by Devon Monk
“And your crew?” Captain Beaumont asked.
“Boots off. Except my second there, rustling pots. You’re welcome to join in the victuals if you want.”
“No, thank you. It’s been a long day in the sky and I must see to my passengers being settled properly.”
Beaumont’s crew spread out across the room, rucksacks over their shoulders as they headed toward the room where Rose and Mae had gone.
Guffin appeared at the door, picking at his fingernails with a knife. Wil paced out to stand beside him.
“Occupied,” he said. “Take the next door.”
At the sight of the wolf, the crewmen took a couple cautious steps back, then tromped off to another door down a ways.
The two women and the bowler-hatted man exchanged a startled look, glancing between the wolf and Cedar.
The tall woman finally spoke. “Captain Beaumont,” she said in a surprisingly rich French accent, “if it would be no bother, I would very much care for a hot meal.”
“Not at all, Miss Dupuis,” the captain said smoothly. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He held his hand out toward an empty table as far across the room from Cedar and Captain Hink as possible. “Unfortunately, I cannot join you. I’d best speak with the proprietor before we turn in to settle our bill.”
“Of course, Captain,” she said. “Good evening.”
The captain gave her a slight bow. Cedar supposed he would have too. She was the kind of woman that made a man feel like he should kiss her hand.
“Well, then,” the blond woman said, “I’ll help with the food.” No French accent from her. If anything, she seemed to have a healthy dose of the South in her words.
“Thank you, Joonie,” Miss Dupuis said.
Joonie marched off and tried to strike up a conversation with Seldom as she checked the larder. Seldom responded with barely discernible shrugs and an occasional pointing of the knife.
The man with the carpetbag, who had been staring at Cedar this whole time, seemed to gather his wits, and he strode over to pull a chair out for the lady. He moved smoothly and efficiently, like he was used to being in front of people.
A statesman? Lawyer?
“Could I get you some water, Miss Dupuis?” he asked quietly, but not so quietly that Cedar’s keen ears couldn’t pick it up. He fingered his vest pocket, withdrawing a pair of spectacles and placing them on his nose.
“No, thank you, Mr. Theobald,” she murmured. “Please, be seated.”
From how quickly the man obeyed, it was clear who among the passengers made the decisions.
And from the lowered lashes and slight smile she gave him, it was just as clear that he was more than her traveling companion. Much more.
Interesting, but ultimately nothing that concerned him. He was just about to get up and see if Rose and Mae were settled, when Mae walked back into the room. The passengers, all of them, including the blonde flipping flapjacks, looked over at Mae.
Cedar watched the strangers. Joonie noticed his gaze right away and went back to minding her pans. Mr. Theobald was slowly slipping the lenses of his spectacles down over one eye, holding a book open in the palm of his hand, but not reading it. The last person Cedar had seen wear a contraption like that was Bryn Madder, when he was trying to make sense of Cedar and his curse.
But it was Miss Dupuis who stared straight at him, watching to see if he had any reaction to Mae walking into the room.
Cedar shifted in his chair to see Mae, who was walking their way.
His heart clutched in his chest, and heat tightened his skin. Every time he saw that woman, the need for her struck him near dumb. More than that. The wolf in him twisted and pressed. Wanting out. Wanting to protect. Wanting her.
Cedar swallowed hard, pressing the beast down deeper and holding tight to the thoughts of a man.
Mr. Theobald took in a sharp, quick breath, and his fingers stopped snicking lenses into place over his spectacles.
Cedar knew he was looking at him. He could smell his fear.
It was all he could do not to turn and stare at the man until he backed down.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Mae said once she was at their table. “We have company?” From the tone of her voice, she really wasn’t sure if she had missed seeing them there before, or perhaps she was unsure if they were really in the room.
“Ship’s crew came in,” Cedar said quietly. “Supplies. The captain is off talking to Jack.”
“Oh,” Mae said. “I see.” She paused and smoothed her hands over her skirt, then rested them on her hips. “I believe you and I need to speak to Mr. Jack also, Captain.” Then she noticed the flask in Hink’s hand, and her eyebrows went up.
“If you are prepared to speak on our behalf,” she added.
The captain took in a deep breath and held it as he made a big lot of noise over standing up and away from that table.
“Why, of course, I’m prepared to speak. Shall we?” He offered her his arm, which Mae took.
Cedar clenched his hands into fists and worked on not imagining clocking the captain for that smile he was giving to Mae.
“Keep the pot hot, Mr. Seldom,” Captain Hink called. “I have a feeling I’m about to work up an appetite.”
They’d get medicines for Rose, he told himself. That’s all he was talking about.
Captain Hink had proved he could be trusted so far.
The captain wasn’t drunk, and yet he was acting like it. Who was he trying to fool? Beaumont? His passengers?
He wasn’t going to send Mae off on her own with him. Cedar strode over to where Wil stood in the shadows just inside the doorway to the sleeping quarters. He looked down into his brother’s copper eyes. “Watch Mae for me,” he whispered.
Wil padded out into the room, then through it with grace and speed.
“My word!” Mr. Theobald said.
Joonie reached for something that was not a spatula.
Mr. Seldom caught her hand before she could pull whatever sort of gun she had hidden in her skirts.
“Flapjacks are burning,” was all he said.
But by the time she looked back out in the room, Wil was gone.
Cedar strode over to the table where Mr. Theobald stood, the lens over his eye a hard red. He still smelled like fear, but he was steady on his feet, his hand tucked in one pocket, where no doubt he had some kind of weapon he felt confident using. His expression held more than a little bit of curiosity.
For a brief moment, that look reminded him of the Madder brothers.
Miss Dupuis sat straight-backed and proper, as if she expected tea service to arrive at any moment.
“Though we haven’t been made full acquaintance,” Cedar said to Mr. Theobald, “I’d be obliged if you kept your hands off your weapons around that wolf of mine. I wouldn’t want him to think you meant to harm him.”
He said it quietly. But it was a threat.
Miss Dupuis smiled, the curve of her full lips not quite showing her teeth.
“Where are my manners?” Mr. Theobald said, his voice smooth, friendly, and inviting in a way that was hard to resist. “I am pleased to introduce Miss Sophie Dupuis, Miss Joonie Wright, and I myself, Otto Theobald. We are traveling east to Miss Dupuis’s father’s estate before the winter sets in. And whom do we have the pleasure of speaking to?”
“Cedar Hunt,” he said. “Most recently out of Oregon. Good evening, Miss Dupuis, Mr. Theobald. May your travels be smooth.”
“Please,” Miss Dupuis said. “Sit with us, Mr. Hunt. Join us for our meal. Joonie is a wonderful cook.”
Mr. Theobald looked at him expectantly. As if he had a rack of questions he was hoping Cedar would hang answers on.
“No, thank you, Miss Dupuis, Mr. Theobald. Perhaps tomorrow. I have other matters to attend.”
“We understand,” Mr. Theobald said. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” He held out his hand and Cedar shook it.
The look on Theobald’s face changed to something more l
ike stunned respect, which didn’t make a lick of sense.
He certainly was an odd man. Cedar couldn’t quite get a bead on him.
“Ma’am,” Cedar said, nodding to Miss Dupuis, who gave him a soft smile.
“Good evening to you and yours, Mr. Hunt. I do hope we’ll have a chance to catch up tomorrow.”
Cedar walked to the bedroom. The sleeping quarters were a barracks that could bunk about a dozen people. Cots were lined up against the walls with empty shelves and coat hooks beside them.
Rose was settled in on a bed toward the end of the room. Molly sat on the cot next to her.
“Smells good out there,” Molly said. “Captain set Seldom loose on the griddle?”
“He did. How is she?”
Molly sighed. “Sleeping, I think. Or fainted. As comfortable as we can make her. Mrs. Lindson is hoping there’s some herbs in Jack’s stores that will help.” Molly paused, and looked over at Rose, who was pale and still. “That infection’s gone worse in a terrible short time,” she said. “I don’t know how long she’ll hold against it.”
“She’s strong,” Cedar said, stepping over to see her more clearly.
“I can tell she is,” Molly said. “You said my kinsmen thought kindly of her?”
Guffin, who had been lying on a cot toward the front of the room with his hat over his head, groaned and sat up. “I’ll leave you two ladies to your gossip. My belly’s chewing on my spine anyway.” He left the room.
Cedar sat on a bed next to Rose. “Yes, he did. Had her at his side since she was a young girl, I’m given to understand. She’s got a bit of the wild sciences in her, and Mr. Gregor had a way of making her see that as a good thing.”
Molly smiled. “She was whispering in her sleep. Something about matics and cogs and gears. Thought she might lean toward devising.”
“She’s handy with those sorts of things.” He wondered if he should put something in Rose’s hand, a device, a whimsy, so her busy fingers would be comforted, but he had nothing to give her. They’d lost everything they owned in that damn town.
Cedar ground his teeth until his anger became nothing more than frustration.
No trail was easy, but trying to get Mrs. Lindson to her coven had proved to be more than difficult. It was quite possibly going to cost Rose her life. Most likely had cost the stubborn Madder brothers theirs.
That wound Rose carried should be his. He’d had some time to think about the windup dead girl, and who might have such a terrible mind to set such a trap. Most of the Strange he’d killed over the years didn’t do much more thinking than an angry animal. They certainly weren’t the sort to pull together complicated traps.
But there was one Strange man who was more than up to this sort of trickery: Mr. Shunt. Shunt had done terrible things back in Hallelujah. Pieced together walking, killing bodies for the Strange to inhabit. Pieced together other horrifying killing contraptions.
And since he’d felt Mr. Shunt’s presence and known he’d been there in Vicinity for more than a day or two, he was of the mind that Mr. Shunt had meant for that girl to kill him.
Cedar should be the one suffering right now, not Rose.
Molly stood and stretched. “Anger won’t fix her, Mr. Hunt,” Molly said. “And it won’t do you a lot of good either, I’d wager.”
Cedar glanced up.
Molly shook her head. “Don’t know why you’re so riled, but I’d like to suggest you take that temper and stow it. This isn’t any kind of place to lose your head.”
“So the captain has told me. How many men does Old Jack have out here?” he asked.
“Just a handful. But it ain’t men you need to worry about. Old Jack is fond of explosives and doesn’t mind rearranging his living quarters, if you get my drift. Course there’s always people coming and going. Suspicion is something of a hobby among glimmers.”
“The passengers out there?” Cedar said.
“I heard. French ship. Coin of Paradise or some such?” At his look she grinned. “Got to keep your ear to the ground in this business. I’ve heard of Captain Beaumont. Doesn’t run glim, but likes to think he’s better than us that do.”
“Do you know his passengers?” he asked.
“Nope.” She strode toward the door. “But I’m going to make my meet over a plate of food before Guffin and Seldom clean the pot.”
She paused at the door. “You should do the same, Mr. Hunt. Full belly makes a clear mind.”
“Thank you for your concern, Miss Gregor,” he said. “I’ll wait a bit.”
She nodded. “Suit yourself.”
She left the room and Cedar took off his hat. He ran his hand over his head, then scrubbed his face. He was suddenly bone-tired. The smell of bacon fat sizzling in the pan and the low murmur of voices conspired with the darkness and warmth to make him want to just lie back and sleep for a week.
Instead, he leaned his head against the wall, and kept watch over Rose.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mae Lindson walked with the captain. She thought it gallant that he offered her his arm, although it could simply be that he had noticed she’d been out of her senses the last couple days and didn’t want her wandering off.
“What sort of medicines do you hope to wrangle tonight, Mrs. Lindson?” Captain Hink asked.
“Almost anything,” Mae said truthfully. “I still have my satchel, and my black salve, but I have nothing to ease her pain except a small bottle of laudanum. She’ll be out of pain, but deep asleep. And if she’s asleep, it will be much harder for us to travel quickly if we need to.”
“I know just the thing. There’s leaves from South Africa Jack likes to bring in and bargain off. Coca. Good for pain, good for energy,” Hink said. “Will you need bandages or sutures?”
“Clean bandages would be wonderful. There’s no need of sewing anything up yet. We haven’t removed the fragment. Maybe yarrow if he has it. That should help with fever and infection.”
The stone passage took a turn and suddenly they were on a wooden floor with wooden walls. After all the natural round and unevenness of the caverns, and before that, the curved edges of the interior of the Swift, seeing square wooden corners was suddenly strange and refreshing.
Mae took her hand away from the captain’s arm and he gave her a sideways look. “Don’t know if I’ve said it to you, Mrs. Lindson, but the tunnels in these mountains can confuse a bloodhound. I think it’s in your best interest not to wander off alone, or at all, for that matter. As you saw back there, we have us company of another crew.”
“Thank you for worrying about my welfare, Captain,” she said. “But I can take care of myself.”
“If you’re on my ship, you’re mine to look after, Mrs. Lindson. That wasn’t a request. It was an order.” He gave her a smile. “Hate to have that man of yours blaming me for misplacing you.”
“Man of mine?” she asked.
“Mr. Hunt.”
“I’m sorry, Captain, but you’re mistaken. Mr. Hunt is simply our trail guide.”
“I see. Is that how you think it is?”
Mae set her shoulders. She was used to people thinking she was prone to impropriety. But she didn’t want the captain to make assumptions that were not true.
“What I think,” Mae said, “rather, what I know, is Mr. Hunt helped both Rose and myself through a rough patch a short while ago when my husband was killed. He and I have an agreement and vested interests in reaching Kansas before winter. And that is all.”
“Doesn’t look like that is all when he sets eyes on you, Mrs. Lindson.”
“You are misreading our relationship, Captain, and I’d be obliged if you let the matter rest.”
He pressed his lips together. “You’ll forgive my manners, I hope,” he said. “Living on the edge of the sky doesn’t do much to keep a man sharp on his niceties. But if I had a word left to say on the matter—”
“I most certainly hope you do not,” Mae said.
“I’d just say you ought to
give him another look.” Captain Hink’s smile was wide and friendly. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen an agreement and vested interests be the beginnings of something else altogether.”
“Are you always this irascible, Captain Hink?”
“No, I’m usually much worse.”
Mae smiled despite herself. “You certainly are sure of your charms, Captain. I’m not so sure I’m convinced of them.”
He stopped and Mae paused, waiting for him to refute her claims.
“If, for some reason, things between you and Mr. Hunt are no longer in agreement, I want you to know I’ll see to it that you and Miss Rose reach whatever destination you choose.”
“And I’m to take your word at your honor?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t suppose you would,” he said. “But that’s the truth of it. And if you’d rather take Molly Gregor’s word, she’ll vouch that when I promise such a thing I don’t turn away from it until I see it done.”
Mae could see he meant what he said. She just didn’t understand why he would be so willing to go out of his way to help them. Men who harvested glim were not the sort who went about tending to the troubles of others.
“It’s a kind offer,” Mae said slowly. “And I will keep that in mind. But you don’t have to worry yourself. If Mr. Hunt decides not to fulfill his promise, then I am sure Rose and I will find our way just fine.”
They started walking again, the sound of boot against the wood echoing off the bare walls.
She couldn’t hear the sisters’ voices here, not since the buggy had brought them deep inside the mountain. Mae didn’t know if it was because the mountain blocked their song, or if she dared hope that they were done singing, calling, pulling, dragging her home.
She’d never once been so close to insanity as the last month on the trail. It frightened her. When the sisters were calling her, it was all she could hear, and their faces were all she could see. The longer she denied her return, the louder and more constant their voices became. She couldn’t escape them, waking nor asleep.
It was only when Cedar Hunt spoke to her that she could navigate her way through the overwhelming noise and visions. Or when he touched her that she could feel the world solid around her.
