The Hero


	Everything in this story is as accurate as I can make it using information available to me and from my own personal experiences within the Railroad industry. In some places, railroad terminology and slang is used, as well as the correct procedures in the operations of trains that are true to the time frame (1860-1911). I have done all I can to interpret without impairing the feel and atmosphere of the environment.

	Lady and the Tramp and Fox and the Hound are copyright the dude with the mouse ears and the big castle. Balto goes to Universal. This is an 'Alternate Universe' and takes liberties with the movies and the canon from which it’s set around. Big vode of thanks to the user “LoneWolfSniper44” for helping me edit this. 




***************




	1893, Marceline 


Court was in session when the young fox entered the superintendent’s office, his shoes making a hard shuffle on the polished wooden boards of the Marceline Depot. He was a spry animal, with a lanky body and bushy white flagged tail, both of his black tipped ears were pinned low and his mouth twisted into a firm line against his stout muzzle. Not a word was said as he sat down and dropped his flatcap atop the arm of the chair. The air was already steamy from a balmy Georgia summer afternoon.

Chief Slade sat at his desk, a torn ear raised and eyes narrowed at the fox like an executioner waiting only for the mere formality of a verdict before swinging the ax. For a few seconds, only the sound of the nearby station clock cut the air alongside the muffled steam whistle of a locomotive outside. Chief looked down for a few seconds over a few papers sitting on his desk, and a train order sheet. The fox’s eyes started to drift towards the clock when the Roadmaster’s sharp tongue whipped them back.

“Alright, you youngen’. Northbound freight #14 stalled on the grade outside Kingston due to lack of steam, and thus held back The Flying Dutchman from its regular schedule. How do you account for all this detention?”

The fox gulped. “We stalled and had to break the train into two and double the hill,” 

“Why did you stall?” The tone was harsh and demanding.

“The locomotive pulled the fire out on me!”
 
“Blast it, Tod!” Chief snarled. “Why did you let her pull the fire out on you? You’re the fireman, ain’t you? Your job, in case you forgot in the short time you’ve been marked up, is to keep her hot!”

	Tod huffed through his nose, getting a little hot himself. His tail bat through the slats of the chair. “And it’s your job, mister, to see that draft appliances are properly adjusted and maintained. If an engine is drafted properly, it won’t pull the fire!”

“So, you’re telling me that it’s the mechanical department’s fault. I know Aleu better than that, she wouldn’t let a locomotive out that’s got problems.” Chief crossed his arms over his vested chest and hiked an eyebrow. “C’mon. We all know that the same result can be had with improper firing.”   

The fox’s cheeks puffed and his ears dipped forward. He stood up, fur bristling. “You’ve been holding me back since I hired on! I finally got marked up as a coal-pusher and you’re still trying to push me to the side.”

“Easy now, you little scallywag.” Chief put in reprovingly. “We’re here to transact some business, not to stage a bout of fisticuffs.”

“Okay…” Tod grumbled, sitting back down.

Chief was glaring, but his tone softened, ever so slightly. “How long have you been firing on the Western & Atlantic? I ‘member you hiring on with Copper. Didn’t recollect you getting marked up.” 

“A couple of months,” Tod replied. 

“Any previous trouble?” 

“No.” 

“You like the work?” 

“You have to love it to stay with it,” Tod sighed, looking down at the floorboards. 

Chief considered for a time, then looked out the window into the yard. The top of the window transom was open to circulate the hot air out and cool air in. The sound of passengers on the platform could be heard. It wouldn’t be long before the afternoon mail rolled in. 

“I think you laid down on us…” Chief finally replied, his eyes still aimed out the window. “I want to tell you there is a difference between layin’ down and fallin’ down on the job. We might--and I say might—excuse the latter, but we won’t tolerate the former.”

Tod snorted. The condescending tone was getting to him. “I put in twelve hours on that locomotive! How long do you expect a soul to stay on top of it? Are you running a railroad or an endurance contest!” 

Chief stood whipped back around and stood up so hard he kicked his chair back. “I can’t make a railroader out of you unless you do your part,” He leaned over his desk, hands gripping its surface, and flared. Tod shrank back down as he realized he had just admitted to ‘laying down’ as it was so eloquently put. “The requirements of the service…ah, you’ll get the point, even if it means you impale yourself on it, you young cuss. We haven’t room for weaklings, and I won’t have them firing on my engines.” 

“You mean, Aleu’s engines.” Tod retorted, “The way you run things you wouldn’t have firemen, they would all litter the tracks, dead from exhaustion!”

Chief didn’t bother to answer, he just stood with his brow furrowed and his tail twitching erratically behind his cotton trousers.

	“That’s all…” Chief finally said. “Go back to the yard, before I kick you there myself.”

	Tod's ears tipped forward, and his eyes narrowed. With a soft growl, he turned on his heels and stomped out of the door. 



					***********



	Tod walked through the yard over to the machine shop and roundhouse. His hat pulled low atop his head and his hands in his pockets. Stepping over the many rails, he walked along the outer rim of the turntable pit. Peering across the gulf of the pit and into the open roundhouse doors, the fox looked for a second at the semicircle of bold faces. Each locomotive stood back in its stall. He paused for a second to hear the low purr and mutter of the steam mounting in the boilers and the scornful hisses of contempt as a slack valve lifted a little, then darted towards the machine shop.

	The early morning sun was pouring through the great open doors and windows of the brick building. Clouds of dust and filings filled the air and danced in the light, and the place was full of the sounds of hammering as crews wrestled with the heavy parts of a locomotive. The fox darted among a floor cluttered with headlamps, brass trimmings, flat wheels, rods, and dismembered boilers.

	 On the tracks outside the building, a locomotive was having its new boiler assembled and lowered onto the frame. His bad mood was instantly forgotten as the overwhelming feeling of controlled chaos swept over him. The frame and drive wheels sat on one track, while a derrick crane stood attached to a heavy wooden flatcar on the other adjacent. A chain ran through the derrick's arm and was attached to the front pilot beam of another steam locomotive. As the steam locomotive moved forward and back, it raised and lowered the chain. A new boiler hung suspended in the air above the bare frame.

	“Easy now! Keep the speed down!” Tod's ears perked up and his muzzle twitched when he heard that female voice. Full of energy and spoken with pure authority. The female lupin walked around the locomotive frame, her bushy tail fluttering and flicking around her legs. Her fur was a light gray and cream, or at least what could be seen from around her white shirt and long thick trousers. She didn’t seem to notice Tod behind her as she took a stand facing the hovering boiler and empty frame. Her hands on her hips. “That's not a kite you have hanging up there!”

	He recognized her by her reputation. A hand ran through her long mousy brown hair, which rolled back between her pointed ears to end at the small of her back. Her sharp blue eyes snapped onto his as she swung around. “Tod! You busy?”

	It wasn't the only thing that had caught his eyes. With the summer sun climbing, the she-wolf had neglected her leather corset and instead relied on a thin strapless shirt to keep her cool. The cotton top snaked under her arms and across her bosom to keep her decent, but its tight grip outlined her curves perfectly.

	“Uh, no--not at the moment?” He stuttered, slightly confused. “Do you need my help, Miss Aleu?”

	“Right, but you can drop the Miss. It's a bit too formal.” Aleu smiled slyly and cast him a knowing wink, before she thumbed over her bare shoulders at the crew working the crane. “I need someone on a landline to help me get this boiler lined up. If we drop it in the wrong position, it'll be a right ass to get it rooted back up without damaging something.”

	“Sure, I suppose I can step in,” Tod's white tipped tail fluttered.

	The boiler hung suspended from the end of a large iron chain. Attached to the front and back was a single white rope that dangled down to the earth. By holding these ropes taught, two individuals could both keep the several ton heavy chunk of iron from swinging, as well as control it on the descent. Tod wrapped both of his hands around one of the lines, and pulled it tight. Aleu held onto the other one. She would lead the movement.  

	“You ready?” She called over the empty frame. “This is going to be a little bit of an operation.”

	“As I'll ever be!”
	
	With her free hand, Aleu stuffed a small whistle between her lips and blew twice. The locomotive controlling the derrick responded with two blasts of its own whistle, and started easing forward. The chain slipped through the pulley with a heavy 'thunk' as each link passed over. Slowly the boiler began to drop down towards the frame.

	“Easy, now...easy!” Aleu's head whipped to the side as held her hands before her like a prize fighter, the rope wrapped around them. “Keep it in line with the frame!”

	With the boiler's weight being taken up by the crane's arm, Tod found it surprisingly easy to get the large object moving, but very hard to stop. It seemed that each tug or twitch on the line would overshoot past his mark. He dug his heels into the gravel that made up the railroad yard, and put his weight against the line in the opposite direction of the sway. Looking at Aleu, he could see that the she-wolf was doing the same. Other than the cat on the derrick, and the crew of the locomotive working the chain, a few others had gathered to watch the dance. For a second, he found it strange that the railroad's head of mechanical engineering would see to this task herself.

	As the boiler just started to nestle down within the frame, Aleu's side turned just enough to catch. The she-wolf grit her teeth and pulled on the line, trying to get ahead of the drop enough to pull the boiler free before too much weight settled down to make it impossible. The edge slipped past its obstruction, and the boiler dropped down onto the saddle. The chains and rope went limp.

	Tod relaxed as the hard work had been finished, and he stood back alongside Aleu while a few shop men started working to unhook the boiler from the crane. 

“Texas,” The she-wolf answered the unspoken question. “Her name is the Texas. #49.”

Tod tilted his head. “Golly, is it special.”

“That was ‘my’ locomotive when I was just getting started. And she has a little - family history. Been around a bit, built as a wood burner, converted to coal, updated with the modern appliances. You would be surprised what you can do with some old iron,” Aleu chuckled softly, she looked over at the young fox, and quickly seized him up. “Chief giving you trouble?”

“Gaaah, Chief.” Tod shook his head. “He’s such an old sorespot.”

	The wolf hiked an eyebrow, her ears pinning back. “That bit where you ran out of steam and stalled?”

“How did you know?” 

“You tried to blame one of my locomotives for it. Little chance on that not reaching my ears.”

	Tod sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Ol’ Chief is out for blood. I figure I’m through here.”

Aleu snorted her dissent. “Who told you that you were through? If you were as quick to lick an engine as you are to lick Chief, you might get somewhere. Next time you grab the shovel pretend you’re in a fight. If the coal is bad, that’s a crack on the chin before you start. If she clinkers the fire and starts to cough like a bout of Yellow Fever, she’s hitting you below the belt. You’ll feel like taking the foul, but it’s better to find your own inner fire and jab her right back. Fight like a wild wolf!”

Tod’s ears dropped and he cocked his muzzle. “Easy for you to say, you are a wolf.”

“Half wolf,” Aleu recalled with a calm, yet pointed stare which she quickly brushed off. “And that means more than the fur on my back. Give her hell and go after her with the poker and the shovel and the shaker bar. When you’ve licked her a few times and she’s licked you back, then you’ve found your wolf. My papa used to tell me that when things go south, a licked dog cannot make the journey alone. But maybe a wolf with a fire can.”

	The fox sighed. “Sure. But your father never had to deal with someone like Chief.” 

“Oh no,” Aleu rolled her eyes playfully. “He had to deal with a real bully. And someone who almost wiped their hometown off the map. Chief is an angel in comparison.” 

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Railroading was different back then,” The wolf cocked her muzzle towards the shop complex. “This sort of thing didn’t exist. No managers or big overbearing company, but little guidelines or regulations either. Locomotives were simpler, cars without airbrakes or automatic couplers. It was a wild world with wild rules. When my papa was your age, they were still figuring out just what a railroad was.”

Tod’s ear pinned back, and he blinked. “Was that before the war?”

“Just after it. Although where they were, you wouldn’t know it,” Aleu motioned to a set of wooden crates next to the building’s wall. “C’mon…story time.”

	Tod blinked, wondering exactly what sort of story Aleu had in mind. They settled atop the crates, sitting close enough to each other that Tod could almost brush his hand against the wolf’s. Aleu looked off, over the tracks and down the mainline, heading out of town. A light smile was on her lips, and her eyes seemed to focus on the mountains, far in the distance. 

“It all started,” she began, “Many, many, years ago, before I was ever even thought of, in a place very far away from here.” The wolf found herself starting to slip into the past.
 
	“What place is that?” The fox asked 

“Nome.” She said fondly. “It's a small town, and so high in the mountains it felt as if it was almost on top of the world.”




					***********



	1868, Nome 

	The winter that year had been hard, with thick snow blanketing the crags and hills. The range of the great Tug River Mountains rose into the distance, like mighty clouds frozen into lonely monoliths below an equally icy heaven. The trees reduced to dark black shapes that climbed the snow laden slopes. Slopes that smoked eerily with low clouds and heavy fog. Nestled in the mountains and populated by several hundred miners, was a settlement of wooden and brick buildings built around the mine head-frames. 

	Nome was a small mining village that sprang up overnight when rich coal deposits had been struck. The main street was made up of the post office, police station, hotel, butcher shop, a few stores, and brick and wood houses. Running along its length were the cold iron rails of the Nome Coal and Coke Company and their switching yard. A lone locomotive, leased from a war-torn railroad in the state of Georgia, sat at the head of the yard, heavy clouds of smoke rolling from the balloon stack.

A light crowd stood outside the post office, which acted as a train station. The rails which bisected the white landscape as two black lines were the only lifeline in, or out of the valley. All eyes were directed towards the end of the street and down those shiny ribbons. In a town as small and as isolated as Nome, the arrival and departure of the weekly mail train was something to look forward to. It not only broke up the monotony of mining camp life but also provided a connection that made the bitter winter feel less confining. Several people shivered under their coats while others groaned and grumbled about coming back inside to warm up. 

One figure however peered the other way, an orange bandanna fluttering around her neck and over her shoulders. The russet furred husky stood under the shelter of the wooden boardwalk's overhang, away from the forming drifts in the street. Her canine shape was implied behind a wool coat, leggings, and boots that adhered to her hourglass figure. The snow would have to be blowing a lot harder to disguise her natural beauty.

	“What's on your mind, Jenna? Got somewhere to be?” asked a voice to her right. The husky turned to find a female Pomeranian in a lined coat and black snowboots smirking at her. “Thinking about him?”

Jenna shook her head, and glanced down at a pocket watch clutched in her hand. “No Dixie, I'm thinking about Rosy. She should be done with her studies soon. I should return to her.” 

“But Jenna, it's the weekly mail train! How could you miss this? I'm sure your girl can be without her governess for just a little while.” The lavender furred Pomeranian practically danced on the balls of her feet, rolling her head to the side to show off a rather fancy locket that hung from a satin ribbon. “Besides, you never know what sort of trinkets and gifts might arrive in town.”

	Jenna couldn't help but roll her eyes a little at how much Dixie emphasized the words 'trinket' and 'gift'. Antics which didn't go unnoticed by another.

	“Please, say something about her locket before she does a back-flip.” Came the low sultry voice of an afghan hound who seemed more occupied with keeping her long coat out of the slush then the conversation between two dogs in front of her. Holding the coat in one hand, she pushed a long slender ear to the side with another, showing a simple piercing above one lip. “Girl wouldn't shut up about it all the way over here.”

	Dixie glared at the hound. “Thanks a lot Sylvie, you're just upset that Steele wouldn't gi-”

“Is that a new locket?” Jenna's warm voice interrupted, her hand slipping the watch into her coat. “It really fits your new coat, Dix.”

“You really think so!” Dixie's tail wagged happily. 

“Oh, absolutely.” The husky smiled. Dixie always seemed to have some sort of new trinket or outfit. Jenna didn’t really like the two dog’s attitudes about certain things, and Dixie’s showing off everything she had, that others didn’t, was one of them. Jenna figured it was the Pomeranian’s way of standing out in the bleak world that was a mining camp. “It definitely makes a statement.” 
	
	Dixie's tail made slow arcs in the air, her voice lowered to a meer whisper. “You think 'he' will notice?”

	“You'll have better luck standing next to the tracks naked.” Sylvie snorted, then looked at Jenna with a sly smile. “Especially since the whole town knows...”

	“Knows...what?” Jenna's ears dipped back, a hint of irritation in her voice.

“Oh, just that you and Steele are more than a little bit of an item.” The words dripped from the hound’s lips. 

Jenna's expression dropped. “Well, that's a bit of a jump, don't you think? Just because Steele can't keep his big mouth shut and his hands to himself.” 

	“What's with you, Jenna?” The Pomeranian crossed her arms over her chest. “Steele is a genuine hero! Without him, this little two-bit town would dry up. Do you know just how many girls in this town would love a night with him!”

	The locomotive in the yard blew its whistle three times, then started to ease back in a cloud of smoke that shrouded its polished boiler and brass fixtures. No one gathered on the platform paid it any heed, its big crimson drive wheels slowly rotating as it rolled backwards like a stagehand getting out of the way before a play began. Jenna watched it and the flash of brown fur in its cab windows, from the distance.

	Dixie went on, “He’s so big and buff! He must be an absolute delectation in the sack! C'mon Jenna, spill it, did he use a riding crop? Don't lie, I saw the marks on your shoulders the other day!”

	Jenna's tail moved in a slow arc behind her legs, and her mouth cocked to the side. Her cheeks turned as red as her own fur and she shuffled her shoulder blades to tuck her own coat’s collar a little higher.

	“Leave the girl alone, Dix,” Sylvie chuckled, “Besides, I have a source that someone else in town might have his eyes on our little governess.”

	“Would this be the same source that claimed that you had a secret peephole drilled in the men's washroom at the mine?” Jenna smirked.

	“I thought we agreed to never speak of that,” the hound muttered.

The smaller dog huffed. “Sorry, sweetie. It’s just it's Steele or nothing! The town's only locomotive engineer! Oh, I know he and you are an item, but a girl can dream, can’t she?”

	Jenna frowned. “He's not the only engineer in town...” She mumbled, her eyes darting towards the lone locomotive rolling backwards in the yard. She could just make out its nameplates affixed on boiler; 'TEXAS'.  

	Sylvie raised an eyebrow, only for Dixie's gloved finger to shoot out, pointing towards a rapidly approaching light at the end of the road. Her excited voice quickly snuffing out any chance to ask the husky to elaborate. “Oh! I think I see them now!”

	The whistle that echoed up the valley could be heard all through the town, quilling and chirping. Thick clouds of gray smoke rolled from the tall and slender stack of the dark black steam locomotive. The Nome Coal and Coke Company's only locomotive charged into Nome with a string of freight cars rocking and bucking behind the tender coupling. The link and pin couplers rolled in and out with slack as the wedge-shaped cowcatcher pilot kicked snow up to each side. The locomotive was painted a gloss black and her boiler and pipework were jacketed in German silver. The box-shaped headlamp in front of the stack cast a brilliant light before it while on each side of the pilot beam that supported the cowcatcher, a stainless banner fluttered. A small reminder of the recently concluded war between the states that once raged far outside of Nome's seclusion.

	The train rolled alongside the main street, its bell tolling merrily and whistle blasting repetitively in rolling quills and loud chirps. Jenna watched as the black and silver squealed to a stop directly opposite where she and her friends stood. The clatter of cars rolling in as the slack in the old link and pin couplers was compressed rolled like a wave. The locomotive's framework was machined and polished into “bright iron” that glinted in the gray light underneath a cab that was a showpiece of Victorian cabinetry. The tender was painted with rich scroll work on a dark background. Everything was polished and oiled to a mirror surface.
	
	From that cab, the engineer revealed himself to be a tall, powerfully built male Malamute with a white muzzle and black head-fur. His heavy boots stomped deep into the snow as he dropped down the stirrups and marched alongside his iron horse. Pausing for a second to run a hand over the nameplates that where bolted to the running-board: 'TOGO'

	The other members of the crew were a mix of different dog breeds. Closest to Steele and walking in his shadow was a slim Nordic sled dog. His clothing was grubby with only the glint of a police officer's badge to distinguish him as the train's guard.

Stepping down from the locomotive stumbled a small male husky, who struggled to get his goggles off. 

“Need a hand,” chuckled the Nordic. The taller canine walked over to his fumbling companion. He slipped his fist under the band of the goggles and yanked them up on top of the smaller dog’s head, knocking the fireman back against the side of the tender. 

“Thanks, Kaltag!” Star said. “That did the trick!” 

“Don’t mention it,” the other dog muttered. “C’mon! I’m freezing my tail! Nikki is about to open the car.” 

As the crew walked alongside the locomotive, Dixie and Sylvie rushed into the street to greet them through the crowd. The mail train ran once a week for passengers, unlike the daily coal trains. The train’s single passenger car - the only one the mining railroad owned - was attached just behind the locomotive. The car had a sliding door on each side, a small mail-room onboard and often carried high value goods such as the mining company's payroll. Thus, the need for an armed guard as a part of the train's crew. The big side door of the car slid open, and a heavyset chow-chow in a tight tweed vest stood in the doorframe. Instantly the crowd started to gather around the door, as mailbags were brought over to the edge, and handed down to be delivered to the postmaster.

	“Hello, ladies.” Steele’s baritone voice rolled from his tongue, matched only by the slender grin that split his sharp maw. He leaned back against the Togo’s pilot beam and tilted his head up so that his broad shoulders were on full display under his coat. “I hope things haven’t been too dull around here.” 

Dixie beamed, while Sylvie simply grinned slyly. Jenna however stood back, her hands in her coat pockets and a slightly shy smile on her face. Her eyes drifted between Steele and the train. Her mind caught somewhere between the personal need and wanderlust. Jenna quietly longed to one day board the train, and leave Nome.

“Congratulations and felicitations on another successful trip!” Dixie’s tail was a blur. “This musta been a tough one! With the snow, and the wind, it must have been like running during the war…oh the war! Please do tell us about it…”

Steele’s eyes slowly rose to meet the red husky, and his ears tipped forward in a way that reminded Jenna of horns. The malamute subtly side-stepped the Pomeranian, leaving Dixie mid-sentence as she carried on. “Hi there, Jenna, it’s a pleasure.” 

“Steele…” Jenna’s tone was rigid, her voice low. 

“Where’s your girl? I would have expected the mail train to be reason to take an afternoon off.” He stood a full head higher than her, and with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Not this time. Her studies come first.” The tip of the husky’s bushy tail fluttered. “In fact, I should be getting the mail and returning to her.”  

“You always were a thoughtful one.” Steele chuckled. “A working governess up here in the wild. You bring a touch of civilization.”

The sound of a low single note whistle sounded over the crowd. Far different from the chime whistle atop the Togo. The yard locomotive had switched tracks, and was slowly moving back onto the rear of the newly arrived train to start switching cars. Steele didn’t miss the way Jenna’s eyes drifted over towards the other locomotive. He quickly hooked an arm through hers, pulling her close to him.

“Jenna, let’s go celebrate. Unless you’re a little ‘tied up’ tonight.” The malamute’s tone was low, audible to just the two of them. His gray eyes locked with hers, and the ends of his mouth dug into his cheeks in a wide grin. “I’m sure you’re a little hungry after a week without me.”

Jenna shivered and glanced away, unable to hold his gaze. “I don’t know. I think I may have lost my appetite.”

	“Oh? Perhaps we can reacquaint your taste then…” His grip on her arm grew tight, and Jenna closed her eyes and let out a soft groan. “Just as I thought. Tonight, you know where to be.” 

	 He released her arm, and sauntered back towards the locomotive. Jenna’s eyes remained shut, and a hot shudder rippled through her body as she felt his hand brush against the swell of her skirt covered rump. Opening her eyes, she found herself looking at Sylvie and Dixie, both exchanging sly smirks.

	“What?” Jenna snapped.

	“Someone’s getting laid tonight.” Sylvie’s laughter was hard to miss. 

“Humph,” Dixie pouted, turning to watch Steele walk away. Her eyes drifted down to the malamute’s firm ass. “I would give anything to have that!”

“Then you can have it…” Jenna grumbled, “I need to go get the mail for Rosy’s family. Try not to start any new scandals while I’m gone.”



					***********

The Nome Coal and Coke Co’s railroad was a simple affair. When the need for a switch locomotive arose to marshal and sort the lines of coal jennies in Nome, the company reached out to another railroad to lease one. The American type locomotive that spun her drive wheels on the icy rails wore shabby paint and a layer of grime. The war that had so recently split the country in two had forced its home railroad to defer maintenance and the mining company had no intention of spending its limited resources on a loaner. Yet despite the shabby paint and the faded “W&ARR” on the tender, the brass had been polished to a shine and the headlamp gleamed in the falling snow. The nameplates on each side of the boiler proclaiming “TEXAS” to the world.

As the Texas eased up behind the mail train, Balto carefully adjusted the throttle, closing it and centering the Johnson Bar’s reverse gear. Star, acting as a brakeman, waved the locomotive into position. The old-style link and pin couplers required some skill to adjust. The link bar on the locomotive’s pilot had to be raised, and carefully slid into the pocket on the last car. The slender husky held a pin in one hand so that when the link and socket’s holes lined up, he could drop it into place and make the couple. It was a dangerous arrangement. Were the brakeman to not time it right, his fingers would be in the pocket when the couplers met, crushing them to a pulp. So skilled was the dog at the throttle that the link and pin slid home with only the tiniest of clinks. Steam and smoke shrouded the Texas, the vapor was clearly visible in the icy air.

The canine reached up, his glove missing a finger so that one of his own was exposed, and gave a single ‘toot’ on the whistle. Once the locomotive was stopped, he swung the fire-doors open and with a casual spin started tossing in wedge after wedge of wood with practiced ease. Balto was only ever allowed to take the Texas out, and as she was only ever assigned to the yard, he doubled as his own fireman. Whomever was free from the mines would help him switch. He wasn’t truly an engineer, just a hostler who moved equipment around the yard and arranged the coal cars for the outbound trains. But he used the time to sharpen his skill with diligent practice.

The firedoors swung shut with a clatter, and the hostler plopped himself down in the fireman’s bench, his head and shoulders hanging out the window so he could look down the length of the train. He was a spry young canine, with the general form of a wolf. Yet his shoulders and limbs seemed distinctively canine rather than lupin, even in his heavy wool coat and grease cap sitting cockeyed atop his head. As he hung out the window, his yellow tinged eyes peered through the clouds of steam, landing on one figure in particular: the russet furred husky in the heavy coat who was standing at the rear platform of the passenger car.

	His smile was genuine, and there was a light look of wanderlust in his eyes as he spied her. Jenna’s own gaze passed up, and she turned her head to face him, returning his smile with a shy one of her own. The hostler felt his cheeks blast with warmth and he recoiled slightly towards the cab. But never did his smile wane. That is, not until a heavy Russian accent broke the solace of the locomotive cab. 

“Hoy, Balto! There you are!” Balto rolled his eyes playfully as the pear-shaped goose pushed his way through the snow alongside the tracks and climbed the stirrups into the cab. “Why is it that you can never stay still for more than a moment? One minute you’re right next to me, the next you’re at the far end of the yard!” 

“Come on, Boris.” Balto crossed his arms. “This has to be far more interesting than the telegraphy office.”

	“Easy for you to say!” Boris complained, reaching his feathery hands around his back so he could arch it in a loud crack. “I’m a delicate country bird, not some rough and tumble railroad mutt.”

“And yet you’re out here with me in the yard They must have kicked you out of the office to get some peace.”

“I came down to keep an eye on you. I know how you get when the mail train arrives. Running this lunk of iron like a hotshot express.” Boris drummed his fingers on his own forearm. “Best to make sure you're still standing on both paws!”

	“Maybe one day I will run an express,” The wolf hybrid slipped one last look at the female husky and leaned back against the windowsill. “Or at least the mail train.”

	Star waved a hand in the air in a signal, and raised an eyebrow as he looked up at Balto. Three quick blasts on the whistle, and an ease on the throttle set the locomotive into motion in reverse with the last two cars of the mail train balanced on the pilot.

“At the rate you're going, you'll run the whole railroad!” Boris snorted, wrinkling his brow. “Easy now! Let’s not break any records!”

Balto sat on the open windowsill, manipulating the throttle and the reverse gear to control their speed. The only brake on the Texas was the handbrake, but the wolf-dog had become rather skilled at stopping with the big silver reverse lever. Thick clouds of white smoke erupted from the large stack in time to each beat of the cylinders as the cab started to rock back and forth.

	 “Hoy!” Boris sighed, realizing there was no point in trying to deter Balto now. “What did I just say? Boris Goosenov is no spring chicken!”

	As they cleared the switch, Balto wrapped his hands around the reverse lever and pushed it all the way forward, filling the cylinders with steam to arrest and stop the pistons. The Texas started to ease down, and right before it stopped, he swung the handle back to the center. The move was graceful, and there was barely a ripple of slack in the cars.

	 Boris brushed off his black vest, the buttons close to popping against his feathery build. “Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

	“You’re the one who wanted me to get a job,” Balto chuckled, watching as Star threw the switch in front of them before he swung the Johnson bar lever back into the forward position.  

	“Yeah, so I could worry less about you, not more!”

	“What would I ever do without you, Boris?” Two blasts of the whistle, and Texas eased forward with a heavy runaway spin of drive wheels on icy rails. Balto jumped into action and reached for the sanding valve while simultaneously slamming the throttle shut to stop the slip. His ears dipped at the distant laughter of the Togo's crew at the sight of the iron horse losing its feet. Texas only slipped for a moment, and soon the locomotive was rocking side to side as she pushed the line of cars past the Togo on the adjacent track.  

	As they rolled past, the crowd gathered alongside the tracks barely took notice, only focused on the mail bags being slung from the sliding door of the combine. Balto eased the locomotive to a crawl, and grabbing the hemp cord that ran down the center of the cab roof, began to toll the bell. Yet, even over the warm tone of the bell’s light clangs and the tricking and trotting of the iron wheels on the rails, his ears picked up a sweet female voice;

	“Good morning!” Jenna called as the Texas slowly rolled past, standing practically on her toes to peer up into the cab.

“Hello, Jenna. . .I er. . .heh,” Balto smiled, stumbling over his words. His cheeks glowed red as he allowed the locomotive to drift silently by, then reached a hand up and gave a quick ‘pop’ of the whistle. There was no hanging on the cord or playing with the chime, just a quick and cheerful note that sounded like a friendly bark. Soon they were out of earshot. Balto’s ear perked back and he frowned, thinking about how he had fumbled his speech.

“And don't think it's escaped Uncle Boris' eye that a certain lady keeps looking your way.”

Balto's frown vanished, and his ears perked. “Who, Jenna?”

	 The red furred husky kept her gaze on the retreating iron horse, but from the corner of his eye, Balto spied the black and white malamute sidle up beside her, and wrap an arm around her waist before they both vanished into the crowd. He couldn’t make out Jenna’s expression, but he could see her lean against the malamute. 

“Is love!” The goose chuckled, giving the dog a gentle elbow nudge. “She never misses a chance to say hello, and she's alongside the tracks each morning.”

“She's there to see Steele, not me. He's the real star of the show.” He grabbed the bell cord and started tolling it as they entered the yard proper. Lines and lines of coal jennies stood on the sidings, cold and silent in the snowy landscape, with tops piled high with their jagged loads. “Besides, she's not my type.” 

“And vhy not? This railroad business again? Vat does it matter that Steele runs the line every day and you move cars around in the yard? He could do nothing, move nothing, without you! One day you’ll recognize that.”

“It's not that, it's well,” Balto cut himself off to let go of the bell cord, and started easing back on the reverse lever again. He looked down at a yardman who was waiting at the end of the siding to pull the pin and release them. 

“Oh, not this wolf nonsense! Vat's so wrong with being half and half, tell me?” 

“The native wolves shun me for being part dog, and the dogs shun me for being part wolf. Hard to climb the social ladder.” Balto swung away from the throttle and grabbed the big iron wheel of the handbrake, arresting the speed. “Besides, she’s the most popular girl in town. She’d be committing social suicide, just to be seen talking with me.”

	“She must have a death-wish then,” Boris held onto a grab-iron handhold as the locomotive shuddered to a stop. “So, go make move!” 

Balto sat with his hands in his lap, and turned his head to look back at the town, where the Togo stood huffing a hot breath into the cold air. “I think she's already spoken for.” 

The goose's right eyebrow shot up. “Does she know that?”

					***************

	The clouds were painted in deep hues of purple and blue as the sun slowly set. Night was falling and it wouldn’t be long before the oil lamps were lit across town. Balto tugged on the rope that pulled the canvas hose down from the wooden water tank. Standing on the Texas’ tender he kicked the thick hose into the open hatch. Filling the tender with fresh water was his last chore for the day, making sure his charge would be ready for steam up the next morning. Nearby, the Togo stood by, waiting her turn at the tank. The pride of Nome was alone, her engineer having left her in the hands of the hostler. Lest the malamute be forced to do maintenance on his own locomotive.

Balto dropped down into the snow, kicking up the fresh powder as he opened up the valve on the tank and started the flow of water. He leaned against one of the tank’s legs, pulled the engineman’s grease cap atop his head low, and looked into town. His eye’s drifted shut, until Dixie’s voice, distantly faint but still able to be heard, reached him; “Goodnight Jenna!”

The wolf-dog swung his head around and found himself leaving the water tank. The path he took was between two buildings that were trackside, and he found his pace beginning to increase as he reached the end. Suddenly Jenna stepped out on the boardwalk, right in front of him. Startled, he backpaddled as she too pulled back, to avoid the collision. He stopped just inches before he hit her, just as the very tip of their noses touched.

	“Oh,” Jenna said, surprised, she pulled back a bit, embarrassed. She had been saying goodbye to her two local friends. Balto could just spy Dixie and Sylvie walking together in the distance. Jenna’s red fur seemed to glow in the low twilight. “Why, hello Balto. That was an entrance. Are you alright.”

	“Nothin’ hurt but my pride.” Balto responded.

	Jenna’s eyes drifted past him, and she tilted her head. “Isn't that your locomotive spilling water?”

	The wolf dog swung his head back and his eyes dropped as he saw the waterfall coming over the side of the Texas’s tender. He quickly dashed back down the alley and cut off the valve, shoulders slumping at how stupid he must have looked. But the soft chuckle that came behind him as he latched the valve caught him by surprise.

	“A little distracted?” Jenna slowly walked out from the alley.

	“Y-yeah. A little.” Balto thumbed over his shoulder at the locomotive. “I have to make sure it’s got water. See, it uses the water to boil to steam…”

	“…and the steam pushes pistons and moves rods to make it move.” Jenna laughed. “I know. Rosy is very fond of the steam trains, so I’ve had to learn quite a bit about them.”

	Balto nodded. “Rosy is your girl, right? I’ve seen you two trackside a few times.”

	“Sort of, I’m her governess.” Jenna’s tail swayed. “She really enjoys seeing the trains. I like to use the chance to see them as a reward for when she does well in her studies.”

	“No wonder she always seems so excited.” Balto felt his heart swell a little.

	“She really just gets excited by anything new. Trains, mining engines, steam tractors. She’s very mechanically inclined for a girl her age.”

	“Must be a handful in a mining town.” The wolf dog’s ears pinned back as a shrill hiss of steam sputtered past the safety valves on the Texas, only for them to seat just as quickly. “It seems like there is always something new being brought over the mountains.”

	“She did very well at her final exams last week. So, I got Mr. Johansson down at the woodshop to build a toy train for her.” The red husky beamed. “She has no idea.”

	“If she’s going to have her own locomotive…then she’ll need to look the part.” Balto plucked the grease cap off his head and held it out. “I promise I haven’t worn it much. It’s a little too small for me.”

	“Oh, Balto!” Jenna’s eyes lit up and she gently took the cap from his hands. “She’ll love it!”

	Their eyes met, and for a few seconds they stood together in the cold evening air. Balto could feel his heart racing as he looked into Jenna’s eyes. Those rich brown irises drew him in and made him forget everything else around him. It was like for a brief time the inner voices of his doubt were silenced. That was until the shrill wail of the boiler-house whistle signaled a shift change. Both dogs snapped out and looked up. 

“Oh, I'm sorry...I'm late for something,” Jenna declared, stepping back. “It was great seeing you Balto, and thank you for the gift.”

	 Balto smiled. “Anytime. I hope Rosy enjoys it.”
	
	“I'm sure she will. I guess I’ll see you in town sometime then…”
	
	Balto nodded. “As much as you want, I'll be sure to give a whistle when I see you and your girl.”

	Jenna chuckled and turned around to sprint down the alley. Balto sighed as he watched her vanish from view. He crossed his arms as his smile faded. He knew she was too good for him, and she was spoken for. But there was something about her smile, charm, and kindness that drew him.

	“Good-bye Jenna….” He said aloud. “Steele's a lucky man.”

	
 

					***************


	There was nothing sweet about the kiss. It was all heat and hedonism as the black and white malamute overwhelmed the russet furred husky's mouth and she relented to him. Her lower jaw cycled as her mouth was spread open by his own. The male’s heavy hand cupped the back of her head and held her so that her grunts and groans could be felt in his own throat. Jenna was at his mercy. 

The two dogs were upstairs in the parlor of the apartment where Steele lived, over the saloon right in the center of Nome. It was finely furnished with thick rugs and silk wallpaper, and a stone fireplace crackled away in the corner. Piles of discarded clothing made a trail to where they stood. When their lips parted with a heavy gasp of warm air, Jenna pushed him back slightly in order to catch her breath.

	The husky stood before him wearing just her brown snow-boots, and a slight frown. Her ears were pinned back and her bright eyes blinked quickly, watching as Steele took in every curve of her naked body. From her light shoulders and ample chest down those broad hips, and long, slim legs. His own eyes were dark with the same desire that hypnotized her against her better judgment, and drew her into his web. Across the room, flakes of snow tapped the window panes in a rhythm that perfectly matched Jenna's pulse tapping against her throat. She could feel it there, but even if she couldn't, the way he was eyeing the tender spot between her voluminous breasts told her it was racing. Her bright pink nipples stood out against the cream fur of her breasts, slowly growing hard as pebbles.

	“I knew you would come,” he said, wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. Like her, he was nude and she found she was unable to tear her eyes from those strong legs and heavy arms that accented his broad shoulders. Between his legs, he hung deep with a dark red shaft that was quickly rising to attention. “I bet you’ve been looking forward to this just as much as I have.”

“They are talking about us again.” Jenna glared, but how her pulse raced for him, especially as he stood there nude. She could feel a growing heat pulsate from her pert mound with its light pink folds. At one time she had been drawn in by the glamour of the engineer, and a romance had started to blossom. But now conflict and ego had reduced it to just sexual desire. “About what we are and what we do together.”

	Steele slapped Jenna's face. It was hard enough to almost be a backhand, and it sent the husky's head whipping to the side. A light sigh and shudder of lust escaped from her lips in a desperate sound that had him grinning down at the female. Her hands rose to her ample chest, almost in a cute 'beg' pose, on reflex. One ear was bent down while the other hiked. Her eyes never wavering from his while she enjoyed the soothing ebb of pain from her cheek.

	“Are they?” Steele didn't bother to add anything further. He inclined his head toward the window, and she didn't miss the shift in his posture as his shoulders went back and his deep tone dropped into something low and commanding, “Stand there.”

	Silently, she did as she was told, putting her back to him and slowly padding across the room. She could feel his eyes on her, on the deliberate sway of her red hips and the hourglass curve of her ass until she was standing in front of the window and looking out at the town of Nome. The gray atmosphere cast her reflection sharply back at her so she could see both her own brown eyes, and Steele's deep appreciation. The malamute drank her in like she was something to be savored and Jenna could sense the rush of his desire in his deep breathing almost as strongly as her own anticipation. He closed the distance, pausing briefly to reach for something from the nearby wardrobe on the way before the husky felt the heat of him against her back.

	“Good girl," he praised, warm palms resting on the curve of Jenna's waist as she leaned back into his chest. His hands traced patterns in her thighs and his mouth trailed kisses across the back of her head between her ears, easy and affectionate as they watched the snow gather on the window panes. “God damn, you’re the most beautiful in all of Nome. Perfect alongside me.”

“Yeah, a trophy, I’m sure.” The husky shuddered as she felt the teasing touch of her favorite rope, just so, across the middle of her back. “Do you care about anything but your own ego?”

“Oh, someone’s snappy.” His voice was a low growl. “That’s why I fancy you, Jenna. You’re feisty. Beautiful, and feisty. Not many have that special combination that makes you so attractive.”

“Yeah, perfect for a conquest.” She shivered as he teased the length of rope in soft brushes against her side. “Why are you so good at that?”

“Can you imagine what a scandal it would be…” He pushed her tail to the side and kissed her neck. Jenna whimpered, his lips pressed against her pointed ear and his breath blazing awareness across her cheek with every word. “If the whole town was to find out just what a rope-slut you are?”

“They already suspect that,”

	“But you know it’s true. You want this.” He retracted the rope and his touch save for sliding his fingers beneath her chin, turning her face to his so he could look her in the eye. “You want me. No dog in Nome is like me.”

	“I do,” The red furred husky finally admitted with a broken gasp, pressing her ass back against him, and rolling her hips into the already-hard length of his cock. Her body was screaming, desperate for the pleasure it knew he could provide. “I want this.”

	Steele wasted no time looping the rope across Jenna's chest, brushing it briefly over her hardening nipples and the tops of her breasts as he brought it into place.

	“Hold still,” he murmured into her shoulder, voice low and focused as he watched his work, hands expertly manipulating the length of rope across the shivering woman's body -over, under, twisting. Jenna's tail swayed in a wide arc around their legs, while his own tail flicked back and forth.

	He held her against him, her bare back against his chest and body bracketed between his arms as he worked the fiber into intricate twists across the husky's bountiful chest and arms that would hold as he desired. The rope was passed down over one shoulder, behind her back, up the opposite shoulder, around her neck, and lastly between her breasts. The cords were wrapped around her torso and upper arms above and below her bosom, so each coil compressed Jenna's vulnerable globes a bit tighter. The husky arched her back when he ran his fingers between her flesh and the bindings he created, and goosebumps erupted along her skin in the wake of his touch. All that teasing had made her skin hypersensitive, fully aware of every move he made, and left wanting more. He tugged another twist from the rope and a soft whimper slipped from Jenna's lips, the girl squirming despite the warning he'd just given.

	Steele growled a second warning against her cheek as he reached for her wrists, holding them together in one hand as he shook out the remaining rope and draped it across them with the other.

	“If you can't be still on your own,” he chided her, nipping her cream-colored collarbone before soothing the sharp sting with a kiss. Jenna sucked in a sharp breath when his knuckles brushed gently over her bare flesh, his touch feeling cool against the heat of her skin. “I'll help you.”	

With that he brought his focus to securing her wrists, ropes tightly cinched with her hands crossed behind her back and just above her tail. Steele spun her around to face him, and paused to take in his rope handiwork and Jenna’s nearly nude form, prone and captive for him. Once he steadied her, arms behind her back and legs pressed together, he stepped back and grinned, attention lingering on her bare breasts, the curve of her waist, and her full thighs.

	It took all of the russet husky’s willpower to stay still and silent under his examining gaze. To hold back the needy sounds that were eager and ready in the back of her throat. After several moments, he nodded, approving his work before he returned to her. His arms looped around her firm waist, and pulled her close until finally Jenna pressed her chest into his, her hands pinned behind her back and her mouth against his, silently asking for more. His lips met her own once more. Steele's powerful hands roamed her soft body, pinching and teasing in expertly balanced touches that left Jenna moaning into his mouth. She could feel the want swell, pushing against her skin and her mind when he ran his palms up the flare of her waist and hips.

	Steele grinned, pleased with her reaction, but Jenna could see his waning patience in the way his fingers flexed against her and how his red cock jumped with every gasp that slipped from her lips. She could feel the aching absence of him between her thighs and her ears dipped back in the knowledge that she was slick with the needy urgency of it.

	His grip was tight on her hips as he maneuvered her body, turning Jenna until she faced away from him and was looking out the window once more. Jenna's eyes focused on the world outside. The glass was frosted, but not enough to hide her bound and naked body. Without warning, everything went dark and Jenna's ears perked as she felt her own orange bandanna being wrapped around her head and secured as a blindfold.

	“If they want to talk about us,” His voice was in her ear, barely audible, but clear. “Let's give them something to say.”

His hands rose up her arms, landing palms flat against her ample breasts as his fingers looped through the rope and tugged it just a little tighter. The husky arched her back and pressed herself into his hands, whimpering at the sudden onslaught of sensations. His fingertips traced the intricate bindings across her chest, careful- too careful- to avoid her nipples. Her breasts were overly sensitive from the gentle constriction. The cool, hemp-smelling rope that encircled her flesh teased her body, coaxed it to toil in opposition. He nipped her neck as his hands stopped their slow torment and released her bosom. 

Jenna immediately bit her lower lip.

	One hand traveled up the husky's spine, pushing gently until she followed the pressure and bent. Jenna instinctively struggled to right herself in this new position. Steele's hand at her hip held her steady until she found her balance. She was nudged forward until she felt her bound breasts and flushed right cheek pressed against the window glass to support her. The black and white malamute ran his fingertips over the rope crisscrossing Jenna's shoulder blades, tugging just enough to shift the binding between her smushed breasts and the cool glass. The husky shivered, then squealed as his other hand came down across her red ass in a single strike.

	“Mmm, you look so good with my marks across your ass.” That broad palm came down on her rump again with a satisfying smack and another sharp squeal in reply. The immediate sting that bloomed there deliciously contrasted with the cool of the window pane, the tug of the ropes and the sound that left her mouth causing both parties to burn with passion.

	With one more tug at the rope binding Jenna's breasts, eliciting another whine from her, Steele slid his hand down her spine, down the crack of her ass and slipped his fingers along each side of her warm mound, spreading her wide. Jenna turned her head a little, her motion limited between the pin of his grip and the glass. Yet with her vision covered, she wasn't able to sort out what to expect. She could feel the rush of blood so clearly that she wondered if Steele could hear it too.

	He gently pushed her feet apart, spreading her legs. “Are you ready, my good girl? You have been so patient.”

	Jenna nodded fervently.

	“Tell me.” His words were low, his restraint at odds with his desire just as hers was.

	“I'm ready...” The glass of the window fogged up at the tip of her muzzle. The words a whisper between lips that feel desert dry with desperation.

	Jenna shivered, feeling him against her ass before he slid down, teasing with slow even strokes over the husky's warm lips while applying little pressure. She wanted the pressure, though, and found herself rocking her hips back against him in a silent plea for more.

	“Eager, aren't we?” He laughed, and she briefly thought this may prolong the tease but before the thought had finished, he thrust forward and slipped into her. 

	The russet colored husky's mouth formed a silent O as the thick head of his cock stretched her, all the sound stripped from her with the sensation of finally, finally getting what she wanted. No, what she needed. What little she found in his personality no longer mattered as he pushed into her slowly, filling her until his hips came to rest against her tender ass and her curly tail fluttered against his abs. Steele paused there, his cock throbbing inside her, his and Jenna's bodies notched together in a calm that belied the rising ferocity both dogs craved. One hand cupped her muzzle and stroked her cheek with a thumb and forefinger. The other gripped her hip to steady her in preparation as he started to make short, shallow thrusts as he decided what it was they both needed.

	As Steele read Jenna's body and his own desires, he matched them in the effortless way only he could. His hand around her muzzle slipped up, covering her mouth. He pulled out of her slowly, until they were nearly separated, before pushing forward once more. Jenna whimpered and moaned at the overload of sensation, her breasts and face against the glass.

	The rope tugged and squeezed against her breasts and her arms bound behind her back, her hands wiggling and flaying, wrists crossed, unable to touch or balance herself as she was used to. The rope slid and pulled against her back as it arched. Each sweet gasp from her lips being accompanied by the firm slap of his balls against her. The lingering tenderness of his spankings increased the sensation of his hips meeting her ass, over and over with building intensity. As he increased the pace, Steele moved his hand from that slender muzzle to the top of Jenna’s skull, between her ears, tugging her head back just enough.

	Jenna’s whimpers and moans begin to run together as he fucked her mercilessly, her bound body pinned between his and the window. The husky grunted, feeling her heartbeat in her clit even before he reached a finger down to toy with it.  Sweat rolled down her forehead, her body on overdrive at the pleasure.

	“You cannot cum. Not yet” Steele growled with such force that Jenna’s eyes widened behind her own bandanna. He started toying with her clit, sending sharp jolts of pure pleasure through her shivering hips. The constraint, the feeling of the rope secure against her soft form was quite intoxicating. She loved the feeling of being bound and squeezed tightly, to give control over.

	“Damnit, Steele…” his name was a soft huff from her lips. “I love what you do…”

	“I know you do.”

	The malamute started to slow the piston of his hips as he leaned down over her. He released her head and rolled his palm flat between the husky’s shoulder blades briefly before he curled his fingers under the rope, gripping it at its junction so that every tug on it tightened each binding. As his hips thrust forward, Steele pulled Jenna up and back against him with a tug on the ropes. His other hand was at her ribcage, supporting her as he pushed forward, bringing her hips and pelvis against his body while pressing her face, breasts and torso against the window. Jenna’s ears flicked forward, and she could hear the strips of wood holding the glass flex and strain against the hard force of her lover’s hard and heavy claps. He moved inside and against her until every thrust brought his lips to her pointed ears. Some thrusts are met with a sprinkle of kisses and bites across her red furred neck and shoulder, some just a growl of his need.

	Jenna felt the incredible swell of his cock just as she opened her mouth to tell him she was close, knowing that he was too. But Steele paused, buried balls deep inside her so that the throbbing head of his shaft pressed against the entrance to her womb. Standing in stillness just before the abyss, just long enough to whisper into one of those thin ears.

	“Do you think anyone's watching us? Watching me fuck your bound and blindfolded body against this window? Watching me use you?” He paused for a sharp inhale, a battle for control as his growled questions push them both ever closer to the inevitable, “Let them talk and gossip about you and forget about anything else. Because the truth is you are mine and that’s all that matters! Now cum.”

	Jenna moaned, a sweet crescendo that dissolved along with the last of her control with frightening speed as she went limp against the window. He slammed into her bound body once, then twice, as her vaginal muscles clenched around him before joining her in ecstasy.

	“Oh, Jenna…” It was his turn to cry out her name as he leaned into her, his solid hips hammering into her softer ones before stilling with his cock buried to the hilt. Every hot pulse of his orgasm further staking the claim that his rope, his marks, and his words had already staked over her. A claim whose carnal pleasure she would never question but whose personality she longed to be rid of. In her mind’s eye, Jenna saw the young hostler from the railyard behind her, rather than the black and white malamute. 

The thought put the smallest of smiles in her lips, the glass of the window fogging with her breath.



					***********

Snow was falling upon Nome once again the next morning, blanketing the roofs of buildings and the tops of railcars with a pristine white sheet. Balto kicked his boots on the threshold of the door before entering the warmth of the Nome Coal & Coke's office. The office was set on a corner between the main street, and the boiler-house. The town’s only telegraphy office was located inside, and it was here that orders were received and posted. He dusted off a sprinkling of snow as the heat from the blazing potbelly stoves hit him, then looked eagerly at the call-board posted on the wall. For a brief second, his ears tipped up as he saw the mail train listed for the end of the week, only to dip back down. His name was not among the crew.

Boris sighed, running a feathery hand up the back of his neck as he watched what had become a rather unfortunate rhythm. Each week, the hope for promotion was there…followed by the disappointment of rejection.

“You know, Balto…” the goose started, walking behind the counter to the small desk he worked out of. “The war is over, ve don have to stay here anymore. Won’t be long until the rails stretch to the Pacific. Big country.”

Balto remained silent, his head craned and eyes locked to the board. Boris was right, of course. The Nome Coal and Coke Co’s railroad was a simple affair. With only one established station and its yards in Nome, the rest of the railroad spread out like the tentacles of an octopus, reaching with light rails and thin ties into the coal fields to connect its many shafts. The yards in Nome were three tracks that ran alongside the main street, and the storage tracks for the coal jennies. The railroad’s only real job was hauling supplies to the mines, and coal out. There were no named passenger trains, no dining cars, not even a roundhouse or a turntable. Just two locomotives, one of which they didn’t even own. He knew there was a better offering out there…

But he thought about Jenna, and the friendly way she greeted him each morning. The kind words she might spare if they were going slow enough. Those few brief seconds.

	“You're looking too high, Bingo.” Steele’s low baritone voice cut through the air, accompanied by the snickering of Kaltag and Nikki, who both followed him into the building's warm interior. “Only true railroadmen are posted to run over the trails.”

“Don’t listen to him, don’t look at him, live a long life,” Boris said low enough that only he and Balto could hear.

“My name’s Balto.” The growl in his voice was loud enough for all in the room to hear, an edge coming into his voice and his tail hiked.

“But you can call him idiot,” Boris said under his breath.

	“Oh, I'm sorry, Balto.” The Malamute snickered as he walked past the hostler and leaned against the wood paneling of the wall next to the call-board. “Balto, the half-breed, on his half-breed locomotive. You're lucky that they gave you a kettle to keep you busy in the yard. Tell me, is that thing a half-breed too? Half windmill? Maybe a little house stove?” 	

	Steele drew out a cigarette and popped it into his mouth before tossing the paper pack to Nikki.

	“Good wordplay dere, boss!” Nikki laughed hard enough that the bowler hat perched atop his meaty head slipped back, expertly catching the pack in his meaty hand before passing it to the blonde Nordic. Soon the room smelled of tobacco.

	“You're the absolute wittiest, the cleverest...the sharpest. You're the most hilarious...” Kaltag rambled, before Star slipped in the doorway and ducked under the Chinnok's crossed arms, goggles hanging from his neck, interrupting his monologue and interjecting with; “You crack me up! Ha!”
	
	Balto's brow furrowed, but he kept his temper in check, that is until the malamute looked towards Boris. “Tell me, old goose, who’s dick did you suck to get the half-breed a job? Or did you let Bingo here do the job for you?”

	The three dogs behind him burst into laughter at Steele’s sly comment. That was enough for Balto. Picking on him was one thing, but going after his friends was crossing the line.

	“Steele!” The hybrid stepped between the two. “Leave him out of this. I got this job the same as you got yours. You’re not the only hogger in this town.”

Steele walked toward him, the cigarette dripping from his mouth, and Balto grit his teeth, expecting the confrontation to become physical. The laughter from the others died down. “Give it up Bingo. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am and one day, I’ll hold the throttle of a first-rate train, but you’ll always be a third-rate yardlet busting couplings and fouling the mainline. You’re no engineer, wolf-dog, better get back to your pack!”

As he finished his sentence, the malamute plucked his cigarette from his lips and flicked it at Balto. The half-burned butt bounced off the gray dog’s cheek, flinging ash up towards his eye. Balto instantly grunted and shook his head. He balled his fists and started to real an arm back, as if ready to land a punch into Steele’s gut. Only to feel Boris’s thick feathered hand grip his wrist and hold him back.

	“Maybe it's the unrelenting fear talking, but I'm seeing wisdom in this advice,” The goose started to drag Balto away. “Maybe we go now, huh?”

	Balto finally gave in and turned to walk away, his tail drooping as he left the building in a flurry of laughter and snide commentary. It was a long walk towards the engine house, and he still had both locomotives to prepare for the day. Boris trailed behind him, turning only to give a stern glare back through the doorway, then scurrying off to catch up to the dejected hostler.  


					*************


	The two whistles that echoed about the town’s chimneys and gables couldn’t be more distinctive from one another. The chime whistle of the Togo blasted and belted its call, with little grace but plenty of sound. Its brass chimes gave it a melodic tone that was pleasing to the ear, but the amount of steam that erupted from it and the excessive length of its calls made it seem like it was screaming for attention. Then, there was the low single note of the Texas. Mellow, shallow, and understated in its simple tone, yet sounded with a low crescendo leading into and dropping out of each call. As if the hand on the cord was being attentive to his presence, and doing all he could to keep from disturbing the peace while still making itself known.

	Inside the carpenter’s shop, right in the center of the town near the mine’s company offices, the twelve-year-old girl held her hands tightly over her own eyes, a wide smile plastered over her face as she tried her best to contain her building excitement. The air smelled of freshly cut wood, and along the walls leaned household goods such as cabinets, chairs and decoratively carved tables, amongst the more mundane working tools required for the mines. Mr. Johansson, the carpenter, picked up a small cloth wrapped object, a project he had been working on, for a little while now. As he came down on one knee, he pulled the cloth back.

	“Alright, Rosy,” Jenna announced “You can open your eyes now.”

	Rosy blinked, as there before her, in the toughened hands of the shop’s proprietor’s eyes was a miniature iron horse. The little girl opened her eyes, and started jumping up and down with glee. A trip into town was one thing, and always an occasion, but this…her very own miniature locomotive. Her fur lined coat rippled and fluttered as the human girl bounced on the balls of her feet, holding her arms to her chest in glee.

“Ohh! Look at it! I love that pilot, and look at those main rods!” Her voice pitched with excitement as she rattled off a few of the components of the machine that one wouldn’t expect a child of her age to know. Tugging on the shoulder sleeve of her governess, her head whipped back and forth between the husky and the locomotive with enough force to fling her red ponytail like a flag. In a strange quirk of fate, both Jenna and Rosy shared similar colored hair and fur. “And that bell! I just love this train!”

	Jenna chuckled, and put a hand on the girl’s shoulders to steady her. Her other hand slipped into her own coat, clutching at something else. “I felt you deserved a treat, Rosy. Especially after you did so well at that piano recital!”

	The wooden toy was brightly painted, black and silver to match Nome’s pride. A hook set into its front led to a long leather pull string. So that the young girl could tow her own iron horse across a smooth floor. Rosy clutched the toy tightly to her chest, her bright eyes wide with excitement. “Thank you, thank you! My very own train!”

	“Well, then I suppose you will need this!” Jenna rolled her eyes playfully and placed Balto's grease-cap atop Rosy's head. It was rather large for the young girl, clearly intended for her to grow into. 

	“My own engineer’s hat!” Rosy laughed, twirling on her heels while holding the toy in front of her, then dashing out the open door and into the snow. “I love it! We’re a real train crew now! C’mon.”

	“Stay close, Rosy!” Jenna called, before turning towards the carpenter. She reached into her coat and pulled out a small wad of cash. “Mister Johanssen, the train is beautiful. I’m very grateful.”

	The human smiled, pocketing his well-earned profit. “My pleasure.”

	Both turned as the little girl stumbled by the door, dragging her new toy through the snow. The little engine’s plow threw up a miniature trench, all while Rosy mimicked the chugging exhaust and a whistle’s wail. Jenna beamed, the cap had been the perfect addition. She thought about Balto, and experienced an odd sensation at that point, including a tightness in her throat and a hint of anxiety, but it felt oddly good. 

	“Rosy's grateful too, huh?” The husky chuckled, taking control of that momentary high. “Then again, maybe I should've gotten her the doll house!”

	Outside, the church bells rang for the hour. Their doling tone met by the quick chirping of the chime whistle. Rosy stopped in the small alleyway outside the shop, and listened to the steam whistle, then spun around. “C’mon! That’s Steele! We can catch the first train departing town!”   
	
“Coming, sweetheart.” The governess called, her tail swishing back and forth to beat against her skirt. This was the perfect chance to thank Balto for his thoughtful gift, and Jenna found her excitement building. “We’ll stay long enough to watch the first train leave, then it’s off to do your arithmetic.”      


					***********

	Each day, the mining company’s train, led by the Togo, would make the rounds to the many mine heads. It picked up loaded cars and dropped off empties along the way. As well as moving boxcars of supplies such as tools, equipment, and gunpowder. Even three years after the war, gunpowder was still hard to get a hold of, and nitroglycerin was being used experimentally in a few of the shafts. It was made in the town in a pharmaceutical office next to the tracks on the main street. Once a week, a mail train would run, connecting Nome to the outside world. But for the rest of the week, these trips to and from the mines made up most of the railroad’s traffic.

	With its big crimson drive wheels spinning and screeching on the frosty railheads, Texas pushed the wooden coal jennies into place. The jennies were simple cars, with only two axles and four wheels. Built like boxes with a handbrake on one end, and a trap door in the bottom, they had iron loops on all four corners so that a horse could be tied on to move the car about a mine. They ran together in groups of five and six. Once Balto brought his locomotive to a stop, the cut of jennies kept rolling, the pins having not been put in place in the coupler, and bounced against the jennies that were already standing tied down at the end of the siding. The hybrid leaned back atop the big wooden seatbox, laying the back of his head against the wall of the cab, tucked into the corner where the side met the rear bulkhead. The cab wasn’t claustrophobic, but it was tightly packed, and the canine was able to kick his feet up against the Johnson lever and the cab wall.

	The Togo sat motionless on the track closest to town, far behind where Balto and Texas were working, the black and silver locomotive standing out against the piercing white of the landscape. Steele had just positioned the locomotive where it was impossible for anyone on main street to miss it. On the next track over, a string of empty jennies stood, waiting for Balto and the Texas to grab hold of them and bring them to the storage yard just on the backside of town. Clouds of thin smoke and exhaust drifted among the falling flakes of snow. Steele himself was standing at the rear of the tender, leaning against it with one arm draped across the rear bumper-beam. He was chatting with Sylvie and Dixie, and judging by the way they fawned over the big malamute, whatever story was being told must have been wild and hair-raising, and more than likely untrue.

	In the yard in Nome, the Texas would arrange the empties and loaded cars to be taken to the interchange outside the valley, as well as move freight cars of supplies around the yard. Never did the Texas leave town, and its engineer was paid far less than the engineer who ran the trips to the mines. It was due to this that Balto even had the job, as the hybrid couldn’t find work in Nome proper, and was forced to take the pittance that no one else with experience would touch. The mine operators didn’t care much about the railroad. Only that the trains ran, and their product moved.

	Balto turned his gaze forward out the window, and saw her. Jenna with her girl, walking down the wooden boardwalks that ran the length of the town’s storefronts. Rosy was clutching her new prize to her chest, her head held high and eyes wide, clearly entranced with the sight of the two locomotives. His mouth split into a light grin that put dimples under each of his yellow eyes and they met her’s. In return, Jenna gave a subtle smile. It felt intimate, and his tail began to ‘wap’ against the side of the seatbox.

	Looking behind him, Balto could see Steele walking around his locomotive, head held high and shoulders rolling with a swagger. The malamute turned towards Jenna, and smirked. Jenna herself looked away sheepishly, clutching Rosy’s shoulder just a little harder. The hybrid sighed, and pulled his coat up over his shoulders so his head shrunk down slightly. But when he looked again, Jenna’s attention was back on him.  

	Steele swung himself aboard the locomotive, where Star was already tending to the fire. Hissing steam from open cylinder cocks, the silver and black machine eased backwards, towards the line of cars that made up the first train of the day. The malamute positioned himself on the cab windowsill, so that he was plainly visible against the rich walnut. Balto looked up at him, and saw that Steele had spotted him exchanging looks with Jenna, as for a few seconds, the malamute looked taken aback. The Togo slammed into the line of cars behind them with enough force to cause a few lumps of snow to fall from the car tops. He glared at Jenna, his large hand gripping the silver throttle lever tight, then glared at Balto.

	Balto eased the throttle open on Texas, rolling backwards towards the switch that split to the track adjacent to the one Steele and Togo sat on. A crowd was gathering, as usually did for the first trip of the morning. The switch was lined for the clear track, with its jennies far away at the other end. As soon as Balto cleared the track, the line would be clear for Steele.

	Two blasts of the chime whistle echoed down the street. Both of Balto’s ears pitched forward, as did Jenna’s as the big drive wheels of the black and silver locomotive spun in place for a moment as they worked to grip the frosty rails. Steele was leaving before Balto could clear the track ahead of him! A murmur went through the crowd, realizing that something wasn’t right. Thick clouds of black smoke poured from the stack on the gleaming locomotive, and the wheels bit the rails and lurched ahead. Balto found himself looking back into the glaring headlight.

	“What’s he doing?” A few fingers pointed at the Texas from the crowd, and voices rose. “He’s still on the mainline!” 
The wolf looked forward, then looked back. He couldn’t outrun Steele…but the switch was close enough that if he sped up, he might make it. With his ears sharply tipped forward, Balto flung his own throttle open, and Texas’s exhaust deepend as the iron steeds began their joust.

	Jenna’s mouth dropped at the sight, realizing what cruel trick Steele had just pulled. She dropped down on one knee and clutched Rosy tight. The fear of a wreck, no matter how far or close it would be, was enough for the governess to be ready to shield the child from debris, the little girl gasping as she too understood what was about to happen. Jenna didn’t quite recognize her own voice, or how loud it was; “C’mon Balto!”

Balto’s heart was in his throat and he couldn’t tare his eyes from the headlamp that glared over the tender and into his cab. Rods clanked and the rails clicked off in measured amounts underneath as the locomotive rocked side to side. Steele didn’t seem to care what happened next, his own locomotive like a wild animal stampeding towards destruction.

	The space between Steele and the switch was far greater than Balto. The Texas rocked backwards through the switch, and alongside the Togo blasting by in a clatter of iron and the fury of steam, large wheels spinning and drive rods flashing. The Togo slammed through the switch, which wasn’t aligned for its passage. Forcing the points over and causing the lever to snap its lock and fling into the opposite position. 

	As they passed, Steele’s voice cut through the veil of smoke and speed. “Out of my way, Lobo!” Balto could just see the flash of the malamute’s eyes, the brows deeply entrenched in an expression of pure anger. Star, clinging to the inside leg of the tender tank for dear life. 	

	The wind from the slipstream of the two trains whipped over Jenna, and Rosy let up a cry of alarm. The husky could feel a deep seething anger at Steele for this move, and was already thinking about what words to use upon his return. 
“My hat!” The young human’s arms waved in the air, and Jenna saw the new grease-cap flutter in a low arc and dance behind the Togo before being caught by Texas’s headlamp.

	Balto flung the Texas into forward, wheels spinning as he desperately attempted to arrest his speed before potentially slamming into the line of jennies at the end of the siding. The screech of wheels on rails was accompanied by the rushing charge of exhaust from the balloon stack. He slid, driving wheels spinning, to a stop just before the link and pin of the first coal car. The throttle was slammed shut, and the handbrake whipped on.

Balto slumped down in his seat, clutching at his chest, his eyes opening just enough to see the tail of Steele’s train vanishing into the snow. He could see Boris running from the office, and a few others running from town.  



	
**********