Cold Copper: The Age of Steam

by Devon Monk

  “Thank you, Mr. Ansell. Wil, are you all right?”

  Wil nodded. “That was a hell of a thing.”

  “Don’t suppose you’d mind manning the port guns?” Ansell asked. “We’re running a thin crew.”

  Cedar glanced at the crewmen. The Swift was a small ship and usually ran on a skeletal five people, including the boilerman and captain. Aboard the ship there was only Mr. Seldom, Hink’s second at the helm; Mr. Guffin, a thin, pale, sad-eyed man with a mop of unruly yellow hair, who was locking the starboard door and stowing the guns; and Mr. Ansell.

  “Happy to help,” Cedar said. “We know where Captain Hink is,” he added.

  “So do we,” Mr. Seldom called back from the front of the ship. “Have a tracker locked on him.”

  “Tracker?” Mae asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Some thing Miss Small cobbled together.” Ansell made his way to the navigation gear at the helm.

  Mr. Guffin nodded his tousled mess of hair and stomped his way up toward the front too. “That finder compass has held straight as an arrow for fifty miles. Hell of a way to keep track of a person. Not surprised Miss Small thought it up. She’s got a head full of clever.”

  “Doesn’t she just?” Cedar said with a smile as the ship shot through the air, over the town and dead set toward the church.

  When Hink could hear again, the first sound that reached his ears was a double-barreled shotgun racking a round about two feet from his head.

  “You are under arrest,” the sheriff said. “All of you. Drop your weapons and get on your feet.”

  The cannon blast had done just what Hink thought it might do. It had torn half the building off and left the other half of the church sagging dangerously. The stink of gunpowder, smoke, blood, and burning wood filled his nose and lungs.

  They had been thrown out of the church and had landed in a heap about twelve feet behind it, wood piled on top of the four of them.

  That made it easy for the sheriff and his men to surround them, and to point a rather impressive array of guns their way.

  “I said, get on your feet.”

  Hink looked for his companions. Wicks was already helping Miss Dupuis stand, but Father Kyne was unconscious again.

  “The priest is hurt,” Miss Dupuis said. “He cannot stand.”

  “Wasn’t talking to the priest, ma’am. You,” the sheriff said, “move. Now.”

  Hink spit some of the dust and grit out of his mouth, poked at a loose tooth with his tongue, then pulled himself up to standing. Blackness closed down around him as the world decided to set up shop out there at the end of a tunnel. He took a deep breath and the darkness pulsed back with the beat of his heart. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be conscious for long.

  “Problem, Sheriff?” Hink asked.

  “You broke out of my jail, tore it down, and released every criminal in custody. Then you beat up my men and spent the last hour shooting holes in the good people of this town. So, yes, I have a problem. But it ain’t no kind of problem I can’t solve with a trip to the gallows.”

  “We are allowed due process of the law,” Miss Dupuis said.

  “Law says I’m the due process,” the sheriff said. “And I say there’s plenty of room on the gallows for all of you.”

  “Fine,” Wicks said. “We’ll walk. But if you plan to hang the priest, you’ll need to provide him safe transport there.”

  Hink knew what he was trying to do. He was buying time. Maybe time for one of them to come up with a plan. Only Hink didn’t have a plan, and from the look on Miss Dupuis’s face, she didn’t either. While a long walk might jog some idea out of his head, more likely he’d just pass out halfway there.

  Father Kyne groaned and lifted one hand, then somehow managed to get himself sat up. He glanced at the sheriff and guns, then up at Hink, Wicks, and Miss Dupuis. He seemed to put two and two together, and found a way to stand.

  “Look at that,” the sheriff said. “Now we have all our ducks in a row. Walk.”

  Hink took a step, saw Father Kyne nearly stumble, and reached out to steady him, but Wicks was already there.

  “We’ll fight when the chance presents itself,” Wicks said quietly as Hink and he got Father Kyne walking again.

  Hink grunted in agreement.

  By the time they’d picked their way through the wreckage to stand in front of the sheriff, there was a buzzing in Hink’s ears he could not shake.

  Not a buzzing, more like a high-pitched scream coming from somewhere far off.

  They were shoved toward the road into town and got to walking. Hink was surprised the sheriff hadn’t just shot them yet. He must really want to give those new gallows a try.

  Then he figured it out. Alongside the road stood long lines of people. It looked like half the city had turned out to gawk and stare at the escaped criminals. Women and men, reporters and workers, poor and old all drawn up tight together to see how the great jail escape ended, to watch the shootout, and probably clap and cheer the sheriff on while that beast of a cannon shot the old church to sawdust.

  As a matter of fact, they started clapping now.

  Beyond the clapping, that far-off buzz was getting louder. Annoying.

  Hink lifted a hand to his ear, cupping it and frowning at the noise.

  And then he knew exactly what that noise was.

  “Oh,” he said quietly. “This is going to be nice. Real nice.” He grinned and lowered his hand, then stopped walking.

  “Told you to walk,” the sheriff said. “Not stand there grinning.”

  “Now why would I want to walk,” Hink asked. “When I have wings?”

  And just like that, the Tin Swift swung down out of the sky, a quick silver bullet skimming the tops of buildings and threading the city like a needle through a patchwork quilt.

  The ship came to a stop overhead, and Cedar Hunt’s voice boomed out over the growl of her fans. “Put your guns down and release them. Or we will open fire.”

  Hink glanced up at the ship. Looked like Mr. Seldom had done the girl some good, and put in the flamethrowers they’d been talking about. Flamethrowers that Cedar Hunt currently manned at the starboard door, aiming downward.

  “Problem with a ship like that,” Hink said to the sheriff, “is she can be out of your range before you pull a trigger, but that flamethrower doesn’t have to be close in to do serious damage to all these nice folks gathered here. And neither do the cannons, dynamite, and guns her crew keeps on board.”

  “How do you know what’s on board that ship?” the sheriff asked.

  “Because I am that ship’s captain.”

  “That so?” The sheriff spit to one side. “Then I know your crew isn’t about to kill their captain on the way to killing me.”

  “You overestimate the morals of my crew,” Hink said. “They do what I pay them to do. And if I tell them to shoot, that’s what’s going to happen. Even if I’m in the way.”

  Hink was ready to reach for the gun he had stashed in his coat. But before he could pull it, he heard his name shouted out.

  “Lee!”

  That was Rose’s voice. Rose’s voice calling over the roar of the Swift. But not from above.

  Rose stood on the snow-covered road that wended away from the church, back the other way. She was staring at the demolished remains of the building. Her hat had gone missing and her hair was tousled free of its pins in a glorious tangle of brown and red.

  One of her arms was slung tight and tied to her chest, and there was a bruise across her forehead. She looked away from the church and caught sight of Hink standing down the road a ways. Her free hand flew up over her mouth, as if it could hold back the half sob, half laugh that escaped her lips.

  Then her hand slipped down, revealing her smile. And she ran. Straight toward him, as fast as she could, ignoring the men, the guns, the ship, ignoring everything. Running as if there were no time left for walking in this world.

  Hink started toward her too, as fast as
his injuries would let him.

  The clack of guns racking rounds filled the air, but he didn’t care and he didn’t stop. Rose was running for him and he was running for her. Bullets wouldn’t keep him from that woman.

  “Hold your shot!” the sheriff yelled. “Do not shoot! You’ll hit the children.”

  Children?

  Hink looked away from Rose. Sure enough, she was surrounded by dozens of children, none of them taller than her waist, most of them in nightclothes, and all of them running, just as she was running, right toward him.

  And all the people on the street, men and women, rich and poor, crowded up to see just what was happening.

  They cried out in surprise, in confusion and joy, calling their children’s names.

  “Henry! Victoria! Donald!” Dozens of voices calling dozens of names.

  Strolling along behind the bundle of blank-eyed children were the three Madder brothers, looking as if they were going on a walk round the park, not that they were returning to a town full of people who wanted to see them swing by the neck.

  Hink wrapped his arms around Rose and she clung tightly to him with one arm, looking up at him.

  “You shouldn’t have come back, Rose,” he said, near out of breath, his head pounding darkness into the corners of his vision again.

  “I’m right where I intend to be, Lee Cage.”

  “Well, isn’t this a pleasant sight?” Sheriff Burchell said.

  “So good to see all the criminals come into the town, all the lawbreakers and justice dodgers, right here in one handy place. Looks like justice will be done this day. Men,” he said. “Fire.”

  “Hold your fire!” Alun Madder called out loud enough Rose thought his voice could be heard in the next county. “We have found the children gone lost in this town. There will be no shooting.”

  The gunmen hesitated.

  “My baby!” a woman cried out. “You found my baby.” The woman was short and thin, with dark hair caught back under a blue silk-flounced bonnet. She broke out of the crowd and ran toward the children surrounding Rose.

  The woman plucked up a little boy and pulled him into her arms, standing there rocking and murmuring comforting words.

  Then a flood of people came forward, pulling their children toward them, crying, hugging, holding. More than one man clapped Hink on the shoulder in thanks as they walked by; more than one man shook hands with the Madders.

  Rose found herself overwhelmed by the surge of happy people, and did her best to see that the children fell into the hands of family and loved ones. The sheriff was surrounded by townspeople and was receiving congratulations too, and several of his men had youngsters in their arms.

  The gunmen were fathers, brothers, and uncles. They put their guns away.

  The Madders stood near Rose, staring at the sheriff across all the happy people.

  The sheriff glared at them. But he couldn’t just shoot the men who had solved his city’s greatest mystery, couldn’t kill the men who had brought happiness back to families who had been wrapped in grief.

  The Madders looked like three pleased foxes who had dined on prized hens.

  The sheriff holstered his gun.

  Rose was relieved that the children had been found and returned. But there was still more that wasn’t settled. The children weren’t talking. None of them seemed to even recognize their families.

  Something was missing. And she wasn’t the only one who noticed. It began as a small murmur. One or two people asked their child what was wrong. And then it grew. They knew. They knew their children might be there in body, but that some part of them was still lost.

  “What the hell now?” Hink muttered.

  “It’s the kids,” Rose said. “Some Strange has a piece of them. We haven’t found it yet. Haven’t found the Strange. Well, haven’t had a chance to look for it. I thought…I thought you were dying, so I just ran.”

  “Sheriff,” Cedar said. “May I speak with you?”

  Rose looked over and was shocked to see both Cedar and Wil Hunt striding down the road. Wil had on borrowed pants and boots, one hand rested in his coat pocket as if he carried something there. His grin was wicked and his eyes glittered.

  Seeing the two of them together, as men, was such a rare thing, she had to admit to being a little caught by the sight of them.

  They were of a height and build, though Wil was leaner and narrower than his older brother. And whereas Cedar Hunt looked like he could bear the weight of the world’s troubles across his wide shoulders, Wil looked more the type who might enjoy stirring up that trouble.

  The brothers passed Miss Dupuis and Wicks, and Cedar told them both to get aboard the ship that hovered to one side of the ruined church. Neither of them argued, though Wicks opened his mouth, but closed it quickly when Miss Dupuis tugged him by the arm to the Swift’s ladder.

  The sheriff met Cedar in the center of the road. Close enough Rose could hear them over the townsfolk and airship fans.

  “We came to this town with no animosity toward the town or these people. And though my companions have been jailed, and escaped, it was to do this great good. To find the children of this town. And if you want the children to laugh and grow and thrive, to have their reasoning minds, you will let us go.”

  “What game are you playing, Mr. Hunt? Are you holding our children’s minds hostage for your release?”

  “It seems I am.”

  Rose glanced around. She couldn’t believe Cedar was standing there blackmailing the sheriff. She slipped her hand in her pocket and wrapped her fingers around her gun.

  “Is there some kind of guarantee you’re going to give me?” the sheriff asked. “I’m not about to let you fly off on the strength of a promise.”

  “Keep us here and those children will never recover.”

  The sheriff frowned, glanced over at the children, many of whom just stared straight ahead.

  “We’ll stay behind as collateral,” Alun Madder said. “My brothers and I.”

  “No,” Cedar said.

  “Now, now, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. “You should know better than to turn down the best offer you’re going to get. According to the law, there’s still some reason Sheriff Burchell here might want to keep us. We’ll stay while you see to the children’s needs. And when it’s clear those children are once again their normal selves—something I encourage you to do quickly—then Sheriff Burchell will uphold his side of the bargain and let us all go.”

  The sheriff nodded slowly. “You belong behind bars.”

  “As you may have noticed, bars can’t hold us,” Alun said. “We will leave your town and give our promise to never return.”

  “Agreed,” Burchell said. “Let some other lawman see you swing.”

  “Just so,” Alun said happily. “Off with you, Mr. Hunt. If you do your job correctly, we’ll see you on the outside of town.”

  Rose tugged on Hink’s hand and hurried with him to the Swift. The Madders always had a plan. She knew that if they had to, they’d find a way to get away, even if the sheriff wasn’t true to his word. And it appeared Cedar knew that too.

  Rose climbed the ladder to the Swift as quickly as she could with a bum arm, Hink right behind her. He hollered for his crew to lower the basket.

  Cedar and Wil helped Father Kyne into the basket.

  Then Rose was up in the hustle and hurry of the ship, that beautiful, sweet ship, hugging Mae and helping to work the wenches to get Father Kyne aboard. She glanced up to see her airship captain walk up the narrow interior, already more steady on his feet as his hands grasped and released the ship’s metal framework, like a blind man gently stroking the face of a long-missed loved one.

  Last into the safety of the ship came Wil, who was smiling, and Cedar Hunt, who looked exhausted and in pain. He took hold of one of the metal bracings and leaned against the wall a moment, breathing heavily from his climb.

  She had never seen him so ill before.

  “Tell us where to fly, Mr. Hunt,�
�� Captain Hink said. “So we can put this town behind us.”

  “A warehouse,” Wil said. Only it wasn’t Wil’s voice coming out of his mouth. Rose shot a glance at Cedar.

  “Listen to him,” he said. “The Strange saved the children from following the Holder’s call and drowning in the river. But they put their bodies in that cave. Their minds are trapped with the Strange.”

  “Strange are keeping the children’s minds?” Mr. Wicks asked.

  “Oath given,” Not-Wil said. “To free your own. To free my own.”

  “I don’t understand,” Miss Dupuis said. “What is…is that even Wil speaking?”

  Cedar pulled himself together with what looked like extreme effort. He walked over to stand by his brother. “It’s not just Wil. I have a promise to fulfill. To free the Strange. They’re somewhere in this town, trapped.”

  “And all he can tell us is they’re in a warehouse?” Miss Dupuis said. “There must be hundreds of warehouses in this town.”

  “I know where they are,” Rose said. She pulled the broken battery out from under her blouse and held it out so Wil could see it. “Are they trapped in something like this?”

  Wil’s eyes went wide and his lips pulled back in a snarl. He took a step toward Rose, reaching for the battery. Cedar clamped his hand around Wil’s wrist and Wil stopped.

  “That looks like a yes to me,” Captain Hink said. “Take us northeast, Mr. Seldom,” he said. “Toward the airship field. Look for boxcars on a side spur with a warehouse to the west.”

  Captain Hink’s crew scrambled to see to his orders and Rose took hold of a metal bracing, setting herself for the welcome speed of the ship beneath her feet.

  Captain Hink spotted the warehouse from above. There weren’t any airships in the immediate sky, nor did there seem to be men moving about down there.

  Not that either thing would matter. He was tired, hungry, and in pain. He wanted the hell out of this town. If that meant turning the Swift’s cannons on the buildings below, or burning it to cinders, he wouldn’t shed a tear.