Blowhard (The Clockwork Republic Series)

by Katina French

  On better days, she worked on building labor-saving devices. Not that Uncle Otto was ever up to much labor worth saving. She built simple clockwork automatons capable of performing a single repetitive task. One could wash a load of laundry and wring it nearly dry. One of the more complicated devices could toast a piece of bread, cut a circle from the center, drop it into a hot skillet and crack an egg into the hole for breakfast. As long as you remembered to butter the skillet, the results were delightful.

  She lacked the knowledge of alchemy required to build 'gens, mechanical servants capable of following simple commands. Still, up until now, she'd been proud of every machine she'd created. Alchemists meddled in forces no one really understood. The railroads might like alchemical coal since it burned longer. In Mattie's opinion, you didn't need a magic potion to power a machine that buttered your toast or washed your unmentionables.

  She had often thought about leaving Uncle Otto. With her mechanical skills, surely she could make her own way in the world. By the time she was fourteen, Mattie had started planning to escape her uncle's grip once she was of legal age.

  Unfortunately, Uncle Otto had no intention of letting such a valuable asset go free. The summer of her fifteenth year, he'd taken her on a short trip back East. It had almost been pleasant, except for the brief visit to Crimpworth's Home for Wayward Girls. It was a filthy workhouse filled with half-starved, dead-eyed girls, all of whom were clearly being driven to an early grave.

  He'd patted her shoulder, gesturing at the rows of scrawny, underfed wretches. "We're here to take pity upon these poor girls -- who must have been terribly disobedient to end up in such a place! --and make a donation to their care."

  But Mattie saw no money leave her uncle's pudgy hands. His real meaning, and the implied threat, was unmistakable.

  Mattie would prefer he tied her up and left her on one of his cursed railroad tracks than send her to that abominable place. So she'd kept her mouth shut, at least when he was in earshot. She'd done what he'd told her when she couldn't figure out a way to undo it without getting caught. These last months, her skills at sabotage had gotten nearly as good as her ability to create and repair. She'd snuck into marketplaces and sold the smallest of her devices whenever she could get away. Her one hope was to hide enough money to escape and start a tinker shop of her own. Unfortunately, Uncle Otto kept finding her secret hiding places, emptying them of her hard-earned savings without a word passed between them.

  Then this month, just after they'd come to Kansas, he'd informed her of his secret project. He needed a device capable of clearing a swath of ground for a mile in any one direction. After hearing tales of the local storms, he'd demanded she build a machine that could create a small, temporary cyclone. He said it was to help the railroad clear ground in overgrown parts of the country, without the need to hire so much unskilled labor. It had seemed like a foolhardy and grandiose solution to a simple problem, but foolish and grandiose was completely in character for her uncle.

  She'd had an inkling of the machine's true purpose, but she also had no doubt refusing to build it would've sent her to Crimpworth's faster than Otto could gobble down a plate of schniztel.

  The W.O.L.F.E. had taken up most of her time, and Otto had cordoned off the local railroad garage from any other workers or maintenance jobs. When the machine was complete, he'd been forced to confess his real purpose. He wanted to use it to drive intractable homesteaders off property the railroad needed to run a new line from le Republique de Louisiane to the Pacific coast.

  He'd huffed and puffed at her objections. He'd claimed the young men who owned the Hamm claim were nowhere near the straw bale building at this time of day. He'd talked of watching their daily habits. He'd promised her they were all in the sod house together, perfectly safe. He'd assured her that the Hamm brothers would be better off taking his money and moving somewhere more hospitable than the Kansas plains. He'd blustered that he was doing them a charity, but she believed none of it. Now, the events of the day had proven her skepticism sterling true. If only she'd been able to escape him sooner. If only she'd had the courage to refuse to build it, regardless of the consequences. Now she was trapped, probably a murderer and unable to call the authorities on her uncle without implicating herself equally. Perhaps she deserved to be stuck with him.

  Then she considered what else he might ask her to build someday. A chill ran down her spine which had nothing to do with the cold Kansas wind.

  As her mad uncle laughed, yammering on about his triumphant success, she knew the time had come. She couldn't bear the thought of being responsible for someone else getting hurt or killed just for standing in the way of Otto's boundless ambition. She needed a plan to get out from under this blowhard's thumb, and she needed it fast.

  It was a good thing Mattie absolutely excelled at devising clever plans. She had a whole room full of blueprints and sketches to prove it.

  CHAPTER 4

  "I think we should consider that German fella's offer." Elias' voice sounded deeper and raspier after having most of the air ripped out of his throat. If it could only give his words more weight with his brother, he'd have considered it a small price to pay.

  "Well, that's why we don't trust you to do the thinking around here." Jeremiah didn't even bother to look up from the bowl of stew he was shoveling down when Elias had stormed into the soddy.

  He'd come to see if Jeremiah might budge on selling the claim. In hindsight, maybe he should have asked William to come along as well. Maybe they could have persuaded him together. The only problem was, Elias couldn't tell how his diplomatic middle brother really felt about leaving Kansas and giving up on the farm. Ferreting out William's true opinion was like digging for gold, especially on any topic under contention. Will would probably rather walk across a harvested wheat field barefoot than pick sides between his brothers.

  As for Jeremiah, his opinion was as painfully clear as it was unchangeable.

  "No, of course not," Elias yelled. "Nobody's allowed to have a thought in his head you didn't approve of first!"

  "You can be sure I never approved of that blasted straw bale house! Biggest fool notion I ever heard of. If you and Will had just been willing to stay here in the soddy with me a couple more years, we could have--"

  "We could have taken each other's heads off! That's what we could've done. We were all sick of living in this disgusting hole, Jeremiah! He might not have ever said it out loud, but Will was just as tired of being buried here with you and the field mice as I was! The place doesn't hold enough air for anyone else to breathe, so long as it's filled with an insufferable, overbearing know-it-all blowhard like you!"

  The look of shock on his brother's face made Elias immediately regret his words. It was true, but he knew from years of Jeremiah's stinging words how painful the truth could be when delivered without grace or kindness.

  "Jeremiah. . . ."

  "Get out. You've said your piece. I won't make you suffer my insufferable company." Jeremiah tucked back into the stew. Elias had seen miners swing a pickaxe with less force than his brother was expending on scooping meat and vegetables up out of his bowl.

  Elias opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. Anything he said now would probably only make things worse.

  He opened the door to the soddy. A sound carried over the field, making a chill run down his spine to his very toes. It sounded like a train bearing down the railroad tracks. The sky was black and roiling to the west -- right in the direction of the wattle-and-daub cottage. He turned, but Jeremiah had already rushed to the door.

  "William!" he bellowed, shoving Elias out of the way as he barreled towards the field separating the soddy from Will's cottage.

  Elias ran after him, his face bleached pale with fear. The cottage was a good distance away. By the time he and Jeremiah arrived, the twister had already come and gone. Its devastation was still clear. The little wattle-and-daub house was gone, with only a pile of debris left in its place. Jeremiah ran to the wr
eckage, calling Will's name.

  Elias spotted something out of the corner of his eye. A dark shape just over the next rise, surrounded by a cloud of fog. It moved away at a fast but steady pace. A fat curl of steam poured out a pipe at the back of it. He ran towards it. In just a moment, he had climbed to the top of the sod barn, looking down on a bizarre, fog-cloaked steam carriage.

  A small figure in a shearling cap and goggles, wrapped in a heavy coat, with dark britches and heavy boots steered it by means of what looked like a ship's wheel. The bundled figure's boots pressed levers on the floorboards of the machine. A gloved hand occasionally twisted a knob on a long pole. Behind the driver, through the carriage window, he spied a figure he was almost certain was the German railroad man, Von Rudolph. As the fog cleared, he could see the back of the carriage held a boiler. An engine made up of a twisted conglomeration of different pumps, wheels, gears, and spiraling fans was bolted to the back.

  He started to run after the steam carriage, but a cry from Jeremiah stopped him in his tracks. He turned back and ran to the ruined cottage. His eldest brother was kneeling over a pile of broken and twisted pieces of wood. He could barely see a hand, limp and poking out of the bottom. The hand didn't move.

  He dropped to his knees beside Jeremiah and clawed desperately at the wreckage that buried their beloved brother. When they found his face, it was pale and battered, his eyes closed. Jeremiah yanked off his glove. He placed his hand over Will's mouth and nose.

  "Thank God. He's breathing. Let's get him out of here." They spent the next several minutes excavating him from the rubble of his home. It was clear he was in bad shape, but he was still alive.

  Elias found a piece of woven wall still intact. "Jeremiah, we can use this as a travois to get him back to the soddy."

  "Good idea." Jeremiah cleared the rest of the debris off Will and helped Elias slide the piece of wall beneath him.

  Elias had waited his whole life to hear his brother say those words to him. Now, he just hoped his idea was good enough idea to get Will to safety.

  ~*~

  William was sleeping on a pallet at the back of the soddy. They'd discovered his leg was broken as soon as they'd gotten him inside. He'd passed out from the pain while they set and splinted it. Once their brother was as comfortable as they could make him, Elias told Jeremiah what he'd seen: the steam carriage with Von Rudolph inside, and the curious device on the back.

  "Jeremiah, have you ever heard of one cyclone during this time of year? Much less two hitting the same farm in less than a week's time?"

  "No. And I've never heard of a storm coming out of a clear blue sky and disappearing this fast. As crazy as it sounds, that railroad man might've found a way to bottle a twister."

  "More like uncork the bottle."

  Jeremiah nodded solemnly. "If he's got that kind of power, I reckon we don't have much choice. We'll have to take his offer for the claim. I just hope he's willing to wait till Will's well enough to travel."

  Elias saw his brother's shoulders slump in defeat. Maybe Kansas hadn't turned out to be the grand adventure he'd been seeking all his life. It didn't mean it wasn't the fulfillment of his brothers' dreams. Rage boiled up inside him. No one was going to take it away from them. Not if Elias had anything to say about it.

  "No, we don't have to take his offer. How can we, knowing he might have done this to William? I'm getting to the bottom of this, Jeremiah. If he's responsible, he's gonna pay for his crimes." He stood up from the stool at the table, reaching for his coat and hat.

  "No." Jeremiah's voice was colder and heavier than lead.

  "Jeremiah, now is not the time to tell me how foolhardy and useless I am." He glared at his older brother, who still sat with his head in his hands.

  "You're not foolish, El." Jeremiah looked up and sighed. "You're brave. You always were. So brave you scared me, Ma, Papa and Will half to death from the time you could walk. And you're not useless. We need you here, especially with Will in this shape. I should be the one to go. I'm the oldest. Better yet, we should wait and go together. This fella could be dangerous."

  "Jeremiah, somebody's going to have to take care of William right now. You know you're the best man for that job. You've been taking care of us all our whole lives. I don't know if he saw me or not. If we wait, he could hide that infernal contraption -- or worse, use it again. I'll be careful. If it looks like a bad deal, I'll just pretend I'm there to take him up on his offer."

  "Is there anything I can do to stop you from going?" Jeremiah looked like he'd aged ten years in the last ten hours. Elias hated to put one more worry on his shoulders, but if the railroad man was behind this, they needed to end it.

  Elias shook his head. "You're not going to leave Will and you're not going to shoot me to keep me here. So, no, you can't stop me. I'm going whether you agree to it or not."

  "Then go, and take the rifle. And if you find out he did this? Put that devil in the ground. Or at least, leave him in worse shape than our boy here."

  CHAPTER 5

  One of the Hamm brothers was at the front door. Mattie was certain of it. Now, this was an interesting turn of events. She'd been formulating her plan of escape, lining up the different pieces like the cogs of a great machine. Depending on this young man's intentions and actions, she might need to set her machinations in motion, adjust the blueprint, or throw out the plans and invent something new on the fly.

  She sucked in a breath. This was her chance to find out if his brother was still alive. Her relief at finding out the first young man had survived his encounter mostly unharmed had felt like a boxcar was lifted off her chest. The relief soon dissipated, though. It only took a few days for her uncle to decide to destroy a second house. The Hamms had refused his second offer for their land. She'd begged him to wait, let them catch their breath from the first storm. She tried reasoning with him, telling him that two freak storms hitting a single farm barely a week apart would raise suspicions. He'd only laughed.

  "Who do you suppose would suspect we've built a machine that can launch a cyclone? No, my dear. Trust me. These homesteaders would sooner believe they're the victims of terrible luck. The first storm only has them digging in their heels. This one will convince them that Kansas is cursed ground for them. You will see."

  This time, she'd refused to operate the W.O.L.F.E., claiming that she saw a broken gear that needed to be replaced. Much to her chagrin, her uncle had paid close attention earlier and started the machine himself, ignoring her warning. She'd driven the carriage, not daring to defy him more directly. But at least it'd been Otto himself who'd started and run the W.O.L.F.E., without her help.

  She'd prayed all three men were in the soddy when he had launched the cyclone at the odd round house. But she'd only two ran out of the sod house when the storm roared through the field. She could have sworn she'd seen one of them climb the roof of their barn and stare after them as they rattled away. Could it be possible? Could someone else have figured out her uncle's insane scheme already? For all she knew, the man had already contacted the local sheriff. Although Otto was probably right. He'd have quite a time convincing any sane man her uncle had a cyclone machine tucked into one of the railroad's garages. The truth was sometimes the hardest thing for people to believe.

  Mattie slipped into the front parlor. Uncle always met with visitors in there. She had just enough time to hide behind the heavy drapes. She thanked heaven for the time it would take her portly uncle to amble down from his room and answer the door. The thick velvet drapes were so dusty she almost sneezed as she slipped behind them. It reminded her of plans she'd drawn for a device to clean carpets and drapes, based on a suction pump. Unfortunately, all the parts she could get her hands on lately had gone into that blasted W.O.L.F.E.

  Moments later, her uncle ushered a man she recognized as Elias, the youngest of the Hamm brothers, into the parlor. He was dressed in a long coat, a broad-brimmed hat pulled low over shaggy dark hair. A rifle hung over his shoulder, but Otto's jo
vial tone didn't sound as though he'd come looking for vengeance. Mattie hoped it meant no one had paid for her uncle's folly with his life. Yet.

  "I'm so pleased to hear your brothers have made the sensible decision at last," Otto intoned. "This barren land is a dreadful place. Your misfortune with these cyclones is surprising for this time of year, but it's hardly uncommon for settlers to meet a bad end. You're far better off returning to your home in, Philadelphia, was it? And just think of all the people the new railway line will benefit!"

  "Funny you should mention how rare it is to see a twister in winter, Mr. Von Rudolph. Seems nobody ever heard of one happening this time of year. Nobody's ever heard of two hitting the same piece of property so quick, either." Behind the curtain, Mattie heard her uncle fussing with papers in his desk. After a short pause, Elias continued.

  "Another funny thing? You said cyclones, not cyclone. A second twister did come through earlier today. Only we haven't told a soul about it, and I didn't mention it when I said I wanted to talk about your offer." Mattie held her breath. The young man may not have implied Otto was responsible for the storms, but he certainly seemed suspicious of something.

  "Well, it's a small town, son. I suppose I heard it from one of your neighbors who happened by and saw the storm."

  Mattie furrowed her brow in consternation. Otto sounded altogether too calm. She knew that calm, and it was dangerous. The young man replied to her uncle with steel in his voice.

  "Oh, I saw someone passing by. But it wasn't any neighbor I know. Strangest thing I ever saw. A steam carriage with a boiler and some infernal-looking contraption mounted to the back. Had a bunch of pumps and fans, big ones. Reckon they could stir up an awful lot of wind."