Tin Swift

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Cedar Hunt waited just inside the Swift. Captain Hink and his men were on the ground, out in the hard wind and drizzle. Negotiating with Old Jack was what the captain had said he was doing.

Sounded a lot more like arguing.

“Two days at the most,” Captain Hink was saying. Again. For the hundredth time.

Cedar rested his shoulder against the doorway. He intended to keep to the shadows unless it looked like Captain Hink had gotten in over his head. Or if he suddenly decided his passengers were part of his bargaining chips.

“Beds, hot water, supplies for repair, and restocking our larder and needs.” Hink went down the list. “We’ll pay in glim dirty, or gold pure, either way you want it. Half now, half on lift.”

“You’ll leave in the morning,” the man said in a ruined voice.

Cedar expected he’d taken a blast to the throat, or maybe had a habit of drinking kerosene. Whatever he’d done to his voice, or had done to it, it had left it sounding like the rasp of a saw against metal.

Old Jack was white-haired, white-bearded, and bent so bad at the shoulders that he had to tip his chin up to look out from under the brim of his hat.

But Cedar could count the glimmer of four cannons mounted in the rise of cliff that took up three sides of the landing field, and the four silent Negro boys who stood behind them.

He could also count the one very bright Colt in Old Jack’s steady hand.

“It will be two days, you know that, Jack,” Hink said, his patience going sour. “She’s shot full of holes, and I have a young woman in need of a bed and medical attention.”

“The young woman have a name?”

“I suppose she does,” Hink said. “Don’t think that much matters in our price. You know how it is. I don’t ask what you’ve got stashed here in this labyrinth of yours, and you don’t ask me what, or who, I have stashed in my hold.”

Hink’s men shifted slightly. Not making a big deal of it, but enough that anyone would know they had their hands on their guns.

This was the line in the sand. Well, mud. Cedar knew if Jack crossed it, they’d be in for a fight. He didn’t like the odds of facing down cannons with a ship that didn’t have fuel to fly.

Finally, Jack took his finger off the trigger.

“Medicines will cost you twice as much as last visit,” Old Jack wheezed. “And you know why.”

“I told you I’d make clean on our last dealings.” The clink of coins under cloth shook in the cold night air. “This takes care of our previous meeting.” A second clink rang out, this one a little louder.

Cedar heard Guffin’s whispered curse.

“And that,” Hink said, “is a generous thank-you for extending our credit. For two days.”

“Two days,” Jack said. “No longer. Medicine still puts you back double, food isn’t cheap, but it don’t have bugs. You want hot water, boil it over your own fire. Follow me this way.”

“Good doing business with you,” Hink said. “Gentlemen, let’s see to a bed that’s both warm and dry tonight. Except for you, Ansell. Stay with the Swift.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Seldom, please follow our proprietor.”

Seldom strode off behind Old Jack, silent as a ghost in the wind.

Hink walked up to the ship, and paused short of the door. “Didn’t see you there.”

Cedar moved away from the threshold so the captain could step in.

“We’ve a bed for the night and the next, Mr. Hunt,” Captain Hink said, pulling a satchel down from the overhead rack and filling it with maps and other oddments. “Old Jack can’t much be trusted, but we’ve paid him to keep his mouth shut, and keep his hands to himself. We won’t be robbed or shot in our sleep.”

“Don’t mean he won’t rob us or shoot us when we’re awake,” Ansell rumbled, walking in behind the captain.

Cedar glanced over at Mae, who stood stiff, her hands clenched at her sides. She looked as if she’d been frozen in ice; only the slight movement of her lips, as if she were whispering, betrayed her.

Rose still sat on the floor, a blanket tucked tight around her, her fingers twined in Wil’s fur. Her eyes were open, her hair stuck down by sweat. She was watching Cedar, and more so, watching Captain Hink as he moved about the airship.

Mae was sleeping on her feet, and Rose was unable to stand but conscious. He didn’t know how they’d get either of them to walk to a bed through the rain and cold and rocks.

“Maybe we’ll stay in the Swift tonight,” Cedar said.

“What?”

“The women and I might best stay the night here,” he repeated.

Hink had finished filling the satchel and slung it over his shoulder. He turned and looked first at Cedar, then Mae, and finally Rose.

Something about how he looked at Rose made all his edges go a bit softer, as if seeing her hurt like that took the steam out of him.

Rose gave Hink a small smile. She didn’t do anything else but blink slowly. Her breathing was even and calm as if she were holding herself very still against a pain that would bite to the bone if she shifted even an inch.

“I’ll bring a wagon,” he said. “Old Jack has a steam muler wagon that gives an easy enough ride. And it’s covered to shelter against the rain.”

“Didn’t see any structures out there,” Cedar said. “Where are we bunking?”

“Down in one of his catacombs—and those have elevators if we need it, though going more than a couple turns into the mouse run he’s burrowed through these rocks will get a man lost for good.”

At Cedar’s look, he continued. “There’s a half dozen big rooms he carved out for paying guests. Big enough each can hold a ship’s crew. Back in the day, they say he was commissioned to make this place livable in case the war took such a bad turn that the president himself would need a place to hole up. They used it as a base to tamp down the Indian uprisings for a bit, then lost interest in the place after the war was settled.

“But no one told Old Jack to stop digging. There’s plenty of space in this mountain for us, Mr. Hunt. And the main rooms are heated and free from hard drafts. Ask Molly here, if you need a second word.”

Molly had just strolled in from the boiler room and quickly took in the situation. “We can get us all there comfortable,” she said. “The medicines at his disposal would do Miss Small here a long bit of good. And I think Mrs. Lindson could use a rest too.”

“Yes?” Mae asked as soon as she heard her name. She shook her head slowly and then her eyes came to focus on the room around her. “We’ve landed.”

Cedar didn’t like his choices. Stay out here in a crippled ship under cannon watch for the night, or step inside the spider’s web of tunnels carved in the cliffs by a man no one trusted.

Not for the first time, he wished he still had his supplies, his horse, and a steady horizon in front of him.

“Mrs. Lindson,” Cedar said, stepping over to her. “We’re going to be staying here in the mountains for the night.”

She nodded. “Of course,” she said, her hands smoothing down the front of her coat and skirt. “And Rose. We’ll need to see to her.”

“I’ll get that wagon,” Captain Hink said.

Cedar heard the huff of a small matic coming closer. Then Guffin stuck his head in the doorway. “We thought we’d spare the ladies a walk, Captain.”

“Very thoughtful, Mr. Guffin,” he said. “Molly, see that Mr. Hunt has the assistance he needs.” The captain gathered up the bag he had packed and one extra that looked near empty, then stepped outside.

Cedar walked over to Mae, and Molly did the same.

“Can you walk, Mrs. Lindson?” Molly asked gently.

“Of course,” Mae said. “Yes, of course.” She took a step, then drew her hand out to the side as if trying to feel her way through a dark room.

Cedar caught her hand and her elbow.

“Oh,” she said, a breath of relief shuddering out of her. “Mr. Hunt. There you are. Could you show me to the door, please?”

“Right this way.” Cedar gave Molly a look and she nodded.

“I’ll wait until you’re back to help with Miss Small.”

Cedar took two steps and Mae followed like a woman suddenly gone blind, her steps hesitant even though there was nothing in her path.

“There now, you’re doing fine,” Cedar said softly.

“That helps,” Mae said, keeping her chin up.

“What helps?”

“Your voice. I can hear you. As if you’re right here next to me.”

Cedar winced at that, but kept his tone calm. “I am next to you, Mrs. Lindson. Right here. And we’re near across the floor of the airship on our way to a wagon and a dry bed. Heard there might be a hot bath at the end of it all, if that pleases you.”

“A hot bath.” Mae actually smiled. “I can’t think of anything more lovely at the moment. Thank you, Mr. Hunt.”

“Haven’t drawn the bath yet,” Cedar said. “Might want to hold off on your gratitude until we see if the tub leaks.”

“I wasn’t thanking you for the bath.” With what seemed to be a great effort, she tipped her head up and met his gaze. “I was thanking you for not losing me.”

“Losing you?”

“To the…all the chaos. I would have understood if you simply left me. I haven’t been much benefit, haven’t been…well.”

He nodded. “We all have times when we aren’t…ourselves. No need to worry, Mrs. Lindson.”

“Mae,” she said.

“Pardon?”

“Please. Call me Mae.”

It might be the slide from sanity, or that she was having a rare clear moment. But Mae reached up and brushed her fingers gently down the side of his face. “Always so grim, Mr. Hunt. I’d like to see the day there’s joy in your eyes again.”

They were at the door now, and the wind caught at the tendrils of hair around her delicate face. Cedar swallowed hard against the rise of need in his chest. Swallowed again so he could speak.

“And in yours, Mrs.—Mae,” he said. “Now, let’s see to that wagon.”

“Who?” she asked, searching his face. “I said I’m coming,” she added in a whisper.

Her eyes were unfocused again, the voices of the sisters taking her mind away.

It was like watching the clouds smother the light out of the sky.

He hated it. Hated what the sisters were doing to her. Chipping her away and hollowing her out. If they didn’t get to the coven so those witches could break this spell on her soon, there’d be nothing of her left.

“This way,” he said, not knowing if she could hear him.

They stepped out of the ship to the muler. It was a much more modern matic than Cedar had expected. Even in the poor bit of light splashing over it from the lanterns, he could see it was a sleek buggy in the front, with a wagon bed attached at the back. The wagon bed was canopied by oilskin buttoned down on three of the four sides, leaving only the back open.

If he had to put a guess to it, he’d say it hauled heavy but delicate materials, though for the life of him, he didn’t know what those might be out this far from any civilized place. Maybe nitroglycerin for Old Jack’s blasting habit.

Guffin and Captain Hink waited near the front buggy, Hink’s eyes on the door to the Swift.

Guffin slipped into the buggy’s seat and Captain Hink came around the back of the wagon to help Cedar get Mae settled under the canopy. A lantern hung from the ceiling inside the wagon, the light revealing a bench along one side, and a cot along the other. The floor was smooth, and covered in a clean canvas that smelled surprisingly of herbs, as if it had been boiled in chamomile.

“I’ll stay with her,” Captain Hink said, “if you want to help Molly with Miss Small.”

Mae sat on the bench, her eyes closed, her hands folded in her lap. She was in no state to look out for herself. Cedar hesitated.

“Go on ahead,” he said to the captain. Wil would be there beside Rose. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

Captain Hink studied his face for a moment, then nodded. Cedar didn’t know if the captain thought he didn’t trust him with Mae or did trust him with Rose.

“Miss Small,” Captain Hink started. “She’s…well, I want you to know you can trust—”

The rumble of engines rolled over the thrashing of the wind.

An airship. Close enough it must be landing.

“God blast it,” Hink muttered.

“More trouble?” Cedar asked.

“Maybe not. But the way my luck’s been running?” He plowed off to the Swift and it wasn’t but a moment later that he and Molly appeared in the door, Wil a shadow skulking behind them.

Cedar had expected the captain and Molly would be helping Rose walk. But instead, Captain Hink had picked her up in his arms and was carrying her, wrapped in her blanket, his own coat draped over that to keep the worst of the rain off her.

Molly walked next to him, a duffel slung over her shoulder, her tool belt bulky beneath her long coat.

Cedar helped Hink ease Rose into the wagon and up onto the cot. Molly slipped in next and tucked a rolled-up blanket under Rose’s shoulder.

The captain knelt at the back of the wagon, frowning at the women. Cedar knew he was listening to the fans of the airship, to try to get a read on which bird it was.

“Let’s go,” Cedar said.

Captain Hink nodded. “I’ll sit the controls with Guffin.” He swung out of the wagon, and a moment later, the muler’s engine puffed up and started rolling.

The buggy shook a bit at first, then it seemed to glide. Cedar hadn’t seen a smooth trail in the rocky outcropping. And he hadn’t seen rails. But the way the buggy was rigged up made for much easier travel than he’d expected.

Mae didn’t say a thing throughout the ride, and Rose only whimpered now and again when a particularly hard bump jostled her.

The sound of the wind died down and then even the clattering of raindrops on the oilskin stopped. There were no windows in the buggy, but they’d gone under cover.

“Where are we now?” Cedar asked.

“In the muler shed next to our accommodations,” Molly said.

“Do we all stay in one room?” he said.

“Of course. There’s privacy and there’s privacy, Mr. Hunt,” Molly said. “But in these catacombs, we’ll want to stay in eyeshot of each other. Person can get lost in Old Jack’s place. Get killed too. By taking the wrong turn in the tunnels, or forgetting to add an extra copper to whatever it is Jack’s selling.”

“Are there other guests here?”

She shook her head. “Didn’t see any ships except for the one coming in.”

“Can you tell which ship it is?”

Molly rubbed at the short crop of hair above her ears, smoothing back the stubble there, her eyes tight at the corner as if she were squinting to read a distant sign. “Might be the Constant, or the Dawn Breaker.” She listened for a moment more. “But I don’t think so.”

The buggy rolled to a stop and the hiss of steam being vented filled the air.

“This is our stop,” Molly said.

Cedar opened the buggy door and helped lead Mae out.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Good,” Cedar said. “We’re headed to our room for the night.” He held her hand as they walked out into the unremarkable and dimly lit cavern that housed two more mulers, both silent and cold.

Mr. Seldom was across the way a bit. He leaned in a doorway. Bright yellow light spilled past him to orange up his hair and paint his shadow on the rough floor.

Cedar and Mae headed that way, walking through the door past Seldom, who gave them a nod before they stepped into the room beyond.

Bigger than a barn, it really was a hollowed-out hole in the stones. Stone ceiling, walls, floor all worked smooth and painted in whitewash, with lights set up and about in such a way as to make the place look comfortable. A fire crackled away in a carved hearth, so well vented he didn’t even smell the ash or smoke. A stack of supplies, hooks with pots, and a hand pump with a bucket and a large washtub all took up that side of the room.

The main of the room was set with tables and chairs and, surprisingly, a shelf with a few books and map tubes piled on it.

He didn’t know if there were sleeping rooms, but there was plenty of floor space to put out a bedroll.

“Just a little farther and we’ll have that dry bed,” he told Mae.

“Cedar,” Mae said. “Mr. Hunt?” She squeezed his hand.

Cedar looked down at her.

Mae’s eyes were bright. Clear. Her cheeks were flushed as if she’d just woken too quickly from a deep dream.

“I’m fine. Truly. It’s much…quieter here.” She looked around, taking in her surroundings, then took in a good deep breath.

“Maybe it’s the stone,” she said. “I’m feeling much more myself. Let me help. Where’s Rose?”

“In the buggy,” Cedar said, a little stunned by her complete turnaround. “Are you sure?”

Mae smiled, an aching hint of happiness before sadness, or perhaps fear, took it away again. “I think we should embrace our luck as it comes, Mr. Hunt. And right now I am…feeling much better. Are there medical supplies at our disposal?”

“We’ll have to ask the captain about that.”

“Ask the captain about what?” Hink asked as he strode into the room, his hat in one hand so he could shake the rain off it.

Molly and Seldom had found a litter from someplace and gotten Rose upon it. They were carrying her across the room, Wil walking at her side, his ears up, nose working the scents in the room. He stared at Cedar, and then followed Rose as Molly and Seldom took her through a doorway on the far side of the room.

“Where are they taking her?” Cedar asked.

The captain put his hat under his arm and opened his satchel. He dug out his flask, took a swig from it, then walked it over to Cedar. “Beds back that way. Enough bunks for us all.” He handed Cedar the flask, and Cedar took a long swallow.

It was good bourbon.

“Do we have medical supplies, Captain?” Mae asked.

Hink’s eyebrows shot up and he looked from Cedar to Mae, then took another pull on the flask.

“We will,” he said. “As soon as I pry them out of Old Jack’s greedy fingers. What exactly do you think you’ll need, Mrs. Lindson?”

Mae glanced off the way Rose had been taken. “I’ll need to see her first. But something to take the pain. It’d be best if it didn’t knock her completely out. Am I to assume we have only a modicum of safety here, and that we will be leaving as soon as possible?”

“That’s about the gist of it,” Hink said. “I’m pleased to see you’re feeling better, Mrs. Lindson.”

“Thank you, Captain,” she said. “Let me check on Miss Small. Then perhaps I could accompany you to speak with Mr. Jack about medicine?”

Hink shot Cedar a quick look and Cedar nodded. “Of course,” the captain said. “Rather not pay for something we’d throw away.”

“Very well. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Mae headed across the room, steady on her feet, and as near as Cedar could tell, clearheaded.

“Isn’t that something?” Hink said. “Or maybe it’s not. She come and go like that a lot?”

The captain pulled out a chair and folded down into it with a grateful grunt.

“She’s usually very clear,” Cedar said. “Days have been hard lately.”

“Ain’t they always?” Hink took one last drink from the flask, then tucked it back into his coat.

“Molly didn’t recognize the ship,” Cedar said.

“Seldom’s putting his eyes on it. We’ll know soon.”

“Bad kind of hole to die in,” Cedar noted.

“Haven’t yet met a hole I wanted to die in,” Hink agreed. “Ansell’s putting fuel on board before he beds down. Coal. And he has the barrels out to catch the rain. If we need to crack the sky, we’ll have power.”

“Will the ship hold together for flight?”

“Not far. And this is the last friendly, well, relatively so, resupply station that has what we’d need for repairs. If you want to get those women to Kansas, we’ll need the day, maybe two.”

“I don’t know that Rose has that long.”

Hink looked up at Cedar. The captain’s eyes were sober, tired. None of them had snatched more than a handful of sleep. And the captain looked like he’d been riding too hard for too long well before they’d fallen in together.

Cedar lowered his voice. “There is some chance the Holder would heal her, set her to rights.”

“I’ll get her medicines,” Captain Hink said, “which you’ll pay me for. We’ll patch the Swift. If you have some clue as to where the…device…,” he said, avoiding using the word “Holder,” “is, then I’ll take you to it. But there just isn’t any more I can do at this point, Mr. Hunt. Picking up you and yours has put me behind, shot holes in my ship, and made a general mess of the life and dealings of both myself and my crew.”

“Our paths could part here,” Cedar said. “We’re grateful for your help out of Vicinity, and for putting us down to earth again. But there isn’t any reason we must continue on together.”

“Other than you owe me for those things.” Captain Hink leaned forward. “We had a deal, Mr. Hunt. And I’d be sorry to see what would happen if you stepped back on it.”

Mr. Seldom strolled into the room, his hard-soled boots somehow silent on the stone floor.

“So who’s our company, Mr. Seldom?” Hink asked.

“Coin de Paradis,” he said.

“Heard of them?” Hink asked.

He shook his head. “Northern from the look of her. French, from the sound.”

“How northern?” Cedar asked.

Seldom shrugged. “Pacific-rigged. Sleds for ice.”

“So she can ride the sea and the mountains,” Hink said. “Must be a regular delivery barge to Old Jack.”

“You don’t think she’s a glim ship?” Cedar asked.

“Not in a specific way,” Hink said. “Glim ship’s not going to be rigged to take the storms over the ocean, and won’t much care about landing in snow since pulling harvest in the brace of winter is just a quick way to catch a bad case of dead.”

He continued. “There ain’t a ship out there that would take the cold upper with the weight of extra equipment. So if she’s rigged Pacific and ice, she’s bringing supplies over and through on those conditions. I’d wager she’s come down from Fort Vancouver at least. Maybe up the Alaska territory. Old Jack has a hunger for things only got from exotic shores.”

“How many in the crew?” Cedar asked.

“Ten or less,” Seldom said.

“They tied down yet?” Hink asked.

Seldom shook his head. “Lashing on the south pad.”

“In that case, find us all some food, won’t you, Seldom? Something hot with meat in it.”

Seldom walked off out another door that must have been a larder and came back with a pot, which he set on a hook over the fire, and a pan he set to the side. Then he was gone again and back with supplies wrapped in brown paper and canvas.

He pulled his knife and got busy working up some food.

“Been here a time or two,” Cedar noted with a nod toward Seldom, who was moving around the kitchen like he grew up here.

“Sat out the tail end of winter a season or two back,” the captain said. “Us and four other crews. Got to know our way around the living quarters, but not much more. The tunnels Jack blasts in these mountains don’t have a map, except for whatever he keeps in his noggin. And every blast does as much to close down a tunnel as open another.

“Don’t go wandering off, Mr. Hunt. And for glim’s sake, don’t let Mae or Rose or that wolf of yours get out of eyesight.”

The scuff of approaching footsteps and low murmur of voices put a change in Captain Hink.

He gave Cedar one last nod, then leaned back, shifting his wide shoulders so one arm slung over the back of the chair, flask open in his hand. He smiled, and looked just a little drunk.

Which he most certainly was not.

Cedar eased back, but made no attempt to hide his manner. Friend or foe, he’d deal with it squarely.

Eight people walked into the room. Two women, one slender and tall as the men around her, wearing a proper skirt and corset, an umbrella clasped in her kid-gloved hand, the other shorter by at least a foot, uncovered hair hanging in two yellow braids, skirt split for riding. A lady and her maid? What were they doing all this way out in the hills? On an airship?

He scanned the men, looking to see if there was a husband or a father in the mix.

They were scanning him back. Four of the men had on gear that resembled the coats, vests, and harnesses Hink and his crew wore around as easy as tuckers and suspenders.

Cedar would count them as crew to the ship.

The man with the wild brown curls and impressive handlebar mustache might be the captain, and the other man, a quiet-looking fellow wearing a wool check suit, a bowler hat and sporting a carpetbag in one hand, didn’t quite fit in with Cedar’s notion of a crew. Maybe a passenger. Maybe a salesman.

“You must be Captain Hink.” The mustachioed man strolled across the room toward Hink with an easy roll to his gait and surveyed the place like he was inspecting a crop ripe for the picking.

“Oh, I’d say ‘must’ is a rather strong word, Captain.… Have we made acquaintance?” Hink didn’t stand. He just peered up at the man, who stopped next to their table.

“I’ve seen your ship,” the man said. “The Swift. Not a faster ship in the sky, nor a sharper man behind the wheel, they say. I am Captain Beaumont of the Coin de Paradis.”

“Pleased to make your meet,” Hink said, offering a hand but not budging from his chair. “Supply run?”

“Just so. I’m afraid I miscalculated the storm. And you?”

“Repairs mostly. Headed southwest to sit out the winter.”

“And your crew?” Captain Beaumont asked.

“Boots off. Except my second there, rustling pots. You’re welcome to join in the victuals if you want.”

“No, thank you. It’s been a long day in the sky and I must see to my passengers being settled properly.”

Beaumont’s crew spread out across the room, rucksacks over their shoulders as they headed toward the room where Rose and Mae had gone.

Guffin appeared at the door, picking at his fingernails with a knife. Wil paced out to stand beside him.

“Occupied,” he said. “Take the next door.”

At the sight of the wolf, the crewmen took a couple cautious steps back, then tromped off to another door down a ways.

The two women and the bowler-hatted man exchanged a startled look, glancing between the wolf and Cedar.

The tall woman finally spoke. “Captain Beaumont,” she said in a surprisingly rich French accent, “if it would be no bother, I would very much care for a hot meal.”

“Not at all, Miss Dupuis,” the captain said smoothly. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” He held his hand out toward an empty table as far across the room from Cedar and Captain Hink as possible. “Unfortunately, I cannot join you. I’d best speak with the proprietor before we turn in to settle our bill.”

“Of course, Captain,” she said. “Good evening.”

The captain gave her a slight bow. Cedar supposed he would have too. She was the kind of woman that made a man feel like he should kiss her hand.

“Well, then,” the blond woman said, “I’ll help with the food.” No French accent from her. If anything, she seemed to have a healthy dose of the South in her words.

“Thank you, Joonie,” Miss Dupuis said.

Joonie marched off and tried to strike up a conversation with Seldom as she checked the larder. Seldom responded with barely discernible shrugs and an occasional pointing of the knife.

The man with the carpetbag, who had been staring at Cedar this whole time, seemed to gather his wits, and he strode over to pull a chair out for the lady. He moved smoothly and efficiently, like he was used to being in front of people.

A statesman? Lawyer?

“Could I get you some water, Miss Dupuis?” he asked quietly, but not so quietly that Cedar’s keen ears couldn’t pick it up. He fingered his vest pocket, withdrawing a pair of spectacles and placing them on his nose.

“No, thank you, Mr. Theobald,” she murmured. “Please, be seated.”

From how quickly the man obeyed, it was clear who among the passengers made the decisions.

And from the lowered lashes and slight smile she gave him, it was just as clear that he was more than her traveling companion. Much more.

Interesting, but ultimately nothing that concerned him. He was just about to get up and see if Rose and Mae were settled, when Mae walked back into the room. The passengers, all of them, including the blonde flipping flapjacks, looked over at Mae.

Cedar watched the strangers. Joonie noticed his gaze right away and went back to minding her pans. Mr. Theobald was slowly slipping the lenses of his spectacles down over one eye, holding a book open in the palm of his hand, but not reading it. The last person Cedar had seen wear a contraption like that was Bryn Madder, when he was trying to make sense of Cedar and his curse.

But it was Miss Dupuis who stared straight at him, watching to see if he had any reaction to Mae walking into the room.

Cedar shifted in his chair to see Mae, who was walking their way.

His heart clutched in his chest, and heat tightened his skin. Every time he saw that woman, the need for her struck him near dumb. More than that. The wolf in him twisted and pressed. Wanting out. Wanting to protect. Wanting her.

Cedar swallowed hard, pressing the beast down deeper and holding tight to the thoughts of a man.

Mr. Theobald took in a sharp, quick breath, and his fingers stopped snicking lenses into place over his spectacles.

Cedar knew he was looking at him. He could smell his fear.

It was all he could do not to turn and stare at the man until he backed down.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Mae said once she was at their table. “We have company?” From the tone of her voice, she really wasn’t sure if she had missed seeing them there before, or perhaps she was unsure if they were really in the room.

“Ship’s crew came in,” Cedar said quietly. “Supplies. The captain is off talking to Jack.”

“Oh,” Mae said. “I see.” She paused and smoothed her hands over her skirt, then rested them on her hips. “I believe you and I need to speak to Mr. Jack also, Captain.” Then she noticed the flask in Hink’s hand, and her eyebrows went up.

“If you are prepared to speak on our behalf,” she added.

The captain took in a deep breath and held it as he made a big lot of noise over standing up and away from that table.

“Why, of course, I’m prepared to speak. Shall we?” He offered her his arm, which Mae took.

Cedar clenched his hands into fists and worked on not imagining clocking the captain for that smile he was giving to Mae.

“Keep the pot hot, Mr. Seldom,” Captain Hink called. “I have a feeling I’m about to work up an appetite.”

They’d get medicines for Rose, he told himself. That’s all he was talking about.

Captain Hink had proved he could be trusted so far.

The captain wasn’t drunk, and yet he was acting like it. Who was he trying to fool? Beaumont? His passengers?

He wasn’t going to send Mae off on her own with him. Cedar strode over to where Wil stood in the shadows just inside the doorway to the sleeping quarters. He looked down into his brother’s copper eyes. “Watch Mae for me,” he whispered.

Wil padded out into the room, then through it with grace and speed.

“My word!” Mr. Theobald said.

Joonie reached for something that was not a spatula.

Mr. Seldom caught her hand before she could pull whatever sort of gun she had hidden in her skirts.

“Flapjacks are burning,” was all he said.

But by the time she looked back out in the room, Wil was gone.

Cedar strode over to the table where Mr. Theobald stood, the lens over his eye a hard red. He still smelled like fear, but he was steady on his feet, his hand tucked in one pocket, where no doubt he had some kind of weapon he felt confident using. His expression held more than a little bit of curiosity.

For a brief moment, that look reminded him of the Madder brothers.

Miss Dupuis sat straight-backed and proper, as if she expected tea service to arrive at any moment.

“Though we haven’t been made full acquaintance,” Cedar said to Mr. Theobald, “I’d be obliged if you kept your hands off your weapons around that wolf of mine. I wouldn’t want him to think you meant to harm him.”

He said it quietly. But it was a threat.

Miss Dupuis smiled, the curve of her full lips not quite showing her teeth.

“Where are my manners?” Mr. Theobald said, his voice smooth, friendly, and inviting in a way that was hard to resist. “I am pleased to introduce Miss Sophie Dupuis, Miss Joonie Wright, and I myself, Otto Theobald. We are traveling east to Miss Dupuis’s father’s estate before the winter sets in. And whom do we have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Cedar Hunt,” he said. “Most recently out of Oregon. Good evening, Miss Dupuis, Mr. Theobald. May your travels be smooth.”

“Please,” Miss Dupuis said. “Sit with us, Mr. Hunt. Join us for our meal. Joonie is a wonderful cook.”

Mr. Theobald looked at him expectantly. As if he had a rack of questions he was hoping Cedar would hang answers on.

“No, thank you, Miss Dupuis, Mr. Theobald. Perhaps tomorrow. I have other matters to attend.”

“We understand,” Mr. Theobald said. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.” He held out his hand and Cedar shook it.

The look on Theobald’s face changed to something more like stunned respect, which didn’t make a lick of sense.

He certainly was an odd man. Cedar couldn’t quite get a bead on him.

“Ma’am,” Cedar said, nodding to Miss Dupuis, who gave him a soft smile.

“Good evening to you and yours, Mr. Hunt. I do hope we’ll have a chance to catch up tomorrow.”

Cedar walked to the bedroom. The sleeping quarters were a barracks that could bunk about a dozen people. Cots were lined up against the walls with empty shelves and coat hooks beside them.

Rose was settled in on a bed toward the end of the room. Molly sat on the cot next to her.

“Smells good out there,” Molly said. “Captain set Seldom loose on the griddle?”

“He did. How is she?”

Molly sighed. “Sleeping, I think. Or fainted. As comfortable as we can make her. Mrs. Lindson is hoping there’s some herbs in Jack’s stores that will help.” Molly paused, and looked over at Rose, who was pale and still. “That infection’s gone worse in a terrible short time,” she said. “I don’t know how long she’ll hold against it.”

“She’s strong,” Cedar said, stepping over to see her more clearly.

“I can tell she is,” Molly said. “You said my kinsmen thought kindly of her?”

Guffin, who had been lying on a cot toward the front of the room with his hat over his head, groaned and sat up. “I’ll leave you two ladies to your gossip. My belly’s chewing on my spine anyway.” He left the room.

Cedar sat on a bed next to Rose. “Yes, he did. Had her at his side since she was a young girl, I’m given to understand. She’s got a bit of the wild sciences in her, and Mr. Gregor had a way of making her see that as a good thing.”

Molly smiled. “She was whispering in her sleep. Something about matics and cogs and gears. Thought she might lean toward devising.”

“She’s handy with those sorts of things.” He wondered if he should put something in Rose’s hand, a device, a whimsy, so her busy fingers would be comforted, but he had nothing to give her. They’d lost everything they owned in that damn town.

Cedar ground his teeth until his anger became nothing more than frustration.

No trail was easy, but trying to get Mrs. Lindson to her coven had proved to be more than difficult. It was quite possibly going to cost Rose her life. Most likely had cost the stubborn Madder brothers theirs.

That wound Rose carried should be his. He’d had some time to think about the windup dead girl, and who might have such a terrible mind to set such a trap. Most of the Strange he’d killed over the years didn’t do much more thinking than an angry animal. They certainly weren’t the sort to pull together complicated traps.

But there was one Strange man who was more than up to this sort of trickery: Mr. Shunt. Shunt had done terrible things back in Hallelujah. Pieced together walking, killing bodies for the Strange to inhabit. Pieced together other horrifying killing contraptions.

And since he’d felt Mr. Shunt’s presence and known he’d been there in Vicinity for more than a day or two, he was of the mind that Mr. Shunt had meant for that girl to kill him.

Cedar should be the one suffering right now, not Rose.

Molly stood and stretched. “Anger won’t fix her, Mr. Hunt,” Molly said. “And it won’t do you a lot of good either, I’d wager.”

Cedar glanced up.

Molly shook her head. “Don’t know why you’re so riled, but I’d like to suggest you take that temper and stow it. This isn’t any kind of place to lose your head.”

“So the captain has told me. How many men does Old Jack have out here?” he asked.

“Just a handful. But it ain’t men you need to worry about. Old Jack is fond of explosives and doesn’t mind rearranging his living quarters, if you get my drift. Course there’s always people coming and going. Suspicion is something of a hobby among glimmers.”

“The passengers out there?” Cedar said.

“I heard. French ship. Coin of Paradise or some such?” At his look she grinned. “Got to keep your ear to the ground in this business. I’ve heard of Captain Beaumont. Doesn’t run glim, but likes to think he’s better than us that do.”

“Do you know his passengers?” he asked.

“Nope.” She strode toward the door. “But I’m going to make my meet over a plate of food before Guffin and Seldom clean the pot.”

She paused at the door. “You should do the same, Mr. Hunt. Full belly makes a clear mind.”

“Thank you for your concern, Miss Gregor,” he said. “I’ll wait a bit.”

She nodded. “Suit yourself.”

She left the room and Cedar took off his hat. He ran his hand over his head, then scrubbed his face. He was suddenly bone-tired. The smell of bacon fat sizzling in the pan and the low murmur of voices conspired with the darkness and warmth to make him want to just lie back and sleep for a week.

Instead, he leaned his head against the wall, and kept watch over Rose.