Fields of Gold: A steampunk adventure novel (Magnificent Devices Book 12)

by Shelley Adina

  “Exactly. Everywhere we look, women are exchanging news—of family, of farms, of politics and war. We have merely to set the word in motion, and it will travel the length and breadth of the kingdom.”

  “But wars cannot be won by marketplace talk.”

  “Governments have been brought down by that very thing. So we are going to bring down a rebellion. At least in part. You must call the women of the household together and tell them what has happened, if they do not already know of it. And then you must tell them it is time to fight, using any means they have. We women will be the stone in the soldier’s boot, the laundry grit in the trousers that causes him to itch, the wheel that comes off and puts the wagon in the ditch. We will be the voice on the Santa Ana wind sowing doubt and irritation, the illness that prevents a man from getting out of bed to muster, the hole in his sock that makes his march a misery.”

  Gloria touched her lips, as though she had never thought such power might be found there.

  “The women of this country are tired of being silent,” Honoria said. “Granted, there will be those who work against us, who are loyal to the old Viceroy and to the way things have always been. But there are many more who are not. And it is those women who will fight with us by any means they have to hand. The tinder is waiting. It only needs a match.”

  “And I will be that match.” Gloria’s mouth tipped in a smile every bit as dangerous as Honoria’s had been. She touched the roses in her hair. “I am the iron dragon.”

  Then she straightened her spine, gripped Honoria’s hand for a moment for luck, and went to find Isabela to gather the women of San Luis Obispo de Tolosa for war.

  In the two days it took them to reach the fort at the water meadows, Honoria commanded that Silver Wind stop at every rancho station, every town, every siding, so that she might address the people. And while she did that, Gloria tucked a rose into her belt and moved among the women, smiling and encouraging and saying the words that they had been waiting to hear, some for more than a generation. In one place, suspected to favor the Regent’s cause, someone threw a rotten orange at her. But even as she deflected it with her parasol, the crowd turned on whoever it was, and by the time Gloria had reached the station platform again, the market was bustling and she heard cheers from under the canvas awnings.

  At the branch line that would take them across the desert to the fort, they found the military train sidetracked so that Silver Wind might go through. But Honoria recognized the insignia on the flag on the locomotive and asked the engineer to stop the train.

  Commander de Sola leaped to his feet when the person he and his men believed to be their sovereign boarded the car, Gloria right behind. “Your Serene Highness!” he exclaimed. “Miss Meriwether-Astor! You ought to have sent a message, and I and my officers would have waited upon you at once.”

  “I am afraid my impatience for news has swept away the need for protocol. But—why are you on a southbound train, sir? I thought you to be at the fort overseeing the muster.”

  De Sola shook his head in the wondering manner of someone who has seen things that may not be described. “It is a tale so fantastic you have every right not to believe me. Your Serene Highness—I and these men have flown in an airship.”

  “An airship!” Gloria repeated. “Whose? The Texican Rangers? For my ships cannot be here so soon.”

  “It is Swan, the ship of one Captain Chalmers and her husband, Captain Hollys, senorita.”

  “Good heavens.” Gloria clutched Honoria’s arm. “Alice Chalmers is alive and still in the Wild West!”

  “You know the woman, senorita?”

  “I certainly do,” Gloria said. “Before I fell into the hands of the Ambassador in Resolution, I had taken passage aboard Swan. Oh, I am glad!”

  Alice and Ian were alive, and close by! But why? What on earth would have kept them here?

  “But how did you come to fly aboard such a ship?” Honoria wanted to know. “The law has only just been repealed, and one does not leap aboard the first ship to cross the border, just to see what it is like.”

  “They sailed over the mountains the morning the dam failed, and to my astonishment, they knew your friend Evan Douglas, senorita. When they saw the destruction, they offered to take the most injured of the men to the mission hospital at Reno.” His gaze fell. “But when we heard of the traitor in the north, we immediately closed the borders to foreigners, and were forced to return by train. It was not nearly so rapid a journey.”

  “But where is Swan and her crew now?” Gloria asked. “Are they grounded?” Surely not. Surely an ally like Alice could not be trapped on the far edges of the kingdom with an airship that could turn the tide of their cause. Oh, wouldn’t that just be her luck!

  De Sola shook his head. “It seems they took to the air before anyone in authority could inform them they were grounded. I am sorry to report that I do not know their whereabouts now.”

  Blast and bebother it! She would give nearly anything to be able to contact Alice and ask for her help. It was all Gloria could do not to scream with frustration, to instead button her lips and allow the commander to give his sovereign his report.

  “You will find able-bodied troops aboard this train from three eastern ranchos, as well as Carmel. We count five hundred men aboard, with more coming on the next train from Santa Cruz, San Miguel Arcangel, and San Antonio de Padua.”

  “Excellent,” Honoria said. “And what of events in the north?”

  A pleat formed in the commander’s noble brow. “They have begun to muster on the plains near Santa Clara, and our spies report that we must expect six units of cavalry as well as over a thousand troops from San Francisco de Asis alone.”

  Gloria glanced at Honoria anxiously. This did not sound promising.

  “However, there is some difficulty with the cavalry. We have reports of bloat among the horses that is preventing their being loaded into the rail cars. If they must travel overland, they will naturally be delayed by some days.”

  “I see.” Honoria’s face was solemn. “I suppose we can be grateful, and feel for the beasts.”

  “We have also heard that the train bringing troops from San Rafael Arcangel and San Juan Bautista has unfortunately derailed, and it will be some time before the tracks can be cleared.”

  “Good heavens,” Gloria said. “How did it derail?”

  “There was talk of a cow, but our spies have not been able to confirm that, senorita.”

  Gloria bit her lips together and took a moment to feel sorry for the cow, who had given her life for the royalist cause.

  “Have such disasters befallen the ranchos and missions who support me, Commander?”

  “We have had no such reports, sir, but if we should receive them, you will be the first to know.”

  “Gracias, senor. And now, if you will instruct your engineer to lay on steam, you may escort us to the fort, if you will.”

  Commander de Sola bowed, then turned to Gloria. “If I may be so bold, senorita, Senor Douglas will be happy to see you safe once more, though a military encampment is no place for a lady.”

  Gloria took Honoria’s arm. “My place is with the Viceroy. My surroundings are immaterial.” She smiled at the commander in a way that told him she was sure he felt the same.

  “And Captain Fremont, he is with us, too. He has been incredibly useful in the rescue effort, contriving ways to save men from the waters with such bravery that he might be one of us.”

  Gloria’s smile cooled with the shock of unexpectedly hearing that name. “Captain … Fremont? But I understood he had returned to his riverboats and was out of the country.” Her fingers gripped Honoria’s sleeve hard enough to crumple the wool. How could Stanford be here? Why was he not with the Viceroy and the witches? Why was he deliberately putting himself in danger? And if he was here, was the Viceroy here, too, masquerading as Joe?

  De Sola glanced between Gloria and Honoria as if he had belatedly remembered that Gloria had been married to the man und
er discussion, and his prince might not take kindly to having the subject brought up.

  “He returned with Senor Douglas,” was all he said before he bowed again, the medallions on the sides of his trousers jingling. “I will have the whistle blown at once, Your Serene Highness. It will hearten the troops to have you among us.”

  Honoria dipped her chin in acknowledgement and they made their way back to Silver Wind. When they were under way once more and the steward had bowed himself out of the luxurious saloon, Gloria’s knees gave out.

  “Captain Fremont is here,” she breathed. “Oh, Honoria, how shall I bear it?”

  “I am not going to be required to play the jealous fiancé, am I?” Honoria looked pained. “Of all the disguises I have had to wear, that would be the worst.”

  “Of course not. I will give you no reason to. We cannot put the plan in jeopardy at this late date.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Try to rest a little. You will need all your resources in the coming days.”

  Honoria was speaking of the war. But Gloria knew in her bones that pretending not to care about the man she loved when he was within calling distance was going to tax all the resources she possessed.

  Her hand passed over her stomach, and rested upon the secret he did not yet know.

  Chapter 20

  Naturally, the man Gloria most wanted to see was nowhere in evidence when the two trains pulled into the station at the fort. If he was working with Evan in the behemoth, one would think it would be fairly easy to spot him, but no massive walking ironwork was in sight. Instead, she must put on a smile, take Honoria’s arm, and listen with a semblance of appreciation to the sprightly brass band playing the national anthem as they disembarked from Silver Wind. As Honoria gave a rousing speech in the Californio tongue, Gloria spoke to one or two of the officers’ wives in her halting version of that language. Fortunately, she had had quite a lot of practice lately, and where words failed her, Ella took up the slack.

  They were offered the quarters of the commander himself, but Honoria shook her head. “I thank you, sir, but my fiancée tells me Silver Wind was designed as a moving command post, and of all vehicles here save perhaps your behemoth, she is the safest.”

  The commander conceded, but insisted that a guard of honor be posted on both sides of the sleek locomotive at all times. The royal standard went up the flagpole to indicate the Viceroy was in residence, and a horse was saddled so that Honoria might inspect the troops without delay.

  It did not occur to anyone that Gloria might be able to ride, let alone be interested in the troops. As the mounted cohort cantered off, trumpets blowing, Ella took her arm. “To work.”

  It was not the army that made the fort run with efficiency and precision. It was the women—the cooks, the laundresses, the seamstresses, the leather workers. Even the barmaids and harlots beyond the palisade had their part to play, and Gloria left no one out. She devoted the late afternoon to the women no one saw, encouraging, suggesting, rousing them to the task that lay before them. When the sun set and wagons bearing sacks of uniforms, shirts, and socks formed a train down the dusty road, the reins were shaken with determination and the word began to spread, even here in the heart of loyalist country. Every household must be mustered to the unseen battle.

  Gloria sat down to dinner and afterward listened to a concert from the military band with the sense that she had done what she could. Now it was up to those legions of the uncounted, the invisible, the disregarded to take the tiny flames that she had lit and turn them into a conflagration that would burn from one end of the country to the other.

  She came back to herself at the end of the dessert course with the certainty she was being watched. A slow perusal of the dining hall revealed the source—Evan Douglas and Captain Stan sitting with the soldiers at the second table from the door. Her gaze locked with that of her husband—he was her husband, and no wretched document denying that fact would make her think any differently—and she blushed under the intensity of his regard.

  Evan nudged him, and their connection broke as he turned his head to see what his friend wanted, no doubt to receive a warning about the dangers of showing too much emotion toward the Viceroy’s intended bride. Honoria had not missed the tension, or Gloria’s indrawn breath. She leaned toward the commander, who was seated at her right hand.

  “I should like to speak with the friends of my bride-to-be, as would she. Could you ask Senor Douglas and Captain Fremont to attend us privately aboard Silver Wind in a quarter of an hour?”

  “Of course, Your Serene Highness. Did you enjoy the performance?”

  “Very much.” Honoria smiled and saluted the orchestra. “I favor the old composers. They have done well.”

  Her escape could not be fast enough, yet a quarter of an hour was not nearly enough to calm Gloria’s jumping nerves. When the steward ushered Evan and Stanford into the saloon of Silver Wind, it was all she could do not to rush to her husband and fling herself into his arms. Instead, she endured the touch of his lips upon the back of her hand with only a shiver that might have betrayed her feelings had anyone but he been close enough to sense it.

  She might have pretended to be an automaton for the rest of the evening had not the steward poured the wine and bowed himself out, at which point Stanford whirled about and snatched her up in his arms. “My God, Gloria, are you all right?”

  She clutched him close, pressing her face into his neck as though they might become one flesh immediately. She wanted to speak, to reassure him she was perfectly well. Instead, she began to cry into his shirt—with joy, with relief, with fear for them both—snuffling like a small child who has been hurt.

  “Gloria?” he murmured into her hair, kissing her face, her temples, her eyelids—anything he could reach. “Darling, what is it? I’m perfectly well, and so happy to see you again I am close to tears myself.”

  “What are you doing here?” she wailed, muffled in his shoulder. “You’re supposed to be on the river, safe and sound.”

  “Goosey,” he said lovingly, squeezing her hard. “I could not reach you if you needed me were I on the river. So Evan and I are helping out where we are needed. Alice, you will have observed, has been successful.”

  “I know,” she sobbed. “But you are going to be in a war. You could be killed. How am I supposed to tell our child that you are dead?”

  He went absolutely still. “Let us not borrow trouble, darling.”

  “Trouble!” She drew back, searching his face for signs that he might mean it. “Our baby isn’t trouble!”

  “Wait.” He took her shoulders in both hands. “What is this? Are you speaking theoretically or do you mean it?”

  “Of course I mean it.” A sob rose up and choked her, and she could barely get out, “Why do you think the Viceroy had to move up the wedding?”

  He tilted up her chin and kissed her with such firmness that tears and sobs definitely began to get in the way. “There,” he said after a moment. “Now tell me properly.”

  So she did. About how she thought she was being poisoned, and how Isabela and Ella had educated her. Ella added a few choice tidbits, and Honoria helped out with the choosing of the wedding date.

  At this point Evan spoke up. “Gloria, you—you know that the Viceroy—that Joe—that this is Honoria, the prince’s half sister? That she is a woman?”

  Gloria pulled her handkerchief out of her sleeve and blew her nose. “Of course, silly. She told me practically as soon as you and Stanford took the prince away. Speaking of, is he here?”

  “Indeed not.” Stanford wiped her wet cheeks with the cuff of his shirt, the handkerchief now being inadequate to the task. “But I have had enough of princes. The world has just tipped off its axis and I am still wobbling. You are truly expecting our child?”

  “I am.” From within the circle of his arms, she asked timidly, “Are you pleased?”

  Now those beloved green eyes did well with tears—his face flushed—a sight she had never expected
to see. “Pleased doesn’t cover it. Nor does astounded. Or delighted. Full of the need to climb on top of this engine and shout it to the whole world just scratches the surface.” He kissed her again, and this time, their friends found it necessary to cross the room to the wine decanter and give them a moment of privacy. “I love you.” His hand moved to her belly. “And you too, little boy or girl.”

  “And we love you,” Gloria whispered. “We are your family, no matter what the authorities in this country say about it.”

  He made a rude noise that indicated his opinion of said authorities. “I suggest we get this war over and done. If I am going to be a father, I don’t want to be distracted by the Ambassador’s nonsense. And while we’re at it, let us get Felipe back in his own saddle and running his own country so that we can go home.”

  “I second that.” Honoria handed them each a tiny glass of ruby liquid. “To Stan and Gloria Fremont, and their firstborn.”

  With a shy glance at Evan, Gloria was warmed inside to see the sincerity of his smile as he toasted them. The last barrier to her happiness fell as she realized once and for all he no longer cared for her in that way. Isabela held his heart now, and if it was the last thing she did in this strange, hospitable yet hostile country, it would be to help him to the fruition of his dreams. After all, a man who could teach himself to operate a behemoth could do anything. Isabela was a lucky woman.

  The behemoth. Silver Wind.

  “Evan,” she said, “the south is mustering men and horses and trains, but whatever happened to my mechanicals? Are they still in Resolution in the wreck of the train?”

  He blinked at this sudden return to business in the midst of a celebration. But to Gloria, these things were all of a piece. They must win the war and restore the prince to his throne so that they could return to the lives they had left behind—lives that she now valued more than ever before. Lives that now had a future utterly different than any she had imagined. Lives on which she could not wait to embark.