by A. M. Burns
“I don’t know,” the sheriff said thoughtfully. “Those things still give me the willies. You know that he’s wanting me to go track down the one he lost in that card game a few months back? The thing killed a man in cold blood in front of the whole saloon a few weeks ago, then ran off. I’d just as soon not see any of them in town ever again. But now he has one as a bodyguard.”
“I’ve noticed that. There could be a lot of benefit for the town if the railroad takes them up on it.” The banker hastily counted some more coins.
Sheriff Derr looked dubious. “How so? I can see where it would be good for Dabinshire and McNair, but since when is what’s good for them good for Cheyenne?”
“If they get the contract, I bet they’d have to be bringing in metals from the mines up in the mountains,” Argus explained, sliding another pile of coins across the counter as he counted. “That would be good for the town. Even McNair only has so much of that there magic he’s always tossing around, and everyone knows that the land around town ain’t that rich in minerals.”
“So this McNair is some kind of wizard?” Trey asked. “I thought from the carriage and the metal man that followed him out of town he was just an inventor.”
“Wizard, inventor… around here there’s not that much of a difference,” the sheriff said. “McNair is the only one we know of, other than some of the injuns, that knows magic. We’ve had a couple of inventors through town from time to time, but they’re always heading east or west. Cheyenne isn’t much for the brainy types.”
“Oh,” Trey replied. Somehow he wasn’t overly surprised that the locals didn’t have much time for things beyond basic survival. The Wyoming territory was rough, and it took a lot to survive there. From the Comanche, Trey appreciated the simple, almost nomadic life of the plains people. Staying in one place season after season must be a lot harder than being on the move and picking where you wanted to ride out the weather.
“My father would argue the point of wizard versus inventor,” Sarah said. “He’s one of the best gunsmiths in Illinois, and he’s no wizard. He makes all of his things through skill and hard work. He’s even assisted on building some of the new horseless carriages. Maybe not as fancy as the one we saw that McNair ride off on, but still totally within the realm of science.”
Moving another pile of coins, the banker didn’t look up. “Lady, you don’t have to convince me. I’ve been back in the east a few years ago and know some of the spectacular things they are creating there, but they ain’t nothing compared to these metal men that McNair has made. They’re downright uncanny. Sometimes I swear that bodyguard of his has a soul stuck inside it, and I can see it looking out of those strange brass eyes.”
The man moved a final pile of coins. “All right, I have just enough. It’s a combination of gold and silver since I don’t have enough of either to fill the bill. Sheriff, you’ll need to sign for the city and state. How much do you need to come out of each account?”
The sheriff walked up to the counter and took the ledger book Argus slid under the bars to him. He made a series of notes on the paper. “If I’m remembering the amounts right, that should do it,” he said, pushing the ledger back. “Told them it would’ve been more if they’d brought them in alive or they’d managed to bring in Smiley Clemmons.”
The banker started to push the piles of coins under the bars, paused, and drew an unsteady breath as he stared at Trey and Sarah. “You didn’t bring in Clemmons?”
“No, sir,” Trey replied. “He got away.”
“I already warned them to get out of the territory as fast as they can,” the sheriff said. “But I figure it’s going to be at least spring before ol’ Smiley manages to get himself a gang together again. They got time to wait for the mountain passes to open up again.”
The banker finished pushing the coins through and then handed them a couple of small sacks to put them in. “Just warn anyone around you the danger you’ll all be in until you git far away from Smiley Clemmons. That man’s ruthless.”
17
A BULLET whizzed past Gray Talon’s wing as he soared over the twelve-foot rock wall that encircled the several thousand acres that made up Dabinshire’s ranch. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw one of the metal men—evidence of McNair’s presence on the ranch—standing on the wall, holding its arm up, taking aim at him. Turning his tail to climb higher into the sky, Gray Talon struggled to get out of range before the construct managed to hit him. More bullets zinged by, narrowly missing his feathered form. Below him more metal eyes stared up at him. The bullets came too close for comfort. Finally he managed to clear the upper range of the bullets, but he was now so far up in the cold atmosphere, even his sharp eagle eyes couldn’t make out details on the ground below.
With a heavy sigh, he turned his wings to the north, toward the butte where they’d set up camp. It was only his first attempt to penetrate the ranch’s defenses and see what he could spot from the air, but he hadn’t expected the metal men on the top of the wall to start shooting at him. He’d heard rumors—all natives in the area had—that Dabinshire and McNair hated the People so badly they killed any animal they didn’t know trying to enter their land. All out of fear it might be a shape-shifted warrior trying to get revenge for the war ten years ago, when McNair slaughtered men of the People from various tribes with his earth magic as he raised the stone wall encircling the ranch.
Once he felt he was safely out of range of the wall, Gray Talon swooped toward the butte, angling his flight to cover the shortest distance. Wind rolled across him as he cut through the sky. In the distance gray clouds of a cold front hung ominously. The cave they’d discovered at the base of the butte would give them shelter from the chilling night air. Flying low along the path that led to the cave, Gray Talon shifted to his human form and strolled in to find Trey deep in meditation while Sarah and Copperpot looked on.
“How long has he been out?” Gray Talon asked softly. If he were too loud, it might break his partner’s concentration, giving Trey a splitting headache.
“About an hour,” Sarah whispered. “He said he wanted to get a feel for the place right after you left. Did you find anything interesting?”
Gray Talon shook his head. “Not really. He’s posted metal men sentries on top of the wall. They started shooting at me as soon as I was within range.”
“You’re back, so they must not have been very good shots,” she replied.
“Good enough that I couldn’t get past the wall without risk of lead poisoning.”
“That wall is an abomination,” Trey said softly.
Gray Talon turned to him. “So what did you find out?”
“The magical energies around here scream in pain,” Trey said. “I understand why the People stood against McNair and Dabinshire when this monstrosity was being built. It feels like all the elements fought against it, but McNair was too strong. There are scars everywhere in the underworld around here. I can’t imagine what it must have felt like.” The sadness in Trey’s voice drew Gray Talon to him. He wrapped his arms around Trey and held him while he continued. “I thought what he’d done creating Copperpot was bad, forcing a soul to empower a metal construct, but this…. This was the worst kind of rape to the land. I don’t understand how anyone who could wield this much power could be blind to what they did.”
“That’s why we have to stop him,” Gray Talon murmured into the blond hair as he hugged Trey. “We have to find the dragon’s daughter first. Then we have to stop McNair. This disregard for the Earth Mother must end.”
“I don’t know that we’re strong enough to do it on our own,” Trey said. “The magical energies around here are so warped by his wall. I’m not sure I can summon enough power to do much.”
“Then we deal with this the old-fashioned way,” Sarah said.
Gray Talon and Trey turned to look at her. “What do you mean, the old-fashioned way?” they asked in unison.
Sarah smiled a hard, devious smile, one Gray Talon had never seen
her use before. “We find a physical weakness in either McNair or Dabinshire. If one of us could get onto that ranch, maybe we could nose about a bit and see what’s going on. Gray Talon, could you turn into a lapdog?”
“I can turn into any animal I’ve ever seen,” he replied. He didn’t much care for the small dogs the whites seemed so fond of, but if it meant getting their mission accomplished, he could do it.
Her brow creased thoughtfully. “Good. Now, we heard that they’re going to be at some demonstration for the railroad tomorrow, east of Cheyenne. We need to get back to town tonight, see what the townspeople can tell us about these two. Do they have wives, husbands? Are they prone to whoring? Do they have gambling problems? We know from Copperpot that McNair plays cards pretty well. What about Dabinshire?”
“Actually, Mistress Sarah, I know that neither of them has a wife, or didn’t when I left the ranch to work at the saloon,” Copperpot spoke up. “There is a grave out back of the house, next to the one for Master McNair’s brother, for Master Dabinshire’s wife and son. He visits them on a regular basis. There was something about the graveyard that made me uncomfortable.”
“So, Sarah, are you thinking about offering them a bit of female companionship?” Trey asked.
She shrugged. “For all we know, my softer virtues might have as little effect on them as they do on the two of you. Copperpot, do you know?”
The construct tilted his head, almost looking like a dog trying to comprehend something a human had said. “I understand that Master Gray Talon and Master Trey are physically close, but I never observed such closeness in my creator or his employer. For the most part, Master McNair spent the majority of his time working on his constructs and magic. It is still a mystery to me why he went to the saloon the night he lost me in the card game.”
“Maybe we can find that out too,” Sarah said. “Trey, have you thought about trying to get into the ranch as a cowboy looking for work?”
Trey shook his head. “I guess that’d be one way to do it, if they are looking for hands right now. At least I have the clothes to blend in.”
“I say we head back into town and try to find out as much as we can,” she said.
“But won’t the townsfolk think it’s strange, Trey looking for work when he just got all that bounty money?” Gray Talon asked. He could easily see that as the biggest hole in her idea. He also didn’t like the thought of Trey being alone on the ranch among all the metal men.
“I could try a disguise spell,” Trey said before Sarah could. “Or maybe just cut my hair and change the color of it.”
Gray Talon’s heart skipped a beat. “No! I forbid you to cut your hair for this.” He couldn’t bear the idea of Trey’s long golden locks not being there for him to run his fingers through.
“Talon, it’s for a good cause. We have to find the dragon’s daughter and a way to stop McNair. It will grow back.”
“I know it will grow back. But it’s too beautiful to cut.” He reached up and ran his fingers through the silky soft hair. “Use the illusion, but don’t cut your hair.”
Trey smiled at him. “If it means that much to you, it can stay. The illusion would only be for a short while. It’s fairly simple magic.”
“Good.”
“Well, it’s about an hour’s ride into town,” Sarah said. “I still think we should ride in and see what we can find out. It’s probably best if Copperpot stays here. He’ll attract too much attention, plus he can watch the surplus horses and make sure nothing or no one gets into camp.”
“I agree, Mistress Sarah,” the construct said.
“Let me work up the illusion now,” Trey said. “Luckily it’s simple so I won’t have to tap too much of the twisted power around here. So what color do you think my hair should be?”
Sarah studied him for a moment. “With your tan, I think you could go with just about any color, but with your eyes, I’d go brown. Most folks with black hair have brown eyes, and redheads stand out too much around here. What about Gray Talon? How’s he going in tonight?”
“I like the idea of going in as an owl and sitting around like I have been,” he replied. He didn’t want to get into a debate about becoming a lapdog before he needed to. He always found small dogs irritating and wasn’t sure he could duplicate that level of annoyance for a long period of time.
Both Trey and Sarah nodded.
“That works,” Trey said. “That way you can scout ahead for us. Now, should we ride in together or separately?”
“The approach to town is mostly flat,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “So unless one of us wants to ride way around town, we’re going to be spotted coming in from the same way. I say we just go in together. You’d better ride one of the spare horses, though. Spot’s pretty unique and memorable.”
Trey sighed sadly. “I hadn’t thought about that. It might take a fair amount of magic to hold a horse-sized illusion for a long period. Hope he won’t be too upset about being left behind.”
“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” she said. “Now, let’s hit the trail.”
18
THE SALOON was busier than when Trey had been there last, but a lot of people had come into town to see McNair’s demonstration. The crowd was excited about it. And a lot of people were talking about both McNair and Dabinshire. Together with Sarah, Trey elbowed his way to the bar and managed to find a stool for her to sit on while he stood behind her, giving the impression of protection.
“So, I take it you two are in town for the big show tomorrow,” a man with a black bowler hat and pressed suit asked as the bartender handed him a drink.
“Actually, I’m here looking for a bit of work,” Trey said. “Heard Dabinshire’s spread is the best place around to git ranch work in these parts.”
“That’s a fact,” the man agreed. “But not sure if they’re looking for hands right now or not. The last drives to Kansas City left a week ago. Not many cattle in these parts during the winter. Most of the boys around here head either east or south for the winter. Down in Texas they’re normally looking for riders. Least that’s what I hear from the folks that pass through. Now, I know the undertaker is looking for someone to help out building boxes. You good with your hands?”
Feeling the man he was talking with was probably the undertaker, Trey shook his head. “I take it you’re the undertaker? I’ve never tried building anything out of wood. I work well with critters. Was thinking about doing some trapping if I couldn’t get a ranch job.”
“Rupert Connelly, at your service.” The man offered his free hand. “If you can’t find what you’re looking for, keep me in mind. Most folks around here don’t like dealing with the dead bodies. It don’t bother me none. So, have you seen any of McNair’s metal men?”
Trey shook the man’s hand without offering his own name. “Was that what I saw when we arrived yesterday? One of those metal men that everyone’s talking about?”
Connelly looked at him sideways. “There was one of them in town yesterday with McNair, but I don’t recall you or the lady either yesterday or today.”
“There was a big crowd yesterday when we rode in.” Sarah came to his rescue. “They were gathered round the sheriff’s office and then the bank. We opted to camp outside town and avoid the expense of the hotel.”
The undertaker grinned. “Ah yes, some people brought in the heads of the Front Range Gang. Been the most excitement we’ve seen for a while. That, on top of tomorrow’s big show, should keep the town talking through winter at least.”
“I’ve heard of the Front Range Gang,” Sarah said, sounding like a wilting violet. It was a tone Trey had never heard her use before. “So someone managed to capture them?”
“Kill them, more like.” Another man walked over. Trey recognized Toby, the deputy, from the day before. He was thankful they had altered Sarah’s hair.
“That’s impressive, and you are?” Sarah held out her hand and batted her long, now blond eyelashes at him.
The deputy blushed o
ver her hand. “Toby Middlehouse, ma’am. I’m the deputy here in Cheyenne.”
“The deputy, how nice. Why, I feel safer already.” She didn’t release his hand.
“So is there something I can help you with, ma’am?” He blushed a bit more but didn’t yank his hand away from her. Trey hoped Sarah wasn’t laying things on too thick. He didn’t want the deputy getting nervous and watching them too much.
“Well, Deputy Toby, truth be told I followed my brother here to town. He’s looking for work.” She paused to smile at him. “While me… well, my fiancé was killed by Crow Indians this summer, and I’m too young to be a widow for very long.”
“Now, sis, we just got into town.” Trey gently moved Sarah’s hand from the deputy’s. “I thought you said you were going to look around a bit, not bag yourself the first handsome man you saw.”
“Oh, but he is handsome, aren’t you, Deputy.” Sarah’s smile was so warm and inviting it could’ve melted butter.
Sweat beaded the deputy’s brow. “If you say so, ma’am.” He nervously looked away from Sarah and toward the undertaker. “Mister Connelly, I needed to talk to you about some arrangements the sheriff wants to make.”
The undertaker chuckled, apparently enjoying Toby’s discomfort at Sarah’s advances. “Sure, Toby. Why don’t we step outside? The show’s about to start, and it’ll be hard to hear you in here.” He smiled to Trey and Sarah. “Pleasure to meet you folks. Don’t forget my offer. If you don’t find other work, I can use a box maker. A nice strapping young man such as yourself would find it good work.” He turned and followed the hurrying deputy out the door.
“Wow, did you lay it on thick enough?” Trey asked Sarah once the two men had disappeared into the crowd.
