Last Stand on a Train to Hell – Extended Epilogue

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Early autumn came to the Sierra Nevadas with a crispness in the air that promised winter wasn’t far behind. The aspens scattered among the evergreens had turned gold, their leaves shimmering in the breeze like coins, and the lake reflected a sky so blue it almost hurt to look at.

Victoria sat on the porch of her cabin, wrapped in one of Ben’s old coats that still carried the faint scent of bay rum and tobacco. Benny lay at her feet, his head resting on her boot, his breathing deep and even. The dog had filled out over the summer, his ribs no longer visible, his coat thick and glossy from regular meals and care.

Mathias was inside, sleeping. The summer had been hard on him—his leg ached worse when the weather changed, and lately he’d been sleeping more during the day. The doctor said it was normal for someone who’d been as badly injured as he had been, but Victoria worried anyway.

She’d closed the store early today. Business was slow on weekdays, and the warmth of the afternoon sun had called to her. Now she sat watching the lake, listening to the quiet sounds of the forest—birds calling, squirrels chattering, the whisper of wind through the giant trees.

Her eyes grew heavy. The warmth of the sun, the comfort of Ben’s coat, the peaceful rhythm of Benny’s breathing—all of it conspired to pull her down into sleep. She fought it for a moment, tried to keep her eyes open, but the exhaustion won.

Victoria’s head tilted back against the porch chair, and she slipped into dreams.

She was on a train.

The realization came slowly. She was sitting in a passenger car, sunlight streaming through the windows, the gentle rocking motion familiar and strangely comforting. The seats were upholstered in deep red velvet, cleaner and softer than any train she’d actually ridden. The brass fixtures gleamed, and the wood paneling glowed with polish.

Victoria looked down at herself and saw she was wearing her wedding dress—the blue silk one that Ben had fussed over when they’d had their photograph taken. It fit perfectly, better than it had even when it was new, and her hands were smooth and unmarked, her left wrist straight and strong.

She stood and looked around the car. Empty seats stretched in both directions, but somehow it didn’t feel lonely. The emptiness felt peaceful, expectant, like the car was waiting to be filled.

Victoria moved toward the front of the train, her feet silent on the carpeted aisle. Through the windows she could see grassland rolling past—Kansas prairie in high summer, the tall grass golden and swaying. The sky was blue, not a cloud to mar it, and the sun hung warm and gentle overhead.

The next car wasn’t empty.

Mathias stood near the front, looking out the window with his hands in his pockets. But this wasn’t the Mathias she knew—broken and scarred and limping. This was Mathias whole, standing straight and tall without need of a cane. His face was younger, the lines of pain and exhaustion smoothed away, his eyes clear and bright instead of haunted.

He turned when he heard her approach, and his face broke into a smile.

“Victoria.”

She ran to him without thinking, throwing her arms around him. He was solid and warm and real—more real than anything in a dream should be. She could feel his heartbeat, could smell the faint scent of soap and woodsmoke that clung to him.

“You’re here,” she said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Course I’m here.” Mathias hugged her back, and there was no tremor in his hands, no weakness in his grip. “Been waiting for you to come find us.”

“Us?”

“Keep going. You’ll see.”

Victoria pulled back and looked up at him. “Are you all right? In the real world, I mean. Your leg’s been bothering you, and—”

“I’m fine.” Mathias’s smile was gentle. “Better than fine. Don’t you worry about me.”

He stepped aside, gesturing toward the next car. Victoria moved past him, trailing her fingers along the seat backs, feeling the texture of the velvet under her hands. Everything felt so vivid, so present. More than a dream. Something else entirely.

The next car held Obie.

He was sitting by the window, his face turned toward the passing prairie, and when he looked up at Victoria his expression was one of pure joy. This Obie was unmarked by violence—no bruises, no blood, no broken bones. He wore clean clothes and his smile was wide and genuine.

“Miss Victoria!” He stood and met her halfway down the aisle, and when they hugged she felt tears spring to her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “What happened to you, what they did—”

“Hush now.” Obie pulled back and looked at her seriously. “Wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault. You got to stop carrying that weight around.”

“But if I hadn’t gotten on that train—”

“Then you wouldn’t have met me. Wouldn’t have met Mathias. Wouldn’t have ended up where you are now.” Obie’s voice was firm but kind. “Everything that happened, it had to happen exactly the way it did. Can’t change it, can’t undo it. All you can do is keep living.”

Victoria wiped her eyes. “I named my store after you. Obie’s General Goods.”

“I know. I’ve seen it.” His smile returned. “That’s real nice, Victoria. Thank you for that.”

“Are you—” Victoria hesitated. “Are you happy? Wherever you are?”

“Yeah. I’m with my parents again. Got to tell them about California, about the journey, about everything I saw. They’re proud of me.” Obie touched her shoulder gently. “You should keep going now. Someone else is waiting for you.”

Victoria nodded and moved past him toward the rear of the train. The cars seemed to go on forever, each one empty and sun-filled, the windows showing that golden prairie rolling past under a perfect sky.

Her heart was beating faster now. She knew who was waiting at the end. Had known from the moment she’d found herself on this train that he would be there.

The last car was different from the others. Instead of rows of seats, it opened onto a rear platform—a small balcony with brass railings that looked out over the tracks and the prairie beyond. And standing there, facing her this time, was Ben.

He looked exactly as she remembered him from that last morning before he’d left for his first mission. Young and whole and smiling, wearing the clothes she’d mended and the expression she’d fallen in love with. His eyes were warm and crinkled at the corners, and when he saw her his whole face lit up.

Victoria’s breath caught. She wanted to say so many things—apologize for not understanding sooner, thank him for the cabin and the property, ask him why he’d done what he did. But when she opened her mouth, no words came out.

Ben didn’t seem to need words. He just held out his hand, and Victoria crossed the car to take it. His fingers closed around hers, warm and strong and alive in a way that made her chest ache.

He led her out onto the rear platform. The sun was warm on their faces, and the wind carried the scent of grass and summer heat. The prairie stretched behind them, the train tracks cutting a straight line through the expanse, and the rhythmic clacking of wheels on rails created a peaceful soundtrack.

They sat down together on a bench built into the platform railing. Ben put his arm around Victoria’s shoulders, and she leaned against him, resting her head where it had always fit perfectly. His heart beat steady under her ear.

No words passed between them. Words would have been inadequate anyway—there was too much to say and nothing that needed saying all at once. Instead they just sat there, holding each other, watching the grassland fly past.

Victoria felt something inside her chest loosen, some knot of grief and guilt that had been pulled tight for so long. It didn’t disappear, but it settled into something she could carry.

Ben’s hand moved to touch her hair, the gesture so familiar it made fresh tears spill down her cheeks. But these were different tears. Not the desperate, drowning tears of early grief, but something gentler. The tears of someone saying goodbye to pain while keeping the love.

The train rocked gently beneath them. Victoria closed her eyes and let herself feel it all—the solid warmth of Ben beside her, the rolling prairie, the peace that came from finally understanding that she’d done everything she could. That she’d survived. That she was allowed to keep living even though he couldn’t.

She didn’t know how long they sat there. Time felt different in this place. It could have been minutes or hours or years. But eventually she felt Ben shift beside her, felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at him, his expression was tender.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, and his voice was exactly as she remembered it. “Everything you’ve done, everything you’ve survived. I’m so proud.”

“Ben—”

“The cabin’s perfect. The store’s perfect. Everything you’ve built—it’s exactly what I hoped for you.” He touched her face gently. “And Mathias. I’m glad you have him. I’m glad you’re not alone.”

“It’s not the same,” Victoria said. “Nothing could be the same as what we had.”

“I know. And that’s all right.” Ben smiled. “You don’t have to replace me, Victoria. You just have to keep living. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“I miss you.”

“I know. I miss you too.” He pulled her close again. “But we’ll see each other again someday. Not for a long time—you’ve got a whole life left to live—but someday. I’ll be waiting.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They sat there together a while longer, watching the prairie roll past. The sun never seemed to move, and the grass continued swaying, and the train rocked gently toward some destination that didn’t matter.

Victoria felt herself drifting, felt the edges of the dream starting to blur and fade. She tried to hold onto it, tried to keep herself in this moment with Ben’s arms around her. But the waking world was pulling at her, calling her back.

“I have to go,” she said.

“I know.” Ben kissed her forehead. “Take care of yourself. Take care of Mathias and that scruffy dog. And remember—this isn’t goodbye. Just ‘see you later.’”

“See you later,” Victoria whispered.

The world went white.

Victoria woke to find Benny licking her hand, his tail wagging with concern. The sun had moved lower in the sky, painting everything in shades of orange and gold. Her face was wet with tears, but she felt strangely peaceful.

The cabin door opened and Mathias limped out, leaning on his cane.

“You all right?” he asked. “You were crying in your sleep.”

Victoria wiped her eyes and looked out at the lake. The mountains reflected perfectly in the still water, and the aspens shimmered in the breeze, and somewhere in the forest a bird sang its evening song.

“I’m all right,” she said, and meant it. “I had a dream about Ben. About all of them. They were on a train together, happy and whole. And Ben…” Her voice caught. “He said he was proud of me.”

Mathias settled into the chair beside her with a soft grunt of pain. “I bet he is.”

“He said we’d see each other again someday. That he’d be waiting.”

“Then I guess you’d better keep yourself alive long enough to make the trip.”

Victoria smiled despite the tears still drying on her face. “I guess so.”

They sat together in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink lower toward the mountains. Benny moved between them, resting his head first on Victoria’s knee and then on Mathias’s, his tail thumping gently against the porch boards.

The dream was already fading, the vivid details becoming fuzzy around the edges. But the feeling remained—that sense of peace, of closure, of permission to keep living without the crushing weight of guilt.

Ben had been real in that dream, Victoria was certain of it. Not just her imagination or wishful thinking, but something more. A goodbye and a blessing and a promise all rolled into one. She would see him again someday, when her own journey ended. But until then, she had a life to live.

A store to run. A stubborn man who needed looking after. A scruffy dog who depended on her. A cabin overlooking a mountain lake where two graves marked the price of survival and the endurance of love.

It was enough. It was more than enough.

“Come on,” Victoria said, standing and stretching. “Let’s go inside. I’ll make dinner.”

“You cooking or am I?” Mathias asked, pushing himself up with the cane.

“You cooked last night. My turn.”

“Thank God. My cooking’s liable to kill us both.”

Victoria laughed—actually laughed—and the sound surprised her with its lightness. Benny barked once and wagged his tail, catching their mood, and bounded through the cabin door ahead of them.

The sun touched the western peaks, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange and purple. The lake caught the colors and held them. And somewhere in the distance, a train whistle called out—long and mournful and somehow hopeful all at once.

Victoria paused in the doorway and looked back at the view one more time. At the graves on the hill, at the lake and mountains, at the forest stretching away in every direction. At this place that Ben had found and loved and left for her.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the evening air. “For everything.”

Then she went inside, where Mathias was already fumbling with the cookstove and Benny was begging for scraps that didn’t exist yet. Where life continued, messy and imperfect and beautiful in its own way.

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OFFER: A BRAND NEW SERIES AND 2 FREEBIES FOR YOU!

Grab my new series, "Blood and Honor in the Wild West", and get 2 FREE novels as a gift! Have a look here!

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