak for a second or two. Her body shook again, and fresh tears rushed down her cheeks.
“Lilac, why’d you make me do an evil thing?” She stared at him and then sat opposite the sunburned man.
Lilac’s lower lip trembled, so he clenched his jaw to stop it. He looked at Millie, the dead man, and the floor. Then he turned away and hopped off the train. The sirens were louder now, but not so loud that he was caught. Without looking back, he ran for the trees and crawled under a gooseberry bush. He lay on his belly, watching the train roll further and further away, while the sirens came closer. He was comfortable there, and though he thought a bottle of Paduallis’s yellow liquor might add to his enjoyment, the heavy sack was company enough. The ocean was just visible through the leaves, and the swells reminded him of purple prairie hills.
He pulled his handkerchief off his chin and exhaled. He’d never felt so lonely.