The pig moved forward and finally the rumbling stopped. A door opened in the head behind the whirling rock drill and two men stepped out. The men standing to the side joined them and they opened a hatch in the pig’s body and inspected the contents of several enormous bins.
Curly Bill nodded appreciatively. As the Clantons had said, it was a mining machine, but it looked strong as a locomotive, maybe stronger. It could burrow into solid rock and it wasn’t limited to railroad tracks. “I can see why you’re interested in the machine. Have you talked to ’em about it? Maybe they’d be happy to help you fight Apaches.”
Phin pointed to one of the men who had stood to the side earlier. “We’ve seen him and his lady friend talking to the Apaches all friendly like. We don’t think they’ll help us.”
“Lady friend?” asked Curly Bill. “Where’s she?”
Phin shrugged. “Her wagon’s gone. I guess she musta got tired o’ roughin’ it and went back to Tucson.”
Curly Bill pursed his lips. “What about the rest?”
“There’s some kinda curse. We been seein’ a camel with a dead miner riding through here. Scares the Apaches, too. Figured your lightning gun might be enough to scare away anything like that if it appeared.”
Curly Bill shook his head. “I think you been out in the sun too long.” He laughed, but kept his voice down so it wouldn’t carry to the men across the wash.
His thoughts turned serious. That machine combined with the lightning gun would prove to be a powerful weapon, but he’d need someone to help run the machine. The person who understood that machine might also help him understand the lightning gun better, but talking to those men would take care. They built their machine to get rich. They wouldn’t just want to turn it over to the Clantons without a good reason and they wouldn’t want to share whatever they were digging out of the mountain unless they had to. The miners were probably responsible for the apparition that scared Phin.
Curly Bill considered the resources he had and knew he could use that machine in the approaching fight, whether the Clantons were part of it or not. He nodded slowly as a plan formed. He motioned for Phin to follow him down the hill back to the horses.
<<>>
Ramon, Fatemeh, Billy, and Luther rode through the day, avoiding the main road but keeping it in sight. Several horses and wagons traveled south, but perhaps not as many as they would have expected. As evening approached, they rode into San Jose. They decided to find some supper and a place to sleep for the night.
San Jose reminded Ramon a little of Mesilla. It lay in a fertile valley and the buildings were similar. The big difference he noticed was that horses were allowed in the streets. They passed several quiet buildings, until they came to a saloon. Lamps burned within, but the people inside spoke in low voices, as though afraid to be discovered.
The riders dismounted and hitched their horses to a post alongside the boardwalk, then entered and found a table. Several people looked their direction, but no one seemed to give them undue attention. A man stepped from behind the bar and presented them with a simple menu scrawled in chalk on a small slate.
“You folks making your way out of San Francisco?” asked the barkeep.
Fatemeh folded her hands in front of her. “Actually, we’re trying to get there,” she said. All three men shot glances at her, but she continued. “I have relatives north of the city. I need to make sure they’re safe.”
The barkeep shook his head. “You’re out of luck. Word is the Russians are in Sausalito. They’re gearing up for a big battle, if it hasn’t started already. There’s no way you’d get across the Golden Gate.” He referred to the narrows where the Pacific Ocean met the San Francisco Bay. “You’d better hope your family is safe.”
Luther removed his bowler hat and set it on the table. “Any way we could go around the bay. Up through Oakland, perhaps.”
The barkeep narrowed his gaze. “You can bet you’ll run into fighting there, too. You’re better off turning around and going back the way you came.”
Luther and Fatemeh looked at each other and nodded. “Any chance we can get a room for the night?” asked Ramon.
“We’re almost full, but I’ll see what I can do.” The barkeep took their orders and left for the kitchen.
Once he was gone, Billy leaned across the table. “So, what do we do now?”
“Get a map, find another route,” said Fatemeh. “I don’t think we can get through San Francisco anyway.”
Ramon nodded as he scanned the room. The barkeep left the kitchen and went to the bar, filled a couple of drink orders, then spoke to some of the patrons. Every now and then the barkeep would cast a glance their direction. Something prickled in the back of the former sheriff’s skull.
“We’ll need to get supplies,” Billy was saying. “Just how much money do we have anyway?”
“Enough,” said Fatemeh, simply.
Ramon frowned. They had some money saved up from his time in the army, but the train and stagecoach tickets must have taken quite a bit of what they had. Despite his concern, this didn’t seem the time to press for an accounting of their funds.
The barkeep ducked into the kitchen again, but returned a few minutes later holding four plates of food. He slid them in front of the travelers. “Good news, I have a room for you if you don’t mind sharing.”
“That would be fine,” said Fatemeh.
“Very good. I’ll bring the key in a moment.”
Ramon frowned, thinking it was strange that the barkeep was so ready to let a woman share a room with three men. Then again with all the people fleeing San Francisco, they were probably used to putting as many people as possible into a room.
Billy, Fatemeh and Luther continued to discuss plans through supper. Distracted, Ramon noticed little details about the people around. Some wore dirty work clothes—presumably local farmers. Other men wore waistcoats and cravats while a few ladies wore bustles and fancy dresses—those must be displaced city folk looking for a place to stay.
The barkeep brought the key as promised and, soon afterward, the travelers retired to their room for the night. A double bed and a single bed had been crammed into a small space. They agreed Fatemeh should take the single bed. Even though Ramon was engaged to her, Fatemeh’s Bahá’í faith didn’t permit unmarried couples to touch. Ramon was grateful Fatemeh didn’t adhere to that doctrine, but he remembered her snuggling against him in Tucson and sighed. She wanted him, but also wanted to wait to continue the physical part of their relationship until after they were married. So be it, sleeping together in a room full of traveling companions could prove more embarrassing than romantic.
Billy withdrew a deck of cards from one of his pockets and the men drew for the double bed. The result left Ramon sleeping on the floor. Sleeping arrangements settled, they went down to tend their horses for the night and grab their bags. Ramon noticed some horses across the street that had buckles emblazoned U.S. on them. For some reason, the presence of soldiers in town unnerved him.
Once they tended their horses, the four returned to the room and did their best to get some sleep in the crowded space. Fatemeh tried opening the window, but shut it again when two drunks started arguing. She lay down, rolled over and began snoring gently.
Ramon couldn’t sleep. He found his attention drawn to Fatemeh’s sleeping form. He longed to hold her, to have her to himself. At times she seemed so interested in helping others that she had no time for him. He shook his head to clear the thoughts. If they survived this journey, there would be plenty of time for them later when they were married and he was in law school. After a time, his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.
He felt like he’d only been asleep a few minutes when Billy jostled him awake. Billy held his finger to his lips and whispered, “Someone’s out in the hall. Several pairs of heavy boots.”
Ramon nodded, pulled his own boots on and considered the possibilities. Billy sprang silently to the door in stocking feet, threw it open and leveled h
is gun. The soldier about ready to knock gasped and stepped backwards. The rasp of leather and several hammers cocked encouraged Billy to lower his own revolver slowly.
Ramon stood and stepped to the door putting his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “Can we do something for you?”
The soldier who had prepared to knock pushed his way through the door and raised a lantern, looking around. “I hear you’ve been asking about points north of San Francisco.”
“Yeah?” Ramon blinked and inclined his head back toward Fatemeh who was sitting up. “My fiancée has family there. What of it?”
“I’d like to ask you some questions,” said the soldier.
“Can’t this wait till morning?” asked Ramon.
“No it can’t,” said the soldier.
“What about a warrant?” spat Billy. “If you’re arresting us, don’t you need a warrant?”
“This is a time of war, son, and I’m a soldier, not a police officer. Now hand over your weapon and let’s be on our way.”
Billy opened his mouth to argue, but Ramon shook his head. “This isn’t the time. Let’s just see what they want.”
<<>>
The next morning, Curly Bill emerged from his room wearing the blue army uniform. After washing, it smelled much better than it had after his sojourn across the Mexican frontera.
Old Man Clanton eyed him all through breakfast. “That uniform doesn’t fit you as well as it could, does it?”
“Army’s in short supply,” said Curly Bill easily. “Unless I want to get my own uniform tailored, I’m stuck with what they give me.” Curly Bill would just as soon have burned the damned thing, but it was already part of his story. Besides, he didn’t want miners to shoot him, afraid he intended to jump their claim. If the uniform bought him time, so be it.
Old Man Clanton still looked skeptical, but didn’t say anything more.
After breakfast, Curly Bill saddled up his horse and rode over to Goose Flats. Once again, the strange pig-like machine caused the earth to tremble and made his horse skittish. He waited over the ridge until the rumbling stopped. The men would be inspecting the machine’s contents soon.
As Curly Bill approached, the men didn’t seem to notice. He wondered if the time they spent next to the great machine affected their hearing. At last, the one who looked like a dandy turned around and gasped. The other three whirled around. The man with the long beard wearing a buckskin jacket drew a gun and pointed it, but lowered it somewhat when he took in the uniform.
“What do you want?” asked the broadly built man with a goatee.
The dandy took a step forward. “I already told you, I’m not going to help you!”
“Told me?” asked Curly Bill. “This is the first time I’ve visited your camp.”
“The army!” shouted the man. “Isn’t it enough you’ve taken Larissa!”
Curly Bill held up his hands and forced himself not to laugh. He hadn’t realized from a distance that the dandy was a Mexican. “I’m guessing that was a regular army soldier. No, you see I’m more concerned with this area after the war. I have come here to present you with a...business proposition.”
The man with the goatee narrowed his gaze. “What sort of business proposition?”
“That mining machine is mighty impressive,” said Curly Bill. “I bet you’re pullin’ a lotta ore out of the mountainside.”
The three men looked at one another, but didn’t say anything.
“What if there was a way to make just as much...maybe even more... and not work so hard?”
The two fully bearded men—Curly Bill guessed they were brothers—folded their arms and frowned. They were skeptical. The Mexican dandy shook his head and stalked off, but the man with the goatee looked interested. “I think we’d like to hear more,” he said.
“Come to dinner at the Clanton ranch house tonight,” said Curly Bill. “It’ll be a break from the camp fare and we’ll talk about what we have in mind.”
“You’re with the Clantons?” asked the man in the buckskin jacket.
Curly Bill nodded slightly. “All we ask is that you listen to what we have to say.”
The man with the goatee nodded. He stepped forward and introduced himself as Richard Gird. “I’ll be there.”
The man with the buckskin jacket gritted his teeth. “I hear that the Clantons are rustlers.” He shook his head. “They have nothin’ to say I want to hear.”
Curly Bill smiled. “Good men sometimes steal out of necessity. The Clantons would like to move beyond the rustling business. No one’s making you come. Mr. Gird here can listen and report back to y’all.”
The Mexican dandy stood off to the side. His lips moved as though he were speaking to himself. Finally he looked up and spoke with disdain. “I wonder who has the most to worry about, us or the Clantons.”
Curly Bill laughed at that. “You sound like a suspicious man. That’s good out here in the desert. All the Clantons want is to make a nice place decent folks can call home.”
<<>>
Sergeant Harris led Larissa over a pass in the Franklin Mountains. As the hansom cab bumped and jostled through the rough terrain, Larissa hoped there was a good wheelwright at Fort Bliss. The sergeant stopped at an overlook. A field of bright yellow poppies carpeted the valley floor before them. The sergeant pointed. “Fort Bliss is just a couple more miles, over there.”
All Larissa saw were a bunch of adobe buildings huddled near the river. She couldn’t distinguish Fort Bliss from the rest of El Paso—not that it really mattered. She looked up at the sergeant, sitting tall and determined in his saddle. She wondered if she looked like that when she brought in a bounty. She also wondered whether the sergeant would be commended or berated for bringing her in the professor’s place.
They followed the trail into El Paso and continued to the fort’s adobe walls. Her impression was the same as it had been on the hill overlooking the city. The buildings inside the walls looked little different than those outside. Because a town surrounded the fort, this one served less as trading post and more as secure military compound.
They rode around the fort’s perimeter. Just before they dismounted and led their horses into the stables, Larissa spotted an ornithopter and caught her breath. This one reminded her of Professor Maravilla’s, except for the blue fabric covering it. The wing and fuselage were decorated with a shield holding a stars and stripes motif like the American flag. One of its wings lay limp on the ground, as though lame.
After tending their horses, Sergeant Harris led Larissa out into a courtyard. The sergeant knocked on the door of the office across the way. When the voice on the other side told him to enter, Harris held out his hand. “Wait here.”
Larissa folded her arms and gave a sharp nod. As the sergeant entered, she turned and leaned on a railing. She smelled something cooking and guessed the mess hall was nearby. A moment later, she heard raised voices—not enough to hear what they said, but enough to tell that someone wasn’t entirely pleased. A few minutes later, Sergeant Harris emerged. He frowned, but he looked more determined than angry or hurt. “The colonel will see you now,” he said.
She turned and went through the door. Her mouth fell open when she recognized Major Johnson from Fort McRae, only he was a colonel now. He looked up at her with a narrowed gaze. “You’re that bounty hunter who was after Ramon Morales earlier this year, but somehow you’ve suckered my man into thinking you’re some kind of inventor in the same league as Professor Maravilla.”
She sat down without being invited. The colonel’s mustache bristled slightly. “I’m not certain I’m in the same league as the professor, but I think I can help.” Before the colonel could interrupt, she told him about the work she’d done with Maravilla on the new generation ornithopters in Flagstaff, the upgrades to the clockwork lobo, and the work on the Javelina, making sure to mention her development of the variable speed gear transmission.
The colonel sat back and folded his arms. “It would seem there’s more to yo
u than appears at first glance, Miss Crimson.” He sat forward and put his hands flat on the desktop. “But you could be selling me a bill of goods. Professor Maravilla would have a good job here. Why won’t he come?”
“He has his reasons.”
The colonel took a deep breath and released it slowly. “All right, Miss Crimson, I’ll consider what you’ve told me, but first you’ve got to show me that you can do what you’ve said. Did you see the ornithopter out by the stables when you came in?”
“The one with the lame wing?”
The colonel nodded. “Repair it. Show me you can make it fly again. If you can do that, I’ll show you more of what we have to work with.”
Larissa stood and gave a sharp nod. “You have yourself a deal.”
Chapter Ten
Bliss
Curly Bill Brocious watched the interchange between Old Man Clanton and Richard Gird over supper with interest. Clanton told about his dreams of building a town on the San Pedro River. “You could use the water to run a mill for processing ore and we could use the water for cattle.”
Gird frowned and shook his head. “The San Pedro isn’t exactly a torrential river, I’m not sure there’s enough for both.”
“From what I’ve seen, that mining machine of yours does a lot of the ore processing for you, doesn’t it?” asked Phin Clanton.
The attorney nodded. “That’s right. It doesn’t use as much water as a mill would use.”
Old Man Clanton pursed his lips and glared at his oldest son. With a force of will, he smiled. “Of course, we have hopes that the mining machine could be put to other purposes—at least part of the time.”
“And what other purposes would that be?” Gird popped a chunk of steak in his mouth.
“The way your machine burrows into rock, I’m betting it would stand up real well under attack. It would be a big help in keeping Apaches away from this part of the territory,” said Clanton.
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