Noble Metals

by L. A. Witt

  “Do they live far away?”

  “Not really.” He laughed, but it was a sad sound. “To be honest, I’m usually so caught up in my work, I barely leave the lab, let alone the city. And my mother is terrified of Chicago.” His gaze darted toward me. “What about you? Do you send letters to your family?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve sent a couple of telegrams, but . . .”

  He watched me for a moment. “You seem very lonely, Robert.”

  The words hit me in the chest. “So do you.”

  He winced. “Yes, I suppose I am. My work doesn’t really allow for companionship, though.”

  “Is it worth it?”

  He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “Your work. Is it worth the lack of companionship?”

  He lowered his gaze. “If I could have both, I would, but the work I do requires sacrifice.” He lifted one shoulder in a taut half shrug. “And a man like me isn’t much of a companion for someone who needs one.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m in my lab for hours on end. Sometimes days.” John’s lips tightened. Then he sighed. “I suppose I can’t fault my last lover for leaving.” He idly scraped his empty bowl with the edge of his spoon as he looked out at the forest. “Maybe I was too focused on my work. I was so close to a working prototype, I could feel it, but . . .” He tapped the heel of his boot against the mech’s leg. “So many late nights in the lab, and all the secrecy about us. It must have killed him to not only have to be my secret, but to see so little of me that there was hardly enough going on to cause a scandal in the first place. I can’t begrudge him leaving. He had his own ambitions, after all. Political and whatnot. It just . . .” He trailed off. Then, all at once, he came to life and turned to me. “What about you?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Ever had someone like that?”

  “Me? No.” I laughed quietly. “Not a great surplus of willing men in a town like mine, and I’ve hardly presented myself as much of a suitor since I’ve been in Seattle.”

  “Did you have anyone before . . . before your time in Seattle?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. I couldn’t say I was ashamed of what I did any more than I could say I was proud of it, but I loathed admitting the only time I’d ever felt a man’s touch had been when I’d been paid for it.

  “Robert?”

  I cleared my throat and hoisted myself off the mech and onto the muddy grass. “We should get moving. There isn’t much daylight left.”

  He watched me silently but let the subject drop. The question lingered in his eyes, though, and occasionally appeared on his face as a crease of gentle inquisitiveness.

  But he didn’t ask.

  Not until we’d stopped for the night, anyway. As we sat beside the fire with our supper, he set his bowl aside, the spoon clinking against the edge. “Let me ask you something.”

  “All right.”

  “You were in Seattle for a while, yes?”

  I nodded.

  “And you weren’t at all surprised when your employer and I were discussing the rumors that there’s no gold left in the Klondike. You know this is going to be a miserable journey, and likely one with few rewards.” He studied me, the fire’s reflection flickering in his eyes. “If you can afford the journey to Dawson City, why not spend the money to go back to Montana?”

  I stared into my mostly empty bowl. “I can’t go back.”

  “Forgive my curiosity,” he said, his voice gentle and soft, “but why can’t you go back?”

  I took a deep breath and set my bowl on the ground beside me. “The thing is, my father loaned the three of us money to go to Dawson City. When we made it to Seattle, we . . .” I sighed and shook my head. “Turn three boys loose in a city like that with more money in their pockets than they’ve ever seen, and—”

  “And it’s not going to end well.” He chuckled softly, but his expression remained sympathetic.

  “It didn’t.” I held out my hands for the fire to warm. “My elder brother, he discovered the whores. And I . . .” Heat rushed into my cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the flames in front of me.

  “You . . . what?”

  I swallowed. “I discovered cardrooms.”

  “Poker?”

  I nodded. “Between us, we lost most of it. When we realized we couldn’t afford to go north or go home, we panicked. We did whatever we could to recover the money. Sold things. Went to work for anyone who would hire us. That’s . . . how I ended up working for Ernest and Beatrice.” I hesitated, then met his eyes. “As a whore.”

  He held my gaze, and though I kept expecting to see judgment in his face, he offered none. Curiosity, if anything. After a moment, he sipped from his mug and then set it down beside the bowl. “With all the outfitters in Seattle, all the entrepreneurs, that was the only way you could earn your—”

  “I did what I could,” I snapped.

  John put up a hand. “I understand, Robert. I do. I just can’t imagine there was no other means for a man of your intellect to—”

  “Intellect is no cure for desperation.”

  He regarded me silently, then gave a slow nod. “I suppose that’s true. I’m sorry.” He paused. “Where are your brothers now?”

  “I don’t know where George is. That’s my elder brother. As for Paul . . .” I gritted my teeth. “He was angry with us, and I suppose he had every right to be.” I shook my head again, wishing there was something a lot stronger than campsite coffee in my tin mug. “He didn’t like me working in the brothel but couldn’t argue with the money. And he and George were making money too, so it looked like we might have enough to get to Dawson City after all.” I swallowed some coffee. “Then we found out George was trying to win back some of the money in the cardrooms. And he was winning, but since that was how we’d lost so much in the first place, Paul got angry with him. I came back from the brothel one morning to find George still drunk and Paul gone with what was left of the money.”

  John’s eyebrows rose. “He just . . . left?”

  I nodded. “A few weeks later, our father sent us a telegram. Paul had gone home, and he’d told him everything.” I lowered my gaze again, staring at the ground between my feet. “Everything.”

  For a long time, the only sound was the crackling fire. A spark popped, and the sound seemed to echo for miles.

  “So when you say you can’t go home to Montana,” John said after a while, “you really can’t.”

  Still staring at the ground, I nodded again.

  “You know, there’s no shame in doing what you had to do to survive.”

  I laughed bitterly. “Explain that to my father. He won’t have a gambler or a fornicator under his roof, and he certainly won’t have a son who’s been a prostitute.”

  “Then he’s a fool.” The vehemence in John’s voice startled me. He put a hand on my knee, sending a shiver straight up my spine. “You’re a good man, Robert. You’ve made your mistakes, but you’re a good man.”

  “Thank you.” I clung to my coffee cup to keep from putting my hand on top of his. “And by the way, thank you again. For hiring me. Both times.”

  “Thank you for accompanying me.” An odd smile played at John’s lips. “Both times.”

  I laughed softly, and the way our eyes met made my heart race. I quickly looked away and picked up my empty bowl. “I suppose we should turn in.”

  “Yes, we should.”

  He took his hand off my leg, and damn, I wished he’d put it back.

  On the morning of the fifteenth day, our forward progress ground to a halt in a huff of steam and a screech of twisting metal. One of the steam lines blew, which knocked the mech off balance mid-step and caused it to land just right to mangle the front-most left leg.

  With the help of two other teams, we managed to move the mech off the trail so people could continue past us. Once we were out of the way, we both glared at the crippled spider, then looked at each other.

  “What happ
ened?” I asked.

  “Damn relief valves.” He gestured at the machine. “Looks like condensation froze one of them shut and over-pressurized the boiler. “We’re lucky, though. It could have been much worse.”

  “At least it didn’t explode.”

  “Exactly.” He knelt beside the mech and inspected the damage. “Well, we’re not moving anytime soon.” He pulled off his heavy gloves and took a thinner leather pair from his jacket. As he put them on, he said, “Would you grab the bag of tools and spare parts, please?”

  The ruptured line turned out to be tucked too far under the back of the mech for both of us to work on. It was certainly more his expertise than mine anyhow, so I was idle for the moment. I leaned against the mech, arms folded on top of its raised side, while he knelt on the ground on a flour sack.

  Frowning over the ruptured line, John said, “So, what will you do after all of this?” He glanced up, smirking. “Assuming this beast walks again.”

  “I suppose it depends on whether or not I strike it rich.”

  “And if you do?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe go east. See what kind of life I can make. Maybe in New York.”

  John gestured sharply with a wrench. “Bah, you don’t want to go to New York.”

  “Chicago’s better?”

  “God no.” He furrowed his brow and cursed at a stubborn piece, but it finally came free. As he set it on the ground beside him, he said, “New York and Chicago are much the same, except there’s more wind in Chicago. You don’t want to go there either.”

  “But that’s where you’re going, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t intend to strike it rich in Dawson City.” He glanced up at me with a knowing grin on his lips. “If I find what I’m looking for, I’ll return to Chicago, and then, my friend, I’ll strike it richer than any man who’s put pickax to soil in the Klondike.”

  “And if you don’t find the platinum?”

  “If I don’t find it, I . . .” His brow creased. Then he sighed, shrugged, and started on the line again. “Then I’ll go back to Chicago and hope I can continue my work.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be able to continue?”

  “Because the university will only pay for a finite amount of speculation and tinkering, as they so eloquently call it.” He frowned again, though I couldn’t be sure if it was directed at his thought or the steam line. “This attempt to get enough platinum to complete my work is the last time they’ll indulge me, and if I fail, there won’t be any more money or lab space. As it is, even if I don’t fail, the university is threatening to send my funding to Tesla so they can get in on his discoveries.” John snorted and shook his head. “Damn fools. They think I’m delusional, but somehow his creations are genius.”

  “And finding platinum will convince them otherwise?”

  “Well . . .” He paused to secure the new line into place. “I need the platinum for the semiconductors I’m working with. Hopefully those will convince them.”

  “The what?”

  “Small electrical parts.” He pushed himself to his feet, grimacing as he gingerly rubbed his lower back. “Once I have the metal I need, I can make those with relative efficiency, and then I can make more progress with the rest of my work.”

  “Which is . . .?”

  He smiled. “I’m working on some advances that could revolutionize the way cities communicate.”

  “A better telegraph?”

  “Beyond a telegraph, my friend.” He beamed. “Being able to speak across the lines, not only hear each other but even see another’s face.” He gestured at his own face, then laughed and shook his head. “All I have to do is beat Edison and Tesla to it.”

  “Well, I don’t think I’ve seen them come through town, so . . .” I grinned.

  He laughed. “Oh, they’re occupied with other nonsense. They think I’m as crazy as the university does. I mean, who could possibly need to make enough semiconductors to require as much platinum as I do?” He clicked his tongue. “Well, we’ll just see when I finish, won’t we?”

  “So we will.” I didn’t know anything about that kind of thing, so I took him at his word that he really was on the cusp of something great. I couldn’t imagine being able to hear someone’s voice from miles away. Seeing their faces? How absurd.

  I shifted my weight and rested my chin on my arms. “So how do you know there’s platinum in the Klondike?”

  “I don’t. But they’ve found gold there.” He shrugged. “I’ve been to three other gold digs, and I’ve found it there every time.”

  “So you’ve already found it.” I tilted my head. “Why go to the trouble to find it again?”

  “Because I didn’t find enough. I only need a small amount for the prototypes, but to manufacture additional machines in enough numbers to make an invention useful? That’s why I’m wandering all over the world to gold fields in hopes of finding a decent deposit.”

  “Where else have you done this?” I gestured toward the trail. “Made the journey to gold fields, I mean.”

  “Most recently, South Africa. I acquired a sufficient cache there, actually. Enough to finish the prototypes and possibly manufacture a few more.” He scowled. “But I was robbed in London before I came back to Chicago. Haven’t found such an amount since then.” He glanced toward the north as he wiped his hands on his trousers and released a wistful sigh. “The university is losing patience, believe me. They think I’m just a reckless miner masquerading as a professor and scientist.” He was quiet for a moment before turning to me. “What about you? What will you do if you leave Dawson City empty-handed?”

  “I’m not certain. I’ve already found one way to survive if I need to.”

  His lips tightened as he searched through a bag of parts. “You can’t do that forever, though.”

  “No, but I can do it until I figure out what else there is for a man like me.”

  John pulled a new line and a brass coupling out of the bag. “And what kind of man is a man like you?”

  “Don’t know.” I let my own gaze drift toward the north and the not-yet-visible Klondike gold fields. “I’m hoping to figure that out before this is all over.”

  “Yes, I suppose a journey like this could tell a man a great deal about himself.”

  “One can hope.”

  By midafternoon, the boiler was working again and, with a large rock, a long tree limb, and a lot of cursing, we’d straightened the bent leg. The only problem was . . . it was midafternoon.

  John glared at the sky. “No point in moving forward now.”

  “Damn.” I threw my own glare skyward. “Pity we’ve lost a day.”

  He shrugged, and a faint smile brightened his expression. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d say it was lost.”

  Our eyes met.

  John quickly cleared his throat and dropped his gaze, gesturing emphatically at the repaired mech. “I mean, now if it breaks down like this again, in worse conditions, I know how to fix it.”

  “Right, right. Better here than knee-deep in snow.”

  “Precisely.” His expression wavered slightly. “Anyhow, we should set up camp. While there’s . . .” He gestured skyward. “While there’s enough light.”

  Our eyes met again, but neither of us spoke. We set up, and while John chained the mech to a nearby tree, I put our bedrolls down inside the tent. Since we’d barely moved today, I wasn’t nearly as exhausted as I had been. Still aching from the last two weeks, but better rested than I’d been since before John paid his way into my bed. The slowdown was frustrating, but the unexpected rest welcome.

  Decidedly less dread than before twisted in my chest as I slid the white bottle under my bedroll, this time making sure it was well within reach. Without the exhaustion of a day’s traveling, I couldn’t help hoping he’d ask me to earn my wages.

  When night fell and we bedded down, John lay beside me but didn’t move to close the distance between us. Silence descended. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved. H
is breathing slowed, but it hadn’t yet fallen into that rhythm of sleep I’d memorized over the last two weeks. He was still awake, still distant, still not laying a hand on me. Where previously relief would have settled in my chest, now there burned a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

  Finally, I couldn’t stand the silence or the sliver of warm space between us any longer. I took a breath. “John?”

  “Hmm?”

  I moistened my lips. “Why did you agree to hire me on?”

  “You offered to work for half the wages of the other men. On my budget, I’d have been a fool not to hire you.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “But is that the only reason?”

  John was quiet for a moment. Then the fur and bedroll rustled as he shifted, and when his shadow rose slightly beside me, I guessed he’d turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Why do you ask?”

  “I mean, given how we . . . met, I’m not certain if you expect me to . . .” I was thankful for the darkness—judging by the heat in my face, I must have been crimson.

  “I didn’t bring you along to be my whore,” he whispered, a note of horror in his tone.

  I exhaled, not sure how much of it was relief and how much was disappointment. “Oh.”

  “I suppose I should have made myself clear. I . . . never meant to lead you to believe I’d hired you on for any other reason than I’d have hired any of the men by the pier. That night in your bed was an indulgence I simply couldn’t resist, even if my budget was painfully limited. I . . . just couldn’t pass you by.”

  I curled my hands against my chest to still the trembling. “Would you be opposed?” I gulped. “If I offered?”

  “I couldn’t . . . I can’t have you like a whore again. Not . . . not now.”

  I swallowed. “Why not?”

  “Because after days in your company,” he said softly, as if every word pained him, “I’m certain if I lay a hand on you, I’ll want you. Not as a whore, just . . .” He took a breath. “If I touch you again, I’ll want you as my own.”

  Heart pounding, I found John’s hand in the darkness, and I guided it toward me. Neither of us made a sound, not even to draw or release a breath, and I closed my eyes as I pressed his warm fingertips to my cheek.