Incident on a Train - 1. The Incident

19th century “photo cars” were train cars specially equipped as photographic studios. The photographer’s mark on the photo which inspired this story is Boston RR Photo Car, Kearney, Nebraska. The photo is not dated and the subject is unidentified. Probably it was taken in the 1890s.

A young man sat quietly in a second-class compartment in the corridor coach train, engrossed in a book, when another man entered and sat across from him, set down a samples case, let out a “Whew! Just made it!” and flashed a smile. “Good book?”

The first man looked up, smiled slightly, and said, “Oh, it passes the time. The view out the window isn’t very interesting in Nebraska.”

“You think? I suppose not, compared to some places. I like it. I just like being on the train, being in motion, going somewhere, you know? Anywhere. I love trains. My name’s Barstow. Lester Barstow. Les.” He extended his hand.

“Morris Jenkins.” Morris put down his book to shake Lester’s hand. “Do you travel a lot?”

“Every chance I get. Work and play. I’m a salesman. Just had some photo cards printed up on my previous trip. Came out pretty well, I think. Here, I’ll give you one.” Les took out a few cartes de visite and handed one to Morris.

“They did a good job, Les,” Morris noted. “This was taken on the train?”

“Yes, they have a photo car. I took the opportunity last time I rode this line. It’s right here on this train, if you’re interested.”

“Oh, not for me. But may I keep the card?”

Lester broadened his smile. “Sure! You don’t own a hardware store by any chance, do you?”

Morris laughed. “No, I lead a very quiet life in an office.”

“My sister says you have to watch out for the quiet ones. They’re always more dangerous than you think.”

“Your sister has nothing to fear from me, Mr. Barstow.”

“Just what I would expect you to say. Call me Les.”

“I won’t call you at all if you’re always on some train or other.”

Les chuckled. “And may I call you Morris?”

“My friends call me Mor.”

“Les and Mor,” Lester said with a laugh. “And how do you like traveling, Mor?”

“It’s all right, I guess. Never really thought of it as more than a way to get from one point to another.”

“Oh, it’s much more than that to me. When I’m on a train, I’m free. I’m not earthbound. I can’t even say where I am, because I’m always moving, like a bird. It’s as if anything is possible. You never know what’s going to happen.”

“You don’t mind being jostled and thrown around?”

Lester leaned forward. “No! That’s part of what I like! That’s part of never knowing what’s going to happen! It’s changing all the time. Did you know that in the big blizzard of '88, the trains were able to keep in contact through the telegraph wires, from a wireless device inside the train? Imagine that -- sending a telegram from a train! And there are so many things you can do that feel completely different. Just eating in the dining car is like an amusement park ride. Watching to see who’s going to splash water all over or slop stew on his shirt.”

“You make it sound very entertaining.”

“It is. And sleeping. I can hardly sleep when it’s too quiet. But on a train, with the clack clack as we go along, the little motions back and forth, that’s the train’s lullaby just for me. Best sleep I ever get.”

“I can relate to that. I fall asleep on trains all the time.”

“Everything’s better on a train.” Lester leaned farther forward and placed his hand on Morris’s. He whispered, “Have you ever had a woman on a train?”

Morris, still smiling, opened his eyes wide and shook his head.

“It’s amazing! A plain bed on solid ground pales by comparison! Doing it on the train adds so much, every little bump and turn. You know how, when you’re with a woman, the pressure’s on you provide all the movement.”

Morris again shook his head.

“Well, sure, think about the last time you were with a woman.”

Barely restraining a giggle, Morris said, “I’ve never been with a woman.”

Lester brought a hand to his mouth. “Oh! I’m sorry. You must think I’m a terrible rake. Are you a religious man?”

“Not a bit.”

“But you’ve never been with a woman? Well, a lot of men wouldn’t have the nerve to admit that. As if it's something to be ashamed of. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a virgin. Though I can tell you, you have a lot to look forward to.”

“I’m not a virgin.”

“What? I thought you said you’d never had a woman.”

“I haven’t.”

“But — then — “ Les sat back in his seat, his face revealing only confusion or surprise, not disgust.

“That’s right. Only men for me.”

Lester opened his mouth, searching for a response, and finally laughed heartily. “And I thought I was such an outlaw, such a big risk-taker!”

“Oh, it sounds like you are. Probably not risking a jail sentence like me, but you do seem to like a gamble.”

Lester stared at Morris. “I never would have guessed it.”

“Why? Don’t I seem the type?”

“No, you don’t. You’re not, you know — Oh, I’d better stop talking before I say something offensive. I just mean you seem very ordinary.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“And that was a terrible thing for me to say. You’ve got me all flustered. I don’t mean you’re plain. You’re a perfectly handsome young man. But if you fellows, you know, blend in so well, how do you ever find each other?”

“It can be risky. But we have ways.”

“Forgive me. I’m just finding this very strange. What sort of men — do you —“

“What sort of men catch my eye?”

“Yes, for starters.”

Morris shrugged. “Someone handsome. A regular man. A dark mustache or beard is always a good start. Your mustache is very alluring. So is the rest of you.”

Lester gasped a little, then exploded in laughter. “Now I know you’re joking with me. There’s nothing alluring about me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that.”

Lester furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head in disbelief. “But how does that even work? How do two men—?”

“We start with a kiss, like anybody else. And believe me, what follows from there can be quite varied. Once we find someplace private.”

“Easy enough on a train. I’ve explored every little nook and cranny on trains from engine to caboose. I know all the best places.”

“Well, then, Les,” Morris said, standing. “How would you feel about adding a new experience to your wide repertoire of adventures on a train?”

Morris slowly approached Lester. Lester didn’t move. Morris reached his hand out and ran his fingers up Lester's inner thigh, leaned forward, and whispered in Les’s ear, “I think I can provide some bumps and jostles that will be new even to you.”

Lester looked down at Morris’s hand, then looked up and said, “You quiet ones, you really are dangerous.” He cleared his throat. “It’s funny, no one’s ever in the second smoking car.”