Peacemaker (The Flash Gold Chronicles, #3) Page 7

  “No.” Cedar gripped her arm so tightly it was almost painful. “They’re a danger, and that Pinkerton detective is a danger to you, if he finds you too. And I don’t want to imagine what would happen if Cudgel knew about you, and found you, and—” He dropped his chin, staring at his hand where he gripped her. He loosened his fingers, but did not let go.

  Kali’s anger and irritation faded. “Is that why you’ve been so scarce lately? Cudgel’s about, and you don’t want someone letting him know we’re…something?”

  “I can’t let that happen,” Cedar whispered. “Not again.”

  “Again?”

  Cedar dropped his hand and walked a few steps away, turning his back to her. Was he talking about his brother? Or maybe the murdered girl from San Francisco? Had she been someone he cared about? But she’d been married, the article said. It had also said he’d been having an affair with her. She grimaced, not wanting to think of Cedar doing something like that. Somehow cutting off heads seemed less despicable. More unsettling perhaps, but given that they were the heads of murdering criminals….

  Kali shook away the thoughts. He wasn’t saying anything else, and they shouldn’t stand up here, this close to that pirate camp forever. One last idea came to her, one more way she might be able to sway him.

  “That man barely gave us a description and didn’t give us any hint of where to look,” Kali said. “Maybe there are pirates in the ship who know more about this Sparwood. If we figure out a way to subdue them and question each of them, maybe we can get more of a lead.”

  Cedar had not turned back to face her, and he remained silent for a long moment. The sun had set, finally bringing evening, and mosquitoes buzzed about, nipping at Kali’s skin.

  “Do you believe that?” he finally asked. “Or are you saying what you think I want to hear in an attempt to change my mind?”

  Hands still in her pockets, Kali scowled and studied a gnarled root at her feet. “Yes, I want the ship, but there could be something useful to be learned there too. We don’t know enough to pick someone out of a city of thousands.”

  “There aren’t that many of your people living in Dawson. We can look them up individually. Maybe you can even name some.”

  “Me?” Kali bristled at having them called her people. As everyone on both sides was quick to point out, she was a half-breed, some mongrel who didn’t belong to anyone. “I haven’t been living in Dawson any longer than you, and I pay less attention to people than you do.”

  “Why don’t you care more about this?” Cedar asked, facing her again.

  “I don’t not care. I just don’t see why you care so much. The city is full of Mounties. Why do you have to be the great savior for this problem?”

  Cedar seemed taller than ever as he stared down at her, his expression as dark and craggy as the bark of the tree that was his namesake. He turned on his heel and stalked away, heading back downhill toward the river.

  Kali kicked at the root. What was wrong with him?

  She gazed toward the trees that hid the airship from view, tempted to stay up there and scheme something on her own. Twenty people, he’d said. At least. She might be able to come up with something to get rid of the pirates, but she might get herself killed too. And even if she did triumph, what then? Fixing that fan alone would take time, and even if it was a quick fix, could she get such a big airship off the ground and fly it alone?

  Grumbling and kicking more roots, and a few rocks for good measure, Kali stomped back down the stump-filled slope toward the river. She reached the SAB without spotting Cedar. Where had he gone?

  “Here,” came his voice from somewhere nearby.

  With dusk’s approach, shadows filled the valley, and it took Kali a moment to pick him out of the gloom. He was leaning against a tall boulder overlooking the river.

  Kali joined him. It was a wide boulder, and she started to lean against it beside him, but he stretched an arm out, caught her, and pulled her into a hug. It was a stiff hug, and she could feel tension in his muscles.

  “I’m sorry,” Cedar said, resting his chin against the top of her head.

  Kali leaned against him. “Why? I mean, you’re not wrong. You’re just a pain in the caboose.”

  He grunted softly and wrapped both arms around her. “For not explaining…things.”

  “Oh. Well, yes, you’re truly being a pain about that.”

  She waited, hoping an explanation was coming, though she admitted she appreciated the warmth of his embrace even if he was being a pain in the caboose.

  “The girl in the paper,” Cedar finally said. “She wouldn’t be dead if it weren’t for me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Cudgel found out that she…meant something to me and killed her, not only to frame me, but to hurt me.” His voice dropped into a husky whisper. “And he succeeded. He’s taken not just my brother from me, but a girl—a woman—that I…”

  “Loved?” Kali asked hesitantly. It was unrealistic to think she was the first woman he’d ever cared about, but a selfish part of her wanted the answer to be, ‘no.’

  Cedar sighed, his breath stirring her hair. “Maybe. Yes, probably. It was going that way.”

  “Oh. The paper said she was married,” Kali said, careful to keep her tone neutral, not wanting to come across as accusing or judgmental, though something inside her broke a little. She wasn’t sure if it was because she had thought Cedar a better man, someone who was too honorable to get involved with a married woman, or maybe because it hurt to think of him loving someone else. Kali had thought…well, she’d thought she was special, that he appreciated her creativity and tinkering skills, and that was why he liked her. But, if he could fall in love so easily, what did his affection really mean?

  “Yes,” Cedar finally said. “It was an arranged marriage, and he was older and barely paid attention to her. He just wanted an heir for his business empire, and…” He sighed again. “I don’t suppose having a bunch of justifications for something makes an ignoble choice a noble one. If, when I first met her, I’d just said she was married and walked away, she’d be alive today.”

  “How…” Kali started. “How’d Cudgel arrange it?”

  “There’d already been a series of murders, all women, in town, so the police and the people were on edge. I was busy tracking Cudgel and was barely aware of the killings. I was getting close to him, and I’d taken out two of his onerous henchmen just that morning. Cheryl’s husband was out of town, so I went over to, uhm, visit, and…she was dead on the floor of their parlor, blood everywhere. It was…ugly. I later learned she’d been butchered in the same manner as the other murdered women. The husband returned home early. He walked in when I was standing over her, still in shock. Cudgel had arranged it all, sent a message to let him know his wife was cheating on him. He was charging home to catch us in the act, I reckon, and he was fixing to kill me. Well, I could have taken him, but I didn’t want to. I’d already done enough wrong by him. I escaped with my life, though Cudgel had some henchmen lying in wait, figuring to help the husband out.” He touched the scar on his face. “That’s when I got this. I was too shaken to fight proper. I’m lucky I survived at all. After that, the husband contacted the Pinkertons, and word is he’s financing everything.” Cedar let his head fall backward, and it thunked against the boulder. It sounded painful. Maybe he wanted it to be. “I wish I’d never gone to San Francisco and never been that stupid. But I can’t rewrite history, so now I just want to do right when I can. If I can protect these girls…” His shoulders drooped. “It’s never going to be all right, but maybe it can be…less wrong.”

  Cedar fell silent. Kali didn’t know what to say. He sounded like he needed…comfort. She knew how to be tough and sarcastic, but nurturing or comforting? Her tongue tangled at the idea of even trying to say something along those lines. Women were supposed to be good at comforting people, but maybe she’d been born with some sort of deficiency.

  “I suppose,” Kali said, “that you woul
dn’t appreciate it if I told you the perfect thing to get your mind off of your problems would be planning to take over an airship.”

  At least he chuckled, and his muscles loosened a little. “Come back to town with me tonight, and help me with this murderer. We’ll talk to the Mounties right away—maybe they can get back out here and take care of these pirates before dawn. I’ll remind them of favors they owe me when they’re deciding what to do with the airship. I doubt they’ll have a use for it, so getting it for you shouldn’t be that tough, especially if it’s damaged.”

  Kali worried that the pirates would have the ship fixed and be back in the air before the Mounties came, but she nodded and stepped back from Cedar. “Agreed.” As he said, it would be selfish of her to choose her own interests over those of women who were being tortured and killed. She didn’t want to choose her interests above Cedar’s either, not in this case. He needed this redemption. “I don’t know all the Hän girls in town, but I heard there’s a show at the Aurora Saloon. Dancing girls, all tribal.” He wasn’t going to like it when she admitted who had mentioned that show.

  “Oh, I’d forgotten about that,” Cedar said. “One of the Mounties mentioned it. Some fellow got a bunch of unmarried girls from tribes from all around the Yukon, and they travel about, going from town to town performing to entertain the menfolk.” He tilted his head. “I’m surprised you’d heard of it.”

  “Your Pinkerton detective told me about it. Said he’s working at the Aurora Saloon and that I could find him there in the evenings if I changed my mind about talking to him.”

  “I see.” Cedar clenched his jaw. “We’ll do our best to avoid him.”

  “Hm.” As Kali shoveled coal into the SAB to fire its engine up anew, she asked, “Did they ever find out who was responsible for the other murders in San Francisco?”

  “Not that I know of. As soon as they indicted me, they stopped looking for the real killer. I had to flee town to avoid the firing squad, so I don’t know if the murders stopped after that or not.”

  If the murders hadn’t stopped after Cedar left, that ought to show the law down there—and maybe this Agent Lockhart—that Cedar wasn’t responsible for them. If Kali could talk to the detective alone, maybe she could convince him to double-check his facts.

  Part VII

  A breeze scuttled down Main Street, swatting at a newspaper page too mired in the mud to escape, though it rattled and whipped in a valiant effort to do so. Kali leaned against a support post on the covered boardwalk outside of the RCMP station. A single whale-oil lantern burned on a desk inside, and the voices of Cedar and a Mountie he had roused from sleep floated through the open door. Cedar was relaying the pirates’ location, a description of Sparwood, and trying to get a list of tribal women living in the city, something the Mounties apparently didn’t track. With so many new people flooding into Dawson each week, it must be impossible to keep an eye on everybody.

  Though midnight approached, raucous voices and music filled the street. Candelabras and lanterns burned behind the windows of many hotels, bit houses, and the popular Main Street Dancing Hall. Nearby, a man lay on his back, snoring, in the spot where he’d been thrown out for not being able to pay.

  Kali leaned away from the post and peered up the shadowy street. Electricity had not yet come to Dawson—indeed, electric lights were something she had only read about—and there were no gas lamps at the intersections; but the northern sky was not entirely dark, and she could make out people stumbling out of bit houses. She could also make out the Aurora Saloon sign, only a few buildings up the street.

  Kali glanced back through the RCMP window, decided Cedar would be another fifteen minutes at least, and left the post to stroll up the boardwalk. Given everything that was going on, wandering the streets alone at night was probably not a good idea, but she couldn’t very well go see Agent Lockhart with the man he wanted to shoot at her side. It was worth taking a risk if there was a chance she could convince him of the truth and get him off Cedar’s back. Besides, nobody was likely to attack her, or try to kidnap her, in the middle of a crowded saloon. If someone did, she had two smoke nuts stuffed into her pocket, and an ugly little pistol Cedar called a “man stopper” jammed into the front of her overalls. He’d insisted she carry it around town. She wasn’t much for shooting people, but she could do it in self-defense.

  “Sure, tell yourself things like that,” Kali muttered to herself. “Maybe it’ll make them true.”

  Kali paused to adjust the cuff of her overalls, making sure they hid the bulge in her sock—she still had the vial of flash gold tucked in there—then stepped over the snoring man to push open the Aurora’s front door. She crinkled her nose at the stench of sweat and tobacco smoke, and she had to blink a few times to get her eyes used to the smoky haze that filled the air. One would never know how late it was, going by the amount of activity in the large main room.

  Lively fiddle music bounced off of the dark timber walls. Stuffed elk, caribou, and moose heads were mounted everywhere, and more than one set of antlers was being used for a coat rack. Men filled tables, most with chairs turned to watch a wooden stage where bronze-skinned women danced in costumes that were about as close to traditional garb as root beer was to beer. The girls’ bellies showed as they wriggled about, flinging bare feet into the air. Men clapped and roared their appreciation with each glimpse of flesh.

  A sign propped up near the stage promised this was an “Authentic Injun Dance.” Kali snorted. The only time she’d seen people twist and gyrate that much had been when they were flailing about on ice, trying to ward off an inevitable fall.

  A drunken man staggering toward the doorway spat at a copper spittoon. The black tobacco spittle missed Kali by inches and spattered onto the wall a good three feet above the receptacle. It joined copious other stains darkening the pine boards.

  Kali decided standing so close to the door wasn’t wise and eased aside for the sot to pass. Here and there, gamblers worked tables, and she spotted Agent Lockhart without trouble. Three men sat with him in a back corner, each taking turns rolling dice. Lockhart’s box of gambling goodies lay open on the table. Kali wondered what kind of idiots would trust a man who had his own kit not to have loaded dice.

  She weaved through the crowd, dodging wayward elbows from men too busy to notice her and gropes from the ones who did notice her. Some girls might be flattered at the attention, but she was wearing her coveralls and knew there wasn’t anything alluring about her. It was just that men outnumbered women twenty to one, if not more, up here, so a lady need ever go to bed lonely if she preferred company.

  Though Lockhart wore his bowler hat pulled low on his brow while he swapped wagers with the men at the table, Kali felt his eyes upon her as she approached. He had probably been watching her since she walked through the door.

  Kali stopped between two of the men at his table. “Mind if I play a round?”

  She had no idea how to play dice games or even if “a round” was the right term, but she figured she’d go along with his gambler façade. If he was up in Dawson after more than Cedar, he might not appreciate her breaking his cover in front of these men.

  “Women can’t gamble,” one fellow groused. “Go join the girls on stage, or keep somebody’s blankets warm at the hotel next door.”

  “Are you sure you want to be that insulting,” Kali asked, fishing in a pocket, “considering I’m standing right behind you with—” she grabbed the first tool that she felt and pulled it out, “—pliers in my hand?”

  It wasn’t the most menacing tool in her collection, but she held it up with what she hoped was an ominous expression on her face.

  “Pliers?” the man asked. “What’re you going to do with those? Now a Colt would be threatening, but—”

  Kali whipped her hand to the side and fastened the pliers about his ear. With the practiced ease of one who has turned thousands of bolts, she issued a quick, efficient twist. He cried out, fell out of his chair, and landed on
his hands and knees. When he threw an arm up, trying to grab her, Kali simply twisted harder. This drew another louder cry, one filled with curses for her and all of her ancestors.

  She released him, stepped back, out of his reach, and raised the pliers as a warning to anyone else who might be thinking of giving her trouble. In particular, she eyed the other men at the table.

  One smirked, turned the vacated chair outward, and said, “This seat’s open, miss.”

  Laughter from nearby tables drowned out the fiddle. Kali kept an eye on the man on the floor, figuring he might have retaliation in mind, but more than his ear was red, and he slunk off with his tail clenched between his legs.

  Still holding the pliers aloft, Kali pinned Lockhart with a stare, wondering if he would give her a hard time too, but he merely extended a hand toward the empty seat. Though the hat and the room’s dimness shadowed his eyes, they did not quite hide the glint of amusement there.

  Kali slid into the warm seat. “How about some poker?” she asked. She knew the rules to most versions of that.

  “I was actually fixing to take a break,” Lockhart said.

  The gambler to Kali’s right, a man who had yet to say anything, stirred at this. He rapped his knuckles on the table. “You need to sit right there a spell and give me a chance to win back my losses.”

  Though people were still talking and music was still playing, Kali had no trouble hearing the soft click of a hammer being cocked beneath the table. It was Lockhart’s Colt, she assumed; both of the other man’s hands were in sight.

  Lockhart leveled a cold stare at the dissenter. “We’re done here, friend.”

  The gambler’s eyes narrowed to slits, but he must have heard the gun being readied, too, for he grumbled something and pushed away from the table. Back rigid, he stalked out of the saloon.