The problem with having settlements around Zoom tunnels, however, was that they weren’t always conveniently located. In the case of Barney’s Rock, the valley was rocky and parched, not an attractive prospect for farmers. A pumping station had been built from the nearest river almost ten miles away to bring water to the town’s handful of permanent residents, but the system was hardly adequate to sustain a larger population. With no easy access to water, there were no farms, no green pastures. Most of the trees had been cleared to make way for the town, and what game might have lived off this harsh land had been scared off. It meant all food and supplies were imported. Barney’s Rock was simply a transport hub, and neither goods nor people stayed long. People moved swiftly, and with purpose.
Wagons loaded with crates and barrels jammed the roads, headed for the nearest railway station in the next town over. Because they were made of metal, trains and tracks built too close to the apertures destabilized the tunnels. The Zoom and rail unions had learned that quite early on, and several stations had since been shut down due to improper import and export practices. As a result, the Zoom Union also limited the amount of metal passing through the tunnels, so shipments of things like nails and tools, weapons, ammunition, and the like were limited, or were severely taxed. With magic dwindling and no way to know how the tunnels would be affected, those tariffs had started to include things like buttons and jewelry. A traveler would be charged by how many ounces of metal he carried through the portal.
“Keep a sharp eye out,” Uncle said as they closed in on the town’s outer limits. “Stubbs’s men could be waiting for us.”
“Something else we’re going to have to deal with.” Walker nodded at the sign ahead. No guns. No magic. Surrender all arms and talismans to the border guard.
“Huh.” Jeremiah scratched his chin. “When’d they start being so uppity?”
“Can’t have spells or guns influencing legitimate business transactions,” Walker said and narrowed his gaze. “There’s a null spell suppressing all enchantments over the town, too.”
“Well, that’s something, at least. If it affects us, it’ll affect the Pinks.”
“I don’t understand,” Hettie said. “How can there be a null spell on the town while a Zoom tunnel is functioning inside it? For that matter, how can you make a spell that nullifies other magic?”
“It’s complicated,” Jeremiah said gruffly. “Basically, the null spell’s like putting an empty barrel in a stream. There’s nothing inside the barrel, and the water—or magic—is moving outside and around it.”
“That’s the theory, anyhow,” Walker added. “The truth is, no one knows exactly how it works. Some sorcerer put it together a long time ago without knowing what he was doing. He found out by accident that it kept other people from performing spells in his immediate area.”
“Much of Western sorcery is like that,” Ling commented wryly.
“As if you know the source of your powers?” Uncle’s eyebrow rose.
The healer lifted his chin. “I know where my power comes from. I know how to use it. But I don’t pretend all the mysteries of the universe can be easily explained. That’s something your people seem to be obsessed with.” His gaze included Walker.
Hettie could tell the men were about to get into some kind of grand philosophical argument about magic and headed it off. “So how come null spells don’t get used in more places?” She could imagine quite a few people who’d like to be unaffected by magic. Her, for one.
Walker scrubbed his chin. “It’s a complicated spell. Hard to maintain and expensive to keep up. I’m thinking some business association must be paying a few sorcerers well in Barney’s Rock. Anyhow, it doesn’t completely nullify magic, it just keeps people inside the bubble from casting spells.”
“More like a wet blanket over a pile of tinder, then,” Hettie surmised.
“Diablo should still work inside,” Uncle said. “But I wouldn’t use it if I were you. In fact, it’s best to leave it outside of town altogether. Bury it in the sand. Even if someone found it, they won’t be able to pick it up.”
“What about the Pinks?”
“They won’t be looking for a mage gun in the dirt. Long as it doesn’t go off, its power can’t really be traced unless you’re close to it and know what to look for.”
Hettie dismounted and walked some ways into the desert. She found some rocks and dug a shallow hole, then wrapped Diablo in a kerchief and laid it in the ground, pushed the sand back over it, and added the stones on top. She memorized a few landmarks, searing the map into her mind. Her duster pocket felt too light as she walked back to the travelers and remounted.
The moment she walked away, a rattler as long as she was tall slithered toward the spot and curled itself around the pile, hugging it tight. It stared back at her, flicking its tongue out. “That’s some spell, Uncle,” she said, impressed.
He blinked. “I didn’t do nothin’. Walker?”
“Wasn’t me.”
“Nor I,” Ling added.
The snake gave a warning shake of its tail. Slowly, they backed away.
At the town limits, a deputy with a bland smile met and escorted them to a small building, took their guns, and stripped them of all their talismans. They gave aliases and informed the bored-looking man behind the counter they were escorting their dear old uncle to visit a sick friend. Jeremiah grumbled about his civil rights as he filled the metal lockbox. They were each given a chip with a number printed on it for when they retrieved their items, which would be transported to the Zoom tunnel station at their departure. But just as they were about to leave the office, another man, broad chested and going to fat around the middle, stepped out of a side door in front of them.
“Hold on.” He put out a big palm. “You there. Chinaman. You got any magic?”
“I’m a healer,” Ling replied sharply. Walker shot him a warning look.
The man wasn’t impressed. “Deputy Givens, did you do a search of this man?”
“He’s clean, sir,” Givens said nervously.
“Not all Celestials use talismans, Givens. It’s right there in the handbook. You bother reading it?”
“Yes, Sergeant Pierce. That is, I’ve done everything—”
Pierce waved him off and put a thick hand on Ling’s shoulder. “You’re gonna have to come with me.”
“What for?” Walker intervened. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
“Standard procedure. Ether magic isn’t allowed in Barney’s Rock. No magic is.”
“You’ve got a null spell on the whole town, though, don’t you?”
“We don’t know where these people get their magic from, or how it even works.” The sergeant cut Ling a nasty look. “The magic ban is in place to protect the people, see? This is a business town, and we have to make sure the wrong element doesn’t come in to take advantage.”
Ling kept his burning eyes downcast, fists clenched. Hettie flexed her fingers, feeling the shadow of the Devil’s Revolver brush her palm as keenly as the edge of her anger. It seemed she could summon the weapon if she needed to, but pointing a gun at the sergeant’s fat head wouldn’t help their case right now.
“S’cuse me, Sarge?” Jeremiah shuffled up to him, stooping. “I understand your concern—can’t trust nobody these days. But this coolie’s my manservant. I need him … for all the unspeakables an old man like me needs help with.”
Sergeant Pierce’s eyebrow arched. “Why can’t these two help you?”
“They don’t know what they’re doing. You ever have a little boy who’s scared of a few bullet scars try to wipe your ass, or have a ham-handed grunt like this give me a bath?” He gave Walker and Hettie harsh, reproving glances, then nodded to Ling. “I’d hate to admit it, but Charlie here’s my nurse. You wouldn’t deprive an old veteran of his loyal servant, would you?” He motioned with his hand, and Hettie caugh
t the glint of silver Uncle passed beneath the man’s nose.
Pierce licked his lips and glanced at Ling. “I s’pose I can’t. All right, go on, old soldier. But I don’t want to see him wandering around on his own.” They shook hands. The silver piece disappeared in the sergeant’s pocket.
As they left the stuffy office, Uncle gazed around, addressing them under his breath. “Make sure y’all stick to that story. We don’t want to arouse any suspicions.”
“I’m not wiping your ass, old man,” Ling growled.
“Better call me master while we’re here, just in case.”
Ling called him something else entirely, making Hettie’s cheeks burn and Walker chuckle.
They arrived at the Zoom tunnel station just in time to see the opening of the aperture and the great swirl of energy that irised open to the New Orleans Zoom station. Hettie watched from the upper gallery as wooden carts were rolled through and waybills were quickly exchanged and signed through the portal. Few people actually traveled with their goods—the Zoom Union charged exorbitant fares for passengers. But with the railways reaching all the major cities now, there’d been speculation that prices would fall to compete with train tickets. That hadn’t happened yet, though. The Zoom Union had a tight fist on its business.
Their journey would take them to New Orleans by Zoom and then by train westward to Yuma, but Hettie hadn’t anticipated the price of travel. Even with their resources pooled, they didn’t have enough for Zoom fare for all four of them plus horses and Cymon.
They could travel to Cheyenne and take the train. It would be cheaper, but Uncle was against it. Being trapped in metal cars on metal tracks would interfere with the spells that were keeping them from being Eyed. On top of that, the train would inevitably pass through numerous checkpoints. A quick getaway would be nearly impossible, since the horses would have to travel in a separate car. Walker agreed with him.
“Maybe we should just ride south,” Ling said as they left the Zoom station.
“That’ll take weeks.” Hettie didn’t relish the idea of even more time on the road, and she didn’t want this trip to take longer than necessary. God knew what was happening to Abby. “There must be some way to earn enough for the Zoom fare.”
Uncle wiped his nose. “Well, we can’t stay here. We’re wasting our time regardless, and the longer we stay in one place, the better chance the Pinks will have of finding us.” He watched Hettie steadily. “Maybe it’s time you see some reason—”
“I’m not giving up.”
“So what do you propose? That we all get jobs till we can afford Zoom tickets?”
Hettie sat up. “That’s it. There must be all kinds of wagons heading to the border with men and supplies. They’re shoring up the Wall, aren’t they? Surely someone could use an escort or a few extra hands.”
Walker rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’ll still cost whoever takes us through the tunnel a pretty penny, and if we don’t cut the right deal we’ll be indentured for a couple of years before we pay off that debt.”
“Working a security detail would be best,” Ling said. “We could bargain our services for the Zoom fare alone.”
“We just need to find the right employers.” Hettie chewed her lip. This could work.
They split up to trawl the town for work. Ling went with Uncle, while Hettie went with Walker. Cymon trailed after them. It would be easier for her to continue her charade as a boy, playing the role of Walker’s younger brother. As long as she didn’t say anything and kept her hat pulled low, she could stay in the background.
They went to the train depot, where Walker chatted up some merchants and movers. No one needed help, it seemed. Certainly not from a scruffy, steely-eyed stranger. His smooth talking only seemed to cement their distrust. After all, Walker and his posse could just as easily rob them.
Hettie hung back, her dismay growing with each rejection. While Walker chatted up yet another businessman, a fancy stagecoach pulled in, disgorging a passel of passengers onto the platform. Hettie’s eyes widened in surprise as a woman in emerald-green silk and a jaunty hat bobbing with ostrich feathers descended the steps. Men’s heads turned as the blond beauty glided past.
What on earth was Sophie Favreau doing here?
The debutante wrinkled her nose and darted out of the way when a large man pushed past her with a laden trolley. A tall, robust maid in a plain gray dress hopped out behind her carrying a thick Bible and a reticule. She shouted at the porters wrestling two large suitcases down off the stagecoach, and the men shrank at her reprimands. Sophie rarely went anywhere without Jemma.
The two women made their way into the street, dodging wagons and carts. Sophie scanned the crowd, her brow furrowed slightly, several steps ahead of the frazzled Jemma. She was so intent in her search, Sophie didn’t see the huge Clydesdales barreling toward her.
Hettie darted forward and shouted, “Hey!” Sophie looked her way, disdain turning into horror as Hettie lunged and shoved Sophie out of the horses’ path.
The beasts gave a deep cry and pranced, their huge, shaggy hooves stomping the ground with skull-cracking force where Sophie had stood seconds before. Several men jumped in to grab the horses’ bridles.
“Miz Sophie, are you all right?” Jemma helped her mistress to her feet. Sophie’s hat sat askew, and her neatly coiffed gold ringlets fell in disarray. Her dress was covered in dirt.
“Oaf!” Sophie trembled, bright eyes bulging. “Why don’t you—” Her words died on her lips as her eyes flared wide. “You!” The outrage hissed out on her exhaled whisper.
“You’re welcome.” Hettie was about to turn away when Walker strode up.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded, looking from Hettie to Sophie. “Miss…?”
Sophie stared at Walker’s lean, dark, towering form, her mouth slightly open, cheeks pinkening. She tucked a wayward curl behind her ear coquettishly. Jemma was slapping the dust off her behind, and Sophie waved her away. “Thank you for coming to my aid, Mister…?”
“Woodroffe. Walker Woodroffe.” Walker tipped up his hat in greeting and flashed a grin. Hettie rolled her eyes. It seemed Sophie had entirely forgotten who’d saved her life. “I do recall your face, miss. I believe I saw you in Newhaven a few weeks ago.”
“Why, yes! I do recognize you. You were that stranger who almost won the Robsons’ shootout.” She fluttered like a bird. “I’m Sophie Favreau of the Louisiana Favreaus.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Favreau.” He took her hand and bowed over it, kissing the air above her fingers with gentlemanly affectation.
Hettie scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. Of course Walker would fall at Sophie’s dainty feet. She’d yet to meet a man who hadn’t.
“What brings you out to these parts, Mr. Woodroffe?” Sophie batted her lashes, her ordeal all but forgotten.
“We’re headed to Arizona.” He gestured toward Hettie. “This is … my associate, um…”
Sophie laughed, and it was an unpleasant sound. “I’m not simple, Mr. Woodroffe. I know this country mouse. But what are you doing here, Hettie? And dressed like that?”
Hettie balled her fists, but Walker intervened before she could tell Sophie exactly what she was doing. “She’s with me.” He flashed Sophie a startling smile, broad and white and unlike anything Hettie had seen from the bounty hunter before. “A group of us are hoping to earn our Zoom passage to New Orleans. We’re headed to Arizona. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who’d need an escort?”
Sophie’s bright eyes stayed locked on Walker’s face, as if she was dazzled. Her maid glared between them. “Miz Sophie, I think he’s—”
Jemma was cut off with a sharp, reproving look from her mistress. “It just so happens I’m on my way to New Orleans,” Sophie said airily. “It’s not the safest journey. I wouldn’t mind a strong man to get me safely to my gr
andmother’s. And while you’re there, you must take in the sights and my grandmother’s hospitality, of course. She loves to hear travelers’ stories. She doesn’t leave the house much anymore, so it’s imperative we bring her new and interesting people to talk to. It keeps the madness from settling in. By the way, what is it you do for a living, Mr. Woodroffe?”
He answered without hesitation, “Bounty hunting.”
Hettie wasn’t sure whether to laugh or groan at the revulsion and intrigue fighting for dominance on Sophie’s face, never mind Jemma’s. The maid sized them both up as if they were bound to rob her.
“It’s a bit busy here,” the debutante finally said after a moment’s fluster. “Why don’t we move to that establishment there and sit for some tea? Perhaps we can discuss an … arrangement.”
Walker tipped his hat again. “If you’ll wait for me there, Miss Favreau, I’ll gather my compatriots, and you can vet them yourself. They’re all from Newhaven, too. I think you’ll be more comfortable with folks you’re familiar with watching your back.”
“I trust you, Mr. Woodroffe. And I’m a very good judge of character.” She gave Walker a smoldering look as they bid farewell.
As soon as Sophie was out of earshot, Hettie said, “You can’t be serious. We can’t waste our time visiting some rich old shut-in.”
“That rich old shut-in is Patrice Favreau, the Soothsayer of the South. Anyhow, Miss Favreau said she’ll pay our way to Arizona. We lucked out finding her. The least we can do for her is pay her grandmother a visit.” Walker peered into her face, arching a dark eyebrow. “You’re not jealous of her, are you?”
“Of course not!” she snorted. “I just can’t abide ungrateful, spoiled girls. She didn’t even thank me for saving her life.”
The bounty hunter smothered his smile behind a gloved hand. He’d better, Hettie thought darkly. He was smiling way too much for her liking.
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