The Oilman's Daughter

by Allison M. Dickson

  Jessie sighed. “I’ll do my best. I weren’t never much of a chemist, but he kept a lot of notes, and I can keep those safe for the right people. You dropped out of the sky onto our farm for a reason, and I think Daddy would have agreed.” She turned to Phinneas, who had just finished unloading the gondola. “And what about you, Space Man? You going to come back afterward, too?”

  Phinneas shrugged. “Can’t say I will. I belong up in the Big Black. Ye don’t want a bloke like me hangin’ around.”

  She turned away. “You ain’t half as bad as you think.” Her voice was so soft it almost disappeared in the hum of the dirigible fans.

  Phinneas’ reply was equally quiet. “Maybe I’ll come by sometime.”

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek, and the three men boarded the dirigible. The cabin was spare, with only the thinnest of padding over the lightweight aluminum seats. Dirty cotton batting lined the bulkheads, doing dual work as insulation and noise reduction. Nevertheless, Jonathan didn’t think it helped all that much, for he could barely hear Porter at all over the roar of the fans and hiss of the boiler to the aft.

  “Strap yourselves in, gentlemen,” shouted Porter. “We’ll have a rough ride to Kansas City.” He pointed to the gathering clouds over the fields. “There’s a storm coming.”

  Somehow, Jonathan didn’t think he was referring solely to the weather.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Phinneas watched the burnt wreckage of the Clay farm grow smaller as Porter took the derry up and away toward Kansas City. What a bloody mess they’d left behind. After twenty years of pillaging and marauding, it seemed guilt and grief had become staples in his emotional arsenal. He just hoped it wouldn’t make him as useless as damp gunpowder when the next battle arose. Even as the derry fans roared in his head, the memory of Jessie screaming for her dead father was louder. It reminded him of his own dad’s murder at the hands of a loan shark when Phinneas was twelve. Unpaid gambling debts had hung over his family like a cloud, and was what eventually drove Phinneas into his own dark line of work. But unlike old Vincent Greaves, Grant Clay had been a good and honest man who’d put his wits to good use helping his family and neighbors. He had deserved a good and honest death, not being blown up in his own yard by a bunch of thugs.

  He was surprised Jessie hadn’t shot him dead for vengeance. If she’d asked, he would have handed her the gun himself and taken his punishment fair and square. But that family was made of better stuff than he. Even though he didn’t think he was worthy of their mercy, he’d make sure Jessie’s grace and mercy wasn’t wasted.

  Orbital stood behind Porter in the pilot’s chair, but it was obvious he was favoring his left hip. “How badly are ye injured, lad?”

  Jonathan glanced at Phinneas for a second before turning back. “I’m fine.”

  “Give it to me straight, boy. Ye did good back there and I no longer doubt yer valor, but ye ain’t gonna be of much use to us with a limp like that. Is it bad or not?”

  Orbital sighed. “The shotgun kicked back into my hip when I fired from the ground. It isn’t broken. It’s just sore. I’ll be fine. Now keep your eyes to the ground. She’s down there somewhere.” As if to prove his point, he changed position to stand squarely, dividing his weight evenly between both feet.

  Phinneas had spent enough time around men who were unwilling to mention injuries that he could tell it hurt Jonathan to put on such a show. He wouldn’t embarrass the boy further by calling attention to it, but he would keep an eye on his gait nonetheless. It was part of a captain’s duties, and even if he wasn’t the captain of this particular vessel, old habits never died.

  “I’m watchin’ for her, but none of them carriages on the roadway down there look much like the one she’s in. For all we know, they ain’t even makin’ for Kansas City. There are a lot of points on the compass.”

  “They have to be.” Jonathan raised his voice. “That’s where the rail is, as well as all the airship docks. If they’re going to smuggle her somewhere, they’ve got to use more than a damned steam carriage!” He stamped his foot in impatience and his face went pale from the pain.

  Porter looked back at his employer. “If you like, sir, I can examine it for you. I’m experienced in treating field injures. Mr. Greaves, I can also take a look at any of the wounds you have.”

  “That’s kind of you, Jefferson. I think we’re both fine. A little beaten up, but at least we’re alive, which is more I can say for Grant Clay.” He cleared his throat. “This is why it is imperative we find Cecilie. If we lose her, then Clay’s work may never get off the ground. Those responsible will not escape with their lives, I can tell you that.”

  For once, Phinneas agreed with the man, but he had a feeling that Orbital’s motivations went much deeper. Whatever the two of them had done in Kansas City, it was clear he thought of her as much more than a girl with an oil refining process. His infatuation had probably been the reason he dove into this mess in the first place. The thought of the two of them together both angered and mystified him a little. Jonathan had stars in his eyes, and they were blinding him to her manipulations. If the boy had seen the way she had tricked Phinneas in the stovepipe, or even back in the grotto, when she’d been tied to the bed, he might see Miss Renault a bit differently.

  But Phinneas was the last person in the world who would be able to convince him, and if any notion of courting the lass kept him going for now, he would continue to be valuable. Phinneas just had to make sure the hot-headed lover boy wasn’t going to rush headlong into an unwinnable fight and get them all killed.

  “I think I see smoke!” Orbital cried. “Right ahead, maybe a quarter mile off the road. Jefferson, slow down if you can.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Phinneas peered in the direction Orbital was pointing. A black smudge of smoke rose lazily into the sky. He found a telescope lying in front of Porter and used it. He recognized the carriage, or at least pieces of it, from the Grant farm. Several dead men lay around it, bloodied in their heads or chests. A couple of them were Arabs, judging by the head scarves. That was interesting.

  “What do you see?” Orbital asked. He sounded like he was about to lose his lid. “Is she down there?”

  “Nay, lad, I don’t see her,” Phinneas said.

  “Give me that!” Orbital snatched the telescope from Phinneas’ hand and put it to his eye. It took every ounce of restraint Phinneas possessed not to clock him one. “I don’t see her, but she could still be amid the wreckage. Jefferson, take us down.”

  “Already on it, sir.”

  “I’m tellin’ ye, she ain’t down there.”

  Orbital glared at him. “Oh yeah? How would you know?”

  “Bloody hell! Do ye really think the ones who shot them bastards would’ve left her for dead, what with everyone in the known universe tryin’ to kidnap her? Quit thinkin’ with yer pecker and use that lump of overcooked gruel ye call a brain. There’s dead Arabs down there. They had themselves a fight, and the Texans lost. She’s changed hands.”

  Orbital closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself. “You’re right, Captain Greaves. Cooler heads prevail, as they say. Now how do you suppose they ambushed them?”

  Phinneas already had an idea, but Porter spoke up first. “Had to be someone in a derry, sir. We would have spotted another carriage or ground vehicle from this vantage point.”

  Phinneas took back the telescope. “I’ll see if I can find out.” He scanned the horizon in the direction of Kansas City, but he knew he wouldn’t see anybody. The people they were after weren’t heading east. He looked to the south and saw exactly what he’d expected to see: a large dirigible going much faster than their own little puffer could.

  “Bugger me for a blind monkey’s uncle. Turn south, Mister Porter. Looks like our kidnappers have a different destination in mind.”

  “What? What do you see?” Jonathan asked. “And why are they heading away from KC?”

  “Because they’re goin’
to Houston,” said Phinneas.

  “Houston? But why?”

  He went easy on the lad, given how much they’d just been through. It was tough to put two and two together with a rattled brain. “Because they’ve got to get her back up into the Big Black. It’s the fastest way to the Middle East.”

  Jonathan’s eyes widened. “Of course! And they will take the first car up the well at Roosevelt.”

  “Aye. We already know they’ve got themselves Fultons.”

  “Which means they’ll be halfway around the world before we catch them. If we catch them.” Jonathan drew himself up to his full height, even though he winced at the pain in his hip. “It’s them and people like you who have brought this trouble into so many lives. Why do men feel the need to steal what isn’t rightfully theirs?”

  Phinneas laughed. “Aye, and men of business such as yerself and yer father are so lily white and innocent, are ye? How many thousands have ye all exploited over the years, all in the name of makin’ an easy buck? What, just because it’s legal on paper? Don’t kid yerself.”

  Jonathan’s face reddened. “Don’t you dare try to compare us. We’re nothing alike. I’m in this to save her. You’re in it for the money. How much do you stand to make for the price of Cecilie’s head, anyway?”

  Phinneas knew a good goading when he saw one. He leaned down into Orbital’s face and narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, lad. Was she crazy in bed? I got that sense about her when she kissed me, but then I realized I didn’t want me willy in a steel trap and wised up fast. You might want to do the same.”

  Jonathan rushed at Phinneas, grabbing his shirt and slamming him against the wall of the cupola, where a stronger man could have easily thrown him out the open window. Phinneas pushed him off and righted himself, just as Porter spun around in his seat. “Sir!” The butler ran over to protect Jonathan.

  “Stay out of this, Jefferson. The pirate has had it coming from day one, and I plan to deliver it myself.” He raised his fists and assumed a competent enough boxing stance that Phinneas’ trained eye could find at least half a dozen ways to break.

  Phinneas barked laughter. “Did they teach ye how to fight in finishin’ school?”

  Jonathan tried for a left hook, but Phinneas was prepared for it. He caught Orbital’s fist in his left hand and delivered a quick right cross to his nose. Jonathan pitched backward, crashing into Porter, blood squirting from his nostrils. Phinneas didn’t think he’d broken the bone, but it would swell and ugly up his mug a bit, and that was just fine.

  “I told ye I’d pay ye back, didn’t I?”

  “That’s quite enough, Captain Greaves!” Porter lowered Jonathan gently to the floor and pressed his handkerchief to his master’s spouting nose. “Both of you need to stop this now! Sir, we won’t be able to rescue Miss Renault if we’re all fighting each other.”

  Jonathan was silent for a few minutes as Porter’s handkerchief stanched the worst of the flow of blood from his nose. “Thank you, Jefferson. You may return to steering us on course for Houston.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to have to come back here again to break up another fight.”

  “Yes, Jefferson, I am sure. We are prepared to act civilized. At least, I am.”

  Porter crossed his arms and glared at Phinneas. “Fine, yes, I’ll behave meself. Great Willy Wright’s ghost,” Phinneas muttered.

  Porter glanced between the two of them for a few seconds before returning to the pilot’s seat. Orbital sat with the cloth on his nose for a few more minutes, although Phinneas was quite sure it had stopped. He leaned against the wall and sagged down to the floor opposite him, a lot more battle weary than he’d realized. There was less satisfaction in punching Orbital than he’d expected. It had been a little like stepping on a desperate kitten. Jesus, he was going soft.

  “It ain’t broken, is it?”

  Orbital shook his head and winced. “I don’t think so. But it was a good punch. I suppose I deserved it.”

  Phinneas didn’t disagree. The two men sat in silence as the airship’s fans droned on. He was just about to drift off to sleep when Jonathan spoke again. “She came back to the Clay farm for you. She also called for your help when the men grabbed her. I think it’s clear she prefers you.” There was no accusation in his voice this time. He just sat there staring into his lap. His nose had indeed quit bleeding, but his nostrils and septum were outlined with a red crust.

  Phinneas sighed and squirmed uncomfortably where he sat. Now he understood what Orbital’s little outburst had been about, but that didn’t make it much easier to deal with. Matters of the heart were not a strong suit, but it seemed Orbital needed some sort of response, so his tired brain worked to think of one. He hadn’t heard Cecilie call for him at the farm, so that was a surprise. Why had she done so? Could Orbital have a point? Maybe the lass did feel something for him. Nay. It couldn’t be that. She hated him, and he wanted nothing to do with her, even if she did have the guts and steel of a pirate. He could easily see her commanding her own ship. A whole fleet of them, actually, but that was beside the point. “Look, lad. She probably called out for me because I was the one she’d most like to see get shot tryin’ to save her. Don’t let it bother ye.”

  “Did she really kiss you?”

  “It weren’t romantic, boy. Trust me. It was all a distraction so she could escape. She ain’t got any eyes for me.” And she might not for Orbital either, but the boy was determined to learn the hard way.

  He actually seemed to lighten up a little bit at that, looking at Phinneas with the sort of shining eyes one might see on a tortured dog who had a fighting chance at table scraps. “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate that.”

  “Aye. Now can we cut out this mushy crap?”

  Orbital grinned. “Sure, okay.”

  Phinneas caught a flash of light to the derry’s starboard. When he looked out through the windows, all he could see beneath the disappearing curve of the airbag’s underside was a wall of dark, roiling clouds. Lightning flickered between cloud nodes and rain streaks blurred beneath them. “That’s a nasty looking storm, Mister Porter. Do ye have enough steam to outrun it?”

  “I believe so, Captain Greaves, but truth be told, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near Kansas City when it hits. I’m glad we’re heading south. Lucky for us the wind’s shifted as the front approaches, so we’ve got us a fine tail wind pushing us along the edge of the storm front. Long as I keep her nose pointed in the right direction, I don’t believe we’ll run into anything except some turbulence.”

  Phinneas nodded. “So ye were in the Air Army?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “See a lot of action in Africa durin’ the War?”

  “Yes, sir. Mostly over Egypt. I started out copiloting a bomber and towards the end was piloting a fourteen-gun escort.” His smile grew fond with the memories. “I loved that airship. I could set her down on a dime and still give you nine cents change.”

  Phinneas grinned. “Very good. If ye ever wish for a change of career, I think ye’d make a fine helmsman on a Fulton.”

  “On your ship?”

  Phinneas’ good humor evaporated. “Nay, I’m a captain without a ship at the moment.” Dismayed all over again at the loss of his Ethershark, he plopped down onto a seat in a huff.

  They rode in silence for a few more minutes, and Phinneas was sure there wasn’t going to be any more talk when Jonathan said, “Jessie Grant seemed to have a special place for you.”

  Phinneas raised his hands in exasperation. “Oh fer the love o’ Tesla! Why do ye care?”

  “You’ve been forcing me to fight like a pirate, and I suppose I feel it’s my duty to make you behave more like a normal human.”

  “More like a besotted human who can’t think straight, ye mean?”

  Jonathan appeared to think for a moment. “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

  Phinneas, who had done more than his share of reading,
recognized the quote. “Since when do ye go around spoutin’ quotes from Chinese philosophers?”

  “I’m a learned man, as I imagine you are. Lao Tzu was also a bit of an anarchist, so I figured he was more your taste.”

  Phinneas laughed, and a little of the tension around his shoulders started to let up. He stretched out his legs and leaned back against the wall. If they were heading to Houston, they’d have to spend a good bit of time in this airbag, and he intended to get some sleep along the way.

  “Aye, I suppose Jessie’s a fine lass. Strong and good. Too good for the likes o’me, though.”

  “Well, I happen to think you’re a good match. Don’t count yourself out just yet, Captain Greaves. I’ve seen far worse men on this trip, so I think I can make a fair judgment.”

  Phinneas bristled at the words. He was tired of being told he was a decent man. His whole life, he’d been convinced he knew exactly the kind of person he was. A brute, a thief, a merciless killer when the situation called for it. Sure, he could be fair and honorable, but only in the context of his chosen profession. He’d known love once or twice in his life, but those lasses had eventually seen him for what he truly was. Jessie would as well, given time.

  But mostly, if given the choice to settle down with a woman on Big Blue, or heading back to space with a ship at his command, there would be no choice to make. There wasn’t a place on this rock for him, and any time spent thinking otherwise after half a lifetime of exile was a waste of his time. He shook his head. “Enough of the lovey dovey chatter. I’d rather see if we can get out of this fix with our heads still attached first.”

  Jonathan nodded and leaned back against the opposite wall. “Good point, Captain. I suppose we should take whatever chance we have to rest up.”