The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya

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The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 16death of a brakeman while switching rail cars was a not entirely surprising turn of events, no matterwhat Ned and Jose thought at the time. The coroner, it turned out, was not only unsurprised at Ned'sdeath, but also completely indifferent to it. The inquest was closed in less than a day, the necessaryreports and paperwork were filed, and Jose and his crew and a train loaded with copper and a cadaverleft for El Paso.These round trips from El Paso to Douglas and back again continued for two months. Once aweek Jose would have a day or two off in El Paso, but for every trip only eight hours or so in Douglasbefore it was time to ride the train back to Texas. Some weeks he would have no days off, dependingupon whether he was needed to fill in for someone on another crew. So one day blended into the next,up the mountains and down the mountains. Jose still spent much of the trips riding on top of the train,and even more so once the conductor explained to him what the Continental Divide was, and that theycrossed it twice in each round trip. He always felt, as the train crossed the divide and began its descent,that he was accelerating into a future that stretched out before him and seemingly went on forever.On March 1 st , 1916 Jose was on the train making the return trip from Douglas to El Paso. Overthe Divide the train went, and then down through Hermanas and Mimbres before stopping to unload asmall amount of freight at the depot in Columbus, New Mexico. Jose hopped off the train as it pulledinto the depot and unloaded the crates that were destined to end their lives here; as a brakeman he didmany sorts of other odd jobs on the train, especially if they were things that the conductor did not wishto do himself. It did not take him long to push the crates out of the freight car onto the platform, nor tofind the stationmaster and get the requisite signatures for the goods. Just then he felt his bowels beginto loosen a little bit. Thinking that he had ample time before the train pulled back out, and not wantingto be taunted later for having to hang his ass over the side of a moving freight train, Jose strolledaround the side of the depot, cheerfully kicking rocks as he went, and availed himself of the outhouse.Every decision has consequences. Jose was still sitting in the outhouse when he heard the train
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 17whistle blow and the engine start to chuff. The front brakeman and the engineer assumed Jose was inthe caboose; the conductor assumed he was back perched on top of one of the freight cars, where heliked to lay and daydream. Jose cut his proceedings short and crashed out of the outhouse as quickly ashe could, trying to hold his pants up and run at the same time. The train was pulling away from theplatform, but still slowly, and he was sure he could catch up. That was until the toe of his right footcaught in the hem of his pant leg, and down he went face-first into the sandy bosom of New Mexico.Injury was added to insult when he landed with his elbow tucked underneath him, and it knocked hiswind out.Struggling to breathe, Jose staggered to his feet and watched the train as it rolled away. Therewas no way he could catch it now. The upset he started to feel quickly turned into amazement,however. Sitting on the back of the caboose, as clear as day, was the ghost of Ned Skelly, smilingthrough his eternal surprise and waving at Jose as the train accelerated further and further into thedistance. Jose waved back and watched Ned and the train disappear into the distance before he turnedand walked into the depot. The stationmaster telegraphed the next station along the line towards ElPaso that Jose was in Columbus, so that the message could be passed on to the train that he was safeand had not in fact fallen off the roof, as might otherwise be supposed. Since there would be no othertrain stopping at Columbus that day, the stationmaster wrote Jose a voucher for the hotel in town. OffJose went.As he left the station and headed for the hotel, the sounds of distant gunfire came skipping overthe breeze to Jose. A single shot would not have drawn his attention. This was many shots, however,and it was being repeated over and over. His thoughts immediately went to the battle for Agua Prietathat he had witnessed in his own surreal, silent way. He wondered if this ghostly gunfire could be thesounds of the battle catching up to him at last, across all this time and space. He decided that it could.After all, he had already seen the ghost of Ned Skelly today; maybe El Dia de Los Muertos came on a
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