A Stillness of the Sun (Crowmakers: Book 1): A Science Fiction Western Adventure

by L. E. Erickson

  "I dunno." Vincent spread his hands in front of him and shrugged. "Seems to me, the house has a pretty ferocious guard dog already."

  Annie's mouth pursed.

  Vincent sighed and let his guard slip, just a little, just enough to make his smile seem genuine.

  "I just know Captain Ellis asked me to come in here and wait for him. That all right with you?"

  She regarded him with a steady, black-eyed gaze—her eyes really were black, he realized, and not just brown.

  "I suppose," she said. But she neither retreated back into the study nor shut the door. As Vincent crossed his arms and settled in to wait, he glanced past her.

  In the room behind Annie, a desk and two long tables stood in close quarters to one another, every inch of the surfaces covered in books and papers, toolboxes and wood-handled tools. Vincent glimpsed a black shape on the far table.

  Annie stepped to one side, right into Vincent's line of sight.

  "What do you know about my father?" she asked.

  Vincent considered the question. The truth was, he didn't know as much as he'd like to know, about Samuel James or about the work he was doing with Ellis. For Ellis? But he also knew more than maybe he was supposed to let on.

  He would also not be at all surprised if Annie James could guess if he told a bald-faced lie. Still, better to say too little than too much.

  "I know his name," Vincent said, fighting the urge to lean to one side and peer around her into the room. "That's about all I need to know."

  She made a soft scoffing noise. "But not his reputation. Not a thing at all about his work."

  Vincent suppressed a smile and gave a casual shrug. Little Miss Annie James might be every bit as bright as he'd assumed, but he sensed he'd just gotten a whiff of her weak point.

  "He's only brilliant," Annie said, and Vincent knew she'd read his lack of response exactly as he'd intended. "His work in the field of automatons is unprecedented. No one has ever created such complex mechanical systems."

  "Automatons." Vincent watched her disdainful little face closely. "The clockwork things? Like wind-up toys?"

  Twin patches of pink appeared high on her cheeks. Vincent had to work very hard to keep down a satisfied smile.

  "Far more sophisticated machinery than mere toys." Her voice was so cold now, she could've given Widow Howland a run for her money. "Working machines. Machines that can change our lives. And once we've unraveled how to effectively unleash and harness the—"

  To the back of the house, one of the doors Vincent had passed earlier opened. Footsteps came into the hall and moved toward them. Vincent turned aside from the open door and Annie James and stood with his arms akimbo, waiting just like he'd been told to.

  Chapter 21

  The first man to enter the front hall was the one Vincent had seen outside with Annie. Ellis followed a few steps behind.

  Samuel James wore no coat and was rolling up his shirt sleeves as he walked. When he spotted Vincent and Annie, he stopped and glanced between them.

  "Annie?" James said.

  "Father." All indignation had fled from Annie's voice.

  "What are you doing? I sent you off to attend to your studies hours ago."

  "Father. I was simply—"

  "It doesn't matter. You have reading to do. Go on. Off with you."

  Annie glanced past her father at Ellis.

  Ellis smiled and tipped his hat. "Miss James."

  She didn't smile back.

  "Yes, Father," she murmured. She walked with stiff poise, retreating from the hall and up the staircase. Once she was out of sight, her footsteps grew quicker.

  With Annie gone, James was staring at Vincent. Vincent met his gaze levelly.

  "This is your right hand man?" James was tall enough to actually look down his nose at Vincent and succeed.

  James could've punched Vincent at that moment, and he wouldn't have felt a thing. Nothing would have mattered nearly as much as what James had said.

  Right hand man.

  Ellis chuckled and slapped James on the shoulder.

  "Relax, Sam. Vincent is quite a bright and capable young man, and I have every confidence in him." Ellis chuckled again, softly. "And if I trust him, certainly you can. Am I right?"

  James huffed a disgruntled grunt that was deeper and harsher than the one his daughter had uttered a few minutes before, but Vincent heard the family resemblance. Vincent judged it would be best to continue looking straight ahead and giving no sign he minded being talked about.

  "Fine." James crossed in front of Vincent, aimed for his study door. "I have work to do. See I'm not disturbed."

  "Actually." Ellis stepped forward. His familiar perpetually-sly smile quirked as he caught Vincent's gaze. "I thought we might show Vincent our little project. What do you say, Vincent? Care for a peek at the technology in progress?"

  Vincent suspected James would like him to decline the offer, but Ellis just as clearly wanted him to say yes.

  No. Ellis wanted him to answer however he truly wanted to answer. He just already knew what Vincent would want. A fine difference, but an important one. And even as Vincent understood it, he wondered if that were the real lesson, as opposed to actually seeing what was going on in Samuel James's study.

  "Yes," Vincent said, and then tried to think of a more polite way to phrase it. "I'd be privileged, sir."

  Ellis's smirk widened into a grin.

  "Yes," Ellis said. "Yes, indeed, you would be. Step inside, then. Sam, won't you give us the tour?"

  "I hardly believe we ought to start giving tours," James replied, but he stepped into the study and left the door open for Vincent and Ellis to follow.

  A desk and two long tables, as Vincent had already glimpsed through the doorway. Bookshelves, too, crammed full with not only books but also more mechanisms—coils and gears and springs, glittering like jewels and as poised as statues. The dark bulk on the far table tugged at Vincent's attention, but he made himself look at everything else first, knowing he wouldn't understand much at all about what he saw but following the instinct to soak in as much as he could just the same.

  Close, neat handwriting crammed onto sheets of paper. Sketches, overlapping and held in place by a delicate hammer. A fan of gears lying alongside a toothy metal rasp.

  Vincent stepped into the room slowly, scanning his surroundings carefully now that he'd been given permission—encouragement—to do so.

  James crossed the room to that far table. His impatience was nearly palpable.

  Finally, Vincent gave in and let his gaze settle on the metal sculpture beside which James stood.

  Sculpture—that's what it had to be. Nothing with such sleek curves and smooth contours could be anything more substantial than a work of art. The material forming it was a black so deep that it seemed more like a hole cut into the light than an actual object.

  Vincent had seen a metal of that impossible shade of midnight—but only once, in barrel of the Ellis .36 he and every other member of Ellis's militia wore on his hip.

  Vincent kept walking, until he stood beside Samuel James.

  "Meet the Crow," Ellis said from behind Vincent. "Quite a work, isn't it?"

  The Crow perched on two sturdy legs that created a base beneath it. A silvery light glowed faintly through two eyes drilled into the sides of its triangular head. Its wings were tucked smoothly against its sides.

  It was a hunk of metal—a nicely crafted one, but still only a hunk of metal. But it exuded a sense of vitality and power so strong that Vincent could barely breathe in its presence.

  "Yes," Vincent replied.

  Maybe James heard awe in Vincent's voice—awe was definitely what Vincent was feeling. Without further prompting from Ellis, James took hold of one wingtip and gently pulled it away from the Crow's body. With a smooth rustle of metal slats and joints, the wing extended. James slanted his wrist back and forth, and the wing tilted in graceful degrees. Vincent's mind told him metal and rivets, but his eyes kept tryin
g to see feathers and life.

  "Sophisticated machinery," Vincent murmured.

  James narrowed his eyes—another mimicry of his daughter, although Vincent supposed technically it was the other way around.

  Vincent's fingers itched to touch the Crow. He carefully folded his hands behind his back to resist the temptation.

  James smiled, ever so slightly. Ellis chuckled, reminding Vincent that the Crow wasn't the only thing on display here. The never-ending question returned—how to pass the test. What did Ellis want him to do?

  A flash of insight welled, sharp but gentle as the silvery glow of the Crow's eyes. Ellis wanted Vincent to follow his own instincts, his own curiosity—but boldly. Without fear. Whatever the specific answer to that never-ending question in any situation, that seemed to always be the foundation of it.

  Vincent allowed himself a hint of a smile, as well.

  "I've never seen anything like it," he said. "What sort of metal is that?"

  James pursed his lips and glanced past Vincent—at Ellis, Vincent assumed, who was probably grinning triumphantly.

  "Tenebrium," James replied. "Newly discovered, incredibly strong and yet malleable. You've seen it before, of course."

  Vincent nodded.

  James glanced past Vincent again. One eyebrow raised slightly.

  "Yes," Ellis replied to the unspoken question.

  James folded the wing flat again and eased the Crow onto its side. Its belly was as sleek as the rest of it, with the exception of two short tubes protruding a thumb's length from it, side by side.

  Twin gun barrels. Vincent smiled a little more.

  "Front load?" he asked.

  James positively grinned. "Oh, young man. No. Not quite."

  James returned the Crow to its upright position. He ran one finger along the Crow's smooth back, and suddenly the back was no longer smooth. With a faint click, a hatch opened.

  Vincent stepped closer. He couldn't have helped himself if he'd wanted to. Since Ellis wanted him to do what he wanted to do, he didn't suppose it mattered, either way.

  James took a step back, allowing Vincent to lean forward and peer into the Crow's interior.

  A metal box took up as much of the interior as Vincent could see. Its sides angled slightly, leading to twin openings in the bottom.

  "Hopper feed," James said. "The box sits atop the firing mechanisms. When filled with ammunition, the cartridges will fall through the openings and into the breeches."

  "I've never heard of such a thing," Vincent said, without looking away from the deceptively simple interior.

  "That is because there has never been such a thing. Until now." Pride filled James's voice.

  Vincent stared at the hopper a second longer, imagining it filled with ammunition. His mind struggled to comprehend how much could fit into that hopper.

  "How fast can it fire?" Vincent asked.

  Ellis outright laughed. It was most definitely an approving sound.

  James didn't answer right away, though. Vincent looked up and found James frowning.

  "The limits of the firing mechanism are measured in fractions of seconds." Ellis stepped up beside James. He was not frowning. "Which means, essentially, that they can fire as rapidly as the person operating them can make them fire."

  Vincent took a step back and studied the Crow again, with new respect this time. Graceful sculpture or no, it was likely the deadliest thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

  Potentially the deadliest thing. It perched on the tabletop with the ability to hold unheard of amounts of ammunition and shoot faster than any gun had ever fired. And fly.

  Possibly.

  "But how?" Vincent asked. "How does it fly? How does it fire?"

  "It doesn't." James snapped the hatch into place. The little door fit so neatly that Vincent couldn't see its seams.

  "Yet." Ellis gripped James's shoulder in what Vincent supposed was meant to be a reassuring gesture.

  James frowned more deeply, shrugged off Ellis's hand, and stepped away.

  "We have a power source," James said. "And a method of control. A portable one. So far it's proven unpredictable and inconsistent in delivering helpful results."

  "You're being modest, Sam," Ellis said. "I know you'll be ready for a new test in no time."

  Ellis paused and tipped his head very slightly down, aiming his gaze more directly at James.

  "In no time at all," Ellis said, and it sounded to Vincent like it was an order.

  James turned away from Ellis and busied himself with putting to order some of the papers strewn across his desk. Ellis smiled at James's back, but it was a chilly smile, a calculating one.

  Once again, Vincent thought the Crow wasn't the only thing being tested.

  ~

  "I can't believe you talked me into this." Jan Bosch shrugged out of his coat and tossed it across his cot.

  Byrne and Jennett had moved the table and benches off to one side of the open space at the front of the barracks. The rest of the men watched with varying degrees of interest. Vincent, as usual, stuck to his corner and stayed the hell out of it. He kicked back on his cot and watched with as little interest as possible.

  "You're right to be afraid, you are," Byrne said to Bosch. "I suppose we could let you back out."

  Bosch's grin was as big as the rest of him. "If I'm afraid, it's only that I might hurt Colley. C'mon, look at him. I could probably just blow him over from here."

  Patrick Colley, as usual, gave very little indication that he even realized he was being talked about. He removed his coat as well, folded it neatly in half, and handed it to Byrne to hold for him. Serene and calm as Colley always seemed, he always wore a vague smile. He hadn't lost the smile now.

  "Heaven knows, you're a big enough blowhard, Janny." Byrne draped Colley's coat over one arm and gestured magnanimously with the other. "If any man could accomplish that feat, it would be you."

  Jennett stepped up beside Byrne and grinned at Bosch.

  "Fisticuffs," Byrne announced. "For honor, not blood. Gentlemen?"

  Bosch and Colley squared off in the cleared space. Bosch stomped through the hay on the dirt floor, but Colley stepped so lightly that he almost seemed to walk above the hay.

  Colley did smile, then, as he took his time about rolling up his shirtsleeves.

  "I'll try not to hurt you, Colley." Bosch curled his hands into loose fists and planted his feet.

  Colley settled into an easy stance with his knees and elbows bent and his fists held up near his chin.

  Vincent allowed himself a small smile.

  Bosch charged. Colley stepped to one side and watched the bigger man stumble past. Bosch swung himself around and led with his fists, coming at Colley again, harder this time.

  Again, Colley dodged. Bosch jerked himself to a stop and pulled himself upright.

  "Ha!" Bosch's grin was uncertain. "You're a fast one, I'll give you that."

  Colley's only reply was that faint smile. He waited, still with knees bent and fists held just so in front of him.

  Bosch charged again. This time he swung for Colley's head.

  Colley ducked, side-stepped, and jabbed as Bosch lumbered past him. Vincent heard the snap of the punch landing, but it was so fast he didn't really see it.

  Bosch grunted. When he turned this time, he wasn't grinning anymore, and his face was red.

  It was all downhill from there. Colley held himself at arm's length from Bosch's every move, landing punches where he could but mostly just letting Bosch wear himself down. The redder Bosch's face got, the clumsier his lunges became.

  Eventually, Colley drew his fists up in front of his face, dropped into a slight crouch, and stepped neatly inside Bosch's extended left arm. A tight little rain of blows left Bosch gasping and shaking his head, and just like that it was all over.

  Byrne and Jennett both threw back their heads and laughed. Vincent watched Bosch struggle with his temper—his face hadn't gotten any less red in the moments since Colley had b
ested him.

  Colley allowed Byrne to help him back into his coat and shrugged his shoulders around to get it settled right.

  Bosch stood with his hands on his thighs, bent forward as he caught his breath.

  "God almighty, Colley," Bosch finally said. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

  "My mother," Colley replied, this time without cracking even a hint of a smile.

  Bosch laughed. "Your mother."

  Colley looked at Bosch. He smiled and nodded and finished buttoning his coat. Then he calmly walked away.

  "His mother." Bosch laughed again and looked at the men still standing around. "He's not serious."

  "Face it, Bosch." Jennett slapped Bosch on the back. "You've been had."

  "Is he serious?"

  "We're Irish," Byrne said. "Even our sheep know how to fight."

  "Somebody tell Langston," Jennett said.

  "Fuck off, Jennett."

  "Captain Ellis," Goodson quietly intoned into the fracas, each syllable carrying weight of its own in Goodson's slow, deliberate manner of speaking.

  That was all the warning any of them needed. Everyone who'd been lounging on his cot, including Vincent, kicked his legs over the side and was on his feet before Ellis stepped through the doors.

  Ellis took a moment before he spoke, glancing at each of the men in turn. He smiled, but it was faint even by Ellis's standards.

  "A test of skill," Ellis said. "You will have considerable opportunity for those, soon enough."

  Some of the men glanced at each other. Vincent kept his eyes trained on Ellis, but his nerves danced just the same.

  "Governor Harrison finds himself in a greater quandary with every passing day," Ellis said. "And his quandary becomes ours. We will be pressing harder yet to prepare for what is an almost certainly inevitable conflict with the tribes in the Indiana Territory."

  Vincent kept his expression carefully blank. He couldn't tell if the churning in his stomach was excitement or dread, but he wouldn't do himself any favors by letting it show, whatever it was.

  "When will we leave?" Petras regarded Ellis with great gravity on his square face.

  Ellis didn't answer right away.