Night of Fire Page 4
The steel breech opened easily. Tom took good care of this weapon. Small toothed wheels lined the bottom to grab the canvas ammo belt.
“Once she’s wound and loaded,” he continued, “you pull the trigger and set the whole thing spinning.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Dry fire it. Got to release the tension now that you’ve wound it.”
How right he was. But releasing the tension between the two of them wouldn’t be as simple as pulling a trigger.
She brought the rifle to her shoulder again and hesitated. “It can’t be this light.”
Tom chuckled. “Ask Franklin Song. There’s an ether tank in the fore grip. Keeps the weight down, but more important, it feeds the breech. A little ether pipes out with every bullet, lightening the air and giving you extra power and range.”
He turned and moved his hand along the rifle until their fingers almost touched near the trigger. The glass of his goggles obscured too much of his eyes for her to read them, but she knew he continued staring at her as he twisted a small valve shut on the rifle.
“Don’t want to waste the ether.” He slid his hand back before they touched, and faced front again. “Give her a try.”
Rosa steadied the rifle in her hands. Even though it wasn’t loaded, she calmed her breath and gently squeezed the trigger. She’d fired guns hundreds of times, but this beast buzzed like a hornet. The barrels spun and the clockwork mechanism chattered inside. The spring slowed and the rifle came to a stop.
There hadn’t been any bullets, but it was still a thrill. In her excitement she patted Tom on the back, his body solid beneath her hand. “I’ve got to try that with live rounds.”
His smile wavered. “Might get the chance.”
The weapon suddenly felt very heavy in her hands. “You’ve used this in battle.”
“Saved my life a few times. Me and a lot of other guys.” He steered the charger close to a high rocky bluff. “Saved my life a few times. Me and a lot of other guys.” He steered the charger close to a high rocky bluff. Sunlight bounced from the stone and warmed the two of them.
She slid the rifle back in the scabbard. “Why would a guy running away from a fight join the Army?”
He spoke like a reflex. “I don’t run from fights.”
“Three years ago my parents had words with you, and you lit out without standing up to them.”
He pulled his hat low and focused forward, silent. The hills passed below them. A curious crow flapped nearby, then continued on its flight. Tom watched the bird for a moment before speaking. “You make a fine sheriff.”
Apologies and explanations couldn’t undo what had happened, so she didn’t press further. “My folks don’t think so.”
“They got opinions about everything.”
“Especially you.”
He shrugged. “They’d change their tune if they’d seen me board a Hapsburg skiff with nothing but a bowie and my Rattler.”
She would like to have seen that. “You care what they think of you now?”
“There’s only one person on this wide world . . .” His shoulders tensed as he cut off the sentence. “That mining machine’s a few ridges ahead. Shouldn’t be long.”
She was as unbalanced as when she first got on the charger, with gravity gone. Words and sentences escaped her on the whistling wind. Was there another question she needed to ask? Or was there something she had to say? As if he deserved to know her. It didn’t seem like anything could bring her back to stable ground.
The charger glided through the low point between two sets of hills. She squinted ahead, trying to see any trace of the Crandall machine. “You said it’s straight down this way?”
“Nowhere for it to turn off between where it was and Thornville.”
“That means it’ll come through this notch.” Several homesteads were cut into the land beneath them. “We’ve got to clear these people out of here.”
Tom shook his head. “It’ll take too long to land at each one.”
“We’ll go to the homesteader furthest south. That guy can collect everyone on his way back to town.”
“Point the way, Sheriff.”
She patted his arm and indicated the spread. “That one, butted up against the mountain.”
“You know him?”
“Yes, and so do you.” This was going to be interesting.
He turned back to her, cautious. “Tell me it ain’t Parker.”
“I’m not gonna lie.”
“Shit.” Tom adjusted himself in the saddle and instinctively touched his revolver in its holster. “This was supposed to be simple. Helping out the sheriff because Thornville was in trouble. Punch a couple faces. Get into a shooting fight with some Whisperers and their rotary shotguns and run the mining company out of town. You never said it was gonna be dangerous.” With a heavy sigh, Tom sent the charger diving toward the homestead at the base of the mountain.
Rosa wore her .45, too. But it wouldn’t come to that. The words and nasty looks would be enough to bleed all of them. “Dangerous? It’s just you, me, Parker and a little unfinished business.” A lot of unfinished business. The kind that had these two men throwing punches the day before Tom disappeared. “Just like the old days.”
Chapter Three
OLD TIMES BE damned. Tom wanted to start over. He’d hoped he could come back to a clean slate. Instead the past dug into him like the thorny brambles that surrounded his town.
Seeing her again after three years brought it all back. But he’d never seen her as the sheriff before. Wearing britches and a star and a gun. She took on those roughnecks without hesitation. Watching her fight that man had sent a swirl of hot and cold through Tom. This was the woman who’d been the only warmth in his heart. Eyes flashing, fists flying, black hair shining in the sun. All the plans for escape and adventure they’d planned seemed like dust. Rosa today was real, changed. She was beautiful. And he’d lost her. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t help in her fight. That was the easy part. Figuring out how to take the poison out of the past was a mystery.
They got closer to the wooden house, details emerging in the joinery and expert craftsmanship.
“Parker always could put things together,” Tom said. “Hell of a carpenter.”
“One of the nicest spreads outside Thornville. Apples, grapes. He’s talking about making wine.”
“Fancy.”
She chuckled, low and smoky. “I know you prefer applejack.”
“We raided a Hapsburg camp one night; the officer lit out and left behind all his kit. Upland Rangers shared some good wine that week.”
The charger was almost to the ground in the clearing at the front of the low, wide house. Rosa nudged his shoulder and tipped her head in the direction of a small vineyard cut into a hill. Parker was walking from among the rows toward them.
“Maybe you can give him some pointers on winemaking,” she said.
It was a real established homestead, everything in its place. Just like Parker. His suspenders formed perfect lines over his unwrinkled shirt. The man waved vaguely.
Tom pulled his hat and goggles off just as the charger came to rest on the damp soil. He dismounted and put a hand out to help Rosa. Of course she swung off the charger without his aid. They both watched Parker approach. He was tall and broad, his muscular forearms showing below his rolled-up sleeves.
The stripes were still on Tom’s shoulder, and the gold cavalry braid encircled his hat. But damn, Parker could make a fella feel inferior.
Tom spoke low, out of Parker’s earshot. “When I found you two at the river that last time, he was just down on one knee asking you. I was a little hasty with my fists, didn’t get a chance to hear your answer. Thought you’d have married him by now.”
Rosa’s silence had a cold edge but the look she shot him was as hot as a powder burn.
There was a hitch in P
arker’s step when he recognized who stood in front of his house. His face twisted a bit, like he’d bitten into an apple before it was ripe. Just a few paces away now, he completely ignored Tom.
“Afternoon, Sheriff.”
She got right to business. “There’s trouble, Parker.”
He bristled. “Damn right there’s trouble. I need you to arrest this man.” Parker pointed a finger at Tom.
It took all Tom’s power not to jump Parker right there and break that finger off.
Rosa looked from one man to the other. “Arrest him? For what?”
“Horse theft.”
Her surprised eyes landed on Tom. “That true?”
Tom didn’t know if she was asking as the sheriff or Rosa, so he tried to calm things with Parker. “Hundred dollars. That’s a fair price.”
“You ain’t buying your way out of this.” Parker took another step forward, then hesitated when he saw the gun on Tom’s hip.
Rosa maintained the scales of justice. “That’s a serious accusation, Parker. You sure about this?”
“Sure as hell.”
Tom just wanted to get back on the charger and find the Whisperers for a simple fight. “I ain’t proud of it and I’m willing to pay for what I’ve done.”
“You should pay with prison time.” Parker’s finger was still out and he came forward again like it was a sword.
“It was the sorriest filly in the corral,” Tom said. “Hundred dollars three years later is more than enough.”
Rosa shoved at Tom’s shoulder. She was strong. “You stole a horse from him?”
“That’s how I got out of town that night.”
It was like getting bucked and landing flat on his back. The breath was sucked out of his body. They were all quiet. Rosa couldn’t look at Tom, but Parker’s eyes blazed hotter with anger. Here it came.
Parker balled his pointed finger into a fist and took a swing at Tom. It was a strong punch and would’ve done some damage if it had connected. But Tom anticipated it and quickly slipped to one side, letting Parker’s momentum carry him past. Tom grabbed Parker’s outstretched arm and twisted it behind his back.
Their feet scuffled through the dirt as Tom pushed Parker toward the house. Still holding his arm behind his back, Tom leaned hard on Parker and forced him into the hitching rail by the porch.
Rosa shouted. “Tom, don’t!”
Tom growled, holding the struggling Parker. “I’ve seen Hapsburg Man O’ War airships and their iron centipedes level entire towns. I’ve put my bullet in men before they put one in me. I’ve seen bodies on fire, falling through the air.” Parker tried to pull away, but Tom’s grip was unbreakable. “I’ve seen the Blackfoot fighting shoulder to shoulder with the Sioux to turn back this enemy.”
Rosa tugged at his arm. “Tom, this ain’t the fight.”
“I know that. He needs to know that.” Tom wasn’t ready to let Parker go. “Now I admit I done you wrong and I’ll repay you for the horse, but you only get one swing at me and that was it.”
Tom released Parker and shoved away from him. The other man turned slowly, still plenty of anger in him, but less fight. He straightened his shirt and suspenders.
Rosa stood between the two men, just in case. “Settle this another time. I meant it when I said there was real trouble, Parker.”
He spoke through a hard scowl. “What is it?”
“Crandall mining machine is coming up this way and I need you to clear out.”
Parker put his hands on his hips like he’d single-handedly stop anything from rolling over his homestead. “Ain’t seen or heard anything.”
Tom spoke up, hoping they could get this over with quickly. “I saw it. It’ll chew right through your place.”
Parker kept his eyes on Rosa. “I’m happy to help how I can, but running away . . .”
“Not asking you to run,” she said. “You have to gather what’s important to you and ride back to town, collecting everyone along the way. The Wilsons, Yangs, Santos and his family.”
He still wasn’t convinced. “A mining machine?”
Tom watched her frustration starting to percolate. “You know Crandall’s been trying to buy up this whole territory,” she said. “No one’s sold so they’re taking it by force.”
Parker wasn’t moving fast enough, so she put more authority in her voice. “I’m sheriff and I’m not going to let you stay here and lose everything, probably your life. Saddle up and get the rest of those people to safety. That’s your job now.”
Parker snapped into action, hurrying toward a small tack shed next to the corral. He threw the doors open, selected a saddle and hauled it onto the corral fence. One of the horses immediately came over, nosing the saddle and nickering excitedly.
Tom mounted the charger and Rosa slipped on behind him. Hurrying like a dust devil, Parker rushed into his house and stepped back onto his porch, buckling on a holster with a .45. He gave Rosa a small nod.
“Be careful, Rosa . . . Sheriff. And Tom, you and I will settle later.”
Tom kicked a lever and the charger lifted up. He spoke when the craft was level with the porch.
“You proposed before my body’d gone cold. She’s a woman with her own mind. Her not hitching up to you had nothing to do with me. It’s her decision to make.” He winked at Parker, pulled on his goggles and hat, and took the charger into the sky.
As soon as they were above the treetops, Rosa spoke. “Couldn’t let it alone with Parker. You already nearly broke his arm on his own property. Had to get your parting shot?”
“I wasn’t wrong. It’s your choice.”
“Couldn’t choose you. Couldn’t find you.”
There was a glimmer of hope in him, mixed with the pain of the past. Once he’d left, he could only guess what had happened to her. “Did you look?”
“I did not.” That told him everything he’d needed to know. She was a proud woman, and fierce when she wanted something. He’d hurt her so deeply she didn’t want to find him.
The glimmer of hope died. He turned the charger south and resumed their two-person campaign toward the mining machine.
But the silence wouldn’t do. Seemed like before he left, every waking minute had been spent with Rosa. Barn dances, berry harvests, and all the time they could be alone together. Sex under the stars. Talking until sunrise, making plans to sail to China or Argentina or both. Then three years of silence. He had to hear her voice again.
“Any more surprises out here? Your folks have a spread I don’t know about?”
“Scared?” She needled him and he deserved it.
“Just making sure everyone’s safe.”
She shifted behind him. It felt entirely too good having her ride with him, bodies close. “They’re in the same house, close to town. You forget your way after three years?”
“Could find it in the dark.”
“I remember. Quite a few times.”
He chewed this over, liking the memory and hating how tainted it had become. Because of what he did.
She obviously wasn’t ready to let it go. “Knew your way out of town in a hurry, too.” Her anger was justified, and he had no idea how to make it right. “You never answered my question. Why did a guy running away from a fight join the Army?”
The answer wasn’t in his grasp. It spun around him, high like the turkey vultures. “Lucky for you, I did.” He patted the neck of the charger, then the Gatling rifle in its scabbard.
Her voice hardened. “Don’t need rescuing.”
“Ain’t what I’m doing.” Turning to her, he saw stony determination in her face.
But she wasn’t cold. Her fire flared. “So what are you doing?”
“Helping the sheriff save Thornville. Saving our hometown.”
Her eyes remained stoic. “Maybe we should deputize you.”
But Rosa kept slicing away. “No way you knew Thornville was in trouble when you got leave. So what were you planning on?”
He couldn’t answer her or himself.
“Hope you didn’t think you could come back and get me,” she said. “That Sky Train left the station.”
He ground out, “Thought you’d be married. Probably to Parker after that proposal by the river.”
She turned the corners of her mouth down and shook her head. “Didn’t have a taste for marriage after that. Didn’t have any good feelings left in Thornville.”
The charger sagged in the air. Tom clicked his tongue and brought the craft toward the ground. “Losing buoyancy. Got to refill the ether tanks with water.”
But the conversation wasn’t over. It had just started, the snap of the primer before the bullet went off.
Once on the ground, Tom and Rosa dismounted. He unlatched the auxiliary reservoir. She stood a few paces away, in the shade of a valley oak. It was the first chance he’d had to really look at her, head to toe.
Her neat britches were tucked into well-worn, lace-up packer boots. She still had the sensuous curves he remembered, hips to narrow waist. A lot of summer nights had been passed examining those curves. And in the winter, his cold hands would be warmed on her legs under her skirts. But that was the Rosa he used to know. This one was the sheriff and would probably shoot him for thinking about the soft cotton drawers she used to wear.
A buttoned vest covered her chest, but there was no doubt she was a woman, despite the shining star above her left breast. Her thick black hair was pulled back into some sort of a clip, revealing the strong set of her jaw, her full lips and high cheekbones. There was a time when she would’ve let him run his fingers through her hair. He ached to do it again, to watch her close her eyes, chest rising and falling with slow breaths. She’d been at the center of the only pleasure he’d known in this hard world.