“No, no, we don’t. I saw five Steamcrawlers on their way over, and two dozen men on horseback. Thaddeus Pinch is out for revenge. He wants a poker up my ass, and God knows what he’ll do to you for blowing up half of Steamtown. The man’s insane, Rowena. I’m getting out, and I suggest you do the same.”
“He still thinks you’re a hero, you know,” Rowena said quietly as Cockayne put his foot into the stirrup and hauled himself up onto the horse.
He frowned at her. “Who does?”
“Gideon. He knows what you’re like; he’s seen what you do. But he still believes, deep down, everything he used to read in the penny dreadfuls. He still thinks Louis Cockayne is the bold adventurer of the American plains, the great Yankee hero.”
Cockayne shook his head vehemently. “Uh-uh, Rowena. Not my problem. If he’s stupid enough to believe all that horseshit Lucian Trigger cooked up to add a bit of stardust to the nefarious deeds of his lover-boy, then that ain’t my problem. I’m no hero.”
“No,” she said. “No, you’re not.”
He looked out east, where the long dust cloud was drawing closer. “They’ll kill you, you know. If you’re lucky.”
“We won’t go down without a fight. It might be our last stand, but we’ll die with dignity,” she said. “I have to say, I am disappointed in you, Louis.”
“I’ll remember that when I raise a glass to your memory,” he said, spurring his stolen horse on and nosing it west, away from the advancing terror.
* * *
Bent stared numbly at her. “Gone? But he’s the only one here who can handle a gun properly.”
“My ass.” Oswald P. Ackroyd snorted. “I can shoot a peanut off a steer’s head at a hundred paces. And Albert’s no slouch, either.”
“Good,” said Rowena. She looked at the others, the frightened faces of the fifty-four people who had been bundled into the hold of the Skylady III. “What do the rest of you want to do? These men who are coming here … they are not good men. And they are out for revenge. We’ve stolen what they see as their property—you people—and destroyed their town. They aren’t coming for a quiet chat. Anyone who wants to leave can make a run for it. Anyone who wants to fight … I have weapons in the ’stat.”
The young Scot, Hamish, put up a hand. “Can’t we escape in your airship?”
Rowena shook her head. “She’s not ready yet. We could probably just about get airborne, but if they’ve brought their steam-cannon, we’d be sitting ducks.”
Oscar stepped forward. “Then we fight. I can handle a gun.”
“Me, too,” said Hamish.
Slowly, hesitantly, the others raised their hands and nodded. Rowena smiled; the women were willing to fight as well. She said, “We’ll get the children into the house, in the room without windows. Anything we can make barricades out of, drag it out front. Aloysius, Oscar, Hamish … and you, and you. Come with me. Let’s get the guns.”
“Is the Hotchkiss still bolted to the observation deck?” asked Bent.
Rowena nodded. He said, “Then that effer’s mine.” He nudged Oscar. “Dab hand with that bastard, I am.”
Rowena looked out east. The Steamcrawlers were visible across the prairie now. They didn’t have much time.
* * *
“You have a lot of work to do to make up for your stupidity,” said Noshi gravely to the young tribesmen who had been hauled out of the cave by their fathers and uncles. “A lot of work. Dirty work.”
There were horses waiting for them at the cave mouth, and Gideon stepped into the sunshine, gasping at the cool air. With each adventure underground, the grip his fear had on him grew a little looser. But that did not mean he would be seeking out subterranean endeavors again anytime soon.
As the Yaqui began to troop back to the settlement, Noshi held out his hand for Chantico to stop. He looked at his son, and then at Inez. “You are in love with my son?”
Inez met his impenetrable gaze. “Yes. Yes, I am. I have abandoned my family and friends in Uvalde. We are planning to set up a home at the abandoned mine near the canyon.”
Noshi looked at Chantico. “Is this true?”
He nodded sheepishly. Noshi said to Inez, “You realize that my son is an idiot?”
She smiled. “Yes. Yes, I do. But I still love him. We cannot often choose the path our heart will follow.”
“She is too good for you,” Noshi told Chantico. “You are very lucky.” He turned to another of the elders and rattled off a stream in the Yaqui language. Then he said to Gideon, “Your friends are at this mine?”
Gideon nodded. “And I must get back there. You said Steamtown is attacking?”
“They are on their way. Come. We will accompany you.” He spoke again to the other elders. “And perhaps Chantico’s foolish friends can atone for their mistake in allowing themselves to be seduced by the brujo.”
* * *
In the shadows of a leafy mountain ash, Cockayne watched the passage of the Indians below him. So Gideon had found Maria. He felt something like pride swell in his chest. He was a good kid, that Gideon Smith. Louis Cockayne didn’t often admit to actually liking anyone, but he couldn’t help but feel a kinship with Gideon, that crazy fisherman from the ass-end of nowhere who had dragged himself out of the mud to walk with the greats. Cockayne smiled. He’d go far. He might just end up being the Hero of the Empire everyone said he was.
The horse whinnied and Cockayne laid a hand on its neck to calm it. He’d wait until the Yaqui had passed, and then he’d strike out west. He planned to go as far as the coast then try to get passage to Tijuana, see if he could get on an airship heading east. New York or Boston, maybe. He felt a sudden pang replace the pride in his breast. Gideon would take Maria down to the old mine. Steamtown would be there soon.
Still, not his problem.
Nothing was ever Louis Cockayne’s problem. He didn’t do problems. He’d lived on his wits for his whole adult life, and that generally did not include giving a shit. If you started to care, you ended up dead. That was the Louis Cockayne way. As soon as you started to feel yourself get soft, it was time to dig the spurs in, move on.
His horse scraped at the dust and shook its head. It was keen to be on the trail.
So why wasn’t he digging his fucking spurs in, then?
Why wasn’t he moving on?
The line of horses below him was passing by, and Gideon and Maria were almost hidden by a copse of thin trees. He’d done good, the kid had, to find her and get her back.
Yeah, for as long as it lasted, with Steamtown on the way.
West, west, he told himself. The fleshpots of Tijuana, a nice dirigible ride cross-country, then some time in Boston, among civilized folks. Maybe he could get a pot of money together, hit the gambling dens, build it up enough to buy a part-share in a little ’stat. Set himself up in business, maybe cross Rowena’s path again. He smiled at the thought of Rowena. He’d always been too goddamn soft on her. Then he remembered his last words to her.
I’ll remember that when I raise a glass to your memory.
Ah, Rowena Fanshawe was no damsel in distress. She could handle a gun better than half the men he knew. And she had Gideon, and Maria, and Bent on her side, and … and …
The column of Yaqui had almost passed by now. All he had to do was dig in his heels, point his horse in the opposite direction, and get the hell out of this sorry mess. Leave the heroes and the assholes to it. Louis held tight to the reins, keeping the horse’s nose up.
Wouldn’t it be a thing, though, a tiny voice said inside of him. Wouldn’t it be a thing, to be one of the good guys for a change? Wouldn’t it be a thing to wear a white hat for a spell? Make things right? Hell, say sorry for some of the shit you’ve done?
Wouldn’t it be a thing to go down there and help?
He forced a smile. “Fuck that,” he said, slapping the horse’s neck and letting it have its head. It began to canter along the dusty hillside for maybe a dozen steps before he pulled it up sharply.
He dug his heels into the flanks of the horse and nosed it in the opposite direction, after the column of Yaqui horses, waving his arm and shouting, “Gideon! Gideon! Wait up!”
* * *
“It’s Cockayne!” said Gideon as the rider galloped toward them.
“Mr. Cockayne,” said Maria. “Gideon. I remember. He stole me away from you. When I was flying Apep, I was … subsumed. But I remember. He stole me.”
“Gideon! Wait up!” called Cockayne, pulling on the reins and bringing his horse to a stop alongside. He looked at Maria. “You found her!”
“Yes, Mr. Cockayne, he found me,” said Maria, bringing back her arm and letting her fist fly into Cockayne’s chin.
Cockayne tumbled off the horse into the dust. “Ow,” he said. “Well, I guess I deserved that. Can that be the last time anyone punches me, though?”
Gideon raised an eyebrow. Cockayne was being awfully … friendly. He said, “We need to get back to the old mine. Noshi says Steamtown is on their way.” He paused. “Where are you going?”
“To find you,” said Cockayne, nodding his head enthusiastically as he climbed back into the saddle. “Listen, Steamtown is coming, but that means…” He looked at Maria. “That means the dragon’s practically unguarded. That’s what we came for, right?”
Gideon looked at Maria, then back to Cockayne. He was right. That was the mission. “But what about the others…?”
“Rowena’s got it in hand,” said Cockayne. “Look, if she can hold them off for a while … maybe we could get to the Alamo in a couple of hours, maybe three, and get that goddamn dragon back here to help out.”
“I do not understand what you are planning,” said Noshi, “but you can have my three fastest horses.”
“We will go to the mine to help the defense,” said Inez, pulling her cowl back over her hair. “La Chupacabras will not allow Steamtown anywhere near her home.”
“Is this important?” asked Chantico, handing over the cloth bag.
Gideon took it from him and glanced inside. The golden apple and the other artifacts that powered Apep. “Yes. Yes, it is, thank you.” He looked at Maria. “Your key is here also … do you need…?”
She shook her head. “Gideon, I must speak to you. Something happened while I was flying the dragon. I feel … different. As though my human brain and my clockwork body work in concert, not as separate things. I feel whole. I do not need winding. But I do not understand why.”
“Later,” said Cockayne. “We need to move now, while we have the element of surprise.”
Gideon nodded. “Yes. You’re right. And you can take us to this Alamo?”
Cockayne grinned and nodded. “Follow me, Smith. Follow me.”
Then he let loose a wild whoop, raised his hat into the air, and spurred his horse on. Gideon and Maria took a moment to exchange a glance and a smile then followed.
* * *
“No one shoot until I give the signal,” said Rowena. “There might be a chance we can talk them round before anyone has to get hurt.”
Bent snorted from the observation deck, where he was crouched behind the Hotchkiss. “I say we take the first effing chance we get, Rowena.”
They had torn down tree branches and dragged out broken furniture to fashion a makeshift stockade across the front of the stone house. It wouldn’t even stop a bicycle, thought Rowena, but it was more of a psychological barrier than a physical one. It gave them something to crouch behind with their guns, offered some measure of shelter. She looked around. A few people were praying. Others looked out at the approaching horses and armored tracked vehicles. A few looked at their feet, perhaps wondering whether they might not have been better off handed over into slavery.
A hush fell over them. Rowena held a pistol in each hand and stood, one boot on the barricade in front of her.
They were here.
* * *
The tracked Steamcrawlers rumbled to a halt a hundred yards out, the horsemen pulling up beside them in a long line. There were steam-cannons mounted on two of the Steamcrawlers; Rowena had been right not to take the Skylady III up, she thought. The hatch on the lead Steamcrawler clanked and lifted, and she finally got her first eyeful of Thaddeus Pinch.
His metal limbs were steaming angrily from the joints, his jaw glinting in the sun. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, his eyes two pinpricks in its shadow. In his metal claw he held a rifle.
“You know me,” he rasped, spittle flying into the dry dust. “You all know me, or you should. My name is Thaddeus Pinch. I’m the King of Steamtown.” He grinned, blood pulsing at the joints at his chin. “You can call me the angel of death.”
“You’re not wanted here, Pinch,” called Rowena evenly. “You boys just turn around and go back home.”
“British?” said Pinch. “You friends with Mr. Gideon Smith? I owe him. Big time. He here?”
She shook her head. “Looks like you’ve had a wasted journey.”
Pinch pointed his rifle at the Skylady III. “Whose ship is that? I got a word I want to have with the owner. Small matter of busting up my fucking town.”
Rowena hesitated a moment, then said, “She’s mine.”
Pinch spat. “Yours? Then you’re responsible?” He waved his good hand. “And these’ll be my missing workers.”
“These will be free people,” called Rowena. “Who are you doing business with in New York, Pinch? Who’s dealing human lives for coal?”
“None of your fucking business, bitch,” shouted Pinch. He raised his rifle and took sight along its length. “Now how about you hand over what’s rightfully mine. I want my slaves, and I want my bride. Where’s Maria?”
Rowena raised her own pistols. “Maria’s not here. These people are free men and women, Pinch. And they’re going to stay that way.”
“Your funeral, sweetheart.”
A shot rang out and Rowena tensed, but it was Pinch who leaped like a scalded cat as the bullet pinged off the hide of the Steamcrawler. She turned to find a figure standing behind her, clad in leather and furs despite the heat, leaning on a long-barreled rifle.
“And who are you?” she said, raising an eyebrow. She hadn’t heard anyone approach.
The stranger put a finger to his weather-creased forehead. “I do not go by a name, ma’am.”
“Well, if you don’t know your name, I’m taking it that you just fired that bullet. Would I be presumptuous in thinking you’re on our side?”
* * *
The stranger turned narrowed eyes on Pinch. “I had to be sure. Had to be sure it was all going to work out.”
“Sure what was going to work out?”
He waved his guns. “This. All these different folks, black and white, from all corners of the world. All together here in one place.”
“And has it worked?”
The stranger gave a thin smile. “It has the potential to.”
“You! Nameless!” shouted Pinch. “You got no business here. This ain’t your battle.”
“I sent a message with one of your boys,” said the stranger Rowena now realized was the Nameless. “Perhaps you didn’t get it. Told him to tell you that this place was off-limits, that it’s under my protection. I’m guessing you’ve got the message now.”
“That was then,” said Pinch. “Things’ve changed. This bitch blew up half of Steamtown. Cockayne roasted my deputy. Those are my fucking slaves.”
“Then I guess this is my battle after all,” said the Nameless.
“Now?” shouted Bent from the observation deck of the Skylady III.
Rowena nodded. “Now, Aloysius!”
“Have at you, you effing bastard!” he yelled, and the Hotchkiss roared.
The dirt in front of the nearest Steamcrawler exploded, one track spinning off the wheels. The occupants poured out, heading for shelter behind the other vehicles. Bent looked over the gun. “Eff me,” he said quietly.
Pinch sat down heavily on his vehi
cle. “Oh, you’ve done it now. Spirit or no fucking spirit, you people are—” His voice trailed off as he looked up and beyond the crowd. “What the shit?”
Rowena looked behind her, at the ridge that rose up beyond the creek. There was a figure there, dressed in black, masked and holding up a rapier.
“La Chupacabras!” she cried. The girl? Inez?
Then, rising behind her, wave after wave of whooping, hollering Indians, two dozen of them pouring over the ridge and down across the shallow water toward them.
Rowena ducked down as both sides started firing. Inez galloped up, dismounting in the shadow of the house. Rowena called, “Where’s Gideon?”
“He’s gone, with Cockayne and Maria.”
So Louis had made good at last. “Where?”
“The Alamo.”
She turned around as a bullet impacted in the stone wall. Despite the Yaqui, they were still outgunned. She couldn’t put all these lives at risk. “Pinch,” she called over the racket. “Pinch! Stop shooting.”
He held up his hand and the Steamtowners paused. “You ready to give up?”
“Maria’s not here,” she shouted. “Gideon has found her and gone. There’s no point you being here anymore.”
Pinch shook his head. “I still need to pay you back for…” He paused. “Wait.” He turned to his crony, the one wearing the sheriff’s badge. “The fucker’s gone to get the goddamn dragon.”
Pinch turned to Rowena. “I’ll be back for you.” Then he waved his hand, turned his small army around, and had them gallop and roll back the way they came.
The Nameless stood at her side, watching them go. “You may have sacrificed your friends, you know.”
“Maybe. But how many lives have been saved here? Gideon will understand. He’s very big on the greater good and all that.” She shaded her eyes and watched the retreating Steamtowners. “I just hope he got a good start on them.”
22
THE BATTLE OF THE ALAMO
From a small copse of trees on a hill they watched the activity around the crumbling white stone church. There was a long, low building to the rear—dormitories for the missionaries who had first set up the abandoned mission—and the area was enclosed by a wooden palisade fence. In the dusty plaza before the mission was a wide tarpaulin staked to the ground, the unmistakable shape of Apep beneath it.
Gideon Smith and the Brass Dragon Page 22
