by Gwynn White
“Is Mr. Adams in?” Briar asked, trying to change the topic.
“He’s in his workshop, of course.” Agatha’s tone was resigned. She knew she couldn’t get Briar to talk if she didn’t want to.
“I’ll go see him. He has something that belongs to me.”
“Yes, those plans.” Agatha’s smile was bemused. “He hasn’t stopped talking about them since they arrived.”
“What did he say about them?” Would he have said anything to Agatha if they were ferromantic?
“He rattled on with a lot of technical jargon I didn’t follow,” Agatha answered, “but he’s clearly enjoyed them. You know what the man’s like when he finds some new mechanical wonder to study.”
Briar smiled. She could easily imagine that. She suddenly regretted not bringing Grayson. He and Adams would certainly get along.
She found Mr. Adams where she expected: hunched over his workbench. An assortment of gadgets and half-assembled contraptions covered every surface. Bookshelves lined with well-used tomes and rolled sheets of drafting paper competed for space in the cramped, but oddly comfortable room. Next to her boat, this was Briar’s favorite place to be. She had spent many a happy hour tinkering with Uncle Liam in this workshop.
Stopping on the threshold, she tapped on the open door.
“Dinner already?” Liam asked, his words colored by the Scottish brogue that still clung to him, even after decades in this country.
“Not just yet,” Briar answered.
Liam looked up, a wide grin on his ruddy cheeks. Judging by the color on his face and his disheveled salt and pepper hair, he’d been working for some time.
“My Briar Rose.” He pushed himself off his stool and hurried over to her. “I didn’t realize you had arrived.”
“Only just now.” She exchanged a quick hug with him.
“Hm. Well, I guess you are here to divest me of my newest treasures.” Liam released her and stepped back.
She smiled at his word choice, remembering Agatha’s comment on Liam’s obsession with them. “Yes, I’m here for the locomotive plans,” she answered, turning serious. “What did you think of them?”
“They’re extraordinary. I’ve barely been able to sleep because of my desire to exam them in minute detail.”
“And?” Briar bit her lip, waiting for Liam’s answer. Had all this been worth it? Could she defame the railroad and save the canal?
Liam’s gray eyes met hers. “I think I know why you acquired them, but I fear I must disappoint you. The man who designed them is a mechanical genius, not a ferromancer. Though I would wager that he has studied their technology.”
Disappointment snatched away her excitement. “You’re certain?”
“Yes, my dear.” He studied her. “How did you acquire them?”
“My cousin has decided to go into the business of building locomotives. I took those from his business partner.”
“In hope of proving that he was using ferromancy.”
She sighed. “Yes. I had hoped to ruin the railroad’s reputation and save the canal.”
Liam pressed his lips together, his expression amused, yet sad. “Briar.”
“I had to try.”
“I understand.”
She smiled. “I knew you would.” Liam was the kind of man who took action against a wrong, even when that action wasn’t completely on the up and up. He’d never given her any details, but he had once admitted that he’d had to do some wrong to see good prevail.
He turned away and lifted the leather tube she’d used to send him the plans. “What are you going to do now?”
“Return the plans,” she answered. “If what you say is true, these plans are the product of hard work and creative genius. Even if the designer sells them to the railroad, I can’t take them from him.”
Liam gave her a soft smile. “That’s my lass. Take the high road.”
“I’m trying.”
He nodded and offered her the tube. “Then I won’t impede you.”
She accepted the plans and slipped the strap over her shoulder. “Thank you.” She stepped forward to give him another hug. “I’m so glad I came to you before turning these over to the newspaper.”
Liam chuckled. “Yes. They would have believed as you do.”
She stepped back and looked up at him. “They would have gone after the railroad.”
Liam sobered. “The railroad would have tried to save face, most likely by having the plans’ engineer hanged.”
Briar stared up at him, remembering well Grayson’s tale of the watchmaker. Had she almost doomed another brilliant mind with accusations of magic?
“I see you understand,” Liam said. “You have the heart of a witch hunter, but I would never wish that life on you.”
Briar wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. Perhaps Liam was trying to be enigmatic. “You’re right. I don’t think I could live with myself if I caused the death of an innocent.” She slipped a thumb beneath the strap over her shoulder. “I’ll return these plans and be through with it.” Even if she did have to listen to Grayson say I told you so.
“That’s my girl.” He patted her shoulder.
“Briar?” Agatha called from the doorway. “Will you be staying for dinner?”
Briar turned to face her, ready to explain that she needed to get back to the boat, but the leather tube clipped a ruler on the edge of Liam’s workbench and knocked it to the floor.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay,” Briar said, leaning around the side of the bench to retrieve the ruler. The heavy medallion slipped from beneath her shirt and bumped against her chin. “I need to visit Bennett’s Mill to see if I can secure some cargo for the return trip.”
“But you’ve only just arrived. I had hoped we could visit,” Agatha said. “You get to Columbus so infrequently.”
Briar straightened and returned the ruler to the workbench. “I know. Maybe I can spend some time with you this winter.” After the boat was hers.
“Oh, we would love that,” Agatha said. “Right, dear?” she directed the last at Liam.
“Absolutely,” Liam answered. “It has been too long since you’ve stayed with us. I’ve missed your help with my inventions.”
Briar turned to face him, smiling at his enthusiasm. She longed to tell them about Andrew’s plan to sell the boat, but she knew they’d insist on helping her. She also knew they couldn’t afford to offer that kind of help.
Liam’s smile faded, and for a moment, Briar feared he already knew about her plight. Then she realized that he was studying her throat.
“Where did you get this?” He reached out and touched the silver chain, lifting it until he could hold the medallion in his hand.
Briar felt a faint buzz of static around her neck. Fearing Lock was about to change forms, she pulled the medallion from Liam’s hand and took a hasty step back.
“Briar?” Liam looked concerned.
“Don’t trouble her about that,” Agatha quickly came to her defense. “I think our Briar might have an admirer.” She gave Briar a knowing grin.
“Aunt Agatha,” Briar complained. She tucked the medallion beneath her shirt, hoping that Lock would feel more secure now that he was out of sight.
“Is this true?” Liam demanded. His stern tone surprised Briar.
“It’s nothing. Really.” Briar struggled for some explanation. “He’s just a friend.”
“Friends don’t give ladies such expensive pieces of jewelry,” Agatha said, her blue eyes twinkling with restrained happiness. Agatha was ever on a husband hunt for her.
“I want to meet this man,” Liam said, his tone still demanding and perhaps a bit angry.
“Calm down, dear.” Agatha moved to his side and laid a hand on his arm. She glanced up at Liam, looking as puzzled by this outburst as Briar felt. “I’m sure our Briar will introduce him to us when she’s ready.”
“Truly, it’s nothing,” Briar said, then continued when Agatha grinned. “But if it were, I woul
d most certainly introduce him to you both.”
“You see,” Agatha said to Liam. “You needn’t worry.”
“She’s alone in the world,” Liam insisted.
Briar laughed. “No I’m not. I have my crew.”
Liam frowned, not looking all that convinced.
“And speaking of my crew,” Briar added, hoping to move the conversation away from her fictitious suitor, “I need to get back to the boat.”
“Of course.” Agatha agreed. Still gripping Liam’s arm, she pulled him with her as they started for the door. Agatha kept up a front of small talk as they made their way to the foyer at the front of the house, asking about Briar’s trip and whether the recent storms had been a problem.
Briar answered her questions, grateful to talk about something so mundane. Perhaps Grayson’s departure wouldn’t be a bad thing. She would be relieved to be finished with this business. Her life could finally get back to normal.
Reaching the front door, Briar exchanged another hug with Agatha, and promised again to spend the winter with them. After all, she would need somewhere to stay. As soon as she bought the boat, she was finished with Andrew.
Liam still looked unhappy, but he exchanged a hug with her.
To Briar’s surprise, she felt Lock stir again, and pulled away quickly. “I’ll be in touch,” she promised, and with what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she beat a hasty retreat out the front door.
“Don’t do that, Lock,” she whispered as she descended the stairs. “I would have had a devil of a time trying to explain you to them.”
A buzz of static around her neck made it clear that he had heard.
Smiling, she reached up and ran her fingers along the chain. She was going to miss him so much when Grayson left. But she would return the plans. As she’d told Liam, it was the right thing to do.
Zach rejoined her as she reached the street, and they headed back toward the docks. Lost in her contemplation of recent events, Briar was surprised when Zach touched her arm. When she looked up, he nodded at the leather tube slung over her shoulder.
“Sorry. I guess you’re wondering what I learned.” She sighed before continuing. “The schematics contain no magic. So much for my plan to defame the railroad.”
He patted her forearm.
“Guess I’d better go tell the crew—and let Mr. Grayson say, I told you so.”
Zach walked beside her, unable to offer any sympathy for her plight.
She thought back over Liam’s words. A mechanical genius. Of course, Mr. Martel would be one. He had created Lock. Had he drawn these plans so that others could build the locomotives?
“Or had them drawn for him.” She stumbled to a stop.
Zach touched her shoulder.
“What if Mr. Grayson is the engineer and Mr. Martel is just the front man? Liam said the schematics weren’t magical, but that the guy designing them was a genius. Mr. Grayson is certainly good at fixing most anything.”
Zach nodded.
“The question is: does Mr. Grayson work for him willingly or not?”
Zach gave her shoulder a squeeze and released it.
She didn’t know how to interpret that, but she knew where to go for answers. The schematics might not contain ferromancy, but it wasn’t her only evidence that Martel was a ferromancer. She still had Lock. But was she willing to expose him to the world?
Laying a hand over the medallion beneath her shirt, she hurried back toward her boat.
The docks were a busy area with multiple boats being loaded and unloaded. She and Zach were forced to wind their way through the commotion.
Briar caught a glimpse of the Briar Rose through the wagons and dockworkers, noting the absence of the timber in the cargo hold.
“Looks like we’re unloaded,” she told Zach, leading him around the back of a paneled wagon to reach the gangplank. She glanced up at the side of the wagon and blinked in surprise at the large block letters that spelled out Police.
Fearing the worst, Briar took the leather tube from her shoulder and shoved it into Zach’s hands before she ran across the gangplank, but didn’t need to cross it to have her fears confirmed. Two blue-coated policemen had Jimmy, Eli, and Benji corralled against the side of the stable where she’d once tied Grayson. But her eyes were drawn to the red-haired man in the fine suit.
“Let them go, Andrew.” She crossed the gangplank and hopped down into the hold, aware of Zach following her.
Andrew turned to face her. “And here’s the thief now.”
“Let them go,” she repeated. “This was all my idea. I didn’t tell them I didn’t have your leave to take the boat.”
“You stole it.”
“I borrowed it—to raise the money to buy it from you.”
“So you intend to use the profits made from my own boat to purchase it?” An ugly smile creased his face. “That’s still theft—of both my property and my profits.”
She closed the distance between them. “This boat is as much mine as it is yours.”
“Father left it to me. You’ve seen the title.”
She fisted her hands, longing to punch him. “Uncle Charlie wanted the boat to remain in the family and in operation. I honored his wishes.”
“The boat is still mine,” Andrew said.
Briar was aware of the policeman stepping up behind her. “You’re going to have me thrown in jail?” she asked Andrew.
“That’s where thieves go, Bridget.”
She was stunned. She’d known Andrew would be pissed, but she would never have imagined he’d go to such extremes. Wouldn’t the imprisonment of a close relation shame him?
She started to ask when the man behind her gripped her shoulder.
“I see you still have it,” an accented voice said at the same moment he began to lift the necklace over her head.
Briar gasped and grabbed his wrist. A metal wrist. “Solon.”
“Behave,” he told her, his opposite hand clamping down on her shoulder. His fingers dug into her injury, and she grunted in pain.
Solon lifted the necklace over her head and gripped it in his fist.
“Let her go!” Eli shouted, shoving aside the policeman that tried to stand in his way.
“Mr. Owens,” Solon called out. “Please lend me your assistance.”
Thumps came from the gangplank, and Briar turned her head to look. Her mouth dropped open as she watched the newcomer jump onto her boat. It was the soulless man Grayson had faced in Chillicothe.
He caught her look and flashed her a grin.
“If you would be so kind as to subdue the large fellow,” Solon said.
“Certainly, Mr. Solon.”
“Eli, don’t—” She didn’t get to finish the command before Eli charged the considerably smaller Mr. Owens.
The space between them vanished rapidly. Mr. Owens made no effort to move out of the way. Eli reached him, but just before his hands could close on him, the smaller man threw a punch. The move so fast that Briar barely followed it.
The blow took Eli in the chin and snapped his head back. His feet shot out from under him, and he landed on his back with a hollow boom that shook the whole boat.
“Jesus,” the policeman who had tried to seize Eli said. Perhaps he had considered stepping in, but changed his mind.
A pause, and Eli rolled onto his side, then pushed himself up on his hands and knees. He shook his head as if trying to clear it.
“You may take them away,” Andrew said to the policeman. “The silent one, too.” He gestured at Zach who’d stopped a few feet away.
“Please go quietly, Eli,” she said. “Don’t make this worse than it is.”
“On your feet, sir,” the policeman said, though he didn’t come much closer.
Eli shoved himself to his feet. His eyes met hers and she gave him a nod. Certainly, she could get Andrew to let them go.
“Move along there,” the policeman repeated.
Eli’s gaze moved to Solon’s hand on her shoulde
r. He took a step toward them, but when Mr. Owens stepped into his path, he stopped.
“Eli—” Briar didn’t get to finish as Eli threw a punch.
Mr. Owens leaned to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. His hand shot out, and before Eli could pull back his own arm, Owens had seized his wrist.
Eli blinked in surprise, but didn’t get a chance to react before Owens slung him aside. Eli hit the stable wall hard enough to bust a couple of boards before he crumpled to the deck.
Mr. Owens tugged his waistcoat straight and started toward him.
“Don’t hurt him anymore,” Briar pleaded.
Suddenly, Grayson dropped down from the catwalk above them, landing lightly on his feet between Eli and Mr. Owens.
“Would you like a rematch?” he asked the soulless man.
Mr. Owens came to a stop, glancing over his shoulder at Solon.
“Mr. Martel.” Andrew stared at Grayson. “You are here.”
15
What?” She tried to pull away from Solon, but he wouldn’t let her go.
Grayson glanced at her before lifting his gaze to the man who held her. “Release her, Solon. You have what you want.”
“Do I?”
The policemen were rounding up the crew. One took the leather tube from Zach and dropped it to the deck. But they did allow Jimmy and Benji to help Eli up.
“Briar?” Eli called, his voice a little slurred.
“Please go.” She nodded at Jimmy and Benji to assist him.
Once they had Eli on his feet, they were herded across the gangplank toward the waiting wagon.
She turned back to find Grayson watching her. “You’re Mr. Martel?” she demanded. “The ferromancer?”
“Ferromancer?” Andrew spoke up. “Of course not. He just stole their technology and adapted it to his own use. Mr. Solon alerted me to that. Fortunately, I hadn’t finalized the investment.” Was that what Andrew and Solon had been discussing in Waverly?
Grayson gave him a dark frown.
Andrew’s words sank in, and Briar’s stomach turned over. Mr. Martel—Grayson—wasn’t a ferromancer. Uncle Liam had even confirmed it. The plans contained no ferromancy. Aside from hiding who he was, Grayson had been telling her the truth.