by Nico Rosso
Anna followed. “What’s the trouble?”
“I didn’t say trouble.” The sheriff unlocked the door. “You’re always jumping to the worst conclusion. No wonder your last name is Blue.”
“Didn’t have much of a choice in a name, did I?” Anna stalked off to untie her bounty.
Sheriff Campos spoke after her, “More than others.”
Jack already knew there was some kind of story that made Anna into what she was, but hearing this only increased the mystery. And the danger. Like sliding down the side of a stone mountain, trying to find a foothold, and only feeling the earth give way beneath your boot. What would he find as he fell? The way she’d captured his attention already, knowing more of Anna could wind up with him crushed and broken.
She had Malone up and walked him into the jail. Jack unbuckled Rat and pulled him to his feet. As he unshackled the bounty, the man cleared his throat and spoke slowly.
“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins, for bringing me to justice.”
“Nicely said, Rat.” Jack barely needed to touch the man and he walked straight into the jail. It gnawed on Jack when his cycle wasn’t as lean as it could be. He quickly folded up the sidecar and drew the ether tanks in toward the body.
The sheriff closed and locked the door to the jail. “Either of these hombres get hurt when you nabbed them? We got a new doc and she’s mighty fine.”
Malone tried, “I think I twisted my ankle …”
But Anna’s growl cut him off. “They’re all in one piece.”
The sheriff double-checked the lock on the door. “Couple of days, federal authorities will pick them up for trial.”
Anna seemed charged with an unstoppable energy. “You said there was more business.”
Jack put up a hand, stopping the conversation before it could get started. “First things first.”
Sheriff Campos nodded. “You want your bounty.”
“But before that”—Jack glanced back at the two vehicles they rode in on—“there’s a little matter of a friendly wager.”
The sheriff looked at Anna with a little shock. “What’d you bet him?”
Anna ground out, “It was a race. Into town.”
Tom grinned, looking like a guy familiar with wild escapades. “Explains why you two came tearing in like tornadoes. Stakes?”
Anna and Jack were silent for a moment. A lot of possibilities there. Then Jack spoke. “They hadn’t been agreed on.”
Tom gave a little chuckle and the sheriff joined him. They looked from Jack to Anna and back, a little more smug than Jack liked.
Anna mustn’t have felt too comforted by the way she was being eyed, either. Her words came out sharp. “So who won? Who got here first?”
Silence. More knowing looks that irritated Jack like nettles.
Tom shrugged. “Looked like a dead heat.”
“Yep,” the sheriff agreed. “You came in neck and neck.”
This made Tom chuckle again.
Jack tried to keep his voice even. No sense in rankling the local law and the U.S. Cavalry. “There had to be a winner.”
“Nope.” The sheriff turned, taking a moment to bump her hip against Tom’s, and walked toward her office. “Now let me get you those bounty payouts and we can get down to the new business.”
Tom strode next to his wife and Jack and Anna hurried to catch up. The interior of the sheriff’s office was a relief after the high sun’s heat. As soon as Jack’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, he made out the two desks, assorted chairs, and locked case full of firearms. Everything was in order, as if the sheriff could intimidate the breeze not to ruffle a stack of paper. She walked over to a whole wall covered with wanted posters and tore two down.
“Hundred dollars each.” She went to a tall safe in the corner and spun the dial.
As casual as Tom looked, leaning against a table near her, Jack recognized that the cavalry man could draw his pistol in a flash. And if that wasn’t enough, the Gatling rifle was still ready over his shoulder. It would be suicide to mess with Tom or his wife. If she didn’t get you, her ever-watchful husband definitely would put you in the ground. Jack hadn’t seen a couple like them. They were so balanced together, aware of the other, as if dancing and never stepping on each other’s toes. Tom wasn’t protecting his wife as much as he was backing her, ready to take on any threat. They made each other stronger. Jack had never seen that with other men and women; he hadn’t the first hint of something like that for himself.
An uncommon heat started to sear at Jack’s left shoulder. He wondered if he’d been so intent on the money coming out of the safe that he’d stood too close to the small iron stove. But that fire wasn’t lit. It was another kind of fire. Anna. They’d both been staring at Sheriff Campos at the safe and now stood less than a foot apart.
She noticed at the same time he did and they both took a quick step apart. So she felt it, too. A brief look of confusion on her face was replaced by her stoic cool. He’d never seen blue eyes that could blaze then frost so quickly.
He’d needed women before. But he’d been easily sated. Flesh on flesh. A night, a week, no longer. He lived for the hunt, the solo ride, and those women never held his attention for long. It was all about the surface of the skin. There was no excitement in discovering anything deeper. This, though, went bone deep.
What the hell could he do with it? Anna wouldn’t let anyone within range. He saw she was a master with the .45. She could knock a flea off a dog at twenty paces. The suede jacket she wore looked more like armor. But there was a woman beneath it, clothed in a simple plaid shirt. Nothing simple about her eyes, though. They showed her strength and hid her history.
Jack almost cursed himself out loud. That was the explanation as to why she’d fueled this kind of interest. It was the hunt. He couldn’t have her, and he had to find out how he could get her.
Sheriff Campos approached them with bundles of money and paperwork. “Your bounties.”
He took the payout and filled out and signed the paperwork with the silver fountain pen kept inside his vest. This was the reward. Hunting Anna wouldn’t lead to anything as good as money. Just frustration and maybe a bullet hole.
Once he signed his name on the paperwork he offered the pen to Anna. She looked at it warily, then took a pen from the sheriff’s desk. He couldn’t be offended, understanding her professional caution, and put his pen back in his vest. She finished filling out the form and the sheriff collected what she needed, filing it away neatly in a desk drawer.
Anna was still focused like that invisible pistol sight she used. “So about this other business?”
There was at least one saloon in town and Jack needed to wash the road dust from his throat. Maybe a couple of beers could cool the burn he still felt being this close to Anna. “Pleasure working with you again, sheriff. Good meeting you, Tom.” He gave Anna a wink. “See you at the next opera.” He never did get to ask her what she thought of the Shakespeare. Not that he was paying any attention to it with her on the other side of the row.
Before he could leave, the sheriff took two folded telegrams and held one out to him and one to Anna. “It’s business for both of you.”
He took the telegram and stepped away from Anna. She did the same, holding the paper carefully so he couldn’t read it. As soon as he was sure his hand blocked his telegram, he scanned it.
To: Jack Hawkins c/o territory sheriff. From: State Police Office of Fugitive Recovery. Bounty leveed on Dr. Franklin Song. $1000.00. Alive. Last whereabouts, San Francisco, CA.
He tore his eyes from the wire to glance north. Anna did the same. Their gazes met before they returned to the telegrams.
Cautiously, he asked, “Dr. Franklin Song?”
She nodded slowly. “Looks legit.”
The sheriff approached with two more bundles of money. “They used the correct state police codes in the wire. And they sent this.” She handed them the money. “Three hundred each as a retainer.”
“From Harbor Savings and Trust?” An
na rubbed the telegram between her fingers, as if she was testing the dirt around a fugitive’s footprint.
The sheriff nodded. “The same bank in San Francisco state police always use.”
The hundred dollars from today’s bounty had been electric. The three hundred Jack now held should’ve been like holding lightning. Something was different, though. The dollars didn’t sizzle like they usually did. The thrill felt muted compared to the charge he got standing close to Anna.
To hell with it all. Jack needed to get on the road, to chase something he knew he could catch. Dr. Franklin Song was worth one thousand dollars. With Anna holding the same telegram, it looked to be another race. But he couldn’t make tracks yet; there were too many dark corners in this job, perfect for hidden scorpions or gunmen.
Anna must’ve been feeling the same tug of the road; she leaned toward the door. Her mouth was turned down, though, skeptical. “Dr. Song break any laws?”
The sheriff shook her head.
Tom scratched at the stubble on his jaw. “Nothing I heard. Last I knew he was working on a two-man Sky Charger for the Upland Rangers, everything on the up-and-up.”
“That inventor’s one of our greatest assets in the war against the Hapsburgs.” The sheriff drummed her fingers on the desk. “Doesn’t add up.”
“We know firsthand the Hapsburgs don’t play fair.” Tom’s small laugh was laced with hard experience. “This could be another one of their stacked decks.”
Jack had heard of some of the enemy’s saboteurs making trouble in these parts. If the stories were true, it was a hell of a mess, but the sheriff and her man did a mighty fine job of cleaning things up.
“The money came from the right bank, but where did the telegraph come from?” Anna still held the paper, scanning over the words again and again. Jack saw she read fast . Probably learned properly as a child, rather than as a teenager like he did.
He added, “Just because they used the right code doesn’t mean they didn’t steal it.”
The sheriff held up her hands for silence. “Best you talk to Izek in the telegraph office—he’ll be able to answer all that.” She motioned them toward the door. “I’ll let you wear your weapons, as long as you’re not planning on staying in town.”
“Staying?” Jack laughed. “Not likely. Not when there’s a bounty to catch.”
Anna added, “Wouldn’t know what to do with a roof over my head, Rosa. I’m always just passing through.”
Sheriff Campos nodded. “As long as the cables are humming, neither of you stay longer than collecting your money, knocking back a drink and a meal, and refueling your engines.”
Jack replied, “That’s the business of a hunter.” A lonely business sometimes. Especially when most of the people he met were going to try and kill him so they could get away.
The sheriff tapped the paper in Jack’s hand. “You find any laws broken with that telegram, come back to me. For technical matters, Izek’s your hombre.”
Jack let Anna exit first, then pinched his brim for the sheriff. She smiled politely and Tom gave him a little wave.
As Jack and Anna stepped off the small porch and back into the daylight, the sheriff called after them. “And go slow. No sense getting someone hurt if you’re racing too fast.”
Tom laughed behind her and she shot an elbow into his gut. But he kept chuckling and she joined him. The two of them disappeared into the dark sheriff’s office and the door shut behind them.
Anna pulled on her shaded wire-rim spectacles. They were tinted reddish orange, but he was still able to see her eyes, narrow and unreadable. “Telegraph office.”
A small twitch of the wrist extended the first mechanical finger so he could point up. “Follow the wires.”
They tracked where the high poles brought the telegraph wires from down the road into the thick of town. Together, their boots scraped in the dust as they walked. Neither let the other get ahead or fall behind. So it was shoulder to shoulder, almost as if they were a couple on a stroll. A couple of bounty hunters who were heavy with weapons and had an insatiable hunger for the hunt.
Jack knew that, besides each other, there was no one within miles of how good they were. “You ever have a run-in with the bounty hunter JG, or Sonny from his gang?”
“Only when I’m slipping bounties out from under them.” She stayed focused on the telegraph office ahead. “Those boys are always three steps behind.”
The main telegraph pole was sheathed in tin from the ground to ten feet high. Jack assumed it to be evidence of the Hapsburg trouble. That would explain the newer buildings on the southern side of town.
Some of the residents of Thornville watched him and Anna warily. He smiled and nodded for a couple of the local ladies. Their polite smiles were a bit shaky.
As he and Anna stepped onto the boardwalk, she asked, “What about Donna and the Greek? Seen them a couple of times on the trail, but never close enough to take what I was aiming for.”
“Same here.” He opened the door to the telegraph office and held it for Anna. “They’re capable if someone’s running through their territory, but get mighty shy further they get from their hearth.” Donna and the Greek weren’t truly dedicated, not like Jack, who didn’t even have a true home to get away from. Colorado was family, but not home.
She stepped into the telegraph office and he followed. Immediately he was hit with the aromas of a tinkerer. Same as Lorna Carmichael’s shop in Colorado, where he sat for hours while she fitted him for his new hand. Hot metal. Solder and brass. But this was also a telegraph office, so the smell of ink hung heavy like a secret needing to be told.
“Lord …” Anna turned in the center of the room, looking at all the wires winding down from the ceiling and into a whole wall of equipment.
Metal and wood all clicked and hummed harmoniously with gears and rods and leather driving belts. Little electric lights glowed and flickered, but nothing had labels, so there was no hope of Jack deciphering their meaning.
A man disengaged himself from the machinery, adjusting his eyeglasses and smoothing down his mustache. “Hola. Sending or receiving?”
Anna fixed him with her gaze and he took a step back. “You Izek?”
“H-how can I be of service?”
She held out the telegram. “You received this here for me.”
Jack gave Izek a friendly smile before Anna scared the poor telegraph man to death. “We both did. Same telegraph.”
Izek nodded. “Anna Blue and Jack Hawkins.” He smoothed his mustache again. “An honor to have both of you here. Your names are always buzzing on the wire.”
A reputation could be more important than a bullet. Jack didn’t even have to draw his gun sometimes. All he needed was his name. “Everything you’ve heard is the honest truth. But there’s only one wire I need to know about today.” He handed Izek the telegram. “Can you find out where it was sent from?”
The same electricity from the equipment sparked in Izek. He took Anna’s telegraph, too, and examined both. The middle-aged man reached for his mustache, then hesitated.
“The clocks will tell us.” He hurried to his wall of equipment and ran his fingers over a row of clocks embedded among the machinery. “Telegram was sent at eleven fourteen o’clock in the a.m.” His nimble fingers adjusted one of the clocks to that time. “So we can see here …” He excitedly waved Jack and Anna over.
They paused to exchange a look before stepping close. A silent communication that they were sharing a room with a bit of an eccentric. But the look was too unguarded, too familiar. The steel returned to Anna’s eyes. Jack set his jaw, feeling the familiar smirk he used to shrug troubles away.
Izek was oblivious to the moment, leaning over his equipment and a long line of small glass orbs. “These lights represent sending stations. Porterville, Santa Barbara to the south. I set the clock to the time of the transmission; the light shows where it came from. It all has to do with the latent resonance of the wire and the—”
&nbs
p; Anna got him back on track. “None of the lights are on.”
“This one.” He gently tapped on the light. “Barely.”
Jack read the meticulous handwriting on the label beneath the light. “Morro Bay?”
“And this one.” Izek indicated the next light along the row. “Also very dim.”
“Monterey.” Anna glanced to the door, like she was itching to ride. “That’s where it came from?”
“No, you see?” Izek kept his fingers on the two bulbs. “They’re both too dim. That means the signal was sent from somewhere between them. An experienced operator must’ve spliced in somewhere between Morro Bay and Monterey.”
Anna frowned. She adjusted her gun belt. “This ain’t feeling so legit anymore.”
Jack’s skin prickled. She was right. But the three hundred dollars was real and enough to spark his interest. “So you letting this one go?”
She burned him with a look, a challenge. “Not so much. You?”
“You’re not that lucky.” He pulled a silver dollar from his vest pocket and handed it to the telegraph man. “Obliged, Izek.”
“Any time, Mr. Hawkins.” And a courteous bow to Anna. “Miss Blue.”
She barely smiled back. “Somewhere between Morro Bay and Monterey, right?”
Izek nodded. It was as if he’d fired the starting gun. Anna and Jack hurried out of the office and back into the bright sun. She was fast on her feet, but he never lost a footrace. They kicked up the dust of the main street.
He reached his engine-cycle first, but the damn starter didn’t crank on the first try. She got hers to turn over and he was just behind her. Their engines rumbled like a stampede. Anna tore off. Jack dropped his cycle into first gear and sped away after her.
He could handle his machine. With just a dull knife, he could clear out a barroom full of wanted men, bringing them all to justice. He’d been broken and rebuilt and lived.
He twisted the throttle, gaining on her. This was more than a simple race. High dollar prize meant high stakes. If someone was willing to pay, someone else was willing to kill. But that unknown didn’t gnaw at Jack. The real danger came from Anna. Chasing her, racing against her, meant she would be close enough to burn him.
