“If it’s all the same to you,” said Ed as he tucked into his sausage and deviled eggs, “I’ll stay here and warn the posse. It’ll let me stay close to my brother in case there’s any news.”
Hoshi sampled the sausage and frowned. He could use a light soup or perhaps some rice. Still, he ate enough to sustain himself, then passed the rest to Ed.
Chapter Thirteen
Javelina, Wolves, and Owls
The Russian soldiers led Ramon and Billy into Sausalito. Ramon looked around at the pleasant town, hugging the steep, tree-covered shoreline, facing San Francisco Bay—or, technically, Richardson’s Bay. His brow creased, as he wondered how he knew that. Either way, the pleasant town with its gray-shingled houses looked like a place he could settle down and call home. With that thought, he considered his decision to pursue a diplomatic career. Such a career would likely mean a busy life in far less idyllic surroundings than this. He would miss the quiet, rural life, but still, he could keep places like this peaceful—not overrun by invaders. The doubts he once had about himself seemed far away. Even if he decided not to be a diplomat, he could still settle down in a town like this and work as a lawyer or maybe a judge.
Billy’s eyes drifted from porches to windows to alleys. His hand hovered near his empty holster, wanting to draw the confiscated gun. Ramon imagined Billy sought escape routes. Following his gaze, Ramon saw men in black uniforms, buttons up the sides of long coats. Many of them wore red kepis just like their captors. Some spoke casually with people in work clothes or business suits. What Billy and Ramon had not seen from above was that the Russian Army already occupied Sausalito and the town folk seemed pleased to welcome them. Neither wreckage nor tents littered the town, giving the illusion no invasion had transpired. It seemed the Russians had taken up residence in the small town’s boarding houses and hotels. Were there enough Russians to fight the force across the bay in San Francisco? Ramon couldn’t tell.
Ramon thought it odd he didn’t feel discomfort in this strange town, being escorted through the streets by armed guards. Certainly, he didn’t feel as uncomfortable as he had when captured in San Jose and carted up to the Presidio. It was almost as though old friends surrounded him. He rubbed his fingers through his hair as he considered that. No one around him looked familiar. He had never been in Sausalito and didn’t know anyone there, much less any Russians. The only Russians he had met died on an airship over Denver three months before and they hadn’t exactly treated him with warmth and hospitality.
The soldiers led Ramon and Billy into a rooming house. They exchanged a few words with the proprietor, who handed them a set of keys. With that, the soldiers escorted them upstairs and placed them into a comfortable room with two single beds. Billy went to the window and looked out while Ramon sat down on one of the beds. After a moment, Billy went to the door. Gingerly, he tried the knob and grinned when it turned. Opening the door, he saw a guard. Waving, he closed the door and sat down on the other bed, opposite Ramon.
“We’ve got to find a way out of here,” he said.
Ramon took off his boots, and lay back on the bed, exhaustion from the night escape and the long foray through the hills above town finally taking their toll. “Our job is to find out what’s going on here. I have a feeling these gentlemen are going to take us to someone who can answer our questions.”
“How do you know that?” Billy snorted. “For all we know, they could have just dropped us here so we wouldn’t be in the way when they invade San Francisco.”
“If we were in the way, they could have just shot us.” Ramon rubbed his eyes. “No, I have a feeling they want to talk as much as we want to talk to them.” He let his eyes drift shut even as Billy raised more objections.
<<>>
It was late afternoon as Hoshi followed Professor Maravilla into the Dragoon Mountains east of Tucson. Sweat beaded on the former samurai’s forehead despite the shade afforded by the takuhatsugasa. The sunlight illuminated the stark, yellow rocks that were strewn across the landscape, as though giants had used them in a game of marbles, grown bored, and walked away. The professor looked around, fascinated. Sometimes he would mutter to himself. At this point, after Maravilla demonstrated knowledge of the Javelina’s position and helping to sedate Al, Hoshi was convinced the demons were real.
Once among the rocks, Hoshi’s keen ears caught birdcalls, a little too loud and a little too sharp to be natural. The responses came a little too quick. He wasn’t surprised a few minutes later when four riders appeared—three men and one woman—holding lances. He’d heard about women warriors among the Apache. Of more concern, he suspected rifles or arrows were pointed in their direction from somewhere among the rocks. That’s what he’d do if he were shogun of a stronghold.
The mounted warriors looked from one to the other. One man pointed to Maravilla and another muttered words to the woman, who nodded and smiled. Finally, the leader spoke up. “You have returned to us, Professor, but you’ve changed your traveling companion.”
“It is good to see you Baishan,” answered the professor. “I wish the circumstances were happier and Miss Crimson were here, but I have grave news and this gentleman might be able to help us.”
The warrior called Baishan gave a sharp nod, then motioned for Maravilla and Hoshi to follow. He led them further into the rocks, where they found a large encampment. A natural basin in the rock held water. It had been so dry, Hoshi guessed it must be filled from an underground stream, or someone filled it from an unseen river in the mountains. The warriors led them to a makeshift corral and dismounted, then allowed Hoshi and Maravilla time to attend to their horses.
As they finished, the sun was low enough that the rocks cast long shadows through the camp. Many warriors had set up campfires outside their shelters. Baishan led Maravilla and Hoshi to one of those crude, dome-like structures made of sticks and scrub brush. There a bright fire illuminated the faces of two older warriors. Hoshi took the elder warriors’ measure and noticed the reverential way the younger warrior addressed them in their own language.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Geronimo.” Maravilla looked at the warrior, but his eyes soon darted away. Apparently it was taboo to look into an Apache’s eyes. “I am pleased to see you as well...Kas-tziden.” Hoshi noted the pause. Did the professor recall the name or did the demons whisper it in his ear?
The Apaches offered a simple meal of dried meat and fruit. The warrior called Geronimo spoke, and Baishan translated. “He wants to know more about the danger you speak of.”
Maravilla described the search for the clockwork skeleton’s creator and how he and the person called Larissa Crimson found the miner’s camp. He then told about the mining machine’s creation and how men stole it to rob a bank in Tucson. He concluded with the story of the failed attempt to recover the machine. Baishan translated.
Geronimo frowned thoughtfully, then spoke. “It would seem the spectral camel rider was a portent of evil after all,” translated Baishan. Geronimo sat back, folded his arms and spoke again.
Baishan frowned as he translated. “He doesn’t see how this is a problem for Apaches. This seems a matter for white men to sort out on their own.”
“I would have been inclined to agree up until the point where the Clantons and the McLaurys rejoined Brocius and Gird.” The professor put his hands on his knees and gazed into the fire. “You see, the Clantons want to make this area safe for white settlers.”
The third warrior—a man with fingers bent with arthritis—spoke in broken English. “And that means using this...Javelina...to destroy Apaches.”
“I’m afraid so,” said the professor.
Geronimo gazed into the fire. After a moment, he spoke and Baishan translated. “Then we will fight with you. Rest now and we will make plans in the morning.”
Hoshi took a deep breath and looked up to the stars. He considered the battles that drove him from his home. Fleeing Japan after his shogun’s death left him with a sense of guilt. Honor d
ictated he take his own life. Yet, death had never seemed like the right choice. Now he understood the path chosen for him. Geronimo reminded him of his shogun. Like the samurai, the Apaches would take a stand against an encroaching force, and attempt to drive it away. Unlike Japan, though, this was not a force within their culture. It was a force from outside. Hoshi did not know the correct way to pledge loyalty to an Apache chief, but he silently vowed fealty to Geronimo in the upcoming battle.
<<>>
Billy awoke in a jumble of blankets on the rooming house bed. He blinked a few times at the red-hued sunlight that filtered in from outside, wondering when exactly he had fallen asleep. He remembered checking the window. It was not latched. He could have gotten out, but where would he have gone? Back to San Francisco where he was a wanted man? At some point, he concluded that Ramon was right and the best answer was to see where the guards took them. Sometime after that, he must have collapsed into the bed and fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion.
Two plates, each containing a pastry of some sort lay on a table by the door. Billy untangled himself from the blankets and poked the pastry with a fork and steam escaped. The scent told him they were meat pies. Their captors had brought supper.
Ramon still lay in the bed across the way, snoring softly. Billy went to the door. A new guard stood there. “Say, do you speak English?”
“Da,” said the guard.
Billy considered that for a moment then continued. “Where’s the closest outhouse? Or does this place have indoor facilities?”
The guard pointed down the hall to the staircase. Billy shrugged, then grabbed his hat and ambled along the hall and down the stairs. Once there, he met the proprietor, wearing a striped shirt, an apron, and a bow tie, with a broom and dustpan in his hand. “I’m lookin’ for the outhouse. Can you point me the way?”
“We have indoor facilities, but they’re just through the kitchen and turn left, Mr. McCarty.”
Billy tipped his hat and turned toward the door. Just before he stepped through, the proprietor’s words struck home. He spun on his heel. “How do you know my name?”
The proprietor shrugged. “Because Mr. Morales knows your name.”
“Hunh.” Ramon must have been awake, spoken to people and returned. Not seeing any guards around, another question occurred to Billy. “So, what do you think about this whole Russian invasion?”
The proprietor smiled. “You know it’s strange, but I feel like they have our best interests at heart. They really want to make the world a better place.”
“Hunh.” At that point, Billy’s curiosity had to wait until after he visited the facilities. When he returned, the proprietor was gone. Stomach growling, he returned to the room where he knew food waited.
Ramon sat up on the bed, rubbing his eyes.
“You had a good nap,” said Billy.
“Once my head hit the pillow I was sound asleep. I don’t think a freight train could have moved me.”
Billy sat down at the table and cut into one of the meat pies, hoping food would stimulate his groggy brain. He couldn’t quite reconcile what Ramon just said with the proprietor’s statement about knowing their names. He began to wish he was back in Las Cruces, tending green chilies.
<<>>
“The first thing we need to determine is whether the Javelina is still hidden in the cavern by the Whetstone Mountains, or if they’ve taken it back to the Clantons’ ranch,” said Professor Maravilla.
Baishan translated for Geronimo, who turned and spoke to the young woman at his side. She nodded sharply and left with two of the men. “Those scouts will find out and report back,” said Baishan.
Maravilla, Geronimo, Hoshi, and Baishan sat in a ring with the other Apache leaders under a clear sky. It was a hot morning, but a light breeze blew, making it tolerable.
The elder called Nana spoke and Baishan translated. “He wants to know how we can hope to stop your infernal machine.”
“Although it is meant to be quite durable from the front, it is vulnerable from the rear and the bottom,” explained Maravilla. “We could jam the rotary transmission, break a steam line or simply clog the exhaust if necessary.” The professor then went on to explain how each one could be accomplished. As he spoke, Hoshi noticed a low drone and a faint vibration.
Just as he excused himself from the circle, the lookouts began whistling their birdcalls. Hoshi made for the corral and saddled his horse. Soon the birdcalls turned into shouts. Men fell back into camp. Geronimo and Nana shouted orders. Some of the women and the older men gathered up camp supplies, preparing for an evacuation if needed. Other women along with most of the men retrieved rifles, bows, and arrows—anything they could use in a fight. Warriors ran to the corral to retrieve horses. Maravilla followed and arrived just as Hoshi drew himself into the saddle.
“What’s going on?” shouted the professor.
“It’s no longer a question of whether the Javelina will be at the Whetstones or the Clanton Ranch. It is here!” Hoshi snapped his reins and rode out of the corral.
As he passed the men and women forming ranks, several loud cracks and pops resounded among the rocks of the Dragoon Mountains. Despite the clear sky, his nose caught the metallic scent of ozone, like after a lightning strike. More rumbles echoed around the camp, like rocks sliding down a mountain. Hoshi paused for a moment, seeking high ground. He spotted a rock tower a few hundred yards away, being vacated by a scout who either had seen enough or didn’t want to be exposed. Hoshi rode for the rock tower, passing the young scout as he rushed to join the defenders at the camp.
Hoshi dismounted and climbed. Just as he reached the top, several non-combatants ran past, carrying what they could. The rumbling grew louder and he turned back toward the encampment.
The Javelina burst through the rocks into the clear. The cutter on the front spun furiously. Apaches tried to encircle it. There were faint pops and plinks as little puffs of smoke left the rifles. The lightning gun’s wand emerged from a side window. With a loud crack and a burst of light, several warriors, including Baishan vanished in a vicious black cloud of smoke. Hoshi turned away, blinking back the spots before his eyes. From Maravilla’s explanation, he knew he needed to get behind the Javelina. Whoever had the lightning gun was inside, making the rear that much more vulnerable. His vision clearing, he turned around and took in the scene again. Three mounted cowboys rode into view, covering the Javelina’s rear quarter. Hoshi nodded. He knew how to deal with such men.
Gunshots from behind interrupted his thoughts. He whirled around and two men on horseback swept down from the hills behind him. They drove the retreating Apaches back toward the camp, into the Javelina’s path.
He eased his way down the rock pillar, back toward his horse, but stopped when the clean-shaven McLaury brother rode up and aimed a rifle at him. “You up there on the rock, get on down from there.”
“Very well.” Hoshi sprang from the rock and knocked the man out of the saddle. He rolled onto his feet as the man coughed and sputtered. The samurai darted forward and pulled him off the ground, then slammed him into the rock. Hoshi remembered that the Shieffelins referred to this McLaury as Tom.
“Are you insane?” snarled Hoshi. “The Javelina has been used to rob a bank. Are you just going to compound your crime even further?”
Tom McLaury laughed. “Compound our crime? Hell, we’re trying to fix what Brocius and Gird did. We figured if we eliminated the Apache threat right now, the law might just forgive them what they did to the sheriff and the bank in Tucson.”
Hoshi growled deep down in his throat. He hated that logic, but knew Tom McLaury could be right. He threw a punch, knocking McLaury to the ground, then he returned to his horse to see what he could do to minimize the slaughter.
<<>>
Whatever the Russians had planned for Ramon and Billy, they were in no hurry to do it. The proprietor, who they learned was named Mr. Chandler, brought meals and a deck of cards the next morning. Morning wore on into afternoon
and Ramon just called Billy’s bluff when a knock sounded. Mr. Chandler poked his head in. “Colonel Dvorkin would like to meet you.”
“About time,” said Billy, tossing his cards on the table. “Who the hell is Colonel Dvorkin?”
“He’s the leader of the Russian expeditionary force,” explained Chandler.
The two men stood and followed the proprietor down the stairs to the kitchen where coffee and pastries were laid out on the table. A tall man with a long dark coat and a red peaked cap stood with his hands behind his back. “I am your host, Colonel Alexei Dvorkin,” said the man. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting so long, but there have been… arrivals to attend and arrangements to make.”
“Yeah, planning an invasion’s real time consuming,” said Billy.
Ramon shot him a warning glance and Billy muttered a faint apology.
Unfazed by Billy’s remark, the colonel held out his gloved hand. Billy eyed it for a moment, then shook. Dvorkin then turned to Ramon.
The moment Dvorkin clasped Ramon’s hand, there was a crack like lightning and Ramon was somewhere else—a barren, parched landscape that reminded him of the Valley of Fire in New Mexico. Undulating, rocky ground rolled away in the distance on all sides. Overhead deep blue skies were streaked with white cirrus clouds. A dust devil swirled up from the sands and drifted lazily toward him. As it did, he noticed a few tiny dust motes floating near his head.
As the dust devil came closer, he realized he was not hearing or even feeling a breeze, but tiny whisperings like a million hushed voices all speaking at once. The small cloud of dust motes first orbited Ramon’s head, then swirled away and spun around the dust devil. Ramon sensed a complicated array of emotions from joy to worry to disagreement and even anger.
Ramon pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he looked around and tried to figure out what happened to Alexei Dvorkin and the boarding house.
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