Will Meets Ebo

“Nephew, I was laying drunk in my private compartment on the train across New York State that first night after I killed the Pinkerton detective. I woke up near 11 o’clock in a cold sweat. I couldn’t shake a horrible recurring vision of that Pinkerton man tumbling from brace to brace down into the bottomless ravine. When I’d pushed him off the back of the observation car, he’d fallen head first. His head struck the rail, and his momentum carried him over the side of the trestle where the first wooden cross-brace caught his body, and then tossed it onto the next brace. Down, down he went, spinning from brace to brace until he literally disappeared from view. That damned sight is burned into my brain.