Duncan shook his head and took another seat at the table. “I don’t think they have a few days.”
“What do you mean?” asked Alicia, who was placing logs into the kitchen’s wood stove.
“We were with a kid named Billy McCarty,” explained Duncan. “He shot and killed one of Dalton’s men. There’s sure to be a posse riding out before long.”
“Ay!” Eduardo gritted his teeth. “You really got into a mess this time, Búho.”
“What really annoys me is that they broke my glasses.” Ramon’s comment was barely audible through his swollen lips.
“That, I might be able to help you with.” Eduardo went into the living room. Fatemeh heard him rummaging through some drawers. After a moment, he returned, holding a pair of glasses. “Remember how Aunt Sofia used to have me carry a pair of your glasses with us to school? That way I’d have a pair if you broke one.”
Ramon took the glasses and gingerly slipped them on. He squinted through the lenses. “They’re a bit small and things look kinda blurry.”
“Well, they’re the ones you wore almost fifteen years ago. You’re lucky I kept them.” Eduardo smiled. “Better than nothing, eh?”
“Thanks, cousin.” Ramon started to smile, but then winced in pain.
Fatemeh wrung her hands. “Well, I think the next order of business is what to do now? Ramon was willing to serve time for leaving his job in Socorro, but surely he doesn’t deserve to die.”
“No one here agrees with that more than I do,” said Ramon. “Even I can’t believe Randolph Dalton would be this cruel.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We were planning to go west—to California. I think that’s still the best plan—if we can get there.”
Duncan stood and walked over to the window, peering out into the dark as though expecting to see a posse ride into the valley at any minute. “The fastest way would be by train and the closest station is Mesilla. The problem is they’ll probably expect you to go that way.”
“Then we should go north to Santa Fe,” said Eduardo. “That way you can take the Denver and Rio Grande into Colorado and pick up the Central Pacific into California.”
“But you’ll have to ride back through Socorro to get to Santa Fe.” Duncan scratched his head.
Eduardo nodded. “We’ll have to cut around Socorro. I’m thinking out East and behind the Manzanos.”
“Up through Torreon, then behind the Sandias through Madrid and Cerillos to Santa Fe.” Ramon pursed his lips. “It just might work—if we get going soon.”
“There’s only one problem.” Alicia stood from the wood stove. “Do you think they might have trackers who could follow the trail here? If so, wouldn’t they simply turn around and be on your trail again?”
“Hard to say,” said Ramon. “Juan Gomez used to be pretty good trailing people.”
Duncan turned around and faced the table. “I’ll ride south to Mesilla.” All heads turned to face him. “I need to get back there anyway. It might, at least, confuse them.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Alicia. “They’ll be looking for two horses. I can stay down in Mesilla. Eduardo can ride down and meet me when Ramon and Fatemeh are safely on the train in Santa Fe.”
“There is one other problem,” interjected Fatemeh. “My wagon with all my herbs and supplies—it’s still in Mesilla. I have a horse down there as well.”
“We’ll bring them back here when we come home,” said Alicia. “Once you’re settled in California, let us know and we’ll bring them out to you.”
“I’ll help with any costs,” offered Duncan.
Fatemeh shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you—”
“You haven’t asked us,” said Alicia. “We’re volunteering.”
Duncan took a step toward the table. “Besides, I have a feeling you saved my life back in Las Cruces. I owe you.”
“Sounds like we have a plan.” Eduardo stood. “We should get our supplies packed, get a couple hours of sleep, and then set out.”
“What about the posse?” asked Duncan.
Ramon shook his head. “I’m guessing it’ll take a few hours for them to get a posse together. We have some time.”
Eduardo sighed. “Still, one of us should keep watch, just in case.”
Ramon pulled himself to his feet. “What can I do to help?”
Fatemeh stood and helped support Ramon. “I think you need some time in the hot spring followed by a little sleep. We can handle the packing.”
She led him out back to the enclosure that surrounded the spring bubbling behind Eduardo’s house. Just as they reached the door, Ramon paused.
“I think I can manage from here.” He took a step and nearly fell over.
“Let me help you into the water,” said Fatemeh.
Ramon’s blush was just visible in the light from the house. “Are you sure that’s proper? We could get Eduardo…or Duncan.”
Fatemeh sighed. “ I’m a healer. It won’t embarrass me to undress you down to your skivvies. Second, we’ve talked about marriage. I would like to see you naked one of these days.”
Ramon’s blush deepened, but he also smiled. “Will you return the favor?”
Fatemeh inclined her head. “Perhaps…when you’re feeling better. For now, my main concern is getting you to a point where you feel good enough to ride. Without that, we won’t have a ‘later.’” She placed her arm around his waist and they moved toward the enclosure’s door.
Once inside the enclosure, Ramon held up his hand.
“What is it this time?” she asked.
“Thank you for coming to get me.” Ramon leaned over and kissed her gently, then winced slightly in pain.
Fatemeh led Ramon into the enclosure and helped him undress and get into the water. She then returned to the house where she helped gather supplies for the journey northward. Satisfied they had everything they needed, Fatemeh returned to the enclosure, carrying a towel and some clean clothes. She found Ramon dozing in the hot spring. Kneeling down beside him, she touched him gently on the shoulder.
Ramon’s eyes fluttered. “Ah...corazón. Time to get out already?”
She smiled briefly at being called corazón—the Spanish word for heart. She helped him out of the water, then turned her back while he dried himself and dressed. Once finished she helped him up to the house and under the covers of a bed. She took the bed in the room across the hall. Without even bothering to turn back the covers, she lay on top in her clothes. She tossed and turned and finally dozed briefly just as Alicia came in to tell her it was time to go.
Bleary eyed, she climbed out of bed. Ramon’s bed was empty, already made. She clambered down the stairs and found him sitting at the kitchen table sipping coffee. His face was still swollen, but he looked much better. She helped herself to some coffee. Alicia came downstairs a moment later and shooed them outside to where Eduardo was waiting with two horses. Duncan was already saddled up. Alicia made her rounds of the house, making sure the fires were out and the animals secure.
Fatemeh helped Ramon mount his horse. Once done, she turned and saw Alicia approach. Eduardo took his wife into his arms. “Be careful. We don’t know whether these are lawmen or hired thugs on our tail. The latter might not care if you two don’t exactly meet the description of the people they’re looking for.”
Alicia nodded, then kissed Eduardo. A moment later, they separated and Fatemeh, Eduardo and Alicia mounted their horses. They rode away from the hacienda just as the sun came over the horizon.
The ride northward was hard, and largely silent. They took a route over broad flat land, dotted with scrub. A range of mountains stood between them and Socorro. Dark clouds billowed over the countryside. During the ride, Fatemeh and Eduardo scanned the surrounding countryside, looking for signs of pursuit. When they camped, they took turns watching for approaching riders at night. After the first day, Ramon felt well enough to take a turn on watch.
As the days wore on, they passed one range of mountains and appr
oached a second more closely. The dusty, scrub-covered flatland gave way to undulating, grassy hills and valleys dusted with snow. Each time they descended into a valley, Fatemeh worried an ambush would be waiting when they crested the next hill. Her worry increased as the terrain became even more rugged and the occasional pine and aspen sprung from the ground.
At one point, the trail led them through a narrow canyon lined with snow-covered wooden shacks. An icy wind blew, intensified by the canyon walls. “Do we have to go through there?” asked Fatemeh.
“It’s just a little mining town called Madrid,” explained Ramon.
Fatemeh pursed her lips. “I think I’ve had enough of little mining towns.”
Ramon laughed. “Madrid means we’re getting close to Santa Fe. After this, we should be home free.”
“I wish I could be as certain as you are.” Fatemeh gathered her resolve and followed the two men through the narrow canyon. She relaxed somewhat when she saw an owl crouched in the eaves of one of the buildings, sheltered from the cold. It opened its eyes and looked at her, giving silent reassurance that nothing was amiss in the village.
That night, they camped at the base of a sheer cliff on rocks blown clear of snow by the wind. The natural rock pillars reminded Fatemeh of Egyptian gods carved into the mountainside watching over them.
The next day, they rode into the small town of Lamy, just a few miles from Santa Fe. The depot was located there because New Mexico’s capital city was just too high and rugged for the railroad. Once there, they dismounted, tended to their horses, and bought train tickets. The train wouldn’t arrive for a few hours, so they went to a nearby restaurant and ordered lunch. Fatemeh looked around nervously at the people, trying to see if she recognized anyone familiar from Socorro.
“You’ve hardly touched your food,” said Ramon.
Fatemeh smiled nervously and pushed the plate aside. “I’m afraid I’m not very hungry.”
After lunch, they returned to the train station. Fatemeh paced the platform, patting her arms, warding off the cold until the train finally arrived an hour later. She jumped when its whistle sounded. Ramon tried to suppress a laugh and she shrugged and gave him an embarrassed smile. Both Fatemeh and Ramon embraced Eduardo, then climbed onto the train and found seats.
Even before the train lurched out of the station, Fatemeh’s head fell against Ramon’s shoulder and she began softly snoring.
<< >>
Alexander Gorloff admired the view of the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. Unlike many other European palaces that looked like old fortresses or fairy tale castles, the Czar’s Winter Palace was a great, sprawling mansion. It seemed a fitting place from which to rule much of the industrialized world. It was early evening, but already dark. Gas lamps illuminated the palace and the snow around it, giving the building a magical quality.
In fact, the whole city of St. Petersburg seemed energized. A new year was about to dawn and the Russian Orthodox Christmas would come a week later. Gorloff rubbed his hands together in anticipation and walked toward the palace.
The journey from San Francisco had been a long one, and Gorloff was pleased to be home. The general and his supporters had landed in Vladivostok at the end of November and had taken the train to St. Petersburg. Once in the city, Gorloff made appointments with several old Army friends and introduced them to his new generals. With Legion’s help, he tentatively broached his plans for American conquest.
General Mikhail Dragomirov’s reaction was typical. “Tensions with Turkey are high right now. However, I do not relish the thought of going to war with the Ottoman Empire. If turning our attention to the Americas will save the Czar and the world, I’m all for it.” At that point, Dragomirov placed his hand on Gorloff’s shoulder. “But the Czar considers America a friend. He will not be swayed easily.”
Gorloff nodded knowingly to that statement. In the meantime, with each new appointment and introduction, Legion was spreading out, piece by piece and gently bringing dreams to the Russian military and political elite. At first, Gorloff was concerned Legion might spread himself too thin, but the alien assured him he could create new components as needed. After two weeks in St. Petersburg, Gorloff was ready to seek an audience with the Czar.
The general was greeted at the door of the Winter Palace. An attendant took his hat and coat and led him into a sitting room. After only half an hour, he was taken to the palace’s Amber Room. The Czar sat behind a desk. His hair was cut short and great muttonchops came down to meet an impressive, bushy mustache, meticulously waxed on the ends.
The general knelt in front of the monarch.
Czar Alexander II smiled and stood. “How good to see you, Alexander Petrovich. It has been too long.” He held out his hand and indicated the general should rise and be seated.
Gorloff stood and moved to a chair across from the Czar. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
The Czar opened a gold-inlaid box on his desk. “Would you care for a cigar?”
“You honor me.” The general reached into the box and took a cigar, but did not light it. He waited for the Czar to retrieve his own cigar first and return to his seat. While doing so, the general took a moment to admire the room’s walls. Large sections of amber had been cut, polished, fitted together, and accented with gold trim. A servant, who had been standing unobtrusively in a corner of the room came forward and lit the Czar’s cigar and then the general’s.
“I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you, although I’m glad,” said the Czar. “I think perhaps you have anticipated that I plan to reassign you to London.”
“Again, you do me great honor, Your Highness.” Gorloff nodded in deference. “I do wish to speak of change, even though I did not anticipate your specific plans.”
The Czar pursed his lips and seemed to consider the remark. “Interesting. Go on, Alexander Petrovich.”
“Almost fifteen years ago, you took one of the bravest steps of any Czar in the history of Russia and freed the serfs. For that you will always be remembered.”
The Czar sighed. “Alas, I fear that has not gone as well as I would have liked.”
Gorloff nodded sympathetically. “Two years later, Abraham Lincoln in America followed your example and freed the slaves in his great country.” Silently, Gorloff told Legion it was time to enter the Czar’s mind and quietly build visions. “Lincoln’s plan did not go as expected either.”
“Indeed.” The Czar’s striking blue eyes darted from side to side. “The result was a nearly catastrophic war and Mr. Lincoln was the last casualty.” Gorloff knew there had already been assassination attempts on the Czar’s life as well.
“I admire Your Highness’s intentions, but I have come to say there is a certain folly in liberating slaves and serfs. I respectfully submit that you and President Lincoln have set the world on a dangerous path. One which not only could result in the destruction of Russia, but in the destruction of the entire world.”
Czar Alexander’s eyebrows came together and he opened his mouth to speak. However, he quickly turned and looked to the side as though hearing a voice from an unseen source. His eyes drifted to the corner of the room and seemed to glaze over. His hand, holding the cigar, hovered over a stack of papers. Gorloff gently extracted the cigar and set it into an ashtray. The servant in the corner of the room looked from the Czar to Gorloff, trying to understand what had happened. Just as he took a step toward the desk, the Czar blinked and focused his attention on the general.
“I see what you mean, Alexander Petrovich. The world is clearly in danger. What do you propose we do about it?”
Gorloff nodded somberly. “Russia used to have claims to much of America—Alaska, of course, but also Oregon, California and the Washington Territory. I submit that selling Alaska to the United States was a mistake and moreover, we have a legitimate claim on the western regions of America.”
The Czar leaned forward and brought his hand to his mouth and blinked in surprise when he saw the cigar was not there. He retriev
ed the cigar, took a puff, and then sat back. “Let us suppose that is true. Why should we attack the United States of America? They have been our fast friend for many years.”
“They have, but I submit that will not always be true.”
The Czar set his cigar on the ashtray just as his eyes glazed over again. After a moment he looked up. “I see what you mean. In less than a hundred years, they are likely to become our greatest rival.”
“Indeed,” said Gorloff. “We must act to preserve our empire, while America is still recovering from its own Civil War.”
“I believe you are correct.” The Czar blinked and frowned, as though uncertain how exactly he understood. “However, I’m afraid a war in America could tie up our troops for many years and could leave us defenseless in the west. You have, no doubt, heard about the tensions with the Ottoman Empire.”
“The scientists and the engineers,” came Legion’s voice from the back of Gorloff’s mind. “New technology is the key to success.”
Gorloff felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle at Legion’s prompting. “I have brought men familiar with America. Those men are working with Russia’s top generals and strategists. They will help me in my cause.” The general paused and inhaled smoke from the cigar. He exhaled the smoke with a sigh and gave into Legion’s prompting. “Also, we will need new technology. It is the key to success.”
A smile appeared, underlining the Czar’s great mustache. “Go to the university. Speak to Mendeleev.”
“Mendeleev is a chemist, isn’t he? Developed something called the periodic table. How can he help?”
“I think you will find Mendeleev has many skills that could prove useful in your cause, General.” The Czar snapped his fingers and ordered the servant to bring vodka. When it arrived, the Czar held up his glass. “To the Russian-American Empire!”
<< >>
Ramon and Fatemeh arrived in San Francisco just before Christmas. Ramon hoped Eduardo didn’t have any problems as he rode back south to Palomas Hot Springs. The train journey allowed Ramon ample time to sleep and recover from his injuries. The swelling and bruises were mostly gone when they arrived in California. He kept pulling off his glasses and adjusting them, trying to get them to sit comfortably on his face. When he did wear them, he squinted, trying to bring things into focus. He looked forward to finding an optometrist.
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