Railroad! Collection 1 (The Three Volume Omnibus)

by Tonia Brown

  At length, Dodger asked, “Are you done extolling my virtues?”

  “Will you take the job?” Boon asked.

  “If I say yes, will you go away?”

  “Probably not. But if it helps, I won’t go away if you say no either.”

  “So I’m stuck with you then?”

  “I suppose so.” Boon nodded to the guns on the floor. “At least, until you get rid of those. And I know you don’t want to do that.”

  “Who would?” Dodger retrieved the pair from the floor.

  Boon gave a soft sigh of admiration as Dodger pulled one of the guns free from the holster. “They are stunning, aren’t they?”

  “They certainly are. Did he really make them? I mean, the professor?”

  “He designed them, yes. But he didn’t make them.” Boon smiled wide. “I did.”

  Dodger eyed the man with suspicion. “You?”

  “It’s true. I was the weaponsmith who forged ‘em. The professor observed my shooting style, and drafted a pair of guns to make up for my performance issues. Those beauties were the results. Three times the chance of hitting my target. How could I go wrong? Of course, in your hands, they’re far more deadly.”

  “Thanks. I think.” Dodger looked at the bulky weapon in his hand, then back at the artist who’d cast such perfection in steel. “May I ask a personal question?”

  “Be my guest. Like I said, I can’t lie. The most I can do is just not answer. And, if you will indulge me, since speaking is one of the few things I’m able to do, I tend to spout off at the mouth when invited.”

  Dodger tried to word his question as politely as possible, but there didn’t seem to be a nice way to ask what was on his mind. “If you were such a bad … if you couldn’t hit the broad … no … if you …”

  Boon came to his rescue. “You want to know why such a lousy shot thought he could play the role of bodyguard.”

  Dodger nodded.

  “The short answer is: Why not?”

  “And the long answer?” Dodger asked.

  “The long answer is a might bit embarrassing.” Boon cocked back in the chair and propped his feet onto the bed again as he tossed his hat onto the mattress beside Dodger. Before it could land, it disappeared in a puff of gray vapors. “Why did I end up in this line of work? Probably the same reason you are drawn to it. I like to help folks. Always have.”

  A sense of chivalry wasn’t what drew Dodger into the world of gunplay, but he didn’t correct the man.

  “I came from a long line of gunslingers,” Boon explained, “My grandpappy and his grandpappy worked in law enforcement, all the way back to jolly old England. Our family line was known all over the world for one particular talent.” Boon pointed his forefingers at Dodger, and looked down his imaginary barrel as if drawing a bead.

  “Let me guess,” Dodger said. “They were all deadeye shots?”

  “Bull’s eye.” Boon pulled the thumb trigger on his handgun before he crossed his arms across his expansive chest. “The Federal Marshals were staffed by most of my family, and two of my own brothers helped start up the Pinkertons. My sisters even did some international work for the president himself."

  "You were a Marshal?" Dodger was impressed. It seemed they shared a bit of history.

  "No sir. Not little Wash. I wanted to be in the Marshals, but they laughed me out. Little bitty Washington. Two big fists but lousy with a gun.”

  “Little? If you’re little then I would hate to see your siblings.”

  Boon either didn’t hear Dodger or didn’t care, the man was so lost in his own memories. He stared at his boots, rather than face Dodger with his story. “I was the family shame. The youngest son of the deadliest shot for miles around, and I couldn’t hit a target even if I threw the damned gun at it. I trained under my uncle as a weaponsmith, hoping that I could craft a gun clever enough to make up for my lack of skill. But I never could hit on that golden design. When I got old enough to leave home, I left it all. All of it. My family. My name. Everything.”

  Dodger recognized this part of the story. “But you can’t run from yourself.” He had been running for so long now, he figured he was just about to catch up with himself.

  Boon’s saintly smile returned. “You can’t escape destiny. I thought I could run from my roots, but the need to help folks was in my blood. I never offered myself as a gun for hire, but as you can imagine, my size led me into a number of protective positions.”

  “I can imagine. Then along came the Doc?”

  “When I applied for his work, I told him I wasn’t much with a gun, but he said it didn’t matter. He said he was desperate and would take what he could get. I don’t mind telling you that did little to boost my ego. But later I learned that was just his way. He didn’t mean any harm; he just doesn’t know how to temper his words.”

  “You mean he has a hard time lying.”

  “Nicely spotted. Yes. He assured me that he would turn his mind to the task of equipping me with the appropriate weapons. I laughed at first. It doesn’t take long around the Doc to know that when he puts his mind to something, he is like dog with a soup bone. He keeps working at it, gnawing and nibbling, until he gets what he wants. You now hold his hard work, as well as mine.”

  “He drafted the design, and you made them.”

  “Those and the cartridges. And a plethora of other weaponry.”

  “There’s more?” Whereas he was just displaying a polite interest before, now Dodger was genuinely intrigued.

  “There was. I don’t know how much of it the Doc still has on hand. He took it rather hard when I passed on. He went and melted down a good deal of our work. Said he couldn’t stand to look at it. But Ched hid my guns.”

  “He said you asked him to.”

  “That I did. I had no way of knowing the Doc would go loco after I bought the farm, but I knew the next person along for the ride would need those things as much as I did.”

  “And you think that person is me?”

  Boon finally turned to face Dodger. “No, Mr. Dodger. I know it’s you.”

  “Why me? I mean out of all of the people to apply, what makes you think I’m so damned fit for the job?”

  “Because you’re the only person to answer the ad.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true. The Sleipnir has been looking for a new gunslinger for almost six months, and you’re the only person to have shown up to answer the ad. I believe that has a ring of fate about it. Don’t you?”

  Dodger was struck by the notion. A chuckle rumbled up from his chest and burst from his mouth before he even knew he was laughing. “I’ll be damned. I was the only man crazy enough to apply. Aside from you. Don’t that just beat all?”

  Boon laughed with him. “You see what I mean now? This is fate. This is destiny. A man of your talents is drawn to this kind of work, sir. You can’t walk away from the line. They need you. The Sleipnir needs you.” He furrowed his brow, that look of pain returning as he added, “She needs you.”

  Dodger got the distinct feeling that ‘she’ wasn’t just an affectionate term for the line. ‘She’ was someone. Probably someone close. “If I take this job, will you be a part of the crew? I mean, if I take on your guns, do you come with them?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m hanging around.” Without warning, Boon sat bolt upright, trained his attention to the door and whispered, “She’s here.” He then snapped his face to Dodger and begged with his eyes as his voice fell on Dodger's mind. Whatever happens, you mustn’t let her know I was here. Don’t let her know you’ve seen me. Or spoken with me. Promise me this.

  “Who are you talking about?”

  Promise me! The internal cry of Boon’s whispered shout rattled in aftershock about Dodger’s unprotected psyche in the wailing lament of an unappeased spirit. Promise me, Dodger! Promise me!

  “I promise!” Dodger dropped the pistol onto the mattress and grabbed the sides of his head, trying to silence the din that threate
ned to tear his mind apart. “I’ll promise whatever you want! Just make it stop!”

  And it did. The cry eased off, and Boon’s mellow whisper returned. Thank you. Thanks so much, for everything. You won’t regret this. I can promise you that. As Boon’s last, and much calmer, words reached Dodger’s tired mind, the man evaporated into another puff of gray vapors. One moment he was there, the next he was a hazy wisp, the next he was gone. And with him the very presence of the spirit left the room.

  “Thanks?” Dodger asked no one in particular. “Thanks for what?” He thought about this for a moment, then came to the only conclusion available. Dodger shook his head at the space where Boon just was. “Oh no, no, no. No way! I didn’t promise I’d take your damned job. You get back here right now.”

  Boon gave no answer. Whether he had returned to the guns as if a genie to his lamp, Dodger didn’t know, but he didn’t feel the ghost’s presence anymore. Picking up a pistol, Dodger stared at it, hard, as if he could will Boon to reappear.

  “Come back, Boon!” Dodger demanded. “We aren’t done talking about this.”

  But Boon showed no sign of response or return. Instead, a ruckus rose from just outside of Dodger’s door. A muffled cry from Decker came through the thin wood.

  “I’m telling you, there ain’t no one here by that name.”

  “I know he is in there!” someone shouted in a high-pitched shriek. The door handle jostled a moment, but remained steadfast in its lock.

  “And I’m telling you that you got the wrong place,” Decker said.

  A heavy knock rose from the door, before the stranger demanded, “Come out! I know you’re in there!”

  Dodger tucked the holster and one of the pistols under his pillow, then slipped the partially loaded weapon down the back of his trouser band, pulling his undershirt low to conceal it. Hiding the bulky thing was like resting a boulder in the small of his back. Armed and wary, he went to the door and undid the lock, easing the thing open just a bit. Whoever was on the opposite side wasn’t willing to wait. The man pushed the door wide open and rushed in, almost atop him. It wasn’t until Dodger was able to step away and take a look at his insistent guest that he decided he liked what he saw.

  While the intruder dressed in the manner of a male, he was in fact a she. (Granted, Dodger had never seen a man quite fill out a shirt and pants the way she did.) His eyes followed their natural inclination, taking her in from head to toe, though he did his best to keep from locking onto her full breasts, her slender waist, her flared hips. With effort, he shifted his gaze above her supple neck, which was just as delightful as the rest of her. Brunette, brown eyes, healthy tan. Overall, she was a beautiful woman.

  “Mr. Carpenter?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, pleased to hear his name on her lips. “I’m Arnold Carpenter.”

  “Well, Mr. Carpenter?” she asked. Her voice had a slight trill to it, a smooth accent he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Are you going to stand there and stare at me all day?”

  “I’m sorry, Arnold,” Decker said. “She just ran up the stairs before I knew what was happening.”

  “Its okay, Dex,” Dodger said.

  Decker lingered in the doorway.

  “Really," Dodger said. "It’s all right. You can leave us be.”

  “Miss?” Decker asked, brow furrowed in worry.

  “Yes,” she snapped. “It’s fine. I need to talk to him in private.”

  Decker shrugged and returned to his bar mumbling, “Keep ‘em out. Let ‘em in. Make up your mind.”

  “Now what can I do for you? Ms. …?” Dodger fished for a name, but she wasn’t taking the bait.

  “Mr. Carpenter,” the woman said, “I hesitate to disturb your privacy, but I’m afraid you have something that belongs to me.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t believe we’ve met, because I think I would remember such a pretty face.”

  The woman pursed her lips. “Where are they?”

  “Where are what?”

  “Stop playing coy with me, Mr. Carpenter.” She pushed him aside and stomped about the room, peering under the bed and around the wardrobe. “Where are they? What did you do with them?”

  “I still don’t know what you’re after.”

  The brunette clenched her fists at her sides in a poise of anger and shouted, “You thick, thick man! I want Washington Boon’s guns, and I want them now!”

  ****

  back to top

  ****

  Chapter Ten

  For Love Nor Money

  In which Dodger meets his match and makes up his mind.

  When faced with an angry man, it had been Dodger’s experience that the best course of action was to try to ease the man down with soft words and shades of understanding.

  When faced with an angry woman, it had been his experience that the best course of action was to just run.

  But in this case, there was nowhere to run, and no shades of understanding to offer. If he admitted to having the guns, then she would try to take them. And Dodger wasn’t sure he was ready to part with the pistols just yet, especially since he hadn’t settled his argument with Boon.

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. …?” Dodger half said, half asked, trying again for the woman’s name.

  She stared at him in silent anger for a brief moment, then snapped, “Lelanea Dittmeyer. I’m the niece to the man you met this afternoon. The same man you robbed blind.”

  Dodger figured as much. The woman’s hint of an accent had hit home when she chose the word thick instead of stupid. He offered his hand to her in greeting. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Dittmeyer.”

  She glanced down at his hand, but didn’t take it. “Are we done with the formalities? Can we get back to the reason I’m here?”

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t insult me. I know you have Boon’s guns. My uncle may be a trusting soul, but you will find I am nothing of the sort. Now please, hand them over and I will be on my way.”

  Lelanea.

  Dodger remembered hearing the name tumble from Ched’s stiff lips at least once. The woman must have been on the train, and must have seen him walk away from the line wearing Boon’s dangerous pair of pistols. Ched said she was as good a shot as he was, but what else was it he said about the woman? Oh yes.

  She had the devil in her.

  “How do I know you are from the Sleipnir?” he asked

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “The train. How do I know you’re from the train? How do I know you’re not just some passing stranger who thought she saw me with these imaginary guns?”

  “Imaginary … why I ought to …” She paused to gather her anger, frowning deeply and clenching her fists again before she said, “Mr. Carpenter, it would be in your best interest to turn over my guns right now.

  “Your guns? I thought they belonged to someone named Boon.”

  “They did. They belong to me now. So will you turn over my property, or I shall take this matter up with the law?”

  “How did you find me so quickly?”

  “I followed you back from the train.”

  “No you didn’t. No one followed me.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “It’s my business to be sure. Now, how did you find me so fast?”

  Again she stared at him in silence, as if assessing his worth. “It was easy. I know your type. I just started with the first saloon I came to and asked around. Your friend at the bar said you weren’t here, but he isn’t a very convincing liar.”

  “Neither are you.” Dodger grinned, enjoying her telltale discomfort.

  “This is getting us nowhere. I know you have the guns. I saw you when you returned from your run with Uncle. You walked right off wearing the things, as if they were yours.”

  “They don’t come with the job?”

  At his words, her entire demeanor changed. One moment she was full of vinegar and venom, the next she was
brimming with hope. “Then you will work for us?”

  “Perhaps.”

  The hope vanished, replaced again by her cold stare. “Perhaps isn’t good enough, Mr. Carpenter. Either you take the job or give me the weapons now.”

  “I must admit, it’s a tempting offer when dropped from such pretty lips.”

  She paused to lower her eyes to the floor, almost demurely, and moved to close the gap in the door left open by Decker. “You do have them. Don’t you?” When she turned back to him again, there was something different about her. She seemed softer. More feminine. In a voice dripping with honey, she asked, “Do you have the guns, Mr. Carpenter?”

  “What if I do?” he asked.

  “Then you should give them to me.” Lelanea shifted closer to him, slinking across the floor in fluid steps. “It’s the right thing to do. Give them to me. Please.”

  It had been many, many a moon since Dodger had sought the company of the fairer sex. He even went so far as to avoid the bordello whenever he went into Great Rock for supplies. Well, he usually did. This self-imposed abstinence rose from his effort to keeps folks at further than arm’s length from his personal history, in order to keep them safe. Yes, it had been a long time since he had known a woman’s touch. But it hadn’t been so long that he had forgotten what seduction was like. What it was made of. How it worked. How it felt.

  And he fell into that dance without even flinching.

  As she drew ever closer, Dodger dropped his voice to a husky whisper. “What are you really after?”

  “I think you know the answer to that,” she said as she sidled up to him.

  “Are you going to beg me for it?” He was close to her now, close enough to smell the high notes of her perfume, and her natural scent lingering beneath.

  Wrapping her lithe arms around his shoulders, she whispered, “I’ll beg, if you desire.”

  “Maybe I like a woman who just takes what she wants.”

  Lelanea swept her arms down his back. “Good. Then I think I’ll just take it.” And she tried to do just that.

  Quicker than she could retrieve the gun, Dodger reached around to snap his good hand over her wrist, then wrapped his other arm about her waist, wrenching her to him in an impromptu embrace. Even with his injured wrist, pinning her to him was all too easy, because she wasn’t prepared for it. He locked onto her wide eyes with his, whatever spell she thought she had over him lost in her sudden look of surprise.