by Nico Rosso
She smiled, showing her mean streak. It warmed him.
But this wasn’t going to be as simple as taking her in his arms and waltzing the two of them to the machine, stealing whatever was in those crates and spinning away. Two guards with shotguns walked opposite paths on this side of the machine, crisscrossing in the middle.
Her smile wavered. “They must’ve trained you for something like this in the Army.”
“They couldn’t teach me anything I didn’t already know from giving your parents the slip.”
It had been a long night, and the two Whisperers showed some signs of fatigue. Their heels dragged a bit in the dirt. The rotary shotguns looked extra heavy in their hands. “I’ll wait after they cross, then go straight to the machine. Should give me enough time to get some crates open before they double back. Once they split again, I’m out of there.”
“I ain’t just going to sit here knitting,” she objected.
“You’re keeping watch.”
“I’m coming.” It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.
It would be like trying to argue with the sun, telling it not to set in the west. “You slide under the machine to keep watch, I’ll go behind the crates on top. When they cross again, we’re running back to this tree.”
“I’ll go to the crates on top, too.”
“Not enough room. The work on the other side’s making noise to cover our tracks, but I don’t want to push it.”
“But if—”
He cut her off. Their timing was slipping away as the guards moved. “Unless the sheriff has snuck into Hapsburg artillery camps and busted into their ammo crates without waking anyone, I think she should stick to lookout for this operation.”
“Next time I get to go to the crates.”
“That’s a deal.”
The guards crossed on their patrol. He gave them a few paces, then nodded to Rosa. The sound of the men clanging on the metal treads at the front of the machine masked Tom and Rosa’s footsteps. She reached the side of the machine and slid underneath, completely disappearing in the shadows.
Tom grabbed a wood slat at the edge of the device and vaulted up and among the crates. A quick glance to each side told him the guards weren’t alerted to their presence. He had only a few moments to grab what he could. Men milled around the interior of the machine, creaking the floorboards with their steps, but there were no doors in this area, so no one could sneak up behind him.
Leather and canvas straps bound the crates to the wooden floor. Working as quietly as he could, he unfastened the latches and eased the lids open. He slipped just his fingers inside and almost hollered with delight. Opening the lid a little higher, he pulled out a satchel full of dynamite sticks.
He slung the satchel over his shoulder and checked the next crate as the guards made their turns at the far ends of the mining machine. Just a few more seconds. The second crate had several metal tanks full of tetrol and he hauled one out just before the sound would reach the guards.
Then he had to wait. Somewhere below him, Rosa hid in the shadows. God, he hoped she was safe down there. If it turned into a gunfight this close to the machine and all the Whisperers, there’d be little chance of escaping with their lives. At least Rosa would get out alive—he’d die making sure of that.
Tension coiled tighter around him as someone started to wind a hand-cranked generator. The sound came from inside the machine, like the scream of an approaching lost soul. There was trouble coming. Tom didn’t want him and Rosa to be stuck there when it revealed itself. The Whisperers finally crossed, not more than seven feet in front of him. But he still had to wait. Damn it, he had to get Rosa away from the machine.
The generator hummed at full power. What was coming? The guards took a few more steps, opening the opportunity for Tom and Rosa’s exit. He leapt off the machine, landing next to her as she broke cover in a dead sprint for the trees.
Just as they reached the closest oak, the power from the generator kicked in. The whole perimeter of the mining machine lit up with glaring quartz lamps. Harsh yellow light knifed into the forest. The guards looked a hell of a lot more awake, scanning the area with their glass-goggled eyes. Someone darted among the crates, knowing they’d been tampered with.
“Best not linger,” Tom said, trying to catch his breath.
Rosa nodded her agreement. They rushed deeper into the trees, using the dark shadows between the yellow light as their paths.
There was no sound of pursuit. An almost giddy feeling seemed to pick Tom up and lift him faster away. Rosa was with him step for step. He handed her the metal tank of tetrol. The artificial light made her victorious smile glow like a wicked forest demon’s.
They slid to a stop by the Sky Charger, where he quickly replaced the catalyst pin. It hummed to life, ready to fly. The tetrol reservoir was full enough, but the extra wouldn’t hurt. He took the tank from Rosa and lashed it to the side of the charger.
She fingered through the canvas satchel over his shoulder. “I was hoping to get my hands on some TNT.”
“Evens the odds a little.”
They were both riding high. He felt her energy, active and ready. It was better than any of the late-night hijinks they’d pulled off before. And it was a hell of a lot more rewarding to work with her than any of the cavalry soldiers he knew. There was no stopping him. He drew her into his arms and leaned down to kiss her.
She didn’t fight him. Tilting her head up, she met his kiss. They shared quick breaths for a moment, then pulled apart. A new purple light filtered into the forest, revealing the heat in her eyes.
“Careful.” His voice was a rasp as he tried to control his own emotion. “We’ll set this TNT off.”
She licked her lips, and he wanted to fly them off to the moon so they could be absolutely alone for a year or two. “Not yet.”
It felt like they were both holding onto a lit stick of dynamite, not knowing how long the fuse was. He would’ve loved to see where the blast took them, if not for the Crandall bastards still intent on taking Thornville.
“Ain’t going to have too many places to hide now,” he said, glancing at the brightening sky.
The tension between their bodies shifted as they refocused on the common enemy.
“I’ll fight them in the daylight.” She was the sheriff again, harder than steel.
As if in answer, the engines of the mining machine started up, rolling thunder through the valley. Its wood-and-metal structure creaked, and the treads dug into the trail with the crunching of stone. Crandall was on the move again.
Tom mounted the charger. Rosa hopped on behind him. They rose quickly through the trees. He fired up the tetrol engine, giving them more speed. But he kept a safe distance, out of range of anything but the most skilled rifleman. From the high vantage he could see the mining machine rumbling along the path, still heading north.
“Imbéciles don’t know when to quit,” she said.
“They’ll wish they had after we’re done with them.”
He rose higher, pulling on his goggles. Rosa did the same. At this distance, he brought them to a parallel path with the machine.
She hissed a curse and pointed just ahead of the machine’s path. “It’s headed straight for Parker’s spread.”
“Can’t say I’m too inspired to save it.”
“Stop it with him. Parker never did anything to you.”
“Except try to steal my girl the day after your parents stonewalled me. And bust my lip that time by the river.”
“You broke his nose. And I wasn’t your girl.”
It was like a face full of snowmelt. “You weren’t?”
“You never asked.”
“So you whispering in my ear while we watched for shooting stars after a couple bottles of cold beer and a hot tumble in the meadow didn’t make you my girl?”
She sh
ot back. “Not officially.”
“Your folks made damn sure nothing ever got official. Bet Parker was right pleased to see me gone. Probably danced a jig—”
She clicked her tongue, annoyed. “We still have to stop the machine from destroying his place.”
“Guess it would be a shame if they rolled over all that nice woodwork on his house.” He steered the charger in the direction of the homestead.
“Get us close, I’ll throw the dynamite at the machine, and slow it down or blow it up completely.”
He shook his head. “They can shoot farther than we can throw a lit stick of TNT. We’ll have to think of something else.” The machine picked up speed. “And we have to do it fast. They’re closing in, and time is running out.”
Chapter Seven
THE DEMONIC MACHINE was designed to eat through mountains in search of gold and silver. How the hell was Rosa supposed to stop something like that? The rectangular monster lumbered on, closing in on Parker’s land. Armed Whisperers still walked along with it. The remaining iron coach chugged nearby, Gatling gun poking out of the firing slot next to the armored driver.
She felt too small, even sitting on the flying charger with Tom. They were just a speck in the sky. But she wouldn’t be helpless. She’d taken on and won other fights. No one else in this territory wore the sheriff’s star.
“Take us to the side of the mountain,” she said, “by that tree and rocks.”
Tom steered the charger toward a huge tree that angled from the mountain next to Parker’s homestead. Around its base was a collection of silvery gray rocks and boulders.
He nodded. “I see what you’re cooking up.”
“We’re enlisting Mother Nature.”
The sky continued to brighten. The horizon was still deep blue over the ocean, but the tips of the mountains started to show with golden light from the east. Birds woke, darting among the trees. The air stirred to life with a cutting, cold breeze.
Speeding ahead on the charger, she and Tom made it to Parker’s spread before the mining machine, but its steady progress would get it there soon. Circling the large tree on the side of the mountain, she looked at the height, trying to gauge where it would fall.
Tom drew a line from the tree to the mining machine’s path with his hand. “If we put down enough of a blast, we could set the tree just about there, at the edge of the vineyard.”
“The rocks would go with it, too, blocking their route. They won’t just eat right through it, though?”
“Not with all the saws and grinding wheels folded up like that. They’re tightened down for travel now.”
She patted the thick bark of the old tree. “Shame to lose this tree, though.”
“I’m sure Parker’ll build something real fine with the wood.”
He set the charger down behind the tree, and they climbed onto the steep incline. Small rocks slipped away from under her feet. She nearly slid down the hill with them. Tom put a hand out, and she grabbed it to steady herself. Joined together, they both nearly toppled the fifty feet down the slope.
Exactly right, she thought as she collected her footing. Tom coming back could bring a much needed touch to her life, or he could spin them both to ruin.
She let go of his hand and pulled three sticks from Tom’s satchel of TNT. “We need blasts on the front and back of the trunk. Gravity should do the rest.”
He started to climb down toward the front of the tree. “Set the top, I’ll place these.”
Amazing that something as small as these paper wrapped cylinders could set off such an explosion. But she’d seen the potential of TNT when it was used to blast a hillside for a local road. She put the sticks at the base of the tree, snuggled halfway into the dirt. The fuses were about two feet long.
She called down to Tom, who was hidden in the last remaining night shadows. “How short should I cut these fuses? How fast do they burn?”
He came back around the tree, dusting his palms on his thighs. “No idea.”
“So we could light them and be blown to bits before we’re back on the charger?”
“We’re not lighting them. We’re shooting them.”
He put his hand out again. She took it without hesitation. Together they climbed back up to the charger and mounted it. They pitched back into the air, circling around the tree. Further up the path, the mining machine continued its trek. It would be there in less than a minute.
Tom unholstered his pistol and cocked the hammer. “I’m taking the charge at the front. You take the back.”
She took out her Colt and tried to steady her aim. Her heart beat faster as the mining machine approached.
Tom spoke through a clenched jaw. “We’ve got to do it now. At the same time, so the blasts hit with full force.”
“Give me a count.”
“How about you just give me a little squeeze with your thighs when you’re about to shoot, I’ll fire with you.”
“They teach you that in the Army?”
He quirked a wry smile. “New tactic. You inspire me.”
“Get ready.”
“Ready.” His pistol was balanced evenly in his hand.
She aimed hers, not fighting the movement of their bodies on the charger, but swaying with it. The machine drew closer. Some of the Whisperers spotted her and Tom. They readied their weapons. The remaining iron coach sped up the path to get an angle on the charger.
A deep breath steadied her hand. She squeezed her legs against Tom’s hips and pulled the trigger. His shot boomed just a split second after hers. The bullets streaked to their targets. The dynamite exploded.
Fire blossomed around the tree in a deafening blast. The concussion pushed the charger away, and chips of wood and stone rained down on her and Tom’s shoulders. The tree groaned, falling toward the bottom of the slope. The rocks detached with it, avalanching through the low shrubs toward the path of the mining machine.
The driver of the iron coach reacted first, veering wide to avoid the coming danger. The Crandall device was less nimble, but slowed with the screech of reversing engines. And just in time. The tree lanced across its path, rocks tumbling nearby to break up the terrain. Whisperers ran out of the way, some getting lost in the rising dust of the commotion.
Tom whooped at their success. “That should do it.”
He was right. The Crandall men didn’t look very interested in spending the time to deploy all the teeth of the giant machine simply to saw up a tree and break some rocks. Instead, the Whisperers at the front quickly searched out a way around the homestead.
Rosa ejected the spent shell from her pistol and loaded a fresh round. “Parker owes us the first bottle of wine he makes.”
Tom reloaded as well, quick and efficient. “He owes us a whole barrel.”
The mining machine swiveled on its treads, making a wide turn to avoid the debris in its path. The iron coach still darted around like a deadly black spider but it was out of range for now.
Kicking the Sky Charger back into motion, Tom kept them tracking along with the Crandall machine.
“So, why didn’t you go with Parker?”
“You think you deserve an answer?”
The young sun flashed on his goggles, hiding his eyes. “That’s for you to decide.”
The Tom she used to know would talk about Parker with a cold sneer. Parker had land, a family tied to the area, a vocation. Everything Tom couldn’t claim. This Tom, though, didn’t seem to be asking out of spite, or fear that Parker could lure her away. He was asking about her, not the other man.
“I didn’t need a carpenter,” she said. “I can hang a door myself if I need to.”
“I don’t doubt it. But there are things a body doesn’t want to do alone.”
“He’s going to make a nice girl a good husband. But he’s not the kind of guy to put up with his wife being sh
eriff.”
Pinching the brim of his hat politely, Tom grinned. “You need a fella who shoots his gun the same time you shoot yours.”
The rush of the shot and the blast still ran through her. Even the hot pulse of blood through her veins since their sex hadn’t gone away completely.
“We need to keep track of the machine,” she countered. “Parker’s spread is safe, but Thornville is still dead in its sights.”
He straightened his posture, becoming the soldier again. “Any more nature we can throw in its way? Still have some TNT.”
“Nothing close enough to its path. Couple more hills and it’ll be into town.”
He scratched his chin, considering. “If we can mosquito them for a while with potshots and quick raids, it might chip away until a bigger opening . . .” Without another word he veered hard in the sky, turning the charger and speeding in a new direction.
Shots rang out behind them. Bullets buzzed past, whistling with ether. She pulled out her own gun and tried to see their attackers, but only saw slim shapes against the rising sun.
“Ether packs.” Tom grunted as he twisted the charger evasively through the air. “Sneaky bastards came out of the sun. Caught a whiff of their catalyst at the last second.”
“I didn’t smell anything.” She tried to aim at the fleeting figures, but Tom was swinging the charger too wildly to line up the sights.
“Their ether’s different from Army issue. Ours smells like carrots, theirs smells like burnt potatoes.”
A bullet whizzed by, far too close. She shot back at the attackers, just to give them something to think about. Now that Tom mentioned it, she did smell something akin to roasting carrots. But she wasn’t tuned like he was to pick up on the enemy’s scent.
He was busy steering and barely glanced back. “You get a shot?”
“Trying. They’re still against the sun.”
“Hold on.”
She gripped his shirt tighter as he plunged the charger into a steep drop. Her stomach sank as the world twisted all around her. The ground rushed toward them. Bullets sped past. Then he took a hard turn and pitched straight up. Two Whisperers wearing ether packs sped past them, overshooting the chase. For the first time she was able to see the contraptions. Two black tanks lined their backs, with a small tetrol engine in the middle, powering a fan. Leather straps held this all on their shoulders and each man manipulated a control cable with his left hand to steer.