The Wrecker II
Folwilliar


The patrons whispered hushed and low, they seemed to be afraid
As if a ghost had stood right up and walked out of its grave
His face was shallow and dirty, his skin like leather hide
Sure he spoke like any man, but something wasn't right

Marceline, 1893.

The cocker spaniel sat on the stone floor, her arms wrapped around her knees. She had her back pressed against the outside wall, just under the slender window with its unyielding bars. Her chocolaty brown eyes peered up as the door to her cell was opened. The white long-sleeved day-dress she had been issued clung to her curves and had a neck opening so large that it slid over one of her shoulder-blades. She visibly relaxed, looking up at the blonde furred husky with the spot over one eye that stood at the entrance of her cell. Slowly she stood up, sliding her back up the stone wall. There were no signs of tears on her furry cheeks, no begging or pleading for mercy, just a hint of pride as she stepped forward from the wall. A gust of wind coming from outside stirred both the cloth of her dress, and her long fluffy ears in a ghostly manner.

“It's about time,” Lady snapped as she was allowed passage through the celldoor. “You should all feel ashamed of yourselves. Locking up innocent citizens without any cause or provocation!”

Kaltag slid the door shut behind the cocker spaniel, pocketing the keys before escorting her through the cool dimness down the line of cells and towards the large wooden door at the end. “My deepest apologies, but we had to be careful. There was a death during that shipwreck, and the law must be sure that there was no foul play, no fraud, no wrongdoing committed by any.”

“Would you at least allow me to return to my home to fetch more proper attire? Goodness, I can feel the stone through these shoes.” She crossed her arms over her chest and did her best to not let the place deter her. “Or at least allow me a chance to wash up.”

 Lady was no stranger to the pound, having been once locked up many years ago when she and the Tramp had started courting. Of course, reason would always prevail. She had committed no crime after all. With her head held high, the dress draped over her frame to show off a bare shoulder. Her eyes glanced around the cells, looking for the Tramp. Yet in the dim light of the oil lamps, he was nowhere to be seen.

“I can do better than that. You're being released,” the larger male said with a slight smile, hoping that news would turn the sour out of the pretty spaniel's tone. “Your story checks out with the railroad. You were not on that work-train. We sent someone from the railroad to fetch some good clothes for you. They are already waiting.”

Her mouth was a thin line, the calmness betraying the thundering heart inside her torso. Released? Finally! She took a deep breath to settle her nerves, and followed the blonde furred husky through the wooden doors into the police station proper. The Tramp would be waiting there, and then the two could go out for breakfast and compare notes as to what happened. The warm morning sunlight streamed through the plate glass windows and the spaniel found herself squinting as she stepped out of the dim light of the pound. Kaltag brought her into the main lobby of the police station, and up to a wooden railing that bisected the room, where a gate stood between them and the rest of the world. She was hoping that this would mark the end of a miserable experience.

Instead, Lady's long ears were greeted with the raised voice of the Western & Atlantic's own Pinkerton detective, who had the marshal standing grim-faced behind the wooden counter that ran along one side of the room. Nikki, for all his size and appearance of competent ability, was clearly not sure what to do with the saluki spitting fire and coal at him.

“...and no one bothers to alert the railroad's own detectives! You understand that we DO have a private force to investigate crimes against the company? But no! We just go into the night like a band of vigilantes and go awaking honest working dogs from their beds! Why, if Mr. Balto was here...you 'do' know Balto? Don't you?”

Rita stood with her hands on her hips. Her leather vest was unbuttoned, having had to be opened in order to release her own firearm upon entry. The detective badge she wore weighted one of the flaps so it hung off her body like an open door. Lady quickly spotted the tiny pistol laying on the counter next to a stack of wanted posters. The cocker tilted her head, as she wasn't expecting to see the railroad's own detective. As Rita spoke, a hand ran through her long mousy brown hair, which rolled back across her shoulders. Her sharp brown eyes and light eyelashes were firmly rooted with a cold intelligence and an iron clad determination. A determination that was running her tongue faster than anyone else in the room could escape.

“Now, now, Miss Rita...hold it in yah for a bit.” Niki held his large hands in front of him defensively. “The crime wasn't committed on railroad property. So, it falls under our jurisdiction. That's the bottom fact. Your boss, who let me say I have lots of respect for, knows that.”

“Then, at least put a railroad guard on him! Someone that answers to an organization with brains and will keep you mutton-heads from acting too quick.” Rita’s fan-like tail swung like the pendulum of a clock. She put her hands on the wooden counter, fingers digging into its surface.

“Sure,” Nikki scowled. “I'll put you in the cell across from him. Then you can keep watch.”

Rita's eyes narrowed and her lip curled. Outside, the muffled cry of a locomotive's whistle could be heard from the railyard. Nikki returned the stare, his arms crossed over his barrel chest and eyebrows hiked. For a few brief seconds, Lady wondered if she was about to witness a real crime. As the sound of the whistle faded, Rita took her hands off the counter and stepped back.

“You two done?” Kaltag started, breaking the silence. “Mrs. Dear is free to go. I'll process her out.”

Rita whipped around to see Lady, upon which the glare she had been casting at Nikki quickly turned into a broad smile. Lady could see a tinge of soot on the light brown of the saluki's face. No doubt she had come directly from the railyard where she haunted the boxcars. “Finally! This isn't exactly how I was hoping we would see each other again. But it's well and fine to see you, hun.”

“Likewise,” Lady exhaled. Seeing the friendly and familiar face helped to release all the tension she had been holding up for the last few hours. Her stubby tail even started to quiver. “I feel like I've been run through a wash-ring. I really just want to find Tramp and have some breakfast.”

Rita's smile dimmed and Lady instantly could tell something was wrong. The cocker's tail ceased its movement, and her ears drooped as the unease started to return. Behind the counter Nikki rolled his eyes. “They want to keep the Tramp for a trial.”

“What?” The word snapped from Lady's mouth before she even had a chance to process. “Trial? For what?”

“Shipwrecking,” The marshal replied. “There was a death in that wreck, and enough evidence to make a case. The steamboat company already has requested a warrant and investigation...that is after filing an insurance claim.”

“But he did no such thing,” Lady cried. Her brown eyes suddenly wide as the ramification of what was happening landed home. “He's a hero! If it wasn't for him, the captain and his wife would have been lost.”

“If it wasn't for him, the captain and his wife wouldn't have run aground in the first place.” Nikki responded with a cock of his thick muzzle.

“You don't know that yet,” Rita countered, swinging back around towards the marshal. “Don't you think you're moving way too fast to start slinging around mud like that?”

“Mr. Dear has the right to a speedy, a hasty, a quick trial.” Kaltag’s tail just cleared the wooden gate as it slammed behind him. “And with the parties demanding it, a quick trial he shall get!”

“Quick, sure, but how will we know it's fair?” Lady snorted, the ends of her mouth turned down, one eyebrow hiked questioningly.

“That will be for the court to decide.” Nikki placed a derby atop his head. “Now, if you two ladies will excuse me, I need to send some telegrams. There's a privy in the hall for Mrs. Dear to get changed. Mr. Kaltag will be watching over the joint so uh...no visitations.”

The chow glared at Rita, clearly intending that final warning to be aimed squarely at her. Lady wondered for a brief moment if Rita would return with some cheek. Instead, the Pinkerton silently took the message and let out a huff of air. Lady slipped a hand into Rita's and tugged her towards the door.

“We understand. No visitations. Oh, please, do excuse us. You understand that this is just such a shock.” Lady said, in a voice as quiet and honey-smooth as she could lay. “You will let us know if anything changes.”

“Of course.” The chow handed Rita her gun and Lady a card with his information. The cocker looked over the simple card while Rita slipped her small pistol back into its holder in her vest. Nikki continued; his eyes giving a hint of softness; “Mrs. Dear, my...deepest condolences. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.”    

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

Rita had swung by the Dear house on Snob Hill and grabbed a set of day-clothing for the locomotive engineer.  It didn't take long between the time Lady disappeared into the lavatory with the bundle wrapped in paper before she emerged looking for all intents her normal self. Her blue skirt swishing around her legs as the two railroaders left the office. The pound was located on the outskirts of the town, and was surrounded by a great wooden fence topped with barbed wire. The fence's surface was covered with pasted paper ads and posters.

Outside the gate the world carried about its day as if all was normal. Carriages and wagons rattled up the puddle filled dirt street under a slate gray sky made up of the remains of the previous night's storm. On the other side of the street, a dalmatian news-butch hollered out into the morning air. Lady glanced at the stack of papers sitting at his legs and noticed that the front page was reporting the loss of the Mark Twain the night before. The 'Main Street Gazette’ carried a full page of information regarding the shipwreck, complete with an engraving of a steamboat wildly burning while a train stood by ominously on the hillside above. Headlines blasting about the irresponsibility of the railroad industry. It was as captivating as it was inaccurate.

“Can you believe the nerve of those two?” Rita growled, looking over their shoulders to make sure that they were out of earshot of anyone hanging around the front of the compound. “It's enough to give a dog the worms. I have half a mind to write a sternly worded telegram too...”

Lady couldn't focus on whatever it was the Pinkerton was about to say. Instead curling her hands into fists and hearing the roar of blood rushing in her ears. Such was the intense thundering that resonated in her throat. She screwed her eyes shut and halted on the side of the road leading up towards town. Her mate was in jail. She didn't know where to turn for help. There was going to be a trial, and it sounded like the cards were stacked against them. The cocker wrinkled her nose and curled her lip. Doing all she could to keep from letting out an ear-splitting shriek in public. 

Instead, a gentle sob rolled from her throat, followed by a weak cry. Yet her little whine was enough to catch someone’s ears.

“Pidge!”

Lady's eyes snapped open as the dog instantly recognized the voice. She could see Rita not that far up the sidewalk, had turned around. A puzzled look on her face as the saluki wondered what had caused the halt in their progress. Lady's head whipped to the right, then to the left, looking up and down the wooden fence. She was sure she had heard him.

“Pidge, over here!” Tramp's voice was carried out from down the fence where a board was askew. Through the gap, a small strip of dirt and weeds cluttered with cast off tins and bits of trash was all that separated the fence from the side of the stone pound building.

Rita hustled back down the sidewalk in a flurry of skirt and flutter of tail. “You go. I'll keep watch.”

While the Pinkerton stood next to the fence with her back leaning against it, Lady ducked between the boards and into the fine strip of no-man's land. There, looking out from a tiny window beset with iron bars, was Tramp's smiling mug. The gray fur of his face was a little disheveled, and around his neck hung an iron collar, its chain vanishing into the darkness behind him.

“Hiya Pidgin.” Those brown eyes glinted mischievously. “Looks like you slipped the coop.”

Lady rushed up to the side of the cell. Standing up on the tips of her toes so that she could reach the window. She was just able to put her hands on the windowsill and crane her neck high enough to look up into his shaggy muzzle. “Oh goodness. Tramp, they said they are going to put you on trial!”

“Easy now Pidge, it’s not a trial. It’s an Inquiry. I was hoping they would let me see you. But I guess that was a load of codswallop.” He rolled his eyes. Those triangular ears tilted at an odd angle as they were pressed against the bars. “Was that Rita I heard shouting in the lobby earlier?”

“Yes, she came down from the yard to fetch me.” Lady's eyes darted side to side quickly. Every second felt like it was stolen. “and represent the railroad. She’s watching the street right now.”

“Good. Stay with the railroad. It will see us through. The Western & Atlantic has a lot of friends.” The mutt reached a hand through the bars and placed it atop hers. His voice grew a little soft, “I'm so pleased to see you on the outside. God that's a relief off my shoulders.”

“They said your inquiry will be quick.” Lady said, her words causing Tramp to tilt his head curiously. The iron collar around his neck clinked against the bars.
	
“That explains why the wagon is still here. If I was willing to read the cards, as soon as the Western River Expedition Company has its ducks in a row, it’ll be my blood they are after. They said I was signaling the boat onto the sands with my lantern. Those cut-throats even claim I did it on purpose.”

“But you didn't do anything wrong!”

“I know. And the railroad knows. That's good enough for me to sleep well tonight.” He nuzzled the crown of her head. Right where one of her long ears met the side of her head. “Be brave little Lady. Things will turn out alright.”

The spaniel lowered her head and tilted it to the side. Her eyes fluttered shut as she enjoyed the gentle feel of her lover. A few scattered raindrops ticked on them. Yet nothing more.

“I can't believe how quick things are moving.” Her voice was somber. “Just a few hours ago, we were warm and safe in our bed. Now...this. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Chin Up, Pidge. I’m not going anywhere. This isn't my first time in the pound. We've ridden out a lot. We'll survive this.”

Those brown eyes opened, looking up at him innocently. The corners were moist with tears. “You always were a scrapper.”

“They haven't caught me yet…well, figuratively speaking. And I'm not about to let them.” Tramp's smile was wide and toothy. If he had any fears, he wasn't showing them to her. “After-all, we still have a lot of miles to ride, and a big wide world to ride them in. Now go...before you get caught and thrown back in the slammer.”

Lady didn't want to leave. Not yet. She pushed herself even higher, standing almost on-point like a ballet dancer. She bumped her muzzle against his and placed a tender kiss upon his lips. Tramp returned with energy. It was quick, but the warmth that was spread seemed to heat the graceful spaniel up from deep inside.

“I love you.” Tramp whispered.

“I love you too.”

Dropping back down to the balls of her feet felt like she was being yanked back from a dream to reality. The sight of Tramp's gray face between those iron bars seemingly impossible to tear away from. Yet still, he cast a smile. Kind and warm, if not perhaps a little bit out of place in the ding and dark of the pound. Lady backed towards the gap in the fence, not willing to look away until she had carefully ducked back through and popped back out on the sidewalk.

Rita was standing there, waiting, a cigarette in one hand. She stuffed it out against the fence before flicking the smoldering butt into a puddle. “C'mon. We need to go before the copper gets back.”

“Where are we to go?” Lady ran her hand anxiously through the lower fur of one of her ears. “We have to do something.”

“Already ahead of you.” There was that wolfish smile. Lady wondered if Tramp had taught Rita how to charm. Then again, it seemed to be something that anyone who followed the calling of the railroad had the ability to do. “I sent out a flurry of telegrams as soon as the wreck train arrived. See if we can get a private train down to the riverside where the wreck is. I want to poke about.”

“Can Aleu spare a locomotive?” Lady asked. “I know she's not fond of uh…well, being told what to do by, well, if you'll excuse the term, a bull.”

“She will when I explain that if she doesn't she won’t get her fireman back,” Rita winked. “I've been around that yard enough to know how to handle Miss Aleu.”

The two railroaders started walking down the sidewalk. Lady still casting her eyes over her own shoulders at the fence and the pound building riding behind it. She wasn't quite ready to leave Tramp behind. “I don't think I'll be able to rest until he's free.”

“Well, I don't think he would want you killing yourself over it just yet.” The saluki looked both ways before she and Lady dropped down off the sidewalk to cross over the dirt road. Being careful to avoid a draft wagon and its horses. The wagon was loaded with kegs of beer.  “C'mon hun. Let's hit up Bernie's Grill. Grab some breakfast and we can wait for further word from the railyard. You can get me caught up on what happened last night from Tramp’s side of the story.”

Lady realized that she hadn't eaten anything since the night before. She really didn't feel like eating. Yet her body said otherwise with a soft growl. “Okay. Sure. That sounds nice...”

As they passed the news-butch, Rita threw him a few coins and they grabbed one of the papers.

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

Bernie's Grill was closer to the center of Marceline. Not far from the bustling railroad station at one end of the yard. Here, the town had wide cobblestone streets lined with brick and masonry commercial buildings. Gas street lamps lined the sidewalks. As Lady and Rita walked, they passed the newspaper back and forth between them, reading bits of the article out loud. It had a heavy bias against the railroad. Which surprised the cocker spaniel, for as far as she knew the Western & Atlantic had a fair-minded, if not friendly, relationship with the town. Sure, locomotive smoke was an annoyance, as was one of the downtown streets being bisected by the railroad's yard throat. However, the not so subtle hint of detest towards the W&A seemed out of place.

“Hey, take a look at that!” Rita's words tore Lady's eyes from the newspaper.

Trotting down the street was a black coach made from gleaming polished dark-wood and rich brown wheels. Unlike the rest of the carriages, buckboards, and buggies, this one was decorated in elaborate gilded scroll-work and pulled by two jet black steads. Two lamps hung on each side of the passenger doors with their red satin curtains drawn low across the glass.

 Lady watched as the carriage clattered past them. “Mercy, that's a relic.”

“I thought the war ended in 65,” the Pinkerton snorted.

In the rear window, framed by a stained wooden crest, they could see the back of a lioness. From a glance it was clear the female was of a mature age, her head slender and features sharp. Before the cocker could make out any more details, the coach turned a corner and vanished down a side street, heading in the direction of the town courthouse.

“Whoever owns that ark must have more money than sense.” Rita crossed her arms, her ears folding back.

Lady rolled a shoulder-blade to cast one of her long ears behind her back. “It looks like something the grim reaper would arrive in.”

Bernie's restaurant stood not far from the railyard, but on the more respectable station side rather than where the lines of freight-cars and huffing steam locomotives lived. As the two arrived, a familiar golden dog darted through traffic from across the street to great them at the door. Lady's heart lifted at seeing another friendly face.

“Good morning Angel!” She forced a smile. “It's very good to see you.”

Angel skidded to a stop on the sidewalk, hopping over the muck filled gutter. The young brakeman's clothing was ruffled and she had a set of train switch lists sticking out of a back-pocket. Her hands were still wrapped in the cloth the brakemen liked to use to help them grip the iron wheels that screwed the brakes onto the railcars.

“I came as soon as I heard. There's scuttlebutt all over the yard, and telegrams pouring in for Rita and Chief. They say that the ship was wrecked on purpose. Chief is roaring mad.” The Pomeranian spoke quickly, before changing tone and lowering her voice; “Is it true that the Tramp is locked up?”

“It's so. I'm sorry to say,” Lady frowned.

“Damnit,” Angel growled. “Someone brought the morning paper into the roundhouse. It read a sorrowful tale. 'Inhumane attitude of the railroad employees, whose negligence with their work lights led a steamboat onto the bank.' It even hints that the wreck was perhaps intentional.”

“None of that is true!” Lady barked.

“That's what I expected.” Angel frowned. “I don't know who's leaking this garbage into the newspaper, but this is getting serious. We'll have a riot up here tonight, considering how the farmers already hate the railroad.”

“Didja bring any of those tissues for me, hun?” Rita asked, referring to the telegrams.

“Yeah, I have a few, and I’m sure there will be more coming.” The Pomeranian handed Rita a few small squares of card. “The top one is addressed to both of you. Chief smashed a clock when he read this morning's edition. He sounded like he was about to march a crew down to the pound to break him out.”

Lady raised an eyebrow. “Maybe we should carry this conversation indoors. Angel, you're more than welcome to join us. This is a family situation if there ever was one.”

The three railroad girls walked into a restaurant occupied primarily with middle class working men quenching thirsts and grabbing food as the day started. Cigarette smoke fluttered through the air and joined the scents of fresh food and the soft chatter of conversation. Lady pulled a chair out for herself at a table near the window. Angel and Rita dropping down with her. The mullioned window looked out onto the street and was so old the cocker could see dimples where the glassblower's pipe had been.

“Do you know who that was?” Angel's ears were perked forward. “In that wicked carriage?”

Lady raised an eyebrow, “I can't say that I do.”

“That's Zira. I don't think I've ever spotted her down here in town among the commoners. She's the majority owner of the Western River Expedition Company.”

“The same company that owned the Twain.” Lady made the connection. The spaniel folded up the newspaper and laid it atop the table. A quick look around showed a few other morning editions spread among the patrons. “Do you think she’s here to attend the Inquest?”

“Possibly,” Rita mused. “According to the bulls, the Inquiry is going to be at the Town courthouse this afternoon. Convenient that she had the day set aside to come down here.”

“She always struck me as shady.” Angel’s ears dipped back. “There was something about her that always seemed off.”

“How do you know her?” Rita asked, an eyebrow raising.

Angel opened her mouth and snapped it shut again, clearly unsure of what to say. Her big, floppy ears went backwards for a split second, but she perked them back up. “She was one of Buster's...customers. Would come down to his place. Purchase some fur for a weekend… and well...”

“Say no more.” Lady placed a hand atop Angel's. “That's more than enough for us to figure out what sort of person she is.”

“Old money,” Angel's tail 'tapped' the side of the chair. “Very old money. I'm not sure, but we always suspected that it was a fortune made with Confederate bills, then cashed into gold right before the war ended. Her mate was some big-guy officer during the war. You could probably find out more if you ask Vitani down at the Watering Hole. Zira is her estranged mother.”

“I'll make a stop there after breakfast.” Rita said.

The waiter came by and drinks were ordered. Enough of the working-class frequented Bernie's in the morning that nothing was made over Angel and Rita's dusty appearance, or Lady's dishevelment. The cocker did silently remind herself to take a bath as soon as she got home. The speed at which things had moved and seemed to be moving, she might be required to be presentable rather than as someone who had just walked out of the pound a few hours ago. The cocker spaniel couldn't help but gaze out the window at the street and wonder if Tramp had received anything to eat.  

After the waiter left, Rita started reading through the telegrams. She wrinkled her muzzle in a satisfied snort and read the message out loud for Lady and Angel to hear.

“This is from Balto. 'Sorry, cannot make the trip to Marceline in time for investigation due to meeting with the board over state lease agreements. Take hold and watch over railroad's interests including Mr. Dear.’ Looks like we're on our own.” She stuffed the telegram into her vest, then plucked a fob watch from the other. Checking to see how much time they would actually have.

“The lease agreement?” Angel tilted her head curiously, making one floppy ear stand up at an odd angle. “Balto is going to ignore this problem over some business? That doesn't sound like him.”

“We're talking about the lease of the railroad from the state, right?” Lady inquired, one eyebrow rising.

“Yes.” Rita slipped the watch back home. Their waiter arrived with glasses. “It's due this year, and Balto has to answer directly for its renewal. Which...this whole shipwrecking thing might throw a wrench in.”

“I'm just a simple railroad brakeman," Angel said, looking back and forth between the two older women. She grasped one of the glasses and pulled it over to herself. “So, I don't know much about the politics. What does this lease have to do with anything?”

Lady shivered, “The Western & Atlantic Railroad, our employer, doesn't own the railroad property or equipment,” She explained. “The Western & Atlantic property itself is owned by the state. Always has been. The locomotives, track, cars, depots and everything else are leased on a long-term agreement with the company to operate and maintain. Do I have that correct, Rita?”

The Pinkerton nodded. “That's correct. The lease is up for renewal at the end of the year. I worked security on Balto’s private car down here when he was passing through, and he wasn’t afraid of telling me his woes. There’s some concern from the board that the state will open up bids to outside competitors.”

Angel swirled her drink around for a second as she took that in. Then nodded. “Okay, I'll make a leap of faith and say that us being responsible, in any small way, in the loss of the riverboat might not be looked upon so well.”

“Well, Tramp is innocent of any wrongdoing, and I'm sure by the time this investigation or trial or whatever is over, he and the railroad will be looked upon as heroes.” Lady said, trying to fortify that fact to herself as much as anyone else.

Rita unfolded the other telegram and read this one silently. Her eyes danced back and forth as she skimmed the lines. “Just train movements for the day that I need to keep eyes on, and the address for the inquiry. It's highly recommended that you attend, Lady. Interesting how both Balto's message and this call it an inquiry...whereas the bullhats back at the pound called it a trial.”

The cocker spaniel nodded. “Angel, where is Scamp? He needs to know what is happening.”

“On a train.” The pom took another swig from her drink. “Tenderfoot took an extra-board job for the spare cash and won't be back for another day. As soon as I'm done here, I have to return to the yard and finish a trick kicking cars. I just signed in when those messages arrived.”

Their waiter arrived and Lady and Rita ordered some hot food while Angel, who was looking at a hard shift in the railyard, requested a warm coffee. The motherly spaniel felt her heart sink again. She had Angel and Rita by her side. Rita would have to focus on the railroad's interests. Angel would have to keep doing her job, as unlike Lady she was still on duty and wouldn't be released until the investigation was over.

While the Pomeranian slugged down her brew, and Rita wrote some notes on the back of one of the telegrams, she closed her eyes and tried to focus. Tramp was innocent, she was in no doubt of that. She just hoped that it would be made clear. Opening her eyes, she looked between the other two railroaders. “We will just tell the truth. Tramp is a hero. Had he not been there, more lives would have been lost. He will be exonerated.”

		
Now if only Lady could convince herself.


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

After telling the story of the loss of the Mark Twain over breakfast, to which Rita raised a drink to, Lady returned with Angel to the Western & Atlantic Railroad's yard. She hadn't been called for a particular job, and it wasn't likely she would in order to keep her in town for the investigation. Yet, when he saw her, Chief calmed down enough to suggest that the engineer put herself on a switch job to take her mind off the upcoming events. She found her and Tramp's locomotive, the Dispatch, with a head of steam on the ready track and with a new fireman that was working apprenticeship hours. He was a young fox who introduced himself with a kind smile, but whose name Lady quickly forgot. She should have asked him more about him. However, her mind wasn't ready for conversation. Instead, Lady was able to bury her problems by sinking herself into the task at hand.

Following the signals created by the waving hands of the switch-men, they started switching the yard. They reached into one track and clawed at the line of cars, wheels spinning and shrieking against the iron rails as they worked to move the weight, then stopping and starting frequently as they moved from one track to the other in order to break down strings of random cars into cuts, ready to be made into trains. Smoke filling the air and the hot scent of steam oil and coal permeated the space in the cab. The clouds that had gathered, leftover from the previous night’s storm, began to break up. Before long, sunlight was streaming down and Lady could feel a cool breeze kicking up along the railyard.

One of Marceline's main roads crossed over the yard's throat, the cobblestone thoroughfare splitting the roundhouse and engine service facilities from the main body of the town. Each time they pulled across this road, the young tod would have to ring the bell and Lady blow her whistle. On one trip across, she spied a newspaper boy on the corner of the street on the other side of the crossing. Another edition, a special printed only when ongoing news was forefront, was being released.

While she didn't have time to stop and pick one up herself, the cocker's brown eyes easily picked up the headlines from her moving cab. “Railroad Responsibilities” and there, underneath, an illustration of a burning riverboat and the mugshots of several individuals. Lady could safely assume the other two portraits were the captain of the Mark Twain and his wife. Such was the nature of the papers to draw attention. She recognized Tramp's face as the third instantly.

“Well, he always wanted to make the papers,” Lady muttered to herself.  

Each time they traversed the grade crossing, the engineer saw more and more papers vanish into the hands of eager readers. She was sure it was a bit of paranoia taking root, but she could swear that the eyes of those on the sidewalk and in the buggies would look up from their papers as she rolled by and lock onto her. The engineer wife of the ship-wrecker.

With all this in her mind, one would forgive the cocker for almost hitting her head on the cab roof when a male voice thick with southern drawl called out from alongside the Dispatch.

“Miss Lady, maim! Are you there?”

Lady had just applied the brakes and the Dispatch rolled backwards to a grinding stop, the string of cars coupled onto the front of the locomotive rolling in and out from the slack in the couplers. The spaniel leaned out the cab window, her blue neckerchief fluttering in the wind against her chin. Her eyes brightened upon seeing the two dogs standing alongside the tracks at the crossing. The two made quite a pair; from the great height and wiry frame of a bloodhound that leaned on a cane, to the ruffled roundness of the Scottie in his thick frock and coat. They had stopped with the locomotive's tender just before the road so as to not block it.

“Oh Jock, Trusty! It really is good to see you both.” The spaniel was framed in the engineer's side of the locomotive's cab.

Jock reached up for the grab-irons and pulled himself up into the gangway, careful so as to not get any coal dust on his plaid worsted vest. “Aye lassie, we came as soon as we read in th' papers. They really have the dog locked up?”

“I'm afraid so.” Lady sighed, she looked over at the fireman who raised an eyebrow at hearing the thick accident from the Scottie. The cocker gave a kindly nod of her head before suggesting “Why don't you check the water level in the tank?”  

The fox shrugged, then climbed over the coal load atop the tender. Lady swung back around to face Jock. She spoke through the cab window, so that both dogs could hear her. “They have him down in the pound. Goodness, I've been so anxious since this morning. The investigation, or trial, or whatever they want to call it is this afternoon.”

“Easy thare. They haven't tried him yit. Ah wouldn't worry awfy much at this point.” Jock's bushy eyebrows dipped and his scraggly ears tipped back. “He didnat do anythin' wrong. A'm sure.”

“Oh no, of course not!”  Lady figured that even having read the papers, Jock and Trusty knew the Tramp well enough to separate fact from fiction. “It's just convincing the rest of the town that.”

The bloodhound snorted. “Well, in all my days of trackin' criminals I learned to be able to tell when something isn't right. Nothing about those newspaper stories sounded like the Tramp we know.”

Lady twisted her muzzle and gave a snort of indignation. “Why, if I ever find who has been writing that paper...”

“Did anyone actually die in the sinking?” Trusty interrupted.

“Yes, the boat's engineer is missing. They think she, well....” Lady trailed off.

Jock and Trusty looked at each other. Concern etched in each other's faces. The scottie took a deep breath and put a hand through the open rear window of the cab and on Lady's shoulder. “Lassie, th' truth, well...the punishment fur shipwrecking, 'n' especially if someone is lost...”

“Why, they will hang him by the neck!” Trusty completed, with rather little delicacy. Lady's eyebrows shot up at that.

“Oh, you great loony!” Jock growled. “Dinnae borrow trouble. As lang as what happened is made clear, that will nat be a matter tae discuss.”  

Trusty tapped his cane against the edge of the cross-ties. His forehead creased and his ears perked hard enough to lift the corner of his derby. “Well, as my grandpappy Ol' Reliable used to say.... don’t recollect if I've mentioned Ol' Reliable!”

“Aye laddie...you have...at least thrice a day.” Jock rolled his eyes before turning his gaze back to Lady. “We'll be at the courthouse. Ta root ye two on. Chin up Lassie, yeh have a lot o' friends 'in' we wull see yah thro'.”
	
					****************

Lady found the hour growing closer, and she gave up the familiar cab of the steam locomotive to a waiting engineer and went home to prepare. The big house on Snob Hill felt cold and lonely, and the cocker couldn't bring herself to eat anything. Instead she drew herself a warm bath and tried to steady her nerves while she soaked her fur. Fresh clean clothing, which included one of her better skirts and a tight lace outer corset to refine the lines of her torso, made Lady feel presentable enough to appear in defense of her lover. As a final touch, her Brotherhood of Railroaders Union lapel was pinned to her right breast. She debated sending a telegram to Cash. Perhaps he would be able to help in some manner? Yet she stayed that hand. For now, at least.

Closing the front door, and locking it behind her, Lady walked down the front sidewalk to the street. As she closed the iron gate behind her she abruptly felt as if she was being watched. Running a hand through one of her long ears, the cocker spaniel looked up and down the street. Other than a buggy that was making its way down the far end of the tree-lined neighborhood lane, nothing was out of the ordinary. Lady closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was letting her anxieties run away with her. That wouldn't do, for she would need her nerves and wit tonight. After a long exhale, her eyes fluttered open and she steeled herself, ready for battle. The solid heels of her boots clicked on the cement sidewalk as she began the walk towards the Marceline meetinghouse, her blue skirt with gold trim swirling around her legs.  

She didn't notice the buggy at the far end of the road turn around and start to make its way back up towards the house, keeping just out of eyesight from her.

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

“Goodness, Miss Rita!” Lady was taken back by the sight before her. “You look...wonderful.”

The Pinkerton detective had broken away from her usual subdued attire and gone for something far cleaner. A long skirt with lace designs patterned into it flowed along the saluki's legs as they walked through Marceline towards the courthouse. Rita slipped the pocket watch she was checking into the front pocket of her leather corset. There was no sign of sensuality or dressing to impress at all, just a clean appearance. Yet somehow the entire thing was wonderfully attractive. Lady had never seen the young detective in anything other than dirty work clothing intended to blend into the background.  

“Well, I'm not trying to hide among the freight cars.” Rita twirled a finger through a finely placed strand of hair that fell along the right side of her face. Her normally long and disheveled hair was tied back into a braid and her bangs pulled clean. A bow hung above her tail. “Didn't think they would appreciate me showing up and dragging soot and ash all over their rich carpets.”  

Lady smiled, also seeing that Rita had pinned her recently shined agent’s badge to her ample breast. “Well, the courthouse awaits.”

As they neared the courthouse, Lady noted that the crowds on the sidewalks started to grow thicker. Buggies and wagons were moving in the direction of the house of law, and she couldn't help but hear snippets of conversation among those in the procession.

“It's clear that the steamboats are dying. The sooner they vanish, the sooner the railroad will lose that competition...”

“You really think it wasn't an accident?”  

“I heard that the dog they have in the pound, he did it. Perhaps even on orders from the company...”

“Will they hang him?”

Lady shook her head and cleared her mind. She looked over at Rita, who had curled her lip in disgust. The saluki huffed through her nose and kept her gaze focused forward. Whomever led the smear campaign in the newspapers had done a good job. It felt as if the whole town was against the Western & Atlantic....and the Tramp.

The sound of a wagon's wheels on the cobblestone reached Lady's long ears. She craned her head to look over towards the street. Rita's gaze followed her. Both railroaders watched as a set of draft horses pulled an olive-green wagon past them, towards the courthouse. Lady recognized the yellow furred husky with the spot over one eye at the driver's bench. Written in big red letters on the side was the word “POUND”.  Lady's brown eyes strained to look into the back of the wagon. However, the shadows prevented her from seeing beyond the wire mesh of the rear door. There was no doubt who was inside.

The Marceline courthouse was a fair structure. Merged with the city hall, it was a two-story building that sat at the end of a cobblestone street, with the street bisecting around it. Its red brick and plaster columned front split by a tall tower with a round window right in its center. With twin gables and steeply pitching shingled roofs on each side of the tower, and its columned front porch, it gave off the appearance of a face with a long nose and a wide smile. The Pound wagon swung around the back and out of sight, as Rita and Lady climbed the short set of steps to the front door. Both dogs blinked from the contrast of the bright day vs the dim interior.
	
Inside it was already a bustling place. The vast majority of those gathered were just spectators. They filled the galleries around and above the court floor, murmuring among themselves with concerned looks on their faces in the glow of the large gas lit chandelier that hung above the gallery. Above them was a second level balcony that was filled with seats. Every row and pew were filled to the brim. It was as if the whole town had been crammed inside the hall.

A long wooden railing ran across the floor itself, separating the spectator gallery from the judge's stand. The railroaders sat down on the long solid bench that ran closest to the railing. Lady noticed that the juror box was empty.

“Evnin' there.” Lady swung her head around at the sound of the thick northern accent. Nikki was sitting down next to her. The chow brushed his thick lap off as he settled in. “Just so you know, I'm rooting for youz.”

Rita raised an eyebrow. “Glad we have your confidence.”

Nikki scowled, his tiny ears flicking back. “Someone has come down from on high.” He raised a meaty hand and pointed up into the gallery.

Rita and Lady's eyes both darted up. Seated in the upper balcony was a lioness, dressed in all black with delicate lace crowning her shoulders and clinging to her curves. Even as far as they were from her, Lady could see her dark red eyes slowly gazing across the hall. She sat with her hands folded and finger’s laced, as if waiting for a play to start, and sitting erect, cut an imposing figure. One of her ears was notched, the other split with a heavy piercing. The spaniel's mind instantly imagined the lioness in leather and with a riding crop in one hand, such was the dominant nature she gave off.

“That must be Zira,” Nikki growled. “I've never heard of her in my whole life, and in one day I’ve seen her twice. She acts like she owns the town.”

Lady's heart sank, and she swallowed hard.

“I bet she and her team have been all over town,” Rita stated. “I would hedge some bets that a lot of cash was thrown around today to make sure that the detail suited her story.”

“You think?” Nikki crossed his arms over his chest. “She came into the office early in the morning to request a deputy’s presence. Seems she was collecting the insurance money from the loss of her boat. Needed it right away.”

“Good Morning!” A stern voice rang throughout the courtroom, breaking the silence.

The St. Bernard it belonged to seemed purpose fit to own such a voice. All eyes in the room instantly gathered upon him as he walked with deliberation to the great carved desk that dominated the center of the judge's stand. It was a high-rise wooden platform that towered over the witness stand which sat directly in front. From that position he would literally be talking down to those who stood at the railing. The dog was modestly dressed. He wore a blue military jacket, indicating his prior service as an officer in the federal army, instead of a usual judge’s robe. The chair creaked as it took his powerful body. The chatter in the room petered off.

“My name is Doc, and I will be overseeing as the acting town magistrate.” His round body fit into his coat with little room to spare, and he plucked a pencil from the front pocket of his patterned red vest to start taking notes. The judge’s bench was several meters wide with two additional seats on either side of Doc. The whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief having been permitted to move again. “I require silence from those gathered except when called upon. Now...a lot of stories and rumors have been spread in the last 24 hours. My goal is to learn the truth. If any criminal action can be leveled upon the accused, then...and only then...will we start a trial.”

A set of oak doors opened behind the railing, and Kaltag arrived with the Tramp. Lady's heart fluttered and she bit her lower lip. The male seemed no worse for wear in fact he walked in with a slight prance to his step. Despite the iron shackles around his wrists. Kaltag silently instructed the mongrel to sit down in a chair on the far side of the gallery, looking towards Doc. Upon seeing Lady, he acknowledged her with a roguish smile and a gentle nod of his head. If he had any worries, he wasn't showing it.

“Mr Tramp Dear is accused of Shipwrecking. An act which caused one death. Is anyone here present to support him.”	

Lady stood up. A small wave of murmurs came from the crowd. “I am. My name is Lady Dear. I'm a locomotive engineer for the Western & Atlantic Railroad.” More murmurs. “And... also his mate.”

Rita hopped up behind Lady, “And I am Rita Lee Ralph, employed by the Pinkerton Detective Agency on behalf of the Western & Atlantic. I represent the railroad's interests.”

“Ah, of course. I thought I recognized you.” Doc's smile was small but kind. “I remember your work last year with the gold robbery. Fine piece of work that.”

“Just doing my job,” Rita smirked. “Nothing special.”

“Right, right. Miss Lady, if you please. Come forth.”

Lady took a step towards the railing, while Rita sat down back on the bench. From his chair, Tramp mouth 'hiyah Pidge', to which Lady felt her cheeks flush.

“How long have you and the accused been together, and can you be a good judge of his character?”

The spaniel swallowed, composing herself. “We've been married for 20 years, and he is the most honest and caring dog I have met.”

Doc turned his head towards the Tramp. “Considering that this is an inquest and not yet a trial, and I don't think we should have any fear of him escaping, perhaps the young man should be freed of his irons and tell us the story of what happened last night to put a steamboat on the rocks.”

Kaltag reached into his coat pocket to retrieve the keys, and the Tramp held his chained hands up, as if this was all a minor annoyance.

“Now, wait just one second there!” The sly command came from the dual doors that led into the chambers. Its male tone dripped with glee. “Wouldn't it be a shame to just take things so cavalier!”

“Yes sir, indeed!” A second voice, much in tone with the first but clearly from a different throat echoed in agreement. “You say a crime hasn't been committed, and yet we must wholeheartedly disagree.”

The whole gallery erupted in muttering, as all eyes turned towards the two newcomers that slunk down towards the railing. Lady's eyebrows rose and she noticed for the first time that the Tramp looked taken aback. His own triangular ears perked forward in curiosity. Two felines, slender with smooth silky gray fur, had entered the courthouse. Each one dressed in identical gray sack coats and tweed waistcoats. Twin tails, long and thin, slithered behind them like ribbons. As they approached, they took their respective derby hats off and held them in front. The synchronization of which made Lady wonder if they had practiced.

The round St. Barnard seemed unfazed. “Who might you two be?”

“Our names are Devon.”

“And Rex. Barristers for the Western River Expedition Co.”  

They completed each other's sentences. Lady didn't like either of them, and looking at Tramp and Rita, both showed similar signs. The mongrel with his muzzle twisted, holding his chained hands up even though Kaltag had backed away with the key. Rita's eyes were narrowed. The spaniel stood to the side, a frown slowly growing across her maw. She glanced up at the gallery, and saw Zira leaning forward. The end of a cigarette glowing a dull orange from her mouth,

“We believe that a crime was committed,” Devon continued, twirling his derby on the end of a finger. “If not intentionally, then most dependently by neglect.”

“Yes, sir, negligence by the Western & Atlantic Railroad and its employees. Negligence to douse their headlamp when conditions required it, or negligence to be aware of how their operations are affecting the rest of us who are forced to live with their business practices. Anyone who reads this morning's paper can see that.” Rex looked at his brother, his eyes flashing mischievously. “A sign of a poorly run operation that leads to the destruction of property and the murder of an employee of the Western River.”

There was a rumble of agreement from the crowd. Lady's tail was fluttering nervously. She could see from the corner of her eye that Rita was also standing. Looking at the Tramp, the two lovers exchanged concerned glances and a soft nod. These two cats were not to be trusted.

Doc raised an eyebrow. His voice was calm, but his face betrayed the disdain in his eyes. “That remains to be seen. However, as representatives of the steamboat, I will allow you to remain on the floor.” He turned to Lady and Tramp. “But first, I wish to hear the story from the boat's captain and the accused in question.”

“That would be me.” The cat who rose had his arm in a sling. Lady instantly recognized him as the master of the Mark Twain just from the matching injury that he shared with the Tramp. “I'm Abraham DeLacy, Giuseppe Casey, Thomas O'Malley.” A small smile and a flick of the ears alongside his dutch-cap. “O'Malley, the steamboat cat….and I’m proud of that!”

“Mr...a-hum...O'Malley,” Doc stumbled around the name for a second. “You recognize Mr. Tramp Dear?”

“Absolutely.” The Tramp stirred in his seat as the cat gave a nod in his direction. The chains hanging off him like Spanish moss. “He's the dog who saved the lives of both myself and my lovely wife. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be standing here.”

“If it wasn't for him,” Rex started.
	
“You wouldn't have wrecked,” Devon concluded.

“I want to hear from O'Malley,” Doc growled. “You'll get your chance to speak when it's appropriate.”

Devon and Rex both folded their arms in unison. Once again Lady found their synchronization of moves unnerving. The red furred cat came down towards the railing. Standing before Doc with Lady on his left, and Devon and Rex on his right. The cat seemed a bit nervous at facing the judge, and as he pulled his hat off his head, he fumbled with it in both his hands. “We were making our way up river and following the channel. Had a hard current against us and a tow. I usually wouldn't have taken the job, but well, things have been tough for us the last year and we're taking anything we can get these days. I was looking for a light the company arranged, and with the foul weather it was all I had to guide us by. When we saw it, we steered for it. Then, it went out. That's when we went aground.”

Doc's pencil flew as he wrote down notes. “So, it was this light that caused the wreck?”  

“Yes sir, that it was.” He looked over his shoulder back at the crowd, Lady followed his gaze and saw that it landed on a white Persian cat in a lace corset and equally white day-dress. The cocker realized that it must be Duchess. Duchess likewise locked her sight on Lady, and the two exchanged silent acknowledgments. O'Malley continued. “Lights are common markers for boats. But on less traveled rivers, they often have to be arranged to be lit. I saw the light burn on, and steered for it.”

“Don’t you steer away from light?” Doc asked.

O’Mally shook his head. “Not always. Such as this case, the light would have been on the hill above the river at the bend, aiming down the current, and steering at it would have put us in the deepest channel and safest place to turn. Instead, we never made it into deep water, and turned onto the rocks.”

Doc nodded, then turned to Tramp and Lady. “Do railroad crews carry lanterns and lights?”

“Absolutely,” Tramp said. “It's in accordance to the rules. But the railroad track bed is high on the hillside. Far above the river.”

“No, it wasn't a locomotive light,” O'Malley concurred. “I would know what one of those looks like. Very distinctive.”

“I see,” Doc stated. He turned to Tramp. “If you please, can you tell us exactly what happened that night.”

The next half hour Tramp and O'Malley retold the loss of the steamer Mark Twain. Lady looked over at Rita, who sat with her ears perked forward. This being the first time she had heard Tramp's version of events. Devon and Rex looked at one another, exchanging knowing glances at parts of the story. The cocker could practically see them talking to one another through their eyes. The sudden appearance of the two sharply dressed cats and their immediate declaration that her mate was guilty of a crime had made her instantly wary of them. However, as the tale was told, the amount of admiration that the alley cat captain had for his rescuer and the Tramp's honest retelling brought about a soft conversation among those gathered. The tone of the audience changed from accusatory to curious. Up in her gallery, Zira continued to watch. The sharp gaze of her eyes was impossible for Lady to miss. A few times, she noticed the lioness looking down upon the Tramp like a predator sizing up its next prey. The cocker's heart pained for her mate. Each time he moved, the chains around his wrists clanked and rattled. The soft sound of which broke her heart.

Doc continued to take notes. At one point, he held up a powerful hand when Devon opened his mouth and started to interrupt O'Malley. Lady noted that it was only when the captain commented about the amount of dry cargo, such as the bales of cotton, that Devon and Rex got especially squirmy. When their story was completed, the railroader and the steam-boater both looked at one another. Within their respective eyes was a solidarity and admiration for each other. It was clear that there were no hard feelings between O'Malley and the Tramp. Doc put his pencil down, and pushed his notes to the side.

“Well, if nothing else is said tonight. Let it be known that the situation escalated quickly. As far as I am concerned, from the second the Mark Twain landed aground to the final loss of the steamer you both behaved like gentlemen.” Doc said softer than any other sentence he had said thus far.

Muffed agreements came from the crowd. Lady swooned seeing a change in atmosphere as the earlier charges seemed to dull. Up in her gallery, Zira's ears were pinned back and she leaned forward, arms against the railing, to glare at Devon and Rex. Both cat's ears flicked to the side at the same time.

“That may be the case, but what has yet to be determined.”

“Is the reason that the situation started in the first place. That locomotive has a headlamp on it, does it not?”

The spaniel could have growled at the two felines. “The captain said it wasn't a headlamp. That's the only thing that could have created enough light to be seen from the mountainside down to the river.”

Tramp chimed in; “The hog was going in reverse, so its headlamp couldn't have been what he saw.”

“Could the lamp have still been lit?” Devon asked. “After-all, it was raining and perhaps it would have been too much of a bother.”

Rex's tail flicked like a whip. “Better to stay inside and dry then turn out a lamp that wasn't hurting anyone.”

“The lamp would have been doused so as to not blind anyone following the pilot locomotive.” Lady said firmly. “It's in accordance of the rules. The only lights that would have been lit on the locomotive were the marker lamps. Which are red, by the way. If the color of the lights and the headlamp's dousing is in question, we can find the engine crew.”

“Captain.” Doc looked to O'Malley. “What color was the light you saw?”

“Why, I would say it was white.” The cat crossed his arms over his chest. “And I've seen locomotive lamps from the river. Unless that locomotive was sitting on the beach, I don't think that was what I saw.”

Doc chuckled, then turned to Devon and Rex. Lady could see his heavy jowls lift just enough that she thought there might be a subtle smirk there. Perhaps the magistrate was also sensing something untrustworthy from the two cats. “I don't think it's necessary to drag anyone else into this. Tramp says the lamp was doused and as long as you back him up with your statement then I think we can completely rule out the locomotive as a source of the light.”  

Lady could have cheered. That was one rumor that could be put to rest publicly.

“Sir, if I may...” The cocker was feeling her courage take root. “There seems to be some sort of bias against our railroad. I'm not sure where the newspaper got its story from. I've been employed by the Western & Atlantic for 12 years. It’s a company, like any other. However, this idea that what happened was because of negligence...why, it's absurd.”

“No one on that crew did anything out of the ordinary.” Tramp chimed it. One ear pinned back. “Why on earth would we 'want' to risk our lives or anyone else's in a disaster.”

“This is more than absurd!” Rita echoed. “This is absolute bullshit!”

The courthouse erupted into a commotion. Doc held his hands up to try and quell the growing voices. Slowly, the chamber grew silent.

“I must say that I agree. This is not a question of the character of the railroad, or of the young man accused. A young man who has only been incarcerated as a measure to keep him from fleeing town...which I think at this point having seen his character was needless at best. May I remind all those gathered that this is an inquest...not a trial.”

Rex and Devon seemed to disagree. They moved along the railing so that they flanked Lady, one on each side.

“Maybe you should look a little deeper then, sir. It's quite a number of coincidences, isn't it? The hardest bend in the river, a light somewhere it shouldn't be.” Rex squirmed ahead of Lady, pushing her behind him. “Move aside doggie, give a little room.”

“There's no such thing as coincidences.” Devin feigned bewilderment as he glanced about the courtroom. The cat walked behind Lady, pacing between her and the crowd. Separating her from Rita and making the Tramp seem further away than ever. “Let's look at the record of the Western & Atlantic Railroad in the last year...”

Rita's ears flicked back, and Tramp wrinkled his muzzle. Lady nervously held her hands in front of her. Everyone seemed to be deeply invested in what the two felines would present next.

“There have been grade crossing accidents, at least two derailments in the center of town, and any number of lost cargoes.” The two cats spoke one after the other, drawing on each other’s words to pull the audience in like a masterfully conducted play in a large theatre. “In fact, just this year this very train crew, Mr. and Mrs. Lady and Tramp, hit and destroyed a wagon down in the Pridelands! Sent its young female occupant flying into the muck.”

Lady felt her mouth drop, eyes wide. Murmurs filled the gallery. Tramp stood up out of his chair, brow furrowed and hands balled into fists. Kaltag put a hand on his shoulder and gently persuaded him to not step forward.
	
“That has nothing to do with this situation.” Tramp barked. “Why, if I had a penny for each moron who blows a railroad crossing or wanders in front of a train...which is stuck to its tracks, I wouldn't be working for a railroad to start!”

“We have an excellent safety record!” Lady agreed. “When one considers the hundreds of trains moved and passengers carried, we've done very well.”  

“And yet, mishaps still happen. The question isn't who is at fault. It's how and why.” Rex moved towards Lady. “Oh, dear brother...perhaps we should explain what really happened to the steamer Mark Twain?”

Devin twirled his derby at the end of his finger. “Why, of course. Mr. Tramp, one would assume you had a lantern on your person when you made that tumble down to the riverbank.”

One of Tramp's eyebrows hiked. Lady wrinkled her nose and looked up at the gallery. It seemed as if those gathered were all leaning forward.

“Well, yes,” Tramp said. “It was dark.”

“As you moved down the hill, the lantern would have turned and twisted. Flashing out over the river. My dear doggie, standing on the riverbank, would it not be this light that guided the Twain to destruction? The light that caused Captain O'Malley to turn towards the destruction of his ship and the death of the engineer?”

“Negligence.” Rex echoed, casting his gaze to the upper balcony. “Pure negligence on behalf of the Western & Atlantic, which I might add, has reason to see any competition in the transport business eliminated.”

Lady felt her heart leap into her throat. She whipped her head around, ears fluttering along her shoulders, as the room erupted in wave after wave of murmurs and muttering. She couldn't pick out the individual conversations, but the low hushed tones in which they were spoken seemed very unfavorable. She looked at Tramp, who held his arms across his chest and glared at the two felines.

“Well, that's a wild accusation!” The cocker declared.

More muttering from the crowd.

“Mr O'Malley, Thomas...” Devin slid up to the alley cat. “May I call you Tom?”

“No.” O'Malley deadpanned.

“Is it possible, maybe probable, that the light you saw that guided you to destruction...was a railroad lantern on the beach?”

O'Mally glanced away, running a hand up one of his sleeves. There was a moment where he seemed to want to gaze at anything but the inquiry stage. His eyes moved from the crowd, to Lady, then to Duchess. Lady followed the motion of his head and looked at the Persian feline in the crowd. Duchess seemed to shrink, her hands in her lap and idly drumming her fingers against a skirted leg. He muttered something towards the floorboards.

“What was that, sir?” Rex smirked, leaning back against the railing.  

O'Mally's ears went flat against his skull and he spoke loud enough for all to hear. “Well, I would suppose so.”

Lady's eyes went wide as a gasp left her throat. The whole room seemed to echo her as the muttering turned into full blown discourse.

Rex laughed. His chilling sharp chortle felt like needles in the back of Lady's neck. “You heard it here folks, seems the matter of events went like this. Poor doggie on the hill swings his lamp and tricks a steamboat into running ashore with the loss of life.”

Rex and Devin paced back and forth before the railing. Devin picking up where Rex left off. “Or, that's what they want you to believe. The W&A RR conveniently eliminates the property of a competitor.”

“How dare you!” The voice of Aleu, the railroad’s Chief Mechanical Engineer, snarled from the seating. “Why, I ought to introduce your face to the floorboards, dirtbag!”

“Silence, all of you!” Doc's voice exclaimed, echoing around the chamber in an effort to preemptively silence the room which he was sure was about to erupt into disorder. All eyes were glued on him as he stood up behind the desk, his chair toppled over behind him.
“I think it's clear that the most likely source of the light that led to the sinking of the Mark Twain was indeed, a lantern on the shore. As the Tramp was the only one there, and claims to have had a lantern, logic would dictate that it would be him. I must dismiss this inquiry for the present time to speak with the town council about if this should continue at a criminal investigation...since 'someone' seems to think that is the case. I am forced to adjourn.”

Lady's heart sank...her ears falling back and arms dropping motionless at her side. She felt a deep pit in her stomach as if someone had just punched her. Her brown eyes locked on the Tramp, who was having his chains unlocked from the chair by Kaltag. The mongrel was going peacefully, and as their eyes met, he flashed her a toothy smile. As if to say “It will be okay.”

“We will reconvene in three hours,” Doc continued. “And determine if this was a simple accident, or something else.”

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

Lady haunted the Western & Atlantic's depot. The cocker spaniel was quick to start sending out telegram after telegram. First to Scamp to get him home as soon as possible. Then, Balto to plead his help in freeing her mate. Rita had gone to the roundhouse to put together a locomotive and coach in order to send out a search team to the riverbank to look for the lantern. The last Lady had seen of her, the Pinkerton and Aleu were making plans to drag the beach with a chain. It seemed as if everything hinged on if that lantern could be found.

The walk through the town from the railyard to Snob Hill wasn’t long. The cocker planned to grab some clothing for her mate, hoping that they would at least allow him a fresh shirt before they started the investigation again. At least, that was the reason she told herself, knowing full well she needed to focus on something to keep from getting overwhelmed over the whole situation. Lady had made the trip so many times she could do it pretty much by heart, and as she strolled down the sidewalk and across cobblestone streets, she kept her mind focused on the trial, her mate, the lantern, and the clothing.

She never saw the carriage draw to a stop just ahead of her. Nor the canvas bag tossed over her head as she was suddenly pulled inside its open side door. Lady frantically thrashed about, kicking at invisible arms and hands and trying to pull herself away from whatever forces were suddenly holding her arms to each side. Her mouth opened to scream, only to inhale an overwhelming scent of jasmine. Instantly, her voice was stolen away and she felt her mind numb. Her limbs grew limp as she embraced a floating sensation and let her head fall back into darkness.

	

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

	

The Tramp shuffled uneasily in the wooden chair. His ankles were chained to each of the chair’s feet, and his hands were shackled together in his lap. Something felt off. He turned his head and looked around the hall. Members of the public were gathering again, and there was a different air of unease as compared to that morning. All of the anger and confusion that surrounded the earlier proceedings had been replaced with a still silence.

Looking around, Tramp noticed that Lady was not present. This was cause for alarm, as he knew that she wouldn’t miss out on this for anything. His eyes scanned the crowd. Darting over first those on the lower floor he spotted Jock and Trusty, and then up in the balcony sat Zira. The former two gave him a smile of reassurance, while the latter glared down at him as if she was debating smashing a bug.

He looked up at Kaltag, who stood next to him, both of his ears pinned back. “Hey, something is wrong.”

“I’ll say,” the copper noted. “I’ve never seen an inquest like this. It’s absurd, it’s irrational…it’s.”

“No, well…yes…but no.” Tramp cocked his mouth. “I don’t see my mate.”

The yellow canine shrugged, then said with a slight smirk; “Maybe she’s stuck behind a train at a crossing.”

“Something happened to her.” Tramp held his hands up. “Listen, tell them to put a pause on this. Just until we find her.”

“Nice try.” Kaltag growled. “You’re not the first to try and find some excuse out of those chains.”

“I’m serious!” The mongrel growled. He could see a selection of crowd members being sworn in as a jury. “Lady is in trouble. I know it!”  

Kaltag seemed torn. His eyes darted over the crowd, and towards Doc who was currently swearing in a small jury. He crossed his arms, his fingers drummed on a bicep. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do. But don’t make an outburst. Otherwise it will just draw trouble onto yahself.”

Tramp shifted uneasily in his seat, the chains feeling heavier than before.

Doc took his seat and looked around the room, his eyes landing on Devon and Rex and giving them an absolute glare. Both felines shared an equally sly grin, the sort that made Tramp feel like they had been practicing this moment several times before executing it. The big shepherd looked over as Kaltag tapped him on the shoulder. Tramp leaned forward, ear perked. He couldn’t make out the conversation word for word, but he could see Kaltag pointing out the crowd and Doc’s eyebrows rose. They carried on for a few moments, Tramp hanging onto each hand gesture or tail flutter, until Devan cleared his throat and drew all their attention to him.

“I believe, if your honor is ready, we have all present who require the object of our speculation to be presented.” 

“Also, we have this.” Rex produced a rolled-up document. The wax seal of the state glinting in the gas-lights.	He leaned over the wooden railing and reached up to hand the document to the big Shepperd. Doc perched a set of slender reading glasses upon his heavy muzzle before breaking the seal with a claw.

Tramp’s ears tumbled forward. He quickly glanced around the stands to judge the reaction of the crowd. The whole assembly had gone into an uneasy quiet. It was as if the threat of their earlier demands for quick justice having been met was as unexpected as it was undesired. Among those in the benches, Tramp spotted both Jock and Trusty. Each looking at the other, their perplexed features twanged with anxiety. Chief had also slipped into the back, and standing against the back wall was a number of other railroaders.

Yet it was Lady’s absence that felt like a stone slab was pressing down upon Tramp’s chest. Something was wrong, and it was only the chains padlocked around his wrists and ankles that kept him rooted to the chair. Kaltag looked at the mongrel, and his muzzle twisted. Reading Tramp’s mind, the blonde constable’s shoulders dipped, and he gave a nod before motioning with his head towards the door.

Lady wasn’t the only one missing. Rita too had vanished.

The shepherd pushed back his thin reading glasses with a thick finger. “Well, it would seem that upon agreement that manslaughter was probable cause by the town council, you have the authorization by the state to call a criminal trial.”

“That is correct, only of course, should you come to that conviction.” Devon concluded, drumming his fingers atop the bannister.

“How long have you had this?” The dog demanded with callous conviction, setting the document aside.

“We sent for it as soon as the lantern was recovered,” Rex answered. Knowing full well that Doc was aware such a notarized document would have taken at least twenty-four hours to be processed. Slight murmurs could be heard exchanged, but still hushed enough to respect the courtroom.

“Key word being ‘if’. Must I remind you two, again, this is not currently a criminal trial.” Doc slowly agreed. Each word spilling from his mouth in hard succession that made it sound as if he was ready to take them all back at a moment’s notice. “To declare such would require charges based on evidence, and proper legal representation for both the railroad and the accused. Of which neither is present.”

“Oh, of course. We fully understand,” Rex started,

“We’re just being prepared for all potential outcomes.” Devin finished.

The audience began chatting rather loudly among themselves, detecting the tension that was rising. Tramp glared at Kaltag. The blonde canine met his gaze, nodded his head, then walked at a brisk pace towards the gate in the railing. Choosing the commotion to subtly slip out of the court. The mongrel hoped to start a search for Lady.

“Silence.” The St. Bernard shouted as he hammered his gavel on the bench. The echo of the heavy wood striking the stand sent a hush over the crowd. “I will not let you railroad me into breaking our own laws. Even if you tie Mr. Dear to the wrecking of the steamboat, lacking any proof of deliberate action or malevolence, I would be obliged by your own decree to demand a full and proper trial under the correct authority in the courts of Atlanta.”

“As you wish, sir.” Rex bowed his head.



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


Lady woke slowly, groaning as she returned to the world of the living. At first, it was only sound, just a muted rustling that she felt in the back of her head; then her eyes opened to a fuzzy and blurred vision, making it somewhat difficult to make out who and what else was in the room. Her eyelids also apparently weighed ten pounds apiece, but she forced them to open with an effort of will, only for her sight to remain gray and muted. The spaniel’s head pounded as if she had gotten into the liquor cabinet, she tended to fall easily to drink, just a glass or two of wine usually put her at her limit - and her limbs felt like liquid sealed within a furry skin. Just what had been done to her?

It was only when she tried to get up that she realized she'd been bound. Instantly panicked, she thrashed and struggled and tried to pull free...but when she tried to move her hands and discovered they were bound to a tight crotch rope, her muffled moans of exertion transformed into a piercing yowl! She wriggled one way, then the other, kicking her legs and twisting her wrists against tight coils of rope, jaws working around what seemed like a giant ball gag strapped in tight, until she forced herself to stop, take a breath, settle her beating heart, and assess her situation.  

It was then that she felt the cool air against her bare fur and flesh. She had been stripped very naked, blindfolded, and definitely ball gagged. 

“Hummpha! Fwhamp! Hwup fwappemn?”

Lady could feel the ropes locking her elbows behind her back, as well as her wrists, which were crossed and fastened to an even tighter crotch rope that drove so firmly into her cleft that she had to arch her back exhaustively to get any comfort. To make things even more intense, there appeared to be a couple of knots in the rope that were exerting additional pressure on her clit!

Her breasts, too, felt like they had received special attention, with the coils enclosing her elbows as part of a chest harness looped tight around the base of each breast, pulling them out almost excruciatingly taut and hypersensitive! It appeared that whoever had tied her up had finished the job by tying her thighs, knees, and ankles together, making it feel as though one leg couldn't move an inch without the other following suit.

“Hmumph!” Lady whipped her head side to side, feeling her own ears fanned out like pillows on each side of her face. The captured cocker tried to remember the last few hours. The inquest, the Tramp…walking home. Then, darkness. Something soft was beneath her, but if she stretched her legs to the side far enough, they encountered a chilly, hard surface instead: a mattress on a hard-stone floor? That was ominous, the cocker thought, wishing the ropes tantalizing her sensitive areas didn't make it so easy for the scenario to seem so pleasing, especially when the crotch rope twitched at the least movement of her hands, encouraging her to grind against it.

She moaned quietly and pressed her thighs together. Only to shake her head side to side with a heavy grunt. She couldn't get distracted, she needed to figure out where she was, what was happening, who had tied her up and just how she would need to escape! The Tramp’s inquest might have started again! This was not the time to have a bondage session.

And what a session…these ropes were really tight...The cocker spaniel loved tight ropes, loved teasing, loved being gagged, being unable to escape, and now here she was feeling more turned on by the second despite having no idea where she was or who had tied her up, and knowing that her own mate was awaiting judgment! She had to escape!

She'd have to start by figuring out how to see. Lady swung her head to the side and rubbed her muzzle on the mattress, hoping to loosen the blindfold by friction. The knot behind her head was tight, but she managed to wriggle the corner of the mattress underneath the material of her blindfold by tossing her snout back, and then it was only an issue of tugging and scooting it up away from her eyes and onto her forehead.

There was light! Not much, but enough to work with, streaming down from a small window set up near the ceiling. Lady peered about, her chocolate-colored eyes blinking in the dim light. She was on a narrow straw mattress sitting on a flagstone floor. One wall was made of rough-cut stone, which made her think that she was more than likely in a basement, and within that wall was a closed door. Aside from that, the rest of the room looked like one big, open space... Over in the corner was a simple desk and a set of old wooden drawers. Judging by their age, they hadn’t seen the light of day since the Civil War. This wasn’t Peg’s Palace of Pleasure up on the fourth floor of Marceline’s Hotel, nor was it Cash’s private cabin. This was someone's private dungeon, and outwardly devoid of anything for untying...

Speaking of untying herself, Lady lowered her head and examined her own body, only to roll her eyes and moan at the sight. The first thing she noticed were her own boobs, and no surprise they ached! Each mound had two coils of rope wrapped securely around its base, her honey-toned skin stretched taut and her bright pink nipples stiff—though that may have been the chilly air of the cellar.

She flexed her arms and wiggled her shoulders uselessly, but it simply reminded her of the other rope, which felt like such a tease. Lady had to curl forward slightly to see the crotch rope, but it was there—and it was tightening by curving her back the opposite way, the intense feeling making her jaws clamp down on the red rubber sphere locked in her mouth.  

"Mmmmhhff...!"

			               *********



The overwhelming silence was replaced by whispers and chatter throughout the chamber. Many voices were debating with each other, questioning the legitimacy of the court itself. So sudden and forceful was the charges and the revelation of a hidden jury. Many wondered if the trial would last more than a few hours before it was exposed as a farce. Doc held a great hand in the air to silence the muffled commotion in the room. His chest puffing out as he took a deep breath. The atmosphere inside the hall had become thick and heavy with suspense.

“I understand a lantern was recovered from the riverbed,” His tone was slow and deliberate. “If this cannot be linked directly to the accused, then I shall declare the evidence invalid, and we end this matter here.”  

Tramp shuffled in his chair.

“Does everyone find that agreeable?” The St. Bernard asked. However, the courtroom remained still and quiet. “I said, does everyone find that agreeable?” Doc raised his voice. His brow furrowed like a drill sergeant about to punish his platoon. Reluctantly, the crowd nodded and murmured soft affirmations. Nobility, commoner, and elected officials alike dared not defy the Magistrate.



			                   **********

The cocker spaniel’s hips jerked a number of times, but she couldn't tell if it was to attempt to relieve the excruciating pressure or to enjoy herself with it, because it looked and felt so-so-so tight, and when combined with the secure look of all those coils of rope on her legs...The fact that she enjoyed getting bound in tight ropes so very much was not helping!

Lady attempted to elevate her hips and squeeze her legs together, then kicked down again and moaned as her crotch rope only tightened its grip, turning a little further onto her back as she fought to breathe. The blindfold slipped back down, and forced her to close one eye as it slipped over the top of the lid. She wasn't going to make much progress without freeing her hands, but even when she craned her snout around as far as she could, between the misplaced blindfold and her own lush ears, she could only see so much.

Tight lengths of rope wrapped around and between her wrists, some rope ran down around the base of her tail to slip between her thighs, and she could see what seemed to be a knot... but it was on the outside of her hands, making it virtually impossible to reach, and she didn't even recognize the ends of the rope there. The rope may have stopped someplace else, and even then, that knot wouldn't budge unless something else was loosened first to ease things up! The locomotive engineer tried anyway, twisting first one hand one way, and then the other, then trying to push the ropes further up one arm to move the knots closer to the other hand's fingers... But the ropes were too tight to even let her slide her wrists across each other. She could only flutter them up and down, and while her thin pinkies managed to brush the knots, she couldn't get any hold or strength into that finger to dislodge the knot.
 
Lady threw her whole body into struggling, arching her back for more slack in her crotch rope to work with, craning her muzzle around for so long her neck ached, ears tumbling along her shoulder and over her face like ribbons, her torso rocking to one side and then the other and back again--and yet not finding a way to loosen the knot even the littlest bit! Meanwhile every attempt to pull her wrists in one direction or other drew the rope taut between her mound’s lips again. All that her struggling really accomplished was to gently grind those knots into her clit over, and over, and over again. When her arms and neck were so worn and aching that she had to slump back on the mattress to regain her breath, she began to hump the tight crotch rope gently without even realizing it.

She couldn't get her hands free. They were stuck there! Which meant she couldn't unbuckle her gag, no freeing her elbows or her poor tits. Her chest heaved, and her breasts neatly tingled against the chest harness. Again, Lady let out a lustful moan, drooling around the ballgag, her toes and her fingers curling and body shivering from the thought. That is before letting out a muffled scream in anger at how much her body’s own desires betrayed her.  

Lady's thighs were tied together in the front, and with her wrists bound from behind to her crotch, there was no way she could wrap her hands around her own buttocks to reach it. Her ankles appeared to be more promising, and when she rolled onto her side to arch her back again, she bent her legs back against her thighs to attempt to put her feet within the very restricted reach of her fingers.

“Mmmph, Cumm mwone! Cmmmf- mmnnf!” Lady grunted into her gag, her hips writhing of their own accord from every pull and tug the rope gave her vagina from all her attempts to move her hands. As her legs tightened up, the heat between her hips intensified and her fingers started to tingle from the sensations of her wrists pushing against the ropes. Despite the fact that the knot was also on the front side of her ankles, she managed to reach it with minimal difficulty, only to moan in disappointment as she felt how tight it was. The trapped, aroused cocker whimpered a little louder.

Eventually the pain in her legs forced her to stop, and she let her limbs go slack. Slumping back down the spaniel gasped for air, with drool trickling past her gag and feminine juices past her crotch rope. There had to be something she could do! Something other than trying to use her crotch rope to get off, that is! Lady’s chest heaved as she took another few deep breaths to recover before lifting her head to look.

She just couldn't get any of it untied! A reality that just made her moan, more nervous and aroused than ever from the helplessness and exhilaration of the unknown over which she had no control. The cocker closed her eyes and let a soft little grind of her hips, followed by a deep grunt, and a tight pull Perhaps she could simply attempt to make herself cum and see if it helped to clear her fogged mind?

"Mmmhhhff..."

No, that would exhaust her even further, and who knew when her kidnappers would return? That thought caused her to clamp down on the next hungry moan that tried to rise up in her throat, albeit her hips only quickened up for a few minutes before she was able to fully control them. More pleasure would just serve as a distraction. The Tramp needed her, and the thought of losing him was enough for her to keep it all in check.

Lying on her side, her limbs were bound so tightly that she felt almost like a worm when she tried to wriggle. A worm with really, really tender breasts that felt so sensitive that even the slightest bit of pressure from one of them mushed between the mattress and her body made her curl her toes and groan. She focused on the wall directly opposite her, her vision framed by the loose locks of fur from one of her own ears. The sight drew a strong shiver, as the wall was lined with a couple of leather paddles, several coiled sheaves of rope, a large wooden paddle with a paw-print cut out, and a shelf. The shelf piled high with rolls and rolls and rolls of latex tape, probably enough to mummify her twice over.

Lady took a deep breath and steadied her mind. She was unable to untie herself, but that didn't mean she couldn't stand up! Perhaps she could figure her way out of the cellar, maybe eventually locate a knife, some scissors, or whatever else she could use to break free? That was assuming the door was not shut...assuming she was even able to get to the door. All of which would be moot if she couldn't even stand up.

   					       **********


The railroad lantern was beaten and broken. It’s wire mesh cage that protected the glass globe was bent inward. The glass globe gone, having been smashed in the mad stumble down to the riverbed. The lid had been pushed in hard enough that the latch was unable to be released. But as Nikki held it up for the court to view, the letters embossed on the lid itself was clear for all to read:

W. &. A. R. R.

“It would seem,” Devin smirked. “That the evidence is indeed irrefutable.” 

“If I may ask…” Rex motioned to the Tramp, who sat wide eyed and for the first time, truly concerned. His heart rate had increased to the point where he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. “Is this, yours….?”

Tramp’s chest heaved with a deep inhalation, and his head dipped down, eyes looking at the chains around his wrists and ankles. 

“Yes.”

“Was it a white light?”

Tramp’s mind swam. At that moment, he couldn’t stop thinking about Lady. “I-I don’t remember. But I would have to say…yes, yes it was.”

“We have no further questions.” Rex said with quick deliberation. He briskly sat down with his brother, both cats with their heads held high. If anyone thought that the two felines would look sheepish and humbled by their previous antics, they were sorely mistaken. Both had come into the court as if they had already won. And wore their inevitable victory like a smug mask.

Tramp raised his head and looked at the many eyes glued to him. The expressions worn were as diverse as the fur colors underneath. From the sadness and fear from Jock and Trusty, to Aleu who looked like she was ready to fight someone. Tramp understood how she felt and simply nodded. Up in her balcony, Zira sat grinning. Her eyes were rooted to the gray mongrel, and were iced with a cold stare that declared that she was here with a bold purpose and would not be denied.


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

She wasn't even sure which direction she should try to take. Did it make sense to roll on her stomach and try to stand up that way, with her legs locked together and her arms bound behind her, so she wouldn't have to try to get onto her back and tail? Or would maneuvering on her back allow her to crunch up to a sitting position and then squirm to her feet? The spaniel rolled onto her stomach because it seemed more comfortable, her own ears tumbling over her face, only to let out a lustful whimper as no amount of arching her back could keep her from squishing her poor tits beneath her. The cocker writhed and shivered in position, but the stimulation persisted! She so badly wanted to hold her own breasts, wanted to run a hand between her legs, tease herself with her fingers!

Lady could imagine the gentle familiar sensations of her own hands so easily, she craved them, she wanted to cum! She tried, almost by reflex, but her busy fingers could hardly budge, just pull those ropes taut yet again. With a little more focused effort humping her crotch rope, she could probably get herself off. With a soft grunt, Lady shook her head to get her mind back to escaping. She had to get back to the Tramp!

Lady slid towards one shoulder, giving one soft breast some respite at the sacrifice of the other, but there was enough room for her to curl her knees up behind her and roll to the edge of the mattress. She wobbled, unable to extend a leg to assist her, but a good push with her head eventually got her into a kneel on the floor...one that was merely pulling her crotch rope tighter from how she bent forward! The cocker ignored that for the moment, and tried to push off with her legs from here. Only to almost instantly see stars, since winding up for that forced the rope and its knots to bite into her glowing folds. After a second, she straightened herself out with a moan, and up onto her toes she went!

Lady smiled around the red sphere. She was standing! She was still bound and gagged, and she was still absolutely aroused, but it was progress. Lady took a long breath that did little to calm her down and stared at the doorknob, which was right there at waist height, maybe five feet distant. However, with her legs tied together and her arms pinned to her back, she nearly fell over again, disoriented from the rush of blood trying to push through the tight windings around her limbs and get to her head.

Still, the cocker managed to steady herself with a few frantic shuffles to one side! She took a test stride... and her bare paw made it an inch, maybe two, before hitting the limit of all the ropes that bound her legs. She attempted a brief forward hop, and she couldn't decide which jolt was worse: the hop or the landing! Each one jerked on the crotch rope, which caused her tits to jiggle against each other! Despite that, Lady could hop a lot further than she could step, which felt much better to her. 

Taking a deep breath, the cocker turned her head and looked at the chest of drawers. Getting the door open would be much easier if she had her hands untied. Hopefully she could find something sharp in the chest. A knife, some safety scissors, even a tool of some kind? Even though the way her figure bounced seemed a little silly, or degrading... not to mention teased her, she started to hop over to the chest. No matter how she wiggled or twisted, her hands remained tight behind her back, and her breasts jiggled and rippled, tender and achingly taut in their own bondage.

Yet at this pace, the spaniel wasn't going to become any less aroused! She lifted her muzzle to the ceiling and squirmed in time to a deep huff of breath, giving in long enough to grind a few times on her crotch rope. Gathering herself once more with the thought of the trial, she shuffled around to ease the drawers open and look inside. In the process having to reach her hands back as far as she dared, carefully grasp the handle, and then slowly shimmy away from the chest...

Lady began with the bigger side drawers, which she could access without bending over. Fortunately, they opened with little effort or noise, because her ears pricked up when she heard anything from above.

Was that a footstep?



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

Doc’s expression was one of concern. Concern as to what was difficult to discern but he seemed to sense that something was indeed off. The legal basis was as thin as an early spring frost on a lake, yet there is was in front of him. The St. Bernard looked at the Tramp, who shifted in his seat causing his chains to noisily rattle. The mood in the room was tumultuous if not somewhat sour. An inquiry that stood on a knife's edge of being declared false and prejudiced, suddenly had the undivided attention of all who bore witness.

“Given the circumstances, I must conclude this inquiry with a conclusion that the loss of the steamboat Mark Twain was a result of that lantern’s white light.” The Shepperd said, carefully drawing out each word. 

 Instantly a chorus of hushed voices arose from the crowd. Tramp’s heart sank, and his ears hung low on each side of his head. Doc slammed his gavel three times in an effort to preemptively silence the room which he was sure was about to erupt into disorder. The two twin felines nodded their heads in agreement, their smug smiles digging deep into their cheeks.

Doc stared daggers down at both Devin and Rex. His voice was calm, but his face betrayed the disdain in his eyes. “However, I’m throwing out your document as I believe it violates several laws. If this is to be a criminal trial to determine if negligence is involved, then a proper jury and legal representation is required.”

“But you will find the decree gives you such authority,” Devin glared back defiantly.

“And what legal precedent is there for such an ambiguous authority?” Doc retorted back. By now clearly fed up with the two cat’s meddling. His voice was strong and commanding, yet still calm. “Without a jury, and without legal representation for both the Western & Atlantic and Mr. Dear, there is none. I would not openly condemn a man based on this decree, no matter how much you - paid - for it.”

“Well, do you have anyone local that can represent you in a court of law?” Rex asked the Tramp 

Tramp’s ears perked up and he seized the opportunity to stall things out and bide for time. Follow the railroad, he thought, and they will always see you through. “I do not. The railroad is headquartered in Atlanta, and it’s they who represent me!”

“It’s settled then,” Doc quickly summed up, working to edge out the two Western River cats before they could otherwise intervene. “This inquiry has found its answer, with Mr. Tramp Dear being arrested for the crime of Shipwrecking. He is to be held for trial following the arrival of legal representation.”

Tramp felt like a knife had been twisted in his back. The crowd instantly set to debating with each other in less than hushed tones. The mongrel could catch bits of conversation, questioning the legitimacy of the document and the inquiry itself.
 
“We will adjourn until tomorrow.” Doc shouted, gaining control over the room once again.


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

The sound made her quiver. She didn't know how long she'd be alone down here, but it wasn't going to be long, no matter how securely her captor believed they'd bound her, and her pulse was beating again at the reminder that this was something real! The Tramp was on trial for all she knew, and she was bound and gagged in someone's sex dungeon. However, the first drawer provided no assistance. She pulled it open to find a couple of floggers, a coiled up single tail whip, and a leather crop. The second drawer drew a stronger shiver, as she pulled it open to find a number of dildos, butt plugs, and little egg vibrators. Plus a few large plug-in wand vibes. All lined in a row, nice and neat.

Lady closed her eyes and shook her head side to side in frustration. Feeling little dribbles of drool land on her breasts from around the now glossy red ball-gag that was framed by her face. She carefully lowered herself to a squat, groaning to herself as her crotch rope twisted, the knots digging in on either side of her clit so that every wiggle of her hands opening the bottom drawer made them squeeze against it from one side or the other, the strong aching tease of it felt way too good.

“Mmh, pwhease, phw-ease...” The cocker begged.

She was into the last drawer: it had nipple clamps and weights, a ring gag, a couple of wartenberg wheels, and a heavy leather blindfold. Just additional things to make her groan, pinching sensations from clamps, pricking sensations from the wheel moving, anything to adequately blind her...to open up her mouth for easy use... and...

Her heart leapt at the sight of a couple of old keys, of course equating keys with freedom... yet she wasn't wearing anything locked! She needed a knife, not a key, and there was nothing sharp inside! Lady abandoned the chest, and decided to hedge all her bets on the door.

The stone-cold floor was cool on her toes and pads. Despite the yanks of the rope teasing her as she moved, she was quickly getting more confident in her roped-up bunny-hops. Lady just wished she wasn't getting that much more worked up in turn, and she was panting heavily by the time she reached the desk, looking down at herself, blushing and swallowing yet another moan of lust. Despite the feelings, she hopped cautiously over to the door. Her long ears fluttered like banners on each side of her head with each move. 

"Mmhhfff!" Lady closed her eyes and wailed, wiggling her hips side to side. She lifted her snout and she squirmed and she huffed out a breath, giving in long enough to grind a few times on her crotch rope, and then she turned around. She twisted around to get her tied hands on the handle, and cranked...

Nothing. The handle didn't budge.

She made a trapped, needy muffled sound past her gag, bouncing in place and squirming, humping... She needed to get out and she just... couldn't! She arched her back and yanked with her wrists, turned her hands and her fingers this way and that, yanking and pulling. Unsure if she was trying to rip the door open or trying to find something that would get her off.  In frustration, Lady started squealing and bumping the door with her rump. It was useless to get her free, any attempt to move her bound arms just made her entire torso turn thanks to the coils at her elbows and wrists!

“Mmhhnn, nnhhllmm, Pwaamp, phhllhf!” she said uselessly, and her heart only beat faster as she heard a key be inserted in the lock of the door. In her outburst, she had forsaken being silent. Something was rattling the handle in her hands. Lady thrashed again, nearly bending over from the twist she'd just given the knots at her clit, and managed only one awkward leap forward before the door behind her slammed open.


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

Tramp walked with Nikki through the rear doors of the courthouse and out into the back courtyard where the wagon waited. His ankles had been freed, but he still wore the shackles on his wrists. The inner sanctuary had become a bustle of voices and commotion. As he had walked past the pews filled with onlookers, the gray terrier heard cries and shouts in his direction. Some were in support of him, but many were not. Tramp listened and grimaced as he was chided and mocked. Each insult was like a blade piercing his heart.

The lantern had been retained by the police following its recovery. Tramp had glanced at Aleu attempting to follow them, but Chief held her back. While the back courtyard was empty, the voices of the crowd around the front could still be heard. 

“I've never seen Doc so flustered,” Nikki growled. “He was about ready to toss those two out on their tails.”

“What stopped him?” Tramp raised an eyebrow. “Seems to me they deserved it.”

“I dunno, at one point they seemed to want to end things as quickly as they could,” As they reached the back of the olive-green wagon, the chow unlocked the barred door. “But then they sure seemed to want to drag it on. Kaltag said they were up to something. He just couldn’t figure out what.”

“Where is Mr. Dictionary anyway?” Tramp asked as he carefully pulled himself up onto the rear step, the chains and shackles not helping in the slightest. 

“Lookin' for your girl.” Nikki reached a hand out to help Tramp in getting inside the wagon. “He left with the railroad detective as soon as they handed the lantern over.”

Tramp's ears perked and his head whipped to the side. The knot in his gut released slightly that the news that his pleas had not fallen on deaf ears. “Really? Well, what do you know, he does have a heart.”

“I wouldn't get too excited.” The door was closed and locked. “That means I'm by myself getting you back to the pound and that crowd out front is rather contentious at the moment. The sooner we get out of here, the better I'll feel.”

The cart jerked forward suddenly, throwing Tramp down into the long bench that ran down one side. Gripping the sides of the bench for support, as the cart had apparently set off, he cast a glance out the back and through the iron bars. Nikki guided the two black steads that lead the wagon around the corner of the courthouse and into the street.

The cart lurched to the side, striking some kind of hole in the cobblestone road, sending him flailing toward the side. Impacting the bars, he used them to pull himself into a sitting position. Looking around, he scanned through the bars. They navigated the street in front of the hall, and Tramp was struck with fresh concern as a small crowd surrounded the wagon. They pointed, they laughed, and they called out to him.

He scooted toward the back of the cart, not dragging but skipping across the wood so he didn’t get any splinters. They made their way slowly, though the crowd, with Nikki shouting something that the mutt couldn’t fully understand. Suddenly the cart skidded to a halt, and Tramp’s body was jolted again painfully. all sides of the cart were beset with the jostling crowd, many of whom occupied themselves with hurling abuse at him. He shrank away from the bars of the cage, hoping to avoid being grabbed by the many bodies that suddenly appeared. 

“Hey now, take it easy!” Tramp yelped. 

The horses reared, and the cart jerked forward and backwards as Nikki regained control. Tramp grit his teeth and hoped the wagon wouldn’t overturn. The gray terrier kicked the side of the wagon when he heard several bodies scrambling onto it, trying to either hang onto or pull the wagon to the side. Looking up, he spotted a lone figure, moving through the crowd. Despite the muggy summer weather, this person had a heavy overcoat on and a wide brimmed hat lowered so that their face was obscured from vision. He wasn’t able to see their face, but he could see a black tail scruffy curling out from the seat of their pants, recognizing it as the tail of a hyena.

He scrambled to the far corner, with ears perked high and eyes wide as the ugly face of a revolver appeared in the doorway. Tramp opened his mouth to shout, but the crack of gunfire sent his ears ringing.

	

 
So, I twisted on my stool, turned to him and said
"Thank you sir, but just the same, I'm chasin worms instead"
He growled and shoved the drink my way, his eyes cold as death
"I pick the drinks, you knock 'em back, else draw against my hand"