Action!
All right, that was a lie. Not me using the door to get on top of the stagecoach, but how smooth it was. I’m sure from outside it looked more like an undignified scramble.
The hinges on the door weren’t up to take the extra weight, to start. I’m no axeman but I’m not a beanpole, either. If I had been letting myself think about it, I’d have said that I was counting on the hinges to hold out just long enough — and then I would have gone tumbling onto the road, because I would have been thinking about how stupid this idea was instead of just jumping up and grabbing at the baggage rails on the roof. Good thing I had my priorities in order, huh?
Below and behind me I could hear that poor, abused door pop off and bounce its way back down the road; worse, my pepperbox decided to join it a second later. That was bad, but I was still in the middle of doing something stupid, so I concentrated on that instead. And I needed to. I got good arm strength, but what I was missing was purchase. Trying to get one foot onto something that could take the weight wasn’t going to well, and I didn’t have much time before I’d have to drop back into the stagecoach.
But Wilkinson, bless him, helped a lot with that. By accident, no less. He had come over to my side and shoved his head and shoulders out, I guess to see what damfool thing I was up to; but once I saw him in my peripheral vision I saw what I had to do. I think that he was starting to say something inane like “What are you doing?” when I tucked in my legs, rocked on the rails, and stepped on his shoulders, but I’m not sure. I did knock him back into the stagecoach, though. So at least he didn’t join the door on the ground.