No, that was not true. For who else had they left?
Rosie, that was who.
Ooh, if she ever saw the Mopsies again in this life—and even in the next—they were going to get such a spanking as they would never forget for the rest of eternity. They were a flock! They might consider Claire able to take care of herself, but she would never have imagined Maggie and Lizzie would leave Rosie behind to starve to death tied up in a hatbox.
Well. She had set off to find Rosie, and find her she would. Even if there were only two remaining members, they were still a flock.
She got to her feet, dusted off the front of her sadly abused shirtwaist and the swag formed by her rucked-up skirts, and resolutely did not look toward the north as she set off once again.
A cry sounded behind her. A bird of some kind. An eagle, perhaps, circling and wondering if she would make a tasty morsel.
Another cry, urgent, breathless.
Then—“Lady! Lady! You’re not dead!”
Eagles did not speak English—especially the kind born within hearing of Bow’s bells.
She turned, hardly able to believe the evidence of her own eyes. “Mopsies?”
“Lady!” Lizzie burst into tears and flung herself at Claire so hard that she staggered.
“She told us you was dead,” Maggie exclaimed in tones clogged with betrayal.
Claire had never been at once so happy to see anyone, and so dismayed. The Mopsies. Left behind as well. Innocent children! What was the world coming to?
She fell to her knees and hugged both of them so hard Lizzie squeaked.
“Who told you?” she finally found voice enough to say, releasing them.
“Her ladyship. She said someone pushed you out a window into that flood.”
“She was correct in general, though not in the particulars. I jumped. It seemed a good idea at the time. But why are you here and not on the Lady Lucy? Did you see her lift just now?”
“Aye.” Maggie grinned. “Such a to-do there’ll be when they open our room and don’t find us. Oh, and ’ere—“ She turned and presented her back.
“Good heavens.” With quick fingers, Claire undid the knots in the silk sash and freed the lightning rifle. “I am utterly lost. You had better tell me the whole story while I put this back together.”
By the time the Mopsies had finished catching her up, their words tripping and tumbling over one another as each jostled for her part of the night’s work, Claire had put the coupling back in its place and blasted a nearby stump to kingdom come.
It felt extremely satisfying.
“I cannot believe you shimmied down a guy rope,” she said. “You could have been killed!”
“Well, we wasn’t,” Lizzie said, ever logical. “But Rosie might be. We came to find ’er and we found you instead!”
“As well, you mean. Come, we must locate a stand of trees about halfway between here and the lake. I believe she may have touched down there. And as we go, I’ll tell you my side of these events.”
They were as impressed with her diverting the Texican ship as she was with their sliding fifty feet down a guy rope.
“Each of us is a lady of considerable resources,” Claire said at last. “Which we will have to employ shortly now that we are left behind.”
“Wot about that Alice?” Maggie wanted to know. “She might help us.”
“I hope so, but other than a bite of tea, I cannot see her being able to give much assistance. Her father will see to that.”
“Lady.” Lizzie tugged on her sleeve. “Ent that them trees you was talkin’ of?”
A swale sloped gently into what might have been a creek bed in a moister climate. But the trees must have found something there with which to nourish deep roots, because a line of green followed the turns of its dry banks.
“I shall take the far side, if you two will cover this side,” Claire said. “Walk a hundred yards in each direction and meet back here if you don’t find her. We will move outward after that.”
“And don’t forget to look up,” Maggie reminded them. “You know ’ow Rosie is.”
The copse had hardly a hundred yards to its name, but Claire searched every foot of it, including peering through the branches of the trees for a flash of reddish-brown feathers—even one lying on the ground might have been a clue. That is, if one assumed Rosie had escaped the hatbox. If she had not, then they could be guided by the mottled colors of the balloon.
But after an hour, both searches had borne no fruit.
“Move away from the wash twenty paces, and search again,” Claire said. “And you might call. Rosie will answer if she is able.”
“Because that’s ’ow birds tell who’s in their flock,” Maggie said.
“Polgarth the poultryman taught you well in our brief visit.” Claire smiled. “We are a flock, and Rosie knows all our voices.”
Maggie put a hand on Claire’s skirt to stay her. “I knew you wouldn’t leave us. I told ’er ladyship so. Cos we’re a flock.”
A lump rose in Claire’s throat, and she knelt in the dust, taking both their grubby hands. “We are more than a flock. I consider the two of you my family. When his lordship filed our traveling papers for this voyage, he registered you officially with the Foreign Office as my wards. That means that nothing can separate us except our own free will.”
“Wot about Tigg?”
“Him, too. But not Jake, because he was above the age of fourteen.”
“That rascal Jake,” Lizzie exploded, dropping Claire’s hand. “I’d like to know how ’e feels now, left alone wi’ them pirates. I bet he’s missing us bad and wishin’ ’e’d done things different.”
Claire’s heart drubbed in her chest, making her a little lightheaded. “My dears—” Did they not know?
But then, how could they? The girls and Willie had been concealed in the ceiling during those dreadful moments, and then they had all been separated. Oh, if only there had been anyone else to say these words!
But there was not. There was only herself to say what must be said, to look after these two little lives when she had no idea what the next hour might bring.
“Lady, don’t look like that.” Maggie’s gaze searched her face. “Did summat happen to Jake?”
There was nothing for it. She had never lied to these children, and she was not about to start now. “Ned Mose lost his temper and pushed Jake out of the hatch,” she said in as soft a tone as she could manage.
What little color was left in Maggie’s face drained out of it. “Wot hatch? There’s any number of—”
“An outside one. The one in the main gangway, where we embark and disembark.” Claire swallowed. “He would not tell where you and Willie were, so Mose threw him out. We were three hundred feet up.” Her throat closed and she whispered, “There is no way he could have survived.”
The tears overflowed Maggie’s eyes and she threw herself into Claire’s arms. “I wish we’d never come on this awful voyage,” she sobbed. “I want to go home.”
“I’m glad,” Lizzie choked out. “’E ’anded us over to them pirates and it’s no more’n he deserves.” But her eyes were piteous.
“Do not blame him, darling,” Claire told her over the top of Maggie’s head, and held out a hand to gather her close once more. “I have no doubt he was forced to do what he did. But whether he was or was not, no one deserves an end like that. We cannot even give him a Christian burial—we don’t know where he—where he is.”
It took several long moments before Maggie’s sobs turned to hiccups and at last to sniffles. Lizzie kicked viciously at a clump of dry grass. “We might not know where ’e is, but we’ll find Rosie. I know we will.”
And not half an hour of dusty searching later, a cry went up. “Lady! Over ’ere!”
Claire took off at a dead run, leaping into the wash and out again like a species of antelope. Maggie waved her over to a clump of rocks, and there was the balloon, snagged on it.
“Is she here? Is Rosie her
e?” Please don’t let her have been eaten. Please don’t make them endure one more loss on this morning of terrible losses.
Both girls knelt on the ground with the hatbox between them. In a trice they had yanked off the cords securing the lid, and Rosie exploded out of it like a pheasant flushed from the grass. With a squawk of indignation, she stalked in a circle, ruffled her feathers, and glared at the girls as though she had not forgotten who had put her in there.
Lizzie sat back on her heels, grinning. “Aye, Miss Rosie, it were our fault, but yer not some nasty pirate’s breakfast, now, are ye?”
Rosie turned her back on her, and both girls giggled in sheer delight at the perfectly ordinary sight of the hen scratching and pecking up the grass seeds.
Claire drank it in, feeling as though she had come up for air after a long time underwater. One small red hen, safe as houses.
Compared to the dreadful events of the last twelve hours, it seemed like a wonderful blessing, indeed.
Chapter 14
The Mopsies gave the all clear, and Claire knocked softly on Alice’s door. It opened immediately.
“I wondered where you’d got to. Get inside, quick, before someone sees.”
“I have company.” She turned and whistled, a skill that would have sent Lady St. Ives into a paroxysm of embarrassment. The Mopsies materialized and slipped inside with her before Alice could do more than gawk.
She did have the presence of mind to close the door, however. “And who are you?”
They both buttoned their lips and glanced at Claire. Snout’s training on one’s behavior during questioning had sunk deep.
“It’s all right, girls. This is Miss Alice Chalmers, who is Ned Mose’s daughter—” Both Lizzie and Maggie stiffened with alarm. “But she is a friend to us. Remember? I told you she makes a fine cup of tea.”
Lizzie did not take anyone at face value. “’Ow can she be a friend when she’s—after wot ’e done to Jake—”
Alice worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “What pa does got nothing to do with what I do. You’re safe with me, and I promise on my honor I’ll do nothing to harm you or Claire here.” She peered at Claire, having just noticed the hatbox. “Is that a chicken?”
“This is Rosie,” Claire said. “She has come all the way from England as one of our party, and met with a mishap on the way. All is well now.”
“Our Rosie’s not to be et,” Maggie told her with as close to a threat in her brown eyes as Claire had ever seen.
Alice nodded, eyebrows raised at the sight of Rosie reposing in the hatbox. “Understood.” She focused on Claire. “You got an explanation for last night?”
If Alice was to be trusted, now was the moment to test it. “I climbed up and signaled the ship. The navigator diverted it at the last minute and, as you probably saw, it went on its way.”
“I figured you must’ve had something to do with it. You’ve got to get out of here afore pa finds out you didn’t die.”
“I agree with you. Is there a train?”
Alice snickered through her nose. “There’s a track. Ain’t never been a train since I come here.”
“It’s only a matter of time before your policemen—what did you call them?”
“Texican Territory Rangers. You’re right there. Once that ship gets back to Santa Fe they’ll be on their way pronto. So pa will be after you and they’ll be after pa. You ask me, Resolution’s gonna be too hot to handle by this time tomorrow.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
Alice gazed at Nine in his corner. Claire found a moment to be thankful that an automaton named Ten was not, after all, under construction. “Way I figure it, between rage and disappointment, Pa’ll get tanked up and go on a tear the rest of today. Probably kill somebody by sunset, then sleep it off. By dawn the Rangers will be here and there’ll likely be a gunfight.”
The Mopsies’ eyes grew huge.
“So if I was you, I’d give him and his crew enough time to get properly sauced, then make your escape.”
“In what?” Lizzie wanted to know. “The Lady shot the engine out of t’Stalwart Lass.”
“Is that what happened?” Alice’s eyes shadowed and she couldn’t quite meet Claire’s gaze. “That engine was a fine piece of work. I used an old schematic from a Royal Society journal. I was kinda proud of it.”
Claire put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Alice. But we had just been boarded. With the children’s safety at stake, I could not risk being separated into two ships, so I disabled the Lass.”
“She were a good piece of work,” Maggie said. “Caught us fair and square.”
“She had speed, she did.” Alice’s face brightened a little with the praise. “There ain’t much left, but I guess I can rebuild her.” Then her expression became downcast again. “Guess I’ll have to. Pa’s not gonna like bein’ groundbound for long. On the good side, the Rangers won’t confiscate her if she can’t fly, will they?”
“You would know better than I.”
Alice shook herself and pasted on a smile. “So we have a little time yet. Who’s for some breakfast?”
Both Mopsies came to attention. Lizzie said, “We would’ve ’ad eggs ’cept Rosie ’ad a rough landing, so she ate what were in the hatbox.”
“You can put her out back if you like. I got a little garden there, with a spring.”
“Why don’t you take her, girls?” Claire suggested. “And perhaps clean out the hatbox if there’s water.” The Dunsmuir jewels were encrusted with yolk and dirt and excrement, having lain in the bottom of the box without a covering. But no one but themselves need know.
“Give me a hand with breakfast, Claire, and we’ll have it outside. That way, if we get company, at least I can fob ’em off long enough for you to scamper up the ladder into the supply cave.”
When they carried out the bread, honey, cheese, and a stack of bulbous green vegetables Alice called poblanos that she had grilled on the top of the steam boiler, Claire saw what she meant. Tucked between the back of the shack and the wall of the mesa was a small plot of tomatoes, poblano plants, and corn, between the rows of which Rosie had made a dust bath. An iron ladder led up the rock to a cave, and from further up, a streak of glistening moisture indicated the spring that watered the garden.
The girls eyed the poblanos with suspicion. “Eat up,” Alice said. “They’re not the capsaicious kind, so they won’t burn your innards.”
“Capsaicious?” Claire examined a poblano with interest. “Gaseous capsaicin comes from a plant like this?”
“Indeed it does. Horrid stuff. Only the most vicious rabble—criminal gangs and the like—would use it on a living creature.”
The Mopsies exchanged peculiar looks while Claire bit into her bread and cheese to prevent herself from saying anything rash.
“So here’s what I think,” Alice said, using her bread to mop up a puddle of golden honey. “You don’t have much choice but to use a velogig. People think they’re stupid toys for rich folk to play with, but I’m thinking beggars can’t be choosers.”
Three pairs of eyes—four, if you counted Rosie’s—waited for an explanation.
“What, you’ve never seen a velogig?”
“Wot, you’ve never seen a steam landau?” Lizzie muttered.
There was nothing wrong with Alice’s hearing. “Nope, I haven’t, but not because I haven’t wanted to.” Her eyes turned dreamy. “Some day, when I’m rich and living in someplace classy, like San Franciso or Edmonton, I’m gonna have my very own landau. The latest model, too, like a six-piston Henley.”
“You should see the Lady’s,” Maggie put in. “You could’ve, if it hadn’t flown off.”
Slowly, Alice turned to gawk at Claire. “You own a landau? And it was on your airship?”
Her mouth full of bread and cheese and poblano, Claire could only nod.
“And I missed it?” The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
With a mighty swallow, C
laire downed the mouthful and gulped some tea. “It’s a four-piston Dart, and I’ve been rather occupied. I had no idea you were interested.”
“I’ve never seen a landau. Nowhere to run ’em in these parts—just a lot of open country full of gopher holes and slot canyons. But oh—” She gazed into the garden as though it were Paradise. “—just wait till someday comes.”
“I’d like to see mine someday, too, and sooner rather than later,” Claire said. “Do you suppose the Lady Lucy is headed for Santa Fe?”
“Must be. It’s the only place to put down for two hundred miles if you don’t want to get your pants full of pinon needles and rattlers. That man who was coming to pay your ransom—he came from there, too. Nearest detachment of Rangers is stationed there.”
“So we must make for Santa Fe on this—this velogig.”
“It’s crazy, but if you’re going to try crazy, this is the country to do it in. Wind never stops, see.”
“These vehicles are wind powered?”
“Vehicle. Only got one, off a big old double-fuselage Hemmings—” She stopped and seemed to find Rosie’s lolling in her dust bath fascinating.
Claire glanced at the Mopsies, but they were both fully occupied with food. “You acquired it in the same manner as the parts for One through Nine.”
“Yep,” Alice mumbled. Then she looked up, her eyes so distressed and yet so clear that Claire wondered how she could be so openhearted when her father was so … so heartless. “You ain’t holding that against me, are you? I—I don’t think I could stand it if you did.”
Claire put gentle fingers on her hand and squeezed it. “If you knew the things I’ve done in the name of survival, you would not ask me that.”
Alice’s gaze held hers. “Maybe someday, when we both have our landaus and one of us isn’t running for her life, we can sit down and have a cup of tea and talk it over.”
“Maybe. I look forward to that day.”
Alice sat back. “Well. Let’s do our best to make it happen, then. You girls done?” Even the suspect poblanos had disappeared. “You want to catch that hen and box her up again, Claire and me will get the velo ready. And then I’ll pack you some food and water. You can’t carry much, since weight matters, but the three of you plus a couple days of food can’t weigh as much as the sporting man we ran—uh, who used to own it.” Rosie was returned, protesting, to the hatbox while Alice climbed the iron ladder and began tossing bundles down.
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