Jessie's War (Civil War Steam)

by Connors, Meggan

  He needed to forget his own, too.

  She crossed her arms across her chest and squared her shoulders. “The night, you mean. You leave today.”

  With the knife he held in his hand, he made a vague gesture at the gray, sooty landscape outside the window. “I think we’re snowed in, Jess. I can’t imagine I’m going anywhere.”

  She didn’t bother to follow his gaze. “You’re going to have to try. You’re not welcome here.”

  He’d suspected that the moment he’d walked through her door, though the words cut. What he’d wanted, all those things he would have done if circumstances had been different, didn’t matter. If he was lucky, he’d one day get the chance to explain his long absence to her. If he wasn’t, then all the reasons in the world wouldn’t make a bit of difference.

  He forced a devil-may-care grin and tried to cajole her as he’d cajoled her mother all those years ago. In those days, Jessie had always had his back. “Oh, come now, what would the ancestors say about that?”

  “Don’t mock my ancestors. If they had any sense, they’d applaud my judgment.”

  “That’s no way to talk about one’s ancestors. I’m sure yours are a sensible lot.” He motioned to the scarred but sturdy kitchen table, where he’d once sat as a welcomed guest with her family. “Why don’t you sit down? Breakfast is ready.”

  “Is it poisoned?”

  For some reason, her question reminded him of all the times he’d teased her while sitting at this same table. Remind her of those times. Get her to trust you. She’s just an asset.

  But she wasn’t, and never would be.

  He pushed the thought away. “I suspect if anyone here was gonna be poisoned, it wouldn’t be you. I’m told it’s bad form to poison my ‘generous benefactor,’ so it wasn’t something I planned. I suppose if you have some handy, I could oblige. I hear arsenic goes quite well with eggs, and you once told me it’s plentiful in these parts.”

  “Eggs with a side of arsenic. Sounds divine and it would serve me right for taking you in.”

  “I guess it’s too bad I didn’t think about it,” he said. The laughter he allowed to filter into his words wasn’t entirely disingenuous. He had always liked her fire. The plate clanked loudly against the table as he placed it in front of her. He took a seat across from her and appraised her for a moment. “Eat. You look thin.”

  Her eyes shone with wary irritation, and she made no move to take up the fork he placed in front of her. “For Christ’s sake.” He leaned over to take some eggs from her plate. “See?” he asked around a mouthful of food. “Not poisoned.”

  As if mocking him with her slowness, she leaned forward and took an overly cautious bite.

  “Nice, Jess.” They ate in silence for a few moments. “You look pretty.”

  Her expression shuttered, the teasing he’d seen in her eyes disappearing. Her lips tightened, and she pushed her plate away. “This helps the white folk remember who I am. Has nothing to do with you.”

  He stayed silent for a long time, waiting for her to go on.

  She kept her eyes locked on the wall behind his head. “People stay away if they think I’m like my grandfather. After Pop died in that mine collapse—oh, right, you weren’t here for that—I figured it was best. This way, I know whoever comes to my door isn’t here for a social call.”

  Any light he felt just from finally being in the same room with her after all these years darkened. “You got trouble here, Jess?” The gruffness of his voice surprised even him.

  She made a movement of her shoulders that wasn’t quite a shrug. “These are troubled times. Nothing to concern you.”

  Her words left him feeling strangely helpless, and he shoved the thought away before the desire to act consumed him. He deserved whatever guilt she decided to lay on him. “What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle. Been doing things alone for a long time, now. One thing I do know is that you’re not here just to say hello. So why come all this way? Why now?”

  He’d hoped to avoid this topic for a little while longer, but it was clear that the trust he’d hoped to earn wasn’t in the cards. Seemed he brought her nothing but pain.

  “I brought you Gideon’s letter.”

  She brushed something from her dress, and he didn’t miss the way her hands shook. “You could have sent it in the post. That’s what Hiram does, and his letters get here just fine. You didn’t need to come.”

  He shoveled food in his mouth, trying not to think of the way she’d said Hiram with a fondness the man didn’t merit. When he was done, he gestured to her plate. “You gonna eat that?”

  “Be my guest.” She passed the plate over to him. “What are you doing here, Bradshaw?”

  Bradshaw, she said, as if he didn’t even deserve to be called by his first name, and maybe he didn’t. Maybe she’d thought him a ghost when he showed up on her porch last night, that first moment she’d seen him and whispered his name. Some fool part of him had hoped it meant she still cared.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Figured as much.” Her voice was sharp. “I can’t imagine you would come back for me.”

  He couldn’t meet her eyes as he picked up their plates and deposited them in the sink. He’d wondered about the day when he would come back into her life, but he never thought it would be like this.

  It didn’t matter. She was different now. Hell, he was so different he didn’t recognize himself anymore.

  “Funny you bring up Hiram Andersen,” he began. “I came here because of him.”

  Her dark eyes widened, her brows drawing together. “You’ve seen him?”

  “No. I was wondering if you had.”

  She looked away. “Nope.”

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “Wouldn’t tell you if I had.”

  He’d made a mistake in coming here first. He should have talked to the sheriff, questioned her friends. Maybe gone to the paper. Figured out who she’d become in his time away. If he’d been less concerned about reaching her, and more concerned about the task at hand, he would have done just that.

  Moving a chair next to her, he sat down, so close his knee brushed against her thigh. He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away.

  She wasn’t the girl he remembered. He could do what needed to be done. This Jessie and his Jessie were two different people.

  “Jess. If you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in something, you need to tell me.”

  “Just what do you think I’ve been doing since you’ve left?”

  He grinned. “Raising hell, I imagine.”

  “Don’t be vulgar, Bradshaw,” she chastised.

  “Beg pardon. It wasn’t meant to be vulgar.” He leaned back in his chair, allowing them some space. “Be honest. Have you heard from Hiram? He’s missing, and we really need to find him.”

  Jessie buried her face in her hands. “How long has he been gone?” Her voice shook.

  “A few weeks.” He tried to shut down the compassion he felt for her. Failed.

  “What kind of trouble is he in?” She asked the question as if she didn’t know.

  Luke hoped she didn’t, for both their sakes. “We’d just really like to find him.”

  “You can’t expect me to tell you anything if you’re going to lie. Who’s we? Who are you, Luke Bradshaw?”

  “I’m the same man I’ve always been.” He wanted that to be enough for her.

  “I’m not sure that’s helping your case.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it would.” He pulled his badge from his pocket and handed it to her. She held it for a moment without looking down, but when she did, her eyes widened.

  “Special Services Branch?” She traced over the words engraved on the badge with her thumb, the hint of a smile curving her lips.

  Pride swelled in his chest.

  Seconds later, the smile vanished. “You found the time to do this, but lacked the time to put a stamp on an envel
ope. Fascinating.”

  “I said I was sorry. I can’t offer you anything more. You’ll either forgive me or you won’t, but I won’t be begging you to offer me your pardon. Don’t need it that bad.”

  “Good thing, because you won’t be getting it.”

  Luke fought to keep his expression neutral. If he let her get to him now, he’d never get the answers he needed. “That’s fine. Doesn’t mean I don’t need answers to my questions.” He let the words hang between them for a moment. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re worried for Hiram’s safety. There was a lot of blood in his house.”

  Her hand flew to her throat. “Who’d want to hurt poor, defenseless Hiram?”

  Defenseless Hiram, indeed. If she only knew. Hell, compared to Hiram, Luke looked like a saint. Hiram was greedy and clever and as mean a snake when it came to getting what he wanted. As Luke had dug into his disappearance, one thing had become certain: though Hiram hadn’t done the dirty work himself, there was blood on his hands. A lot of it.

  “That’s part of the reason why I’m here,” Luke said. “We would like to find out.”

  “You came all the way out here from Chicago to tell me about Hiram?”

  “No. I came all the way out here to find out if you knew what he was doing. I need find out how involved you are.”

  She pushed back from the table, and her chair teetered and nearly fell over when she stood. “Involved in what?” When he didn’t answer her, she sighed. “Why would I know anything about what’s Hiram’s doing? I haven’t heard much from him since Pop died. It’s been months.” She went to the sink, braced her arms on the counter, and stared out her window.

  Luke looked past her, following her gaze. Outside, sooty snow covered a landscape dotted by the stumps of pinion pines the miners had cut to use as supports for their mineshafts. The air was heavy with a constant onslaught of ash and sulfur from the smelters. Dirty clouds had settled against the barren mountainsides, blotting out the sunlight and creating a false sense of twilight.

  Nothing lived here anymore.

  So why did she?

  She stiffened when he came up behind her. He hesitated for a moment before placing a hand between her shoulder blades. The warmth of her skin beneath her buckskin dress seared him as surely as flames would. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t.”

  He leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “You’re wrong if you think I don’t care. Things are complicated.”

  “Complicated,” she echoed. “So when old Hiram went missing, you thought you’d drop by and ask me about him yourself? Long trip for nothing. Seems like a lot of effort for a man who couldn’t be bothered to write, who didn’t come back for Gideon’s funeral—or Pop’s. You didn’t need to come back for Hiram. You could’ve had the sheriff ask your questions for you. I see him often enough.”

  “I wanted to, Jess. It’s not as simple as you make it sound.”

  Everything was so damn complicated. He couldn’t offer her anything more than that. She wouldn’t trust him until he told her the truth, and he couldn’t do that.

  Finally, pushing off the counter, he motioned to the sitting room. “Why don’t we sit down so we can talk?”

  He walked away, certain she would follow. The Jessie he remembered would let her curiosity get the better of her.

  She pushed past him and took a seat in her father’s overstuffed chair. The cushions seemed to swallow her frame as she tucked her feet up underneath her. So small and fragile, and he fought hard to resist protecting her from the pain his words would surely bring.

  A noise like the booming of distant cannons filled the air, and Luke flinched. His hand on the weapon at his hip, he went to the window and moved aside the curtains, scanning the skies for Confederate shells, fighting the need to pick Jessie up and take her underground, where she would be safe.

  “Been gone a long time if you don’t remember the sound of the ore crushers,” she said softly. “Wind must be coming from the east, if they’re this loud all the way out here.”

  She was right. He’d been at war for so long, he’d immediately assumed artillery, and hadn’t remembered the booming of the ore processors that operated night and day here.

  He let the curtain fall, and sat facing her. “What can you tell me about Hiram’s work?”

  She stared at a spot behind his head. “Not a whole lot. He went to Chicago finish work something they were working on right before Pop died.”

  “He told you he was in Chicago?”

  Her eyes widened, but only for a second. “That’s where his letters come from.”

  “Do you know what the invention was?”

  Please say no. Let me believe you when you do.

  “It was in the early stages.” Her hands were folded primly in her lap, but the knuckles had turned white.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope, you don’t know, or nope, you didn’t answer my question?”

  “Both.”

  “Would you tell me if you did know?”

  “Nope.”

  He had to laugh. “At least you’re honest.”

  She shook her head, and her still-red eyes suddenly looked a little glassy. “I’m not discussing my father, or anyone else in my family, with you. Pop never let us talk about his work, even if we knew what it was. Most of the time, it was jumbled numbers and scribbled notes no one but him could understand. You wasted your time coming here.”

  Luke ran his hands through his hair. She was hiding something. He drew a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes briefly. This wasn’t turning out as he had hoped, but he wasn’t even sure what he had expected. “Look, Jess, I never thought you’d welcome me with open arms, but I didn’t think you’d refuse to help Hiram—and yourself—out of a bad situation.”

  “If you wanted a warmer reception, you should have come home sooner.” She was quiet for a moment. “I want to help Hiram, but I don’t know you anymore. I’ve already been asked, ‘What were they working on? Would you sell your father’s papers? Did he work only in his lab in town, or did he work from home?’“ Her voice dropped an octave or two as she mocked her interrogators. “I’ve already been asked these questions. If I wouldn’t talk to them, why would I tell you? They, at least, offered to pay me. You ask me to give up my father’s secrets for free.”

  Someone had come here before him, asking about her father’s inventions? This situation was becoming more dangerous by the second, and, judging from Jessie’s expression, she had no idea.

  “Who else has been here?” he asked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “I would, actually.” Though anxiety dogged him, he kept his voice bland. He forced himself to view her as a potential suspect in a case, to keep this exchange in perspective.

  She ticked off the names and the positions on her fingers. “The sheriff. Mr. Worthington, from the paper. Mackey and Fitzpatrick.”

  “The miners?”

  “As if there are any others. My father’s formula for refining the blue silver would make them a fortune, if they made it cheaper and sold to anyone. Think of what the Confederates could do if they didn’t have to rely on black market suppliers. Imagine the fleet of airships they could build.” Their eyes locked. “Who else? Hiram tried to get me to sell a couple of times. A couple of others did, too.”

  Luke put a hand up to stop her. “Wait. Hiram wanted to buy your father’s papers from you? Didn’t he have access to all of your father’s notes?”

  “Not his private ones,” she said.

  “There were things your father kept from Hiram?”

  “There were things my father kept from everyone.”

  Luke nodded slowly. Then there was still hope, for her and for all of them. “Would you let me look at your father’s papers?”

  “No.”

  “I can get a warrant.”

  “Then go get one.”

  He leaned forward and
rested his elbows on his knees. “I don’t think you appreciate the seriousness of your situation, Jessie.”

  Narrowed eyes appraised him. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  When Luke next spoke, he chose his words carefully. “The government thinks Hiram’s been bilking them. He promised an invention that could change the course of this war months ago. I don’t have the specifics. I’m not sure anyone does. He’s been accepting payments made to your father’s company for months, only there’s no invention and the inventor’s missing. Unless you’ve taken over?”

  She shook her head, denying all or part of it. “No. You’re lying.”

  “Have you been getting money from Hiram?” he asked.

  She toyed with the turquoise beads on her dress. “I…”

  The fear in her voice, the nervous gestures, told him he nearly had her. “You need to come clean now. If there’s no invention, you’ll need to give the money back. I can only help you if you let me. You need to tell me the truth.”

  She shook her head again, this time with more force. “No. No. There must be some mistake.”

  “Hiram’s been paid a king’s ransom for an invention he hasn’t produced. Was there an invention at all?”

  “You know Pop. There was always an invention.”

  He acknowledged her comment with a single nod. “Where’s the money going?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Where’s the money?”

  “I told you, I don’t know! All I get is royalties for the blue silver. Hiram has always taken care of the money. He always said we wouldn’t understand the inner workings of the company, and Pop never cared for the business end of things. When he died, I offered to take over the books, but…” She trailed off. Her brows drew toward one another and her lips pursed.

  “He’s cheating you, too.”

  She shook her head and held up a hand to keep him from saying more. “I’m not saying that. You know how men are—I’m sure he thought I wouldn’t understand the way he kept the books.”

  “You’re the daughter of a brilliant inventor. He’s been bilking you, Jessie.”