Inventing Love

by Killarney Sheffield

  “Thanks, private.” Alex set the helmet back on the table and hopped up and down as Nim exited the tent. Once the tent flap fell back in place she let out a squeal of laughter and danced around the tent. “It worked. It really worked!” She linked her arm in Weston’s and danced him around the tent with her.

  “You are truly amazing.” Weston planted a kiss on her forehead.

  Alex stopped and stared up at him, laughter bubbling from her chest. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “It was my pleasure.” His eyes sparked with amusement as they dropped to her lips.

  The jovial atmosphere suddenly turned thick and tactile. The warm fabric of his starched white shirt under her fingers seemed to grow warmer. His breath came in short audible gasps. His tongue flicked out from between his lips and stroked the lower one with deliberate slowness. Her palms grew moist as her heartbeat quickened until its pounding was all she could hear. Then it happened. As if in slow motion his head lowered, his lips brushing hers with a crackle of energy that took her by surprise. Her limbs turned to liquid fire as she leaned into his kiss. The morning bugle sounded.

  Alex jumped back out of his embrace and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I...um...it’s time for breakfast.”

  Weston just stood there for a moment, smiled and presented his arm to her. “Shall we go to breakfast then?”

  She nodded, took his arm and they walked from the tent. Had he meant to kiss her? Of course he meant to, you ninny, she admonished herself. But had he wanted to, or had he just felt inclined to since she was excited and had kissed him before at the ball? He was just excited about the machine working she told herself...wasn’t he? Was it possible it was more? She gave a tiny snort. Who in their right mind would be attracted to her? No man liked an independent minded woman who wore breeches and built things. She snorted again. It just didn’t happen. She looked down at her stained breeches. No man.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Alex looked up. “Pardon?”

  Weston frowned slightly. “You snorted. Is something wrong?”

  “No.” Will I ever learn to act like a lady? She shook her head as they stepped into the dining hall. The room was strangely silent and she wondered why until she spied the general standing by the head table.

  “You men all have your orders. We will head out first thing tomorrow morning. There will be one last test run of the war machine this afternoon. Officers Martin and Michel will be operating it with me there as adviser of course.”

  Her heart lurched. They were running out of time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Will these buffoons ever get it?” the general growled that afternoon when Officer Martin released the lever too quickly and the war machine listed to the right, faltered and moved ahead with a lurch that nearly threw them all to the floor.

  Alex wanted to laugh, but fear kept her emotions in check. Would their plan work? It was down to the last few hours left to save themselves and the helpless Indians. Visions of the natives lined up like cattle and gunned down turned her stomach inside out and she pushed the thought from her mind. She instructed the officers on shutting down the machine and then followed them down the ladder. The sun was just sinking beyond the horizon as she stepped onto the packed dirt of the mock battlefield.

  “Well, General, it appears a celebratory toast is in order,” Weston said with a knowing look at Alex.

  The general frowned, but then nodded. “Yes, a toast. Come along to my office so we can discuss your payment, Miss Evans.”

  Alex nodded as she tried to keep her pleasant smile from slipping. She had to pretend she didn’t know what he planned for her. “I shall just stop at my tent and grab a bottle of champagne and my latest gadget to show you, General.”

  His eyes narrowed, and for a moment she thought he suspected something. “Private Nim will accompany you.”

  She grimaced, and headed for her tent. Stepping inside she picked up the small satchel which was already packed with her few precious keepsakes and a change of clothes. Finally she snatched the bottle of champagne Weston had left on the desk, the mind control helmet and a fake matching one she had made. Before leaving she took a last look at her father’s things. This might be the last time she laid eyes upon them. With a sigh she turned her back and went outside. Nim smiled when he saw her and fell into step behind as they crossed the yard to the general’s office. Did the young man know what was about to happen? Most likely not she decided. It was a certainty the general would not want anyone but a chosen few to know he planned to have her murdered this night.

  They entered the office. Weston lounged in a lazy stance against the desk but the tense look in his eye told her he was ready for anything. The general was reclined in his chair, a glass of brandy already in his hand.

  Alex took a seat in the one across from him and forced a bright smile to her lips. “Well, General Madden, are you well and pleased with the war machine?”

  “Indeed, indeed, it has far surpassed my expectations. With it I shall bring America into her own.” His triumphant leer caused a shiver of fear to run down her back.

  She tried to keep her disgust from coloring her words. “Then we shall drink to your satisfaction before we discuss my payment.”

  The general shook his head. “I trust none but my own private liquor stock, Miss Evans, for one cannot be too careful to forget who one’s enemies might be.”

  Her hopes fled. If they couldn’t get Madden drunk then how would they make it across the heavily guarded courtyard to the battlements to seize the war machine without attracting attention?

  Weston cast her a quick glance before he favored the general with a smile. “How wise of you general. Finish your drink then we shall show you a most impressive invention.”

  The general downed his drink and set the glass on the desk with a dull clunk. “I am not interested in any more of your experiments. You have served your purpose and it is time to get rid of you.”

  Alex tried to look suitably shocked so as not to give away their plan.

  “Lord Grendal, if you please, open the door and summon the two men outside to escort Miss Evans to the stockade.”

  “Forgive me for disobeying you, General, but you should really see this invention Miss Evans has made first. It will help the men control the war machine more easily.”

  The general swung his greedy gaze to Alex. “What does it do?”

  Alex swallowed. “You put it on your head then think the direction and speed you want the war machine to go and it will read your thoughts.”

  The general laughed. “That is preposterous.”

  “It is true, General, for I saw it work with my own eyes,” Weston said. “What will it hurt to grant Miss Evans a few moments to demonstrate it before you have her removed?”

  The general looked back and forth between them. “I suppose I can give you five minutes, but if you think to change your fate, Miss Evans, you are sadly mistaken.” He got to his feet and headed for the door. Flinging it open he motioned for Privates Nim and Smith who stood outside the door to step aside. “Bring Lord Grendal and Miss Evans to the battlefield, and if they try any noddy business shoot them both.”

  Alex and Weston followed the general from the room flanked by the two privates. They marched across the courtyard. The sky had already turned a deep blue, the first stars of the evening flickering softly. A slight breeze brushed the back of Alex’s neck as she walked, trying to concentrate on the chirping crickets rather than their possible impending doom. At last they stood at the foot of the war machine.

  “All right, show me how this invention works.” The general crossed his arms and waited.

  “If Private Nim would kindly do the honors of wearing the helmet for us, we will climb into the war machine and I’ll demonstrate it.” Alex said, her palms sweaty and her legs weak with fear that the general would change his mind.

  The general fixed her with a suspicious stare. “Why do we all need to be in the machine?”
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  “So that you can see it is not a trick, General. What is to stop me from whispering the commands to Nim here and fooling you?” Alex gave him her most innocent look.

  “Fine, we will all go then so I can keep my eye on you both.” The general gestured for them to climb the ladder ahead of him.

  Alex ascended the ladder, followed by Weston, Nim, Smith and finally the general. When they got to the top she motioned for Weston to stoke up the coal boiler. When the coal was burning hot and bright she fired up the machine. It trembled to life with a scalding blast of steam that obscured the stars.

  Weston motioned for Private Smith to stand right in front of the escape door. Then he handed the hat to the general as Nim moved over and put on the fake hat, positioning himself in front of Smith. “All right, General. Just put on the hat and think about what you want the machine to do.”

  The general gave him a skeptical look but did as he was instructed. He closed his eyes and screwed up his face, deep in serious thought.

  Alex nodded to Weston to turn on the machine.

  The buttons blinked then it started to whirl. The general’s face grew slack, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

  She grinned at Weston and turned to the general. “We should take the machine for a test run.”

  “We should take the machine for a test run,” he repeated in an odd monotone.

  Weston threw the lever forward to put the machine in gear. At the same time Private Nim jumped back as if he had been knocked off balance and slammed into Private Smith. With a startled cry Smith grasped for something to keep himself up right, flailing wildly then tumbled out the door. Private Nim jumped into action slamming the door shut and locking it.

  “Quick, let’s get out of here!” Weston tackled the general who went down before he had a chance to open his eyes and Alex cranked up the fire as the machine lurched forward. She looked over her shoulder as the private and Weston subdued General Madden and tied him up. “Private Nim?”

  Nim grinned. “At your service, miss. Lord Weston told me of the general’s despicable plans and enlisted my help.”

  Alex smiled; glad he had stood up for her despite the consequences. So far so good. The machine clanked forward step by giant step as men streamed from the bunkhouses. Alex flinched as a bullet bounced off the metal-coated machine with a pinging sound. They got as far as the compound gates before Alex realized the folly of their plan. There was no way the massive machine would fit through the big double gates and no way it could go over them either. The machine had not been built as a battering ram. Had they come this far only to be stopped in their tracks?

  “Weston, we can’t fit through the gates!” she cried in despair over the machine’s rumble.

  “Damn!” Weston’s curse carried clearly to her as he slipped out from under the general’s squirming but secured body. He limped up to her and looked out the weapons slit. “Turn it around. We will have to ford the river on the other side of the barracks.”

  Alex jerked the lever to the right and threw the machine back into gear. It turned with a laborious squeal and then slowed. “I need more coal.”

  Weston tossed Nim a shovel and grabbed a second one. Together they shoveled coal into the boiler. Alex watched as the steam built until the brass peg rose in the gauge to the line she had drawn and pushed the lever ahead again. The machine lurched into motion, quicker than before. Peering out the slits she plotted a course for the river. “I haven’t had a chance to test the machine in water.”

  Weston looked over at her. “I guess now will be the test then.”

  She turned her attention back to the ground outside. Men ran here and there, some shooting, some rolling out cannons and other ammunition. Could the iron clad machine withstand a volley of cannon fire? Pulling the lever to the right she eased the machine around the corner of the barracks and frowned. A web of thick ropes had been stretched between the two buildings. “More coal. We need more speed; they have a web of ropes across which we must break through.”

  Both men began to shovel faster. When the steam gauge was as high as it could go, the little brass peg caught firmly at the top, she pushed the final lever forward. With a mighty groan the war machine doubled its speed. The boiler hissed and groaned turning red on the outside as it heated to maximum temperature, the metal pegs expanding and creaking under the extreme pressure. “I have never had it this hot. I don’t know if the pegs will hold.”

  Closer and closer they came to the web. Alex closed her eyes and muttered a brief prayer. Father, if you are up there looking down on me please help us make it through. The first leg of the machine pushed up against the rope, then the second. The ropes tightened under the pressure as the back two legs struggled to move forward. The machine groaned and moaned unable to move. Suddenly one rope snapped then a second and a third, until only one remained. The machine lurched forward as soldiers fired another round of bullets. They all bounced off save for one which whizzed through the slot just above Alex’s head and lodged in the wooden wall behind her. Finally, the last rope snapped and the machine continued on. It only went two steps however and then jerked to a halt once more.

  Alex glanced at the gauge that had dropped slightly. “More coal.” The two men began to shovel again, the machine screeched and rumbled but refused to move. She leaned forward out the viewing window flinching as bullets rained all around her head. The last rope had entangled the left back leg of the machine preventing it from moving forward. She withdrew her head and turned to face Weston. “We’re caught on the last rope.”

  He dropped the shovel and scrambled to the door. After flinging it open he looked down. “I will have to try to cut it free.”

  “You can’t, you’ll be shot for sure,” Alex protested.

  “If I do not it is only a matter of time before they breech the cab and capture us.” He slipped the general’s ceremonial sword from his holder and made for the ladder amid a shower of bullets.

  Fear clawed at Alex’s inside. Weston would surely be killed and it was all her fault. If she hadn’t agreed to build the war machine in the first place none of this would have ever happened. She didn’t know what she would do without him. She was fond of him. Well, if truth be told...

  A heavy blast shook the machine and Alex tumbled to the floor. Had the soldiers started firing the cannons? She crawled to the door and looked out. One cannon was already in place and two more were being drawn into place by panic-stricken horses that balked and reared as the drivers tried desperately to control them. She looked down. Weston clung to the left hind leg of the machine, halfway down sawing away at the tangle of rope wrapped around the machine’s straining appendage. He was already midway through when a flash seen out of the corner of her eye had her ducking down. When she peered back out the door she gasped in horror. Weston now clung to the machine’s leg with one arm, his other hanging limp at his side.

  “Nim! You have to help Weston, he’s hurt.”

  Private Nim dropped the shovel and ran to the door. He looked out, jumped from the door to the leg and shimmed down to Weston’s level.

  Alex snatched the gun out of the general’s holster and fired on the soldiers who had already started to climb the ladder of the war machine. One toppled from his perch—whether or not her bullet hit him or he simply fell she couldn’t tell. A second man soon took his place and began to climb toward her. Again she fired, the man paused and flattened himself to the ladder and then continued upward. A hand reached over the door frame and touched hers. With a terrified squeak she swung the pistol only to be confronted with Weston’s grim face. She swung the gun back and fired on the man who was now halfway up the ladder as Weston and Nim climbed into the cab.

  “Shut the door.” Weston urged collapsing on the floor next to the general.

  Alex slammed the door, put the iron bar in place that kept it from being opened from the outside and scrambled to get the machine moving again. Nim shoveled more coal on the fire as she jammed the lever all the way forward. T
he machine jerked groaning and moaning, suddenly it broke free of the rope, lurching forward. She looked out the window in time to see the soldier on the ladder be shaken free and tumble to the ground. The man was crushed by the flat platform that made up the foot of the machine. Turning away she fought the bile that rose in her throat at the gruesome sight.

  The machine moved forward faster and faster until finally they reached the swollen banks of the river. Alex guided it into the shallow waters. “More coal.”

  Foot by foot the water rose as they waded across, higher and higher until it began to ooze in under the door. “If the river gets much deeper it will flood the boiler box and we’ll all be killed in the steam explosion.”

  Weston stumbled to his feet and leaned out the weapon slit. “We are almost across. It should not get much deeper.” They watched anxiously in mute silence as the water crept up until it was scant inches from flooding the boiler. Steam hissed and filled the cab. Then the water slowly began to recede.

  She turned to Weston and flung her arms around his neck as they made steady progress up the bank on the other side of the river. “We did it.”

  He grinned, his face covered in soot, sweat and grime. “We did. It will take them hours to mount up, organize and ride all the way around to the south to cross at the cable boat. By that time we will be hours ahead and moving much faster than any horse could.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You are bleeding.”

  Weston looked down at his arm, the royal blue material darkened to a midnight black by his blood. He had ignored the pain until now. Until Alex’s gentle touch reminded him. “It is not too bad.”

  She frowned at him, her face pale and drawn. “Let me look at it.”

  He slipped his good arm out of his sleeve and eased the jacket off his injured appendage. With a hiss of pain he dropped the soiled garment beside him on the floor.