Wilheim exploded with laughter.
‘What have I done with the Morning Star?!’ He roared in jubilation. ‘What indeed. I’ve contracted your little entourage to do a job for me. They have, under my word, been tasked to do what my own cannot. I need shipments of product dropped off at numerous locations under the veil of legitimacy. It’s perfect. They put on the show and all the while, the law look elsewhere. Your girls are unloading the goods and helping mine in this oh-so-noble endeavour. Those on the Morning Star are my personal couriers, Franco! Accomplices. Misu, or whatever she calls herself now, was far too accepting of the position.’
There it was: the horrible truth. Powerless, all Franco could do was clench his fists tightly but even this was a gargantuan effort. His last ounces of strength were spent as Franco rocked his head back.
‘If this is true, then what am I?’
‘Why, you’re my payment of course.’
Of course he was. It was a damn trap, pure and simple.
‘You bastard.’
‘Oh that I am, and a jolly one too. And you, you’re not even that. While you may be my payment, if your women don’t do what’s expected …’ Wilheim spat with malice ‘… then they’ll need to forage in the dirt for scraps of change.’
Wilheim left, preparing to heave the doors to a close, but before doing so turned back to emphasize the situation.
‘They have fifteen days left to ensure your life, Franco, and even then I’m not in the habit of making promises. What I can elaborate on is that should they try and do anything stupid – turn on me, get in some help or whatever – you will die. Horribly. Slowly. I don’t need to elaborate on the methods and the desert wolves will be the only witnesses. You better pray Misu is worth what you’ve invested in her.’
And with that, as the doors slammed shut, Franco was once again left in the dark.
Chapter 14
No easy way out
Misu ground her spent cigarette between railway sleeper and boot heel, waiting for the brief desert breeze to pass. The showgirls all looked at one another, attempting to make sense of these revelations, scraping the words between them in the silence. Elizabeth slowly redrew her opinion though remained awkwardly steadfast with arms crossed.
‘So you’re on the level.’ She pouted.
‘I’m hurt you would think differently,’ Misu stated, which was ironic seeing as she actually did hurt from the scuffle.
Katerina drummed her fingers against the carriage side. The cargo inside was a moot point in all of this, though she found herself attracted to staring once more. ‘You can’t blame us for your … well, previous history I was going to say.’
Misu wrinkled her brow whilst covering her eyes from the midday sun. ‘You really are lucky I’m an accommodating individual. Anyone else would have had you all out on your asses for questioning the boss.’ She nodded in understanding though, a smile cracking through severity. ‘Also lucky I’m forgiving as well. Still, seeing that I would have no doubt done the same in your situations, I can’t scold you all too much.’
Katerina peered into the gloom of the carriage, reviewing its interior. Bale after bale of contraband sat tightly wound in stacks of pending disaster.
‘How much?’ Katerina morbidly asked.
‘Plenty.’
‘A sprig of that stuff is too much in my opinion,’ Corinne grunted. ‘And we’re in possession of twenty bales at my count.’
‘Twenty-three to be exact,’ Misu corrected.
‘Is it really that dangerous?’ Elizabeth had leant inside, and brushed her fingers through one of the bale’s surfaces. It was swatted away with sharp smack. Instead, she retrieved a loose spring from the carriage floor, tilting it in the sun.
‘Chew a stick and find out,’ Colette offered.
‘I’m not that stupid,’ Elizabeth stated. Instead, she sniffed it cautiously.
Corinne eased her fingers until it was relinquished. ‘You really don’t want that.’
The plant was quickly dropped and crushed beneath a boot heel. When satisfied, Corinne, while trying to keep composure, let her feelings be shown. All this while she had defended Misu from the gossip. Not only was it true, but all this had been carried out without Corinne’s notice as well.
Her. Of all people.
* * *
‘Yes, I roped you all in on this without your permission.’ Misu attempted to put this to rest. ‘We’ve got bad cargo, which makes us a mark for some of the worst kind of folks out there. We’re currently in a rush to deliver it in the hope that Wilheim doesn’t send our manager back in a shoebox. So I get it. You’re angry and you have every right to be. If I thought things would be different then I would have told you all from the outset.
‘But this is the here and now and we’re at a crossroads. I’m going to save Franco. Even if I have to stroll into whatever nest Wilheim’s concocted by my lonesome, I’ll be doing it. We call ourselves family and for a time we were separated but that bond never broke. I remember what that word means. Sacrifice. Now we have to live up to that title. Now the one who brought us together is in peril and I’ve been making this up as I go along to get a chance at snatching him back. If I get riddled with holes in doing so, at least I’ll know that it was for a worthwhile goal.’
Misu scanned the women before her, steadfast in her words. She sucked in air, feeling each breath burn her throat though trying her best to suppress it.
‘So it seems you now all have a choice. You can come with me and make a foolhardy attempt to save him … or you can get off at our next stop. No questions asked. No judgement. Your contract will have been fulfilled.’
Nobody spoke but plenty looked at one another, trying to deduce the decisions of their kin. For the most part the faces were worried; some were hardened. All were concerned.
The hot desert winds licked at dresses and hair, flailing them momentarily until the next gust.
‘Are you actually mad? Do you think you can have Red Root in tow and expect us to not be chased from one end of the Sand Sea to the other?’ one of the showgirls accused loudly.
‘I didn’t have a choice, remember?’
Choices. Corinne sniffed loudly, dabbing spots of blood from her nose. ‘You had a choice not to haul how much contraband from territory to territory. You had a choice not to incriminate us all in this, a choice which you flouted.’
‘And then what? Let Franco be at the mercy of that hooligan?’ Misu vigorously justified her decisions. Damn anyone who took some moral high ground. ‘Yes, I know it’s not the best decision but it was either this or have him cut up into pieces. Which would you do? Would you let him die?’
Elizabeth nonchalantly shrugged on her lonesome. ‘Maybe.’
Quickly she noticed that her comment had attracted a series of glares. It was her turn to defend herself.
‘What? He’s not my boss. I’ve never even met the guy. All he is to me is a shady name that could get us all killed. I like my life thank you very much. I intend to keep it intact.’
The others stood aside as Colette strolled between them. It was a display that would have been expected by Misu if anyone. This was not the right thing to say, at any moment in time, let alone this one.
‘I will only tell you this once.’ Colette wagged a finger, sternly punctuating every syllable. ‘He is your boss as long as you’re under this roof, if he’s here or not. This train is still his; everything still belongs to him. Misu is just its steward currently.’
Misu herself nodded in agreement. ‘That I am. Don’t be thinking any different.’
‘Yes, well, all shouting aside, the fact remains that he’s been taken and if we run out of time, he’ll be put into the ground.’ Elizabeth slowly paced to the observation car and sat on its steps to avoid any further embarrassment.
‘So what now?’ someone asked.
‘We have three weeks to make it, don’t we?’ Katerina feverishly bit at her nails in a nervous tic.
‘We can do the drops if
we don’t have the law all over us. I’m assuming Ferry can keep the Morning Star ticking over, provided we don’t burn her out uphill like last time.’ Misu rubbed her cheek. ‘I’ve done the numbers and yes, it’ll be very tight but … it could be done.’
‘A chance is better than none. Where are they holding him?’
‘I don’t know. They’ve not revealed any inkling of a location and believe me, I’ve asked. Wherever they’ve put him, they’re laying low.’
‘I don’t get you,’ Colette grumbled, coaxing Misu’s gaze. ‘All this talking and you’ve not said the one thing we’re all waiting for.’
Their manager shrugged, perplexed. ‘And what would that be?’
‘Sorry of course.’ She rolled her eyes in disbelief. ‘Sorry, everyone, for dragging you into the gutter with me. Sorry for endangering you. Sorry that I didn’t have the guts to tell you outright and had to wait to be cornered. Until I was forced to confess what I’m up to.’
‘What would you have done?’
‘I would have trusted us. No matter the consequences … I would have trusted everyone on board. We’re family, right? That’s the exact word you used. Trust sort of comes with that title.’ A ripple of agreement travelled through the group coupled with compassionate, nodding heads.
‘I did you all wrong,’ Misu confessed, her face softening. ‘I know that. I did what I believed to be right and figured I could shoulder the responsibility on my lonesome. I never wanted to implicate you – it’s not your sin to bear …’ Her voice showed danger of wavering. ‘I’m sorry to you all. I am. I mean that.’
Feet trudged back in single file as the women left to contemplate their decision on board the train. For some the decision was made already. For others, this outlandish behaviour from their manager would result in significant contemplation. Beforehand it would have been a unanimous decision in approval. Now, not so much.
* * *
Corinne drew her nose across the back of her hand, finally finding the strength to stand on her own. She made her way past, stopping to share a private word with Misu, ensuring that it was unheard by anyone else.
‘We get Franco back and then I’m done,’ Corinne gruffly stated.
‘What do you mean done?’ Misu retorted.
‘I mean I’m gone. I leave. I’m out of this whole outfit because clearly it isn’t what I thought it was. As soon as we’ve secured Franco, I’ll get my things and get off this bloody train.’
‘Then don’t let me stop you,’ Misu spat. ‘Why wait until then? I’ll help you pack up if you’re so eager to leave our company.’
‘No, just yours. You’re right, we all have debts to pay but you? Yours are insurmountable. I still owe Franco for taking us on board so you’re stuck with me until then. Afterwards, you’ll be free to treat others like crap without me trying to keep you on the straight and narrow. I’m through with you.’
Corinne trudged her way along the tracks clearly uninterested in any reply.
* * *
Within minutes, Misu found herself alone with nothing but the cries of the desert scavengers for company. She took the lines of footprints back to the train, hesitating to lock up Car Six, its dreadful cargo presented in a horrid display. For a fleeting moment she considered pulling it all out into a bonfire and settling light to it all. As entertaining a thought as it would be, doing so would undoubtedly bring about Franco’s murder. The door was heaved to a close, its lock secured, and the key put back around her neck, its burden feeling considerably more weighty.
* * *
Colette and Katerina made up the front of the line of women who solemnly returned to the Morning Star. Colette was clearly nursing the troubles in her head, tossing them this way and that to filter out something resembling rationality.
‘I don’t get it. Why didn’t Misu go for the face?’
‘Because she didn’t want to mess it up. Corinne’s still got a job to do.’ Katerina shook her head in despair. She had witnessed her fair share of troubles, even a couple of arguments since being employed but nothing this severe and especially nothing that strained the bonds of two she believed to be so trusting of one another.
‘She caught one bad herself though.’
‘It’s a good thing that she wears the mask.’ Katerina paused, dwelling on how true that actually was. Colette climbed onto the carriage ladder from the tracks, tightly grasping the safety railing.
‘The boss has no idea what to do next does she? We’re travelling blind. We don’t even have an inkling as to where Franco’s being held. I mean if the law can’t find the guy, what hope do we have?’
‘Do you have any suggestions?’
‘Not really.’ Colette politely held the carriage door open, the others thanking her and making their way inside. ‘What we need is someone who knows how to track down the architect of this mess. We need someone who is privy to the criminal element out here, who knows where Wilheim is hiding. Find him and we find Franco. That and someone to fix the train up would be nice.’
Katerina stopped in her motions, snapping her head back in alarm. She broadly smiled, quite struck by the seed of inspiration that Colette had just planted.
‘That’s it. That’s it! You’re a genius!’ Katerina exclaimed, grabbing her friend and kissing her firmly on the forehead in excitement.
‘Well sure, but … why?’
‘Because I know just the person we need!’
Katerina rushed back through the door, jumped down onto the tracks, and sprinted as fast as her legs could take her to tell Misu of the fabulous idea she had just concocted.
Colette stood quite perplexed at what had just happened.
‘You’re … welcome?’ she uttered.
Chapter 15
A big ask
Esquelle was about as bottom of the barrel a place as one could find themselves in. It was large enough to be intimidating, just far enough from the law to turn black and white ways of living to shades of grey. Within was a peppering of shops that had been set up to accommodate the desires of passing trappers. Normally they were nestled down alleyways, sandwiched by the reams of sandstone-crafted houses, quite understated affairs and prone to announcing themselves with reserved signage.
In Esquelle anybody could get their hands on a gun, of course, no matter their age or situation. There were significantly fewer places to do so legally. Quite proudly present against a cigar shop and a grocer’s, close to where the train tracks cleaved the district creating a prosperous/impoverished divide was one of these legal suppliers: the fledgling business known as the Deadbolt Gunworks.
The Deadbolt Gunworks was advertised by a simple wooden sign with two crossed revolvers, though the shop lacked any windows, as presenting such things would be an invitation for chancers to instigate burglaries. Instead, the stock was kept inside, past the thick oaken door laden with various bolts and presented in various glass display cases with varying degrees of care.
Wyld leant on one of these glass counters, absorbed in a red cloth book with worn gold print and frayed corners. Business had been slow today, which allowed her to catch up on her reading. Orders had been fulfilled and were now waiting for collection. If she was sensible she would close the store early but there had been more than one occasion where a surprise customer late in the day made a sale to dwarf others.
Instead she let the wall cock tick away and when it weakly chimed six, the book was laid down for a moment, the sign brought in, and the door secured to its fullest just as it began to spit with rain. The day’s takings were removed from the till and the various tools on the workbench put in their respective places, and the workbench itself cleaned of any debris such as filings or shavings. She returned to her book, propping herself on a stool and picking up where she left off.
Behind her worked a man, tall in stature and imposing in nature. He focused his clear blue eyes on stacking a number of boxes filled with lead shot and empty bullet casings used to press ammunition. A good foot taller than Wyld, th
e weight was no concern despite the boxes themselves being piled four high. His long black hair had been ponytailed, a short shaved goatee framing the expressionless lips that Wyld teased him over constantly.
‘Where do you want these?’ Umbra asked, turning to show the contents of his laden arms.
‘Downstairs if you will.’ She took a glance and returned back to her reading. ‘I’ll no doubt wander down there tonight to busy myself so if you could put them down by the press that’ll be just grand.’
No sooner had he taken two steps than a sudden rapping at the door stopped him.
Wyld looked down her nose, unimpressed. Maybe if she ignored it, the person would get the message.
The door was struck again.
‘We’re closed! Can’t you read the sign on the door? That’s what it’s there for,’ she called out.
‘Do you want me to get rid of them?’ Umbra asked.
‘They’ll get bored eventually. I swear, if it’s the Sanders boys wanting to try and get me to flog their stolen gear they can think again …’ Wyld licked a finger and turned the page of her book, squinting at the longer words that were difficult to pronounce. She attempted a couple silently until the knocking began anew.
‘I said take a hike!’ Wyld yelled in the door’s direction, returning to the book with a grumble.
Umbra frowned, readjusting the stack of boxes in his possession. One from the top slid enough to be in danger of falling but instead he guided it to press against his collar.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to send them on their way? They seem pretty persistent.’
‘What I need is for you to drag that downstairs and pack it away,’ Wyld ordered without so much as a change in tone.
‘You’re not my boss you know.’
‘The sign outside says different, dear.’ She chuckled. ‘But you can keep telling yourself that if it brings you comfort.’
‘I remember a time when you were the one taking orders …’ he muttered.
‘Things change. We’re not in Eifera now, more’s the pity I suppose.’ She stopped herself from continuing her thoughts. ‘All this time talking could be spent doing what I asked. That would be the more productive decision to make.’
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