Flash Gold Page 4

  Part IV

  When Kali designed the tent, she had not been thinking of sharing it with anyone, especially not a six-foot-something man with broad shoulders and feet the size of snowshoes. She shifted, trying to figure out how she was going to find enough space in the dug-out hollow to lie down. For the third time, she adjusted her blanket, grimacing at a damp corner. Before leaving, she had worried about being too cold after dark; apparently, she should have worried that keeping the furnace running all night would melt nearby snow. Her next tent would be freestanding, not a lean-to designed to use the sled’s metal frame for support.

  A dog yipped outside. Deep in the forest, a wolf howled in response. Low voices spoke nearby. Kali and Cedar had caught up with several sled teams after dark, and they were camping on a popular beach.

  She shifted again, still looking for a comfortable spot. Her shoulder clunked against the sled, sending a jolt of pain through her. She spewed Hän curse words.

  “Don’t say anything,” she told Cedar, who had been watching her with a bland expression that did not quite mask his amusement.

  “What would I say?” He lay parallel to the sled, tucked into some fancy all-in-one bed-blanket-pillow he called a Euklisia Rug.

  “Sorry for being so big?”

  “My size is usually an advantage.”

  “You must not share tents very often,” she muttered.

  “Not often.”

  Kali adjusted her position again, almost knocking their single lantern on the ground. She caught it with a lunge before kerosene could spill. Snow found its way onto her blanket. She sighed, scooping it off.

  Finally, she settled on a spot, her back against the sled, knees scrunched to her chin. Though not comfortable, she did not know Cedar well enough that she wanted any of her body parts touching his body parts. They were both fully clothed, but she had known too many men who took such things as an invitation. Men who would ignore her in town, where there were witnesses ready to tease, got squirrelly notions out on the trail. And Cedar was watching her now, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  “Could you make your modifications to the loading mechanism on the 1873 work on the 1890?” he asked.

  Kali blinked. All that thoughtful gazing, and he’d only been thinking about her ability to tinker with weapons? A stab of disappointment went through her. She squashed it. She didn’t want him thinking of anything else.

  “Maybe,” she said. “May I see it? I haven’t taken apart one of the slide-action ones before.”

  The rifle lay beside him on the blanket. He nudged it her direction.

  She started out examining the firing and loading mechanisms, but ended up simply sliding a wistful hand along the barrel and running a finger over the inlays. Expert engraving decorated the frame on both sides. She held it to the lamplight. A floral scroll ran around the outside while a circle in the middle framed a tree. She squinted. A cedar tree? She supposed that made sense, though... “Who’s MK?” she asked, tapping initials. Given the value of the weapon, she wondered if he had taken it—through force, gambling, or theft—from someone else. Though his clothing and gear were high quality as well, and it all fit him.

  “You don’t think my momma named me Cedar, do you?” he asked.

  “What did your momma name you?” Maybe if she could get him to answer a simple secret, he would share others. Such as why someone who did not appear to need money was here working for her, possibly for nothing.

  “The loading mechanism,” Cedar said. “What do you think?”

  Kali sighed. So much for sharing secrets.

  She returned the rifle to him. “I’m not sure I’d want to risk damaging it. This is one of the prettiest Winchesters I’ve seen.”

  “Functionality is more important than looks.”

  “That’s not what the boys at Nelly’s say.”

  His lip twitched. “There’s a difference between spending a single encounter with a weapon and spending a lifetime.”

  Kali thought about asking him if he was the sort who preferred lifetimes to single encounters, but it was unlikely anyone who traveled from place to place with nothing more than what was on his back spent more than a few nights with any one person. Besides, it should not matter to her either way.

  “...damn witch wagon,” a raised voice came from the nearest camp. “That girl thinks she’s tall hog at the trough, but she’ll learn better.”

  Someone shushed the speaker. As always, Kali pretended not to hear. Or care.

  “Best get some sleep.” She turned out the lamp. “We’ll need to leave early and get up during the night to add fuel to the fire. If the boiler water freezes, our trip is over.”

  “The witch accusation,” Cedar said, “is because...some of your inventions are too good to be explained by science?”

  Kali’s breath caught in her throat. The mechanical guard dogs. He had realized a coal-powered steam engine could not explain their locomotion.

  She was glad the dark hid the stricken expression that must be stamped on her face. “I don’t know any magic, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “But your father did.”

  Her heart thumped against her ribs. She strove for a casualness to her tone she did not feel. “My father worked with nature’s ores and elements. That’s all.” She drew her legs closer to her chest—farther from him. “And I’m feeling a mite uncomfortable with you knowing things about me that I didn’t tell you.”

  “If those bounty hunters were after what I think, I reckon a lot of people know things about you that you didn’t tell.”

  “If that’s supposed to alleviate my uncomfortable state, it failed.”

  “Better for your future safety if you don’t face the world too comfortably.”

  Now she wished she had not cut off the lamp, so she could read his face. She licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. “That sounds like a threat, Mister Cedar.”

  “If you believed I was a threat to you, you wouldn’t be sharing a tent with me.”

  “I’m not sure what I believe about you, but I certainly don’t trust you.”

  A long moment passed before he replied. “You’re right not to trust easily when it comes to folks you don’t share blood with. It’s not wise.”

  “No. It isn’t.” Kali thought of Sebastian. If she had not been so quick to trust him, she would not have people hunting her now.

  Cedar’s voice dropped so low she barely heard his next words: “And even those you share blood with...will disappoint you sometimes.”

  Kali leaned closer to him. It was the first time he had hinted of his past. “Did some kin of yours betray you?”

  A soft, rueful chuckle whispered through the dark tent. “Only by not being perfect.”

  “Who was it? Did they...get you in trouble? Or get themselves into trouble?”

  “He got himself killed,” Cedar said, the humor gone from his tone.

  “Oh, sorry. Was it—”

  “The end of the conversation? Yes.”

  Kali scowled, feeling like someone had offered her a lamp on a dark night, then yanked it away as she reached for it. She crossed her arms over her chest. It did not matter. What did she care about his past anyway?

  A soft crunch sounded outside.

  “Sh,” Cedar whispered.

  Kali sensed rather than heard him rise to a crouch. She groped in the darkness and cracked her knuckles against metal before finding her rifle. She patted around, trying to find the smoke nut case, but the sound of muffled voices made her pause.

  “...do to it?” a man asked.

  “Let the water out of the boiler?” another said.

  Kali’s hand tightened around the rifle. The bastards meant to sabotage her. Before wiser thoughts could enter her mind, she shoved the tent flap aside and strode into the night.

  Cold air blasted her bare cheeks and hands, and seared her lungs. Foolish to run outside without more clothing on, but she did not intend for this to take long.

 
She expected a pair of men she could scare off by confronting them. But six figures stood, silhouetted by the night sky. Swaddled in furs and coats, they were impossible to identify, though there was no mystery about the long rifles held in their hands.

  “I’ll take kindly to you leaving my sled alone, gentlemen.” Kali glanced over her shoulder, hoping Cedar had followed her out.

  No one stood behind her.

  “Don’t think so, ma’am,” one said. The voice sounded familiar, but he spoke in a low, gruff tone, as if to disguise it.

  “Witch,” someone in the back muttered.

  “Your monstrosity wasn’t supposed to make it this far,” the first speaker, probably the ringleader, said. “We’re not letting some machine win the money. It should be a man’s sweat and skill what earns that prize.”

  She stamped her feet and flexed her fingers on the rifle. Already they were growing numb. “Isn’t it your dogs sweating and doing all the work?”

  “Dogs with a lot of time gone into training them. And it’s a man’s skill maneuvering the team. No machine can replace a good musher.”

  While he spoke, two men moved away from the group. They angled toward her sled. She raised her rifle, and though she did not point it at them, she found the trigger and rested her fingertip on it.

  “Stop.” Kali put all the steel she could muster into her voice, hoping they would not call her bluff.

  For all that she loved her sled, she did not think she could shoot a man to defend metal. And even if she could, the others would open fire on her as soon as she tried. They might not normally shoot a woman, but if they thought her a—

  “Stand back, witch,” the leader said.

  Kali slid sideways to block the sled. “No.”

  “What do we do, boss?” one of the closest two said. “I don’t want to hurt a girl.”

  “Shove her out of the way, and tear up that—” The leader stiffened.

  A dark shadow loomed behind him. Night cloaked its features, but Kali smiled, recognizing the height.

  “Drop your weapons,” Cedar said, voice so soft and dangerous she almost obeyed herself.

  Chinks sounded as two men did obey, and their rifles hit the ice.

  The leader growled. “Who’s asking?” but his voice quavered.

  “The man with a sword at your back. Drop your rifle and tell your cronies to do the same. And I’m not asking.”

  “You might want to take his advice,” Kali said. “He killed four bandits this afternoon. He’s very good.”

  “There’s just one of you and six of us,” the leader said.

  “Two of us,” Cedar said. “You know about the special modifications she’s made to her Winchester?”

  Nobody answered. Kali lifted her chin and puffed out her chest, trying to appear imposing.

  A frosty breeze buffeted her cheeks and needled her numb fingers. She wondered how long she could hold the imposing stance without running inside to wrap her arms around the boiler.

  “You know you’re sticking up for a witch?” the leader finally asked. “Her mother was a deranged medicine woman who shot herself. Her father was a crazy—”

  “Your weapons.” Cedar kicked the leader’s legs out from beneath him and stepped on the man’s back, sword tip pressed into his neck. One-handed, he aimed his rifle at someone who presumed to turn toward him. “I won’t ask again.”

  The leader cursed under his breath, but could do little while pressed flat against the ice. He opened his fingers, and his rifle dropped into the snow. More weapons followed.

  Kali let out a relieved breath.

  Cedar stepped back. “Leave.”

  The leader started to rise and reach for his rifle. Cedar’s boot came down on his wrist. “We’ll keep your weapons.”

  “What? There are wolves and bandits out here. You can’t—”

  “Tough.”

  The other men stirred, trading muttered comments. Kali grimaced. That might be the straw that—

  The two men near her lunged for their dropped rifles. She jumped at the closest and slammed the butt of her Winchester against his head. He staggered back, hands empty, but the second man wrapped his fingers around his rifle. He lifted it her direction.

  She skittered back, but the sled blocked an escape. A shot rang out. She ducked, sure she was too late, that a bullet would slam into her chest. Instead her attacker’s rifle flew from his grip. He screamed and clutched his hand.

  Kali did not hear the clack of Cedar loading a new round, not with the man hollering, but the expelled shell glinted, reflecting moonlight, before it hit the snow. His sword quivered where he had thrust it downward, pinning the leader to the ground.

  “Shit.” The man she had clubbed grabbed his wounded comrade. “Come on, Ralph.”

  The pinned man squirmed too vigorously for the sword to have pierced anything vital, but his curses promised he did not appreciate his helplessness.

  Cedar yawned and pulled his blade free. The leader rolled away—far away. He made no move toward his rifle. He and the others scurried away, heading into the trees instead of toward the camps on the beach. Maybe they did not want Cedar being able to identify them the next day. Somehow, Kali doubted he would have a problem.

  He joined her by the sled. Her teeth were chattering, but she refused to go into the tent until the last man disappeared from view.

  “Thanks,” she said. It sounded inane, too small a modicum of gratitude for all the help he had given her, but she still had too many questions about him to offer him more.

  “So,” Cedar said, tone light. “You think I’m ‘very good,’ eh?”

  “I just wanted those dunderheads to believe they were swimming in water too deep.”

  “Hm, then you don’t think I’m very good?”

  “You’re decent.”

  “My ego is in danger of wilting under your unrelenting lack of appreciation.”

  “This is the Yukon. Women here are hard to impress.”

  “I’ve heard gold usually does the job.”

  “You haven’t offered me any gold,” Kali said.

  “Somehow I suspect you’d prefer a tool set.”

  True, but gold would get her out of this frozen hell sooner. “Make the tools gold-plated, and I might swoon.”

  He chuckled. The men had disappeared, and Kali could barely feel her fingers. Time to go inside.

  She lifted the tent flap, but paused when something blotted out the moonlight. She expected a cloud, but no. The dark silhouette of an airship rode across the sky, its great hull and oblong balloon creating distinctive shapes against the stars.

  Kali’s gut twisted. Airships were almost as rare as palm trees up here, and she would normally love to see one, but she doubted that crew had come to offer her a tour. At least not the type of tour where one got off at the end.

  “Pirates,” Cedar said.

  He drew her into the shadow of the sled as the ship sailed overhead. Lanterns burned on the bow and deck, revealing several men peering over the side with spyglasses. Kali barely breathed as they passed. Though the shadows might hide her and Cedar, her sled was unmistakable.

  The airship disappeared behind the hills. She and Cedar stood in silence for several moments, breaths frosting the air, but the vessel did not return. The soft chattering of her teeth must have drawn Cedar’s attention for he gazed down at her, then gave her a gentle push toward the tent.

  “They probably won’t bother us with so many others around,” he said.

  Kali shoved aside the flap and ducked inside. “Others that would be happy to help them on their quest if it meant getting rid of me.”

  “Perhaps.” Cedar followed her. “But the pirates don’t know that.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Kali laid on her side in the dark. She pulled her knees to her chest and shivered, as much from the situation as the cold.

  The insults from the superstitious townsfolk always gouged her soul, but she had grown accustomed to them. Being
stalked by bounty hunters and airship pirates? That was new and depressing. If she won the race, she might escape the town, but would gangsters continue to send minions after her? How far would they follow her? Across borders? Over oceans?

  She closed her eyes. She could not hate her father for inventing flash gold, but she did hate him sometimes for leaving her alone. Moisture pricked her eyes. She blinked rapidly. She had not cried since her mother died, and she would not start now.

  Clothing rustled behind her as Cedar settled down. The fact that she had company—a witness—was another reason to hold herself together.

  A hand rested on her arm. “You all right?”

  “Fine,” Kali said, torn between being annoyed that she appeared to need comfort and appreciating that someone was bothering to give it.

  He draped a blanket over her and laid behind her, his back to hers. The warmth was...not unwelcome.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “This doesn’t mean I trust you.”

  “Naturally.”

  She smiled faintly and closed her eyes.