A muscle spasm in her lower back made her grimace. The pain reminded her that they’d been maintaining a brisk, cramp-inducing pace for two hours. Even the bucolic views of grazing bison, shallow streams, and patches of wildflowers failed to distract her.
This journey would test her endurance like nothing else. Here in the raw heart of the west, dust seemed as common as air. Her gloves chafed, leading to the stinging birth of several blisters. More than once, she yearned for a hot bath and the downy comfort of her bed.
Thankfully, Logan ordered a brief rest at midday. Lucky for her, he seemed to be familiar with the local water spots. Tossing his dustcoat aside, he refilled their canteens in the thin stream. Violet knelt before it to splash her face and wash the grit from her hands.
While he watered the horses, she prepared a simple meal of dried meat and bread. As they ate in the scant shade of a pine tree, Logan explained that the Iron Scorpion had built his thick-walled fortress at the southern edge of the Laramie Mountain foothills. One road led to the fortress and provided the only access. In a short while, he told her, they would begin traveling parallel to the road until they reached the perimeter of the Iron Scorpion’s territory. From there, they would proceed on foot.
“Preferably under cover of darkness,” he added.
“When do you estimate we’ll reach his domain?” Violet asked.
Logan tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth. “About two hours to the outskirts,” he said, cheeks bulging.
Violet’s stomach jumped. She set down her piece of half-eaten jerky and reached for her canteen. “How do you propose that we breach the fortress’ defenses?”
Logan shrugged. “Improvise, I reckon.”
Violet nearly spit out her mouthful of water. There he goes again with the improvisation . She swallowed hastily. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that at all. It’s very inconclusive.”
“You got a better idea?”
“We should go in with guns blazing. Storm the castle, as it were.”
Logan shot her an incredulous look. “‘Guns blazing’? Where’d you hear that kind of nonsense?”
“Isn’t that how it’s done? It’s in practically every issue of…uhh…” Violet quickly shut her mouth. Her passion for adventure stories had vastly colored her perception of the true wild west. Of all people, she should have known that fact and fiction were two different beasts. There were times for allowing one’s imagination to run free, but Violet was learning that this wasn’t one of them.
“Every issue of what ?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” Feeling red-faced with embarrassment, she avoided his gaze. What an outrageous thing to say before an intrepid agent of undoubtedly extensive field experience. If she couldn’t trust in Logan’s expertise, their chances for success reverted to zero. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they were no closer to a formal rescue strategy. “Logan, all I’m trying to say is that we shouldn’t go in there without a plan.”
“Yeah, but sometimes that’s the best way a plan is born. Leastways, that’s been my experience.”
The uncertainty implied by his proposal worried her. Possessing a scientific nature, she was accustomed to more methodical, predictable approaches. Violet masked her fear with a glare. “Experience or not, there is insufficient data to support your conclusion.”
Logan glared right back. “Miss Whitcomb, if you don’t care for my ways, it’s not too late to turn back. Find yourself another partner.” He bit off a piece of jerky and glanced pointedly away.
The coldness permeating his voice cut into her with the sharpness of a blade. An awkward tension followed his threat. She understood, then, how awfully demanding she’d been acting. How shamefully needy. Most of her forwardness stemmed from anxiety about her father, but she knew there was also another, deeper reason.
Violet frowned as she twisted a piece of bread in her hands. Even though she was closely involved with her father’s groundbreaking project, she still lacked a meaningful connection with others. She knew plenty of people, like her father’s colleagues, but she couldn’t count a single friend among them.
Violet needed someone she could claim for her own. Incredibly, the missing piece in her life seemed to be sitting next to her. Despite the looming danger, she wanted nothing less than an exciting adventure with Logan.
And perhaps more.
She studied him closely. Even though his shoulders were hunched and his expression morose, he appeared every bit the dashing hero of her dreams. At the sight before her, the food slipped from her fingers. A frisson of warmth raced down her spine. Oh, my ….
Violet realized with startling conviction that she was falling in love with him. The scientist in her wrestled with decidedly unscientific emotions. Apparently, love knew neither convenient timing nor suitable circumstances.
Such an occurrence shouldn’t have been possible. Couldn’t be possible. Her own words came back to haunt her: the data was dreadfully insufficient.
But no matter how strong her feeling, the topic wasn’t an appropriate one to broach so soon, and certainly not now. Furthermore, Logan’s cavalier attitude about an impulsive foray into the Iron Scorpion’s domain still vexed her.
Yet she wasn’t sure how to communicate her concern without incurring his wrath. Worse yet, if she pushed him too far, he might leave altogether and strand her here. Unable to withstand the strain anymore, she attempted to calm the choppy waters between them. “No, another partner won’t be necessary.”
As a mountain-sized cloud formation swallowed the afternoon sun, they finished their meal in stony silence.
About twenty minutes later, Logan stood. He shrugged on his dustcoat. “Come on.” His eyes scanned the horizon. “We gotta keep moving.”
They resumed riding. The hours passed, and Violet’s overactive imagination sensed danger in every butterfly, every blade of grass. The once verdant terrain turned rockier, as though a giant had smashed a boulder beneath his foot, scattering its innards for miles around.
Soon, she began noticing other unsettling alterations in the landscape. At first, the differences were trivial, like the odd-shaped craters. Still, their sudden appearance made navigating the landscape much more treacherous. Other differences were more sinister in nature, like the emaciated corpses of dead animals. Curiously, they were devoid of the usual hordes of flies.
Violet shivered at each foreboding encounter. Was the Iron Scorpion responsible for these singular events?
They rode onward. When the sun finally surrendered its tenuous hold in the overcast sky, the three riders arrived at the edge of the Laramie Mountain foothills. About a quarter mile east, Violet caught a glimpse of the road leading to the fortress. The route was rough and uneven, like an old, puckered scar.
As they rounded the next hill, Violet gasped. A desecration of immeasurable proportions lay before them. Never in her life had she encountered such a blight.
An expanse of scorched, blackened earth stretched far and wide. A jagged line split the healthy grassland and corrupted soil like they’d been violently torn in half and bluntly sewn back together. Then the stench hit her. It lay thick in the air, like rotting entrails mixed with sulfur. Violet gagged. She held a hand to her face in an effort to stem the sickening odor, but quickly discovered the action was useless.
She coaxed her horse to a stop. What kind of experiments had caused this hideous destruction? She experienced a strong urge to assess the abnormalities surrounding her. Collect samples. Study them under a microscope. The sight was so terrible, so chaotic, and so against the natural order that it demanded a solution. She wanted to understand the mind responsible for such a crime against the land. Understand it so she could help defeat it once and for all.
Violet felt a light touch upon her arm. Logan had backtracked with Arthur and was now positioned on her right. He had a tortured look on his face. He pointed due north. She followed the line of his outstretched finger. The sight made her blanch.
Ri
sing from a dark, shadowy structure, a thick column of black smoke shot high into the air. It clogged the sky above like a nest of coiled snakes. Even from this distance, Violet could taste its tincture of menace and despair.
She turned to Logan. “What has he done to this place? It’s…it’s dreadful!”
“You get used to it,” Logan said, a resigned note in his voice. He gazed slowly around him. “Wyoming’s a paradise in its own way. This area was even more special…like it was born from an angel’s smile.” He frowned. “Didn’t take that bastard more’n a decade to reshape it into a twisted image of himself. Even the Arapaho avoid it.”
“Do you have any idea what kind of experiments he did here?”
He pushed his hat back and scratched at his hairline. “I couldn’t tell you for certain. But I’ve seen–heard about some strange things. Unusual lights, fires that lasted for weeks, bizarre contraptions that defy reality.” Logan sighed. “Maybe now you understand why I wasn’t too keen on that mechanical man of yours.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the surrounding landscape. “When I saw him for the first time, I imagined this, except a hundred times worse.”
Violet studied the desecration. She could hardly believe someone could bend science to such diabolical means, yet the evidence could not be denied.
“I see that now,” she said quietly. Logan had lost his entire family here, she reminded herself. He had nothing left to remember them by–not unless one counted the Iron Scorpion’s fortress. She squared her shoulders and sought Logan’s gaze once more. “But I assure you, my father and I are as different from the Iron Scorpion as night and day.” She cocked her head left. “And so is Arthur.”
“Maybe so. But from what I’ve seen, people have a way of destroying anything in their paths if it means they can get at another dollar or two. Including themselves.” Logan flicked his reins, forestalling further conversation. “We go on by foot from here.”
Without a backward glance, he guided them to a copse of withered trees nearby. Here, on the southern edge of the Iron Scorpion’s territory, several large hills blocked the eastern view of the road. Interestingly, the locale offered a fair amount of shielding from both the road and fortress. Once again, Violet wondered exactly how often Logan had traveled to this place.
After dismounting, they took a short break to eat and rest. Violet instructed Arthur to stand sentry on the eastern edge of the camp and raise his arm if anyone approached. In the time it took Violet to attend to her necessities, Logan had already removed the saddles and was rubbing down the horses.
Near the trees, a stream eked out a trickle of brackish water. Violet watched Logan tie the horses to the trees. The animals were next to the stream and could lower their heads for a drink. Patches of sparse grass would be their food. One whinnied, prompting Logan to stroke its mane and whisper a few quiet words in its ear. She walked toward him, admiring his steady, sure way with the animal.
He turned to Violet as she neared. “We’ll head out shortly after sunset.”
Violet glanced to the north. Only the plumes of black, turgid smoke were visible from their current position. Memories of the victimized animals they had passed flashed in her mind. She caught Logan’s arm. “Will the horses be safe here?”
Glaring, Logan swiftly pressed a finger against her lips.
Hearing the echoes of her voice ripple across the barren land, Violet realized she’d spoken loudly enough to wake the dead.
“Stealth,” she mouthed. As she spoke, the tip of her tongue flicked against his finger. The salty taste of his skin invigorated her, prompting a shudder to run through her body. She could tell by his penetrating gaze that she wasn’t doing an efficient job of hiding her emotions.
Or her desire.
Logan nodded. “Yeah, they’ll be safe enough.”
As his finger continued to press against her lips, Violet realized they were engaged in two different conversations: one using words–and an entirely different one with their eyes.
Logan’s gaze was now sharp with hunger and riveted to hers. In a bold move, he edged closer to her. Violet reveled in the warmth emanating from his body. Was it just her imagination, or did the man seem reluctant to pull away? She was sure her perception was sheer folly until his gaze dropped. With a feathery soft pressure, his finger began tracing her upper lip. Sharp heat bloomed out from his touch, flaring in her head, her heart, and in the deepest core of her. To her eternal delight, he began making another delicate pass, this time along her lower one.
The world went blank around her. Only Logan’s handsome face existed at that moment. Who was this enigmatic man? With the merest touch, he ignited the fire of her deepest, most raw cravings and they were in danger of burning out of her control. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to lick his finger or take it into her mouth. Perhaps one more small taste…
That’s when they heard the noise–a boom so intense, it resembled an explosion.
Startled, Violet clutched Logan. He pulled her close. They searched wildly around for the cause. Violet felt the tense coiling of his muscles, sensed him gathering his strength to face the oncoming threat. The sound faded but was replaced by a steady, low rumbling emanating from the east.
Violet broke out in a cold sweat. Who–or what–was upon them? Visceral terror swept through her body. Her fireside adventure stories had never achieved this kind of realism. She was completely unprepared for this latest development. Her head flooded with visions of malformed creatures tearing her to shreds, so she buried her face against Logan’s chest.
Her upper left arm began to hurt, prompting her to draw back. Logan had grasped her there tightly, and now held a finger against his lips for silence. Before his rock hard gaze, Violet nodded her understanding. Inside, shame ate away at her. She had panicked while Logan had maintained absolute composure in the face of danger. Calm yourself. There’s work to be done.
He placed his mouth at her ear. “Something’s coming up the road,” he whispered. “Heading north.”
Violet expelled an appreciative breath upon learning that for the moment they weren’t in mortal peril. But how much longer until the danger found them?
“I’m gonna check it out.” Logan gently but firmly detached himself from her grasp. “Go get your mechanical man,” he said quietly. He removed his dustcoat and tossed it behind some rocks. Squatting before the satchels, he began to gather extra firearms.
Violet picked up her skirts, trotted to where the automaton stood, and guided it back to camp.
Violet and Arthur stood still while Logan checked their guns, adjusted their holsters, and ensured they each had sufficient ammunition. He stuffed extra bullets into his pockets and strapped on a thigh sheath containing a dagger. Violet tapped his shoulder and motioned toward the steam gun with raised eyebrows. Logan shook his head. She pouted with disappointment but decided to trust his judgment.
Her trust withered, however, when he indicated with a pointed finger that she should remain at the camp with Arthur. “Nonsense, she whispered. “I’m coming with you.”
Logan shook his head violently.
Violet leaned closer, so close they were nose to nose. “We’re partners, remember? We’ll investigate together.”
He straightened to his full height, towering over her. “No.”
She dismissed his Alpha male territorial swagger with a wave of her hand. “Arguing is pointless. Every delay places my father in more danger.” Drawing her Schofield, she spun sharply about, skirts swishing, and began heading toward the road.
Without warning, Logan yanked her back. Holding both of her arms, he half-dragged her out of harm’s way. Once at the camp, Violet landed on her bottom with an “Oof!” Her legs splayed wide in a highly undignified manner. The Schofield slid from her grasp. When she started scrambling back to her feet, he blocked her with a hard shove to the ground. Violet matched him glare for glare.
Before she could challenge him again, he pinned her arms and positioned his mouth again
st her ear once more. “You’ll only slow me down,” he muttered. “Now don’t move until I return.”
Violet barely remembered the rule about stealth. “But–”
Once again, the stubble of his chin rasped her earlobe. “You hired me to do a job, so let me do it!”
She couldn’t deny the truth of his words nor the determination in his voice. Her father would need every second of time they could buy him, and she couldn’t allow her thirst for adventure to sabotage the mission. She tried not to think about what might happen if Logan didn’t return. Violet nodded.
Logan retrieved her Schofield. After a quick wipe against his thigh to remove the dust, he extended it to her. “Stay alert,” he murmured. “Whatever happens, keep hidden.”
She complied by crouching against a nearby boulder for cover. No matter how cool the air, her body temperature veered into hot, sticky territory. Dust tickled her throat without mercy, but she didn’t dare cough.
She motioned for Arthur. He strode toward her with smooth precision. She instructed him to kneel behind her. The automaton’s bulky, solid presence reassured her immensely.
Thus emboldened, she peered above the rock. Logan was heading for one of the nearby hills at a quick run. Like a lion on the hunt, he advanced up the hill. Just before the crown, he dropped to his belly and crawled his way to the top. He laid there for a long time.
Violet listened hard. Over the rumbling sound, she heard a series of pops and hisses, like a band of musicians stomping on their instruments instead of playing them. She stared at Logan’s prone form. What did he see?
Seconds later, he turned and rolled beyond the crest, disappearing from view. Now she was alone. All alone, except for–
Gunshots!
Three of them split the air in quick succession. Violet tightened her grip on the Schofield as she slid down and pressed against the boulder. Who had fired? Was Logan hurt? Her mind ran amok with speculation. Deep gulps of breath did little to stem the tide of panic. Calm. Calm. Stay calm.
Iron Guns, Blazing Hearts Page 9