Peacemaker (The Flash Gold Chronicles, #3)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Er, yes.” The Mountie cleared his throat and studied the ground. “Elizabeth Hardee over at Hardee’s Girls wouldn’t let no colored ladies work in her establishment, so Vixen—I don’t know her rightful name—put herself up out here and made do with clients who like Injuns or don’t want to put up with high prices.”

  “I’ll have a look at the tracks,” Cedar said. “Will there be a reward for the murderer’s head?”

  “For…a bear?” the Mountie asked.

  “It’s not a bear,” Cedar said.

  “No human did that.”

  “You see any bear tracks? Any non-human tracks?”

  “No, but—”

  “I’ll have a look around,” Cedar said again.

  “Suit yourself.”

  “And so will Kali.”

  “I will?” Kali asked.

  Cedar patted her on the back and guided her toward the edge of the clearing. “You’ve got an observant eye, when it’s not engrossed in ‘stuff’.”

  “Well, I’d just as soon get back to my stuff while you tramp around in the woods.” Kali wasn’t sure why she said that. If she could help the girl’s spirit find a peaceful journey to the afterworld, she should, but she had a notion that she shouldn’t jump to please Cedar when he hadn’t explained his scarceness. Then she rolled her eyes at herself. Quit acting like a dumb girl, she thought. If you want to know why he hasn’t been around, ask. “But I’ll help if you take me out for supper tonight.” Then she could talk to him without Mounties around.

  Cedar looked away. Kali swallowed. Maybe she was right. Maybe he had changed his mind about her.

  “Very well,” he finally said, but he didn’t sound happy about it. She thought about revoking the offer. If he didn’t want to spend time with her, she wouldn’t make him. But he spoke again, adding, “I reckon I should keep an eye on you anyway with all this about.” He waved a hand toward the body.

  Kali scowled. She wanted a beau, not a nanny. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I think your people are being targeted, and I don’t want you being next.”

  “They’re not my people,” Kali said. “I’ve nothing in common with any of them. That’s why I left.” That and because they’d all thought her odd for liking to tinker and doubly odd for being the daughter of the crazy witch who took her own life.

  “On the outside, you do, and killers aren’t particular about the inner lives of victims.”

  “I’m just a scruffy half-breed,” Kali said, “not some voluptuous prostitute.”

  Cedar gazed down at her. “Are you arguing because you refuse to believe that you might be in danger, or just to be stubborn and ornery?”

  “Uhm, the last thing.” Also, Kali wouldn’t mind hearing him say she wasn’t scruffy. She plucked a tuft of moss out of the fastener for her overalls. Though that might be asking a lot of a man.

  “I thought so.” Cedar spotted something on the edge of the clearing and walked over to examine the ground.

  “Should we arrange for a burial?” one Mountie asked the other.

  “We ought to find some of her people and let them handle it,” his comrade said. “They got peculiar notions about sending off the dead.”

  Kali stuffed her hands in her pockets and was about to point out that white folks had peculiar notions, too, but her knuckles bumped against something hard. She didn’t remember sticking anything in there. Puzzled, she withdrew the object. It was a jewelry box with a worn black velvet cover. Her heart sped up. Had Cedar slipped it into her pocket? Surely he would know she’d rather have useful gifts than jewelry, but a nervous flutter teased her belly nonetheless.

  Kali unclasped the lid. A thick silver ring was mounted inside along with five miniature bullets, each with a slot in the black velvet case. The gambler’s pistol ring.

  The nervous anticipation in her belly turned to unease. When had that man been close enough to slip something into her pocket?

  “What’s that?” Cedar asked from behind her shoulder.

  Kali jumped, almost dropping the case. Maybe the day’s events had her the tiniest bit on edge. “A job, I think. We hadn’t discussed payment though.” Kali noticed Cedar was holding something as well, a hide patch with beadwork and a polished black stone in the center. “What’s that?”

  “I thought you might tell me.”

  Kali traded him the pistol ring for it. “I don’t know. I never paid much attention to talismans and charms. My mother always said people who used these things did so for show and that true power came from within. That didn’t make the tribe’s medicine man real happy with her.”

  “Power to do what?” Cedar glanced at the body. The Mounties had found a blanket and were wrapping it up.

  Kali shrugged. “It depends on the purpose the maker had in mind. A medicine man might be able to tell you if it’s real and what it’s supposed to do.” She did not feel a tingle of power from the beadwork patch, not the way she sometimes had when handling her mother’s accoutrements. “Have you ever heard of a gambler named Preston Somerset?”

  “It sounds familiar. Someone from California?”

  “San Francisco, he said.”

  “Lots of gold dust up here to be won,” Cedar said. “Doing it at cards is easier for some than mining for it.”

  “True.” Maybe the gambler was what he said he was, and he’d simply asked around to find Kali. It might be she hadn’t been as clever as she thought about hiding her cave’s location.

  “Why do you ask?” Cedar returned the ring to her. “Something to do with that?”

  “I’d like to get back to my work. Why don’t we talk about it over supper?”

  “You shouldn’t go back to that cave all alone.”

  Kali had been planning to go to her workshop in town—that’s where she had tools for working on something like the pistol ring—but she crossed her arms. “We talked on this already. I can take care of myself.”

  “She probably thought the same thing.” Cedar waved toward the woman’s body. “I told you three women have been murdered. You don’t seem to be taking the threat seriously.”

  “Oh, I’m noting it, but if I stopped work and hid every time a threat ambled by, I’d never get out from underneath my bunk.”

  “This is different from the bounty hunters. They want you alive.” Cedar gripped her arm. “You shouldn’t go up to the cave.”

  “I’m sure I’m supposed to think it mighty fine of you to worry about me and be protective, but I’m not the sort who likes being told where to go and what to do.” Kali extricated her arm.

  “I’m not telling you what to do, just what I think you should do.”

  “How’s that different?”

  He arched his eyebrows. “One’s less offensive?”

  “Uh huh. I wasn’t going to the cave anyway. I’ll be in my workshop when you’re ready for supper. Don’t worry. If bears try to ravage me there, I’ll be protected.”

  Cedar knew she had booby traps all over the workshop, and he let her walk away without further argument.

  Part II

  Kali was bent over her workbench, reassembling the pistol ring with the help of a pair of multi-lensed magnifying spectacles, when a draft whispered against her neck. The door opening? She’d locked it.

  Her Winchester leaned against the end of the workbench, more than an arm’s length away, but she had a number of booby trap triggers within reach. No reason to panic yet. She grabbed a rag, as if she had no inkling that someone might be around, and used the motion to hide her free hand slipping into a drawer. She pulled out one of her latest prototypes, a hand-sized crossbow with bolts that packed a charge. Calmly, she turned around and pointed the weapon at the door.

  Somerset leaned there. His eyebrows rose when he spotted the miniature crossbow, but he merely said, “You have deft hands,” and nodded to the workbench.

  “The front door was locked,” Kali said. Not only had it been locked, but she’d designed the bolt herself after her ex-fi
ancé had proven apt at picking the one that came with the shop.

  “I noticed. Don’t you find that drives away business?”

  Kali glowered at him. If she had Cedar’s height and muscles, it might have cowed him, but he did not seem to find her five feet four inches imposing.

  “Is that my ring?” Somerset asked. “Were you able to fix it?”

  “Yes. It needed a new spring. Naturally parts on something so small are hard to come by, but I have tools for fine work and improvised.”

  “Excellent.” He smiled, a friendly white-toothed smile, and Kali imagined he had little trouble charming the ladies. “How much do I owe you?” he asked.

  Since prices in Dawson had grown so ridiculous, Kali thought about naming an exorbitant sum, figuring a gambler who could afford such a ring had to be well off. But then she remembered that he’d said he had won it, not purchased it with his own coin. His clothing—simple trousers, shirt, and vest—did not hint of wealth.

  “Five dollars,” she said. Only slightly exorbitant, considering Miss Eames was charging two dollars for a scrambled-egg breakfast.

  “Reasonable, thank you.” Somerset withdrew a purse and came forward, though not too close. He counted out five dollar bills while keeping an eye on her crossbow.

  Kali appreciated that he didn’t sneer at or belittle the weapon. Maybe his keen eye had spotted the smudge at the end, though she doubted he’d guess that it was her own chemical concoction, a charge that exploded upon impact.

  “Thanks.” Kali tucked the ring into its case and pushed it across the bench to him. “There’s a target in the corner by the spud launcher if you want to test it.”

  “Spud launcher? You certainly have an array of interesting weapons here.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you supply them to anyone?” Somerset asked it casually, but there was an intensity in his eyes that put her on guard.

  “Anyone that can pay. A girl’s got to earn a living.”

  “I see.” He pocketed the box without testing the ring. “You’re probably wondering why I disappeared so quickly this afternoon.”

  “No, I’m not.” Kali nodded to the door.

  “Not even a little?” He tried his smile on her again.

  Kali backed up a step, finger tightening on the trigger to the crossbow. “What are you angling for, mister? You want something else?”

  “No, ma’am. You just seem like an interesting girl. Woman,” he corrected when she scowled. “How did you get involved in tinkering? It’s not usually a lady’s trade.”

  “I’m not.”

  His brow crinkled beneath his bowler hat. “Not…a lady?”

  “Not interesting,” Kali said. “I am, however, busy. So, if you’re not going to test your piece, you can let yourself out. If it wouldn’t trouble you terribly, re-lock my door on the way.”

  “Ah, you’re displeased by my means of entry. I admit, I’ve picked up a few bad habits. But you mentioned needing a favor this morning, while you were denying being Miss Kali McAlister.” He wriggled his eyebrows, as if to suggest her prevarications were just as morally ambiguous as his lock picking. “Maybe I can help and alleviate some of your workload.”

  Kali chewed on the inside of her cheek. She would like help building the hull of her ship, but this fellow smelled of trouble. He had to have some reason for wanting to spend time with her. This whole ploy reminded her of Cedar’s deception when they had first met. He had wanted to hire on and help her out too; only later had she figured out that he knew about flash gold and how a lot of people wanted to capture her and pump her for its secrets. He’d only wanted to use her as bait, hoping that Cudgel Conrad, the notorious criminal who’d killed his brother, would target her as well. She’d forgiven him for his manipulations—though she might be addled for doing so—and had even come to trust him, but she doubted lightning would strike twice in the same location.

  “You think on it and let me know,” Somerset said. “I’m busy at night over in the Aurora Saloon, competing with the Injun dancing girls for the customers’ attention, but I wake up around nine or ten in the morning and could assist you.” He tipped his hat and headed for the door.

  Kali was about to remind him about the lock, but he paused with his hand on the jamb.

  “I almost forgot,” he said, turning back to her. “That man who was with the Mounties, do you know him well?”

  Her instincts bristled like the hackles on a hound’s back. “Why do you ask?”

  “He seems familiar, that’s all. In fact…” Somerset patted down his pockets while making thoughtful, “Hm,” noises, then said, “Ah,” as he pulled out a leather-bound journal. He flipped through the pages.

  Though she was too far away to make out details, Kali spotted newspaper clippings and photographs glued to many of the pages. Others simply held handwriting.

  “Back when I was in San Francisco,” Somerset said as he turned pages, “there was a gory murder. Someone killed a pretty young lady who’d been newly wedded to a doting husband. The newspaper ran the story with a photograph of the murderer, a man who’d had an affair with the girl. Then it seemed things turned sour.” Somerset’s jaw tightened, and he took a breath before continuing. “The man killed the girl instead of letting her go back to her husband.” He found the page he wanted and stared down at it.

  Kali shifted uneasily. Cedar had already told her about a murder that he’d been accused of—Cudgel Conrad had framed him—but he hadn’t mentioned anything about a husband or an affair.

  “That fellow I saw today,” Somerset went on, “he reminds me of the murderer.” He held the journal up, open to a page with a newspaper article glued on one side and a cutout photograph on the other. “This is him.”

  The man in the picture had a beard and mustache, but a scar slashed vertically from brow to cheek, as if someone had tried to cut his eye out with a knife. It was the same scar Cedar had.

  Kali forced herself to shrug nonchalantly, though her mouth had gone dry, and her voice cracked when she responded, “I don’t know him that well.”

  “Of course,” Somerset said. “I just wished to warn you in case…” He lifted a shoulder. “You seem like a nice woman.”

  He left before Kali could tell him that she wasn’t any more nice than she was interesting.

  Part III

  With its sawdust floor and hammered copper cans fashioned into lampshades, the Caribou Cafe probably wasn’t romantic, but Kali liked it. It didn’t pretend to have fancy airs—with prices to match, and she liked the clockwork dogsled teams “racing” each other on tracks that wound along the walls near the ceiling.

  At a table in a dim corner, Cedar sat across from her, fingering the beadwork talisman he’d found. He hadn’t spoken since he called upon her, and Kali wondered if he was intrigued by the mystery or disturbed by the slayings. Both perhaps. Or maybe he was reminded of another murder in San Francisco. Her own thoughts had been running about, tripping over each other, since the gambler—if he even was a gambler—left her shop.

  “We need to talk,” Kali said. “There’s somebody in town who—”

  “Kali?” a woman asked from a few feet away. It was Doe-eyed Jane, one of the two sisters who owned the place. Kali couldn’t remember ever speaking to her other than to order meals and wouldn’t have guessed that the woman knew her name. Jane put a hand on Kali’s shoulder and said, “I heard about what happened to Vixen and the other girls. Land sakes, that’s horrific. Nobody deserves an end like that, heathen or not.”

  Kali supposed that passed for sympathy, insulting or not, so she held back a snort. “Thanks.”

  “Is it true that your people’s bear spirits are angry and killing those that abandoned your ways to come live in the city?”

  “Uh.” Just how much speculation was rampaging through town about those murders? “I don’t know,” Kali said.

  “You ought to let the girl go back to her kin, Cedar,” Jane said, and Cedar lifted his gaze from t
he talisman for the first time since they had sat down. “It ain’t right to risk her life just so you can get your hammertoes warmed at night,” Jane finished.

  Heat flushed Kali’s cheeks. Was that what people thought they were doing in her shop when they were working on new tools and weapons for Cedar’s bounty-hunting endeavors? Not that she wouldn’t consider other…activities someday, but it flustered her to think of hens gossiping about her sleeping with someone instead of their usual fare, the fact that she ran around town in greasy overalls with tools jangling in her pockets and that she made all manner of strange contraptions in her tinkery.

  “I’ll take your advice under consideration, ma’am,” Cedar said, a twinkle in his blue eyes.

  “We’ll take two meals,” Kali said, hoping to get rid of the woman. She needed to tell Cedar about Somerset. As soon as Jane was gone, Kali pressed the talisman to the table to capture his attention. “We need to talk.”

  The amusement on his face faded. “Are my hammertoes in danger of going cold in the foreseeable future?”

  “What? No. I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t even seen your toes yet.”

  “I’ll take it as encouraging that you said yet.”

  “It’s hard to yet when you’re not around,” Kali pointed out, though she was relieved to hear that he was still interested in the idea.

  “True.” Cedar’s shoulders slumped, and he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I’ve just been hunting all over for Cudgel. Once I get him, then…”

  “I know. I understand, but listen, this is important.” Kali leaned over the table and kept her voice low so none of the other diners would overhear. “There’s a fellow in town who says he recognizes you from a newspaper article down in San Francisco. Because of a murder you were accused of.” She went on to describe her meetings with the gambler.

  Cedar’s eyes sharpened with the intensity that usually only came out when he was speaking of hunting down Cudgel. “Describe this man,” he whispered, gripping the edge of the worn table so hard his knuckles whitened.

  “Tall and broad-shouldered, like you, dark brown hair, clean-shaven.” Kali realized that was a generic description and closed her eyes to picture the man’s face and see if she could pick out something unique. “He has a little scar on the side of his jaw.” She touched the spot on her own face. “As if he nicked himself shaving or was—”