Raymond gripped the brake lever and stopped his train cold. Twenty passengers rode behind him, and he had promised every one of them a safe trip through the foothills. But a rockslide last night had shaken the rails ahead. He could not see the track past the bend. If a single rail had cracked, his train would jump the line and roll. He climbed down from the cab. Gravel crunched under his boots. The morning sun lit the weathered steel rails, and they looked fine here. Fine did not mean safe. A break could hide anywhere in the next mile, buried under leaves or shadow. A face pressed against a window behind him. A young mother held a small child on her hip. She raised her hand, a small worried wave. Raymond waved back and kept his voice steady. "Just a short stop," he called. "Sit tight." He could not walk a mile and check every tie in time. The passengers had trains to meet and homes to reach. Waiting for a repair crew meant hours, maybe a full day. But rolling forward blind meant risking their lives. He would not do that. Raymond looked back at the last car. His red caboose sat at the tail, its rounded roof catching the light. Then he remembered the caboose held a hand-cart in its rear storage. A light cart, meant for track work. One man could push it. He hauled the cart out and set it on the rails. It rolled easy. He climbed on and pumped the handle. The cart carried his weight without straining the track. If a rail was broken, the cart would drop long before the heavy train ever reached it. He pumped past the bend. His eyes swept the rails ahead, tie by tie. The steel ran smooth for a quarter mile. Then he saw it. A rail had split clean across, right where the slide had struck. The two ends sat apart, a dark gap between them. The cart squealed as he braked hard, inches short. Raymond stood over the break and breathed out slow. If he had trusted the smooth track behind him, the whole train would have hit this. He marked the spot with a rag tied to a post. Then he pumped back to the train. He told the passengers the truth. "The track ahead is broken. We cannot go on until it's fixed." The mother hugged her child closer. A man in the third seat groaned about his missed meeting. Raymond held up a hand. "Nobody gets hurt on my train. That comes first." He had found the danger before it found them. But now his train sat stranded on the rails, miles from any station, with a broken line ahead and twenty people who needed to move. He had bought their safety. Getting them past the gap was a new problem, and it started now.