Born of Treasure (Treasure Chronicles Book 2)

by Jordan Elizabeth

  The door at the end of the car creaked open. Clark peered over the seat, and stiffened. Three men dressed in the army blue strode down the car, pausing to study each row. The leader carried a paper with him which he kept scanning.

  “Army,” Clark whispered. His hand fell to the pistol at his waist. If he had to, he could shoot them without missing, so long as no one got in the way. They could run, find a way off the train—

  Garth rested his hand on Clark’s arm. “Be still. They aren’t here for us. They’re checking to make sure everything is in order.”

  “They didn’t do that when I came through,” Amethyst said.

  Garth had traveled east and west more times than Clark. He would know. They were still safe—

  The army leader halted beside their row. The stranger on the end of the row of six seats looked up from his nap and yawned.

  “Peterson?” The army man’s gaze fastened on Garth.

  Clark felt his stomach knot. Trouble. He’d been right and Garth had been mistaken. Where was Eric with his myriad warnings? He hadn’t made an appearance since Clark had agreed to Garth’s plan.

  Garth paled and his fists clenched over his knees. “Yes?”

  “If you and your family will come with us.” The leader stepped back to allow them to pass. Zachariah, on the end beside the stranger, stood with a stiff, numb air. He kept his arms straight at his sides and lifted his knees high, the perfect soldier march. He strode past the leader and headed toward the back, where the other two waited.

  “What will we do?” Amethyst dug her fingernails into Clark’s arm.

  “Wait and watch,” Clark whispered back. “I’ll find us a way out.” His blood pumped hot and cold, the nerves in his hands tingling. He would save them. He had the experience Garth lacked.

  “Of course, sir.” Georgette rose with smooth grace. Lifting her ragged skirt, she followed her son with her chin lifted. Stiff like Zachariah, Garth trailed behind, his shoulders slumped. A defeated, saddened man. He’d assumed his plan perfect, but the army had caught them.

  It happened. A man learned to fight when it did.

  Clark helped Amethyst and guided her in front so he could watch them all. When he’d used the restroom, he’d observed which of the second class cars, where the passengers had their own enclosures, were empty and which were not. The first, in the upcoming car, was empty.

  The leader, following behind, shut the door between the two cars.

  “My boot. Blast these laces.” Clark scowled, kneeling near the door to that first enclosure. With no one inside, the train attendants hadn’t latched it. He bumped it with his hip and it swung open.

  “Get a move,” the leader barked.

  “What is this in regards to?” Georgette demanded.

  “Keep moving,” the leader said. When the procession began again, Clark shoved his shoulder into the leader’s sternum, knocking him sideways into the enclosure. The man gasped as he hit the back wall near the window. Clark drew his pistol and shot before the leader could recover. The bullet sliced through his skull and blood splattered the paneled wall. The silencer on the end of the silver barrel kept it soft.

  “What in the name—” Another of the army men ran down the narrow hall. Clark ducked behind the door, drawing the pistol to his chest. When the man ran inside, Clark kicked the door shut and fired through the man’s skull, in case he wore a protective vest under his clothes.

  Eric had been right. He was already a killer.

  Clark hopped onto the bench and aimed. The door opened to the last army man. He barreled inside with his gun drawn. Good man. The other two hadn’t even reached for theirs. Clark kicked the pistol aside. Leaping from one bench to the other, he fired in midair. The bullet seared through the man’s forehead and he slumped to his knees, then onto his chest.

  Garth darted into the doorway. “What…?” His eyes widened.

  Clark lowered the barrel of his gun. “Get in here. Everybody.”

  Garth paused, meeting Clark’s gaze, before motioning for the others to hurry. Clark shut the door behind Zachariah, the last inside. Amethyst gaped at the bodies and Georgette pressed one hand over her mouth.

  “Someone will hear all that and come,” Zachariah stated.

  Clark shook his head. “Too much noise out in the port and this car isn’t full much. We’ll just have to leave before anyone comes through.”

  “We can’t walk out the doors,” Georgette said. “There will be other soldiers who know we should be apprehended.”

  “We’re lucky.” Clark hopped over the guards to slide the window up as far as it would go. “We’re over the river. We’re going to jump.”

  Amethyst paled, slumping onto the seat. “We’re jumping into the river?”

  She should’ve been used to his ideas by then. “We have to.” He didn’t think twice about it. Would he have, before the tonic, before the running? Clark sighed. Hedlund had really come to hate him.

  Or love him. There might have been a cliff instead of a nice, wet river.

  “You either stay and get captured, or you jump with me.” He replaced his pistol. The others could stay, but he’d take Amethyst with him. When he held out his hand to her, she gulped, but crossed to him.

  She interlaced their fingers and smiled, that trusting smile with excitement in her eyes. “Can I jump first?” Of course Amethyst, who couldn’t swim, would want to plummet. She never seemed to comprehend her limits.

  “Climb up to the roof so we can jump together. I don’t want you to drown.” Clark glanced at the others. “Can you swim?”

  Georgette nodded. “You have to, if you live out here.”

  Amethyst gripped the windowsill and slid her body forward. Clark cupped her feet and clutched her legs, helping her twist around so she could climb atop the roof. He nodded to the Treasures left inside the car. He’d done his best for them. What mattered was making it. The government couldn’t hurt them if he wasn’t around.

  Clark slid his body through the window, using the sill to get a leap onto the roof. He scrambled up and rolled to his knees. Amethyst stood with her arms held out for balance, the sunlight making her hair glow. Noises came from the port, a jumble of voices, but no one sounded panicked. No one shouted for back up or called his name.

  He gripped her hand. The river would be cold, murky. Being so close to a city, no matter how small of one, people would pollute it with garbage.

  “I love you,” he said, because there had been so few people in his life he could tell that to.

  Amethyst laughed. She turned, with her hair blowing and her skirts billowing, and leapt off the train for the water, pulling him with her.

  ater closed over Clark’s head, that first stab of cold that exploded around him, filling his ears and nose, seeping between his lips when his body gasped on reflex. Amethyst’s hand slipped from his as he sank, but he leaned to the right, grabbing a hunk of her dress. He scissor kicked his legs to propel himself upward, dragging her into his arms. She wrapped around him as he swam for the surface, gasping as his head broke free. She gasped beside him.

  “All right?” he panted.

  River water poured over her face and her hair clung to her features. Since she clung to him, he brushed it back for her.

  “Brass glass,” she sputtered. “That was wild.”

  A yelp sounded from above before a flash blurred by and a body splashed into the river near them. Georgette bobbed to the surface, wiping the water from her eyes. He’d never wanted to clap a woman on the shoulder before, but she would’ve deserved it. She took everything in stride.

  Garth leapt next, followed by Zachariah. Clark swam toward the shore with Amethyst clenched around his neck so she wouldn’t drown. The others should follow him. Garth might be the head of the family, and he might’ve ventured west on an adventure, but he didn’t know about surviving as a wanted criminal.

  Boats, ranging from row boats to show boats, bobbed at the shore, their ropes tied to the docks. Clark swam betw
een two showboats and climbed into the rocks. Amethyst slid down, squeaking when her boot heels teetered on the jaggedness. Her fist closed around the back of his jacket.

  “Hey, boyo.” A sailor leaned over the railing of the showboat on the right. A straw-hat shielded his eyes. “Fall overboard?”

  “Yeah.” Clark scowled for effect. “That’s why you don’t go boating with a fellow you cheated at cards with once upon a time. Threw me and the family overboard. Whatcha make o’ that?”

  The sailor laughed and disappeared back to his work. Clark helped Amethyst onto level ground before jogging back to pull Georgette out. Garth, gripping Zachariah’s arm, followed, his cheeks flushed despite the chill in the water.

  Clark turned to look at the town. Brick and wooden buildings. Fences around tiny gardens. People strolling, lost in their own world, ignoring the world passing by.

  Somewhere in another world, he had a different life, one where he didn’t worry about things. He did whatever he wanted and didn’t care that it would end in imprisonment or death.

  He would never get that luxury.

  A song played through Amethyst’s mind, transporting her back to last summer, when she’d gone to Mary’s family’s beach house a few hours from New Addison City. It had been a crazy time—Mary’s word for it. She’d invited everyone in their circle out for a week when her parents took a trip overseas.

  Amethyst had painted purple streaks into her yellow curls. She’d coated her eyelids in glitter that matched her lips, giant silver loops in her earlobes. She’d worn a gold-painted corset with fringe that made up the skirt.

  Mary’s father’s pit bulls had run rampant across the grounds, and the guests had dressed them up. Pearls had hung around their necks. They’d painted stripes down their backs. Someone had brought a pony onto the veranda and woven flowers into its mane.

  The newspaper had come. The pictures had gone around New Addison papers for a month, and who knew how long across the rest of the country.

  That hadn’t been crazy. Catapulting off a train into a river—that counted as crazy.

  Amethyst laughed until her eyes burned. Tears seeped through her lids. Her clothes dripped onto the pebbles and her boots squished. “We’re insane!”

  “Amethyst, hush,” her mother hissed.

  “Why?” Amethyst spread her hands. “No one knows who we are. We could be anyone! We’re bloody paupers. Who in the name of gears cares?”

  “Language.” Georgette sighed.

  “I’m a pauper. I can say anything I want!”

  “We have to keep moving,” Clark said. “The army will find us here if we stay.”

  “Where do we go?” Zachariah asked.

  “We go to New Addison. We find a way,” Garth ground out through clenched teeth.

  Clark pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at her father. What would be best? To keep running or to go to the president?

  “How much money is left?” Clark asked.

  Garth patted the satchel slung over his head, strapped down by his jacket shoulder sash. “It’ll be wet, but I’ve got one-hundred left and Zachariah has another two-hundred.”

  Amethyst snorted. “You have that much and I couldn’t get something to eat?”

  “That’s hardly anything,” Zachariah said.

  She rolled her eyes. She’d never paid attention to prices until Clark had whisked her away.

  “We’ll have to stay the night here,” Clark said. “I’ll find us three inns. We’ll have to split up.”

  “I want you.” Amethyst bobbed across the distance to grab his hand and swing it. No way was she getting stuck with her mother or Zachariah. Her father wouldn’t be too bad, but Clark would be best by far.

  “Split the money with us,” Clark whispered. “Divide up however. We’ll walk around and I’ll find us a spot to meet at in the morning. I’ll give us new names, nothing at all like what we have. I’ll find us the best form of transportation, but we might have to travel at different times. We can’t be tracked as a group if we aren’t a group.”

  Garth licked his lips, but his hand went to his satchel to untie the flap. “You tell us what to do. Get us to New Addison City and I’ll do the rest.”

  “Will you really let my father take care of things once we reach the city?” Amethyst poked at the bed Clark had found for them in the creepiest inn Amethyst had ever seen. The lumpy bed, stuffed with rattling cornhusks, probably had bugs in it.

  But, she could barely keep her eyes open. It didn’t look as hideous as she knew it should. Plus, if things were different and they had something grand, her parents would probably be thinking more about her, rather than themselves, and realize she and Clark were a little too cuddly. Amethyst giggled, swaying toward her husband.

  “Yeah.” Clark peeled off his wet clothes and spread them on the floor, since the closet-sized room only had the bed as furniture. “Take off your clothes.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “You really feel like making love in that thing after the day we’ve had?”

  He chuckled, cupping her cheeks between his hands. His lips brushed hers. “I want nothing more than to make love to you until you pass out, but we need to rest. We’re still drenched and we don’t want bugs getting in our clothes.”

  Clark turned her around so he could unfasten the back buttons of her shirt.

  “You really think everything will be settled soon?” She held her breath as his tongue flicked across the back of her neck.

  “If not, I’ll fix it,” he whispered.

  lark stretched across the stagecoach bench, resting one arm across the back. Look too nervous and they noticed. Look relaxed, they figured riding east was something that happened every day.

  For some people, it did.

  Amethyst perched beside him, picking at her nails, and Zachariah sat beside her, his back stiff and his fingers tapping a pattern across his thigh. That certainly wasn’t obvious.

  “Calm down,” Clark whispered.

  A man and an elderly woman sat across from them. At each bump the wheels struck, the woman grabbed a corner of her hat and squeaked.

  Clark peered out the window to watch the port town fade into meadows. No one followed them: good sign.

  “You think Mother and Father will be safe?” Zachariah asked.

  Clark ground his teeth. They weren’t supposed to talk about them. “They’ll be fine.” The train would arrive before the stagecoach, so they would go to Amethyst’s great-uncle’s apartment. Amethyst would guide her team once they reached New Addison City.

  “I hate my fingernails like this,” she muttered.

  “Where are you folks headed?” the elderly woman asked.

  “Home.” Amethyst leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I can’t wait. It feels as if I’ve been away forever. My brothers here,” she rolled her eyes, “wanted to see the mighty river. Whatever. I much prefer city streets.”

  “Where is home?” The man leaned against the back and crossed his arms. Clark shifted on his seat to show his pistol in its holster. At least Amethyst babbled enough to nix any suspicion.

  “New Addison City,” Amethyst scoffed, as if everyone should know that. “My silly brothers, right? How can they trade shopping for a river?”

  “What was at the river?” The woman lifted her gaze, eyes wide.

  Zachariah glanced at Clark. “Boats?”

  “He”—Amethyst hooked her thumb toward him—“exchanged letters with some poor little show girl out there. He wanted to go wed her, bring her home with us. The girl wasn’t looking for marriage.” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “She wanted a quick thump and she thought he’d have the right pay for that.”

  Clark chuckled into his fist. Zachairah gulped. “I—”

  Amethyst shrugged, settling against the seat. “How about you dears?”

  “My son and I,” the woman rested her hand on his knee, “are visiting my granddaughter. She’s going to have her first child this autumn. Her husband’s a bus
iness man.”

  Clark watched the meadows stretch far, and in the distance, woods dwelled. His skin crawled and he scratched his shoulder. Never had he been so far from Hedlund. They’d passed into another state long before the river, the state of Dunn. He’d never expected to even see Dunn, let alone leave Dunn for the state of Sampson. After Sampson, they’d reach Addison State.

  A gunshot sounded and something pinged against the side of the stagecoach. The driver and his shotgun rider shouted from the seat outside, and the vehicle gained speed. Clark gripped the edge. A robber in Sampson? Wasn’t the east civilized, with law workers?

  Amethyst shrieked and seized his arm. “Are we being attacked?”

  “Reggie, do something!” The elderly woman slapped her middle-aged son.

  Another shot, followed by a ping against the coach. Zachariah tried to stand, but the speeding coach knocked him onto his buttocks.

  “Brass glass.” Clark stared out the window. Meadow had become woods, the trees dark, hiding whatever lurked inside. He’d craved the woods for just that reason. The army couldn’t hunt you down as fast. You had more things to hide behind.

  One of the men up front shouted. A body flashed by the window and the coach veered. Had it been the driver? Clark jiggled the latch on the door’s window and forced the glass up. “What can I do to help?”

  They didn’t have much money if they were stopped by bandits. Amethyst had stuffed what remained of their bills down her corset, pressed against her skin. As far as Clark knew from Hedlund, robbers took what they saw. They didn’t bother to search a victim. That took too long.

  More gunshots sounded and he ducked back inside. Brass glass, just what they needed. Clark darted into the coach as the wheels hit more ruts, throwing the passengers left and right. Clark braced Amethyst against his chest and pressed his hand over her head so she wouldn’t hit it. The wall of the coach rammed his shoulder and Zachariah fell onto his leg. As the elderly woman screamed, the coach shuddered and cracked. The explosion shook the interior. Metal shattered with a boom, and steam puffed from the front engine.