Queen's Peril

by Darin Kennedy

  “It’s not crazy talk, Sheriff.” The youth crossed his arms in defiance. “But merely a matter of time.”

  Post turned to Steven, Archie, and Emilio in a move clearly meant to snub the young man’s enthusiasm. “Truth is, some Indian named Jack Wilson down in Nevada stared up at the sun too long during an eclipse, ‘received a vision’ that told him to start calling himself ‘Wovoka,’ and now spends every spare minute preaching about the end of the world as we know it.” He inclined his head in the youth’s direction. “Worst part is these Indian kids don’t recognize the man for what he is and, as a result, have their collective tail feathers all in a bunch.”

  “And what do you consider this man who calls himself Wovoka to be, Sheriff Post?” Archie crossed his arms in a move that mirrored the youth’s deliberate stance. “He sounds to me like a strong voice for a people oppressed, the kind who might someday have a federal holiday named after them.” He shot Steven a sidelong glance. “What’s so wrong with that?”

  Post pointed at the youth’s chest. “Some loony medicine man has convinced thousands of his faithful followers a cotton shirt will stop a six-shooter. I’m not sure where or when, but the time will come when a bunch of them get it in their heads they’re invincible. On that day, a lot of this young man’s people are going to die.”

  “You’ll see, Sheriff Post.” The youth stormed off. “You’ll all see.”

  No sooner did the young man round the corner than Post’s stern expression melted into an exhausted yet sarcastic grin. “So, what were you three doing talking to Billy?”

  “Billy?” Steven asked.

  “Billy Two Trees.” Post gestured toward the door to the general store. “A year ago, he was one of the best workers we had in town. Dependable, friendly. Now, he’s all swept up in this Ghost Dance business and has nothing but venom for people who used to be his friends.”

  “The beatings will continue until morale improves?” Emilio muttered.

  “What was that, Mr. Cruz?” Post asked.

  “Nothing.” His gaze flicked to Archie. “Just know that some of us may understand a little better than you where this Billy Two Trees is coming from.”

  Post studied the two of them for a moment before letting out a noncommittal grunt. “Whatever. Daylight’s wasting and some of us have places to be.”

  “Got to go check on that train?” Steven did his best to keep a smirk from his face.

  Post gave Steven an appraising up and down glance. “We’ll be talking later, Mr. Bauer. Unless I miss my guess, there’ll likely be at least one or two men aboard more than eager to talk to the last man to see our friend, the U.S. marshal, alive.”

  “Don’t worry.” Steven glanced in the direction of the saloon. “I won’t be venturing far in this cold.”

  “See that you don’t.” Post directed his attention to Archie. “And don’t you go firing up Billy and his friends, Mr. Lacan. I actually like that kid. I’d hate to see anything happen to him.”

  “You got it, boss,” Archie whispered, the sarcastic inflection so subtle Steven couldn’t tell whether or not he imagined it. It wasn’t the first time the priest had dropped into this particular voice, but it still hit Steven’s ear as more bitter than anything else.

  With a grunt, Post strode away, leaving Steven, Emilio, and Archie in the morning chill.

  The general store had yet to open, as the shopkeep, Elmer Green, had been deputized the previous day to help Sheriff Post prepare the marshal’s body for burial. With no physician or undertaker in town, the man who also acted as the local butcher had been the best the town had to offer. As Steven understood it, the forensic investigation had basically stopped at “he died of a gunshot wound,” and, as a result, there was no good reason to hold off. The man surely had family back east that would want him to at least have a proper funeral even if justice at this point appeared quite the tall order.

  “I figured Niklaus would be back by now.” Emilio checked the pocket watch he now carried in the well-filled-out waistcoat that had become a trademark part of his style here in the nineteenth century. “You don’t think he could be—”

  “I’m fine.” Niklaus’ rolling baritone carried from half a football field away, the snow on the ground and low wind leaving the town all but silent. “But hip deep snowdrifts slow you down a little more when you’re stuck as mere flesh and blood.”

  Steven laughed. “On the other hand, if you were a fifteen-foot tall walking tank made of marble, you might stand out a bit.”

  “Heh.” Niklaus nodded. “There is that.”

  “So,” Emilio asked, “did you see anything?”

  “Nothing but the tracks, an empty depot station, and this town’s poor excuse for a platform, all of it pretty much exactly as you described. I got there well before sunrise like Steven asked. As of twenty minutes ago, I remained one of the only few souls about.”

  “Hm.” Steven stroked the stubble at his chin. “With all the hush-hush going on around here, I figured something was going down. I’m surprised you didn’t run into our scar-faced friend and his buddy with the greased-down hair.”

  “And what if he had seen them? Better yet, what if they’re the ones who killed the marshal? It doesn’t change a thing.” Emilio crossed his arms. “I know we’re supposed to be the good guys and everything, but we’re not here to solve a crime that happened decades before any of us were born. We should be focusing on getting out of here, not playing armchair detective.” His gaze shot to Niklaus and then back to Steven. “Especially when the two of you are at the top of the list of suspects.”

  “I hear you, Emilio, and I’m open to suggestions.” Steven’s breath steamed in the cold. “Where would you like to start?”

  “Someplace warmer than the middle of the street, perhaps?” Niklaus headed for the saloon. “I may be from Poland, but even I’m freezing my ass off.”

  “To be honest,” Steven continued once they were inside and seated around a corner table, “neither Niklaus nor I have the first idea how to get us out of here. It took us months and some serious luck just to escape 1946 and make it here to you guys. Even the Grey we met there could only theorize about how we might move on from the next stop along our not-so-excellent adventure.”

  Archie sighed. “Find us. Find a crossing. Bring the pouch and hope for the best.”

  Steven nodded. “I agree we need to start looking for a way out of here as soon as possible, but as long as Post keeps showing up like a bad penny every time I turn around, we’re pretty much stuck.”

  “I get that.” Emilio pounded a fist on the table. “Doesn’t change the fact that every passing day is another something could be happening to Lena and Audrey.” He locked gazes with Steven. “Not to mention the rest of the world back home.”

  Steven raised an eyebrow and smiled. “No pressure, right?”

  “One more thing, Steven,” Archie added. “Be careful with Sheriff Post. He may come across as exactly the sort of person you’d expect to find as the head lawman of a backwater town in 1890s Wyoming, but he’s smarter than you might think. Don’t underestimate him or his curiosity about who you are and what you want.”

  “In that case, the feeling is mutual.” Steven locked eyes with each of them, allowing his gaze to eventually settle on Emilio. “We’ll find a way out of here, somehow. For now, though, all we have is today. What say we go check out what all the hubbub about this train is about?”

  The train pulled to a halt beside the tiny depot station’s platform in a cloud of smoke and steam made only the more impressive by the frigid morning air. Painted glossy deep green with bright red trim, the locomotive was yet another sight like something out of a movie. The cowcatcher at the front of the engine, the steel of its V-shaped grill glistening in the morning sun, had clearly served its purpose well. Atop the engine, the tall chimney spewed dark smoke into the grey Wyoming sky. The short cavalcade of cars behind the locomotive numbered six. The first five, each painted a uniform red with golden yel
low trim and roofs, were filled with passengers who looked out on the town with curiosity and the relief of knowing they weren’t going to have to go out into the cold.

  The rear car, however, remained a mystery. Painted matte black with the occasional silver flourish, dark curtains obscured every window, and the lone entry appeared more like the door of a bank vault than that of a train car.

  “Hmm.” Niklaus folded his arms. “Private car, I’m guessing.”

  “And privately owned.” Steven noted the morning sun glinting off the metal adornments along the car’s front corner. “I’m guessing that’s actual silver or maybe even platinum. Not your standard railroad fare.”

  “What always gets me when the train comes to town is how none of the cars are tagged with graffiti.” Emilio pulled up beside Steven. “What now, fearless leader?”

  “Yeah,” Niklaus said. “Now that we’re here, what should we do?”

  “We’re here to observe,” Steven answered. “Unless I miss my guess, whatever has caused all the hubbub definitely has to do with that last car.”

  “I wish Archie could’ve come with us.” Niklaus shoved his hands in his pockets to warm them. “He’s got a sense for these things.”

  “Keeping everything in town business as usual is key for the moment. Post is already keeping an eye on all four of us, but for now, Nik and I are at the top of his list, and we should try to keep it that way. Leaving Archie at the saloon gives him at least a bit of plausible deniability.”

  “You sure you weren’t a lawyer in a previous life?” Emilio laughed. “In any case, the train is only scheduled to be in town for a few minutes. If we’re going to do anything other than watch it pull away, we’d better get started or—”

  The coupled thunder of gunfire and hooves cut Emilio’s thought short. Riding parallel to the tracks from the direction the train had just arrived came a pair of men on horseback, their heads wrapped in heavy cloth so that only their eyes were visible. One carried a six-shooter in each hand, but the blood-red cylinder clenched in the other’s grip chilled Steven far more than any gun.

  “Get down!” Steven leaped at Emilio and Niklaus, forcing them to the ground, and craned his neck around to watch as the unstoppable events unfolded before his eyes. Just as it had played out in his mind, the lead horseman fired round after round into the air, keeping everyone’s attention on him, as his partner carried out the actual mission, flinging the lit stick of dynamite into the locomotive’s chimney.

  “Hands over your ears,” Steven shouted. “Quick, before—”

  The deafening roar hit Steven’s ears even as the concussive blast from the explosion slammed his head into the ground. The wind knocked from him, he forced himself to roll over and check on the others, grumbling about how he’d known something was going to happen.

  Yet again, for all the good it did them.

  With ringing ears and his skull pounding like he’d gone a few rounds, Steven rose from the ground and wiped the blood from his nose. He helped Niklaus to his feet first and then bent to offer Emilio a hand, the latter clearly the more dazed of the two.

  The locomotive, moments before a full-size version of one of Steven’s childhood toy train engines, now lay sprawled open like an enormous metallic jellyfish with the front half blown open from top to bottom revealing dozens of steel rods bent in every direction.

  “Wait a minute.” Niklaus scanned the tracks in both directions for the pair of outlaws. “They blew the engine and…left?”

  “Appears that way.” Steven steadied a staggering Emilio at his side. “But why go to all this trouble if you’re not going to stick around and reap the rewards?”

  “If robbing the train isn’t your actual goal.” Emilio’s eyes narrowed on the destroyed locomotive. “The real question is why else anyone would want to stop a train in the middle of Nowhere, Wyoming.”

  “Exactly what I want to know.” Sheriff Tom Post strode up, one hand on the revolver at his side. “Not exactly surprised to see you three out here, though I can’t imagine a better alibi than almost being blown up yourselves.”

  “Morning, Sheriff.” Steven gave him a nod. “Any idea who did this?”

  “Didn’t see them.” Post joined their circle. “I was busy checking out the depot when the engine blew. By the time I made it outside, the two men who did this were nothing but a pair of dust clouds down the tracks. You three, on the other hand, were right here. See anything that might give me a leg up?”

  “Not much.” Steven did his best not to shout, though his ears still rang from the explosion. “Two guys, heads both wrapped in dark scarves. The one in the lead kept everybody busy dodging bullets while his buddy chucked a stick of dynamite in the locomotive’s chimney and blew the engine.”

  “Did you recognize either of them?” Post peered around the circle, taking his measure of each of them. “Anyone you’ve seen around town?”

  “Nope,” Steven answered with an emphatic glance in Emilio’s direction. “With their heads all covered, they could’ve been anyone.”

  From the moment the two horsemen burst onto the scene, the pair Steven thought of as Scarface and Slick had held center stage in his mind’s eye. Throwing a couple of complete strangers under the bus with no evidence other than a half-heard conversation and a gut feeling, however, didn’t seem the best option. Especially where Sheriff Post was concerned.

  “Anyone, huh?”

  “We’ve only been in town a few days, Sheriff. Don’t know too many folks around here.” Steven jammed a finger into his ear to dull the pulsating ring. “That being said, if any of us comes up with anything, I’ll let you know right away.”

  “See that you do.” Post turned his head in the direction of the destroyed locomotive. “For now, though, time for me to start figuring out how to clean up this mess. Wish me luck, boys.”

  As Post strode across the wide platform in the direction of the ruined engine, the occupants of the train’s first five cars piled out in a rush, the mob of panicked humanity quickly descending into chaos.

  One thing was certain: Sheriff Post and the tiny town of Wolf’s Bend, Wyoming both had some serious challenges coming in the next few days.

  “How in the world are they going to fix this mess?” Niklaus asked.

  “I don’t have the first clue.” Steven nodded to a shell-shocked woman trudging by carrying a screaming infant. “But one thing’s for sure. There won’t be any empty beds in town tonight.”

  “Dios mío, Look.” Emilio let out an uncharacteristic gasp. “The engineer.”

  Steven followed Emilio’s gaze to the rear of the destroyed locomotive where a bloodied man in a dark blue cap climbed from the wreckage and waved for someone to help him. In answer, a man in a conductor’s uniform and hat and a trio of men in suits rushed to his side and quickly delivered him from what should have been an enormous metal coffin.

  “Little miracles,” Steven muttered.

  “No kidding.” Niklaus shifted his attention to the opposite end of the train, his eyes filling with a potent mix of hope and fear. “And speaking of miracles, I think I’ve figured out why we’re here.”

  Closed moments before when Post had spoken with them, the fortified door of the jet-black car at the rear of the train now stood wide open.

  Framed within the dark doorway stood a man they all knew far too well.

  Squinting his eyes against the sunlight glinting off the snow, Zed stepped down onto the wooden platform. Both the dark duster covering his form as well as his lustrous black hair and beard stood in stark contrast to the white covering the ground just beyond the platform’s edge. With keen eyes, he took in the situation for several long seconds before returning to his car. The door slammed shut behind him with an ominous peal that echoed like thunder.

  “If that’s truly Zed, then I have only one question.” Steven glanced across his shoulder in the direction of town. “How in the world did Archie not see this one coming?”

  19

 
Pawn & King

  “Zed is here?” Archie nearly dropped the half-washed glass in his hand. “Did he see you?”

  “No, though even if he did, I don’t think it’d be a problem.” Steven’s gaze shot to Niklaus and Emilio, then back to Archie. “This wasn’t our Zed, or at least not the one from our time.”

  “The Zed of 1890.” Archie’s apprehensive stance melted a bit. “He’d have no idea who we are.”

  “Which means he’s less likely to try to kill us.” Niklaus let out a single laugh. “Right?”

  “I would certainly hope so.” Steven ran his nails across his scalp. “We’ll see.”

  “But why is he here?” Emilio’s brow furrowed, his volume growing with every word. “And why now? We’ve been here for months.”

  “Careful.” Steven peered around the saloon. “Extra ears around.”

  Three tables sat occupied with the usual crowd, all far too involved in their own business to pay any mind to the ins and outs of their conversation. Post and Ndure, in particular, were clear across town and busy sorting out the chaos at the railroad depot, and the U.S. Cavalry, an almost constant presence in the saloon, hadn’t made an appearance that day.

  It was as much privacy as they were likely to get.

  “All right.” Steven pulled their circle tight. “As I see it, both Zed and Grey have been around for centuries. Just as we crossed paths with the Grey of 1946, it makes sense that we could run into his opposite here and now.” He shook his head and sighed. “And assuming, as we discussed before, that the Game itself could be shifting certain events, it’s even possible the four of us have been drawn to this particular place and time because Zed was fated to be here.”

  “But what happens if he sees us?” Emilio asked. “Won’t that mess up everything that’s already happened? I mean, he didn’t know any of us when we first met.” He considered for a moment. “Or at least didn’t let on that he did.”