Her Sky Cowboy (36 page)

She nodded, wide-eyed and worried.

Tuck grasped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss, sweet and slow. The pain in his shoulder dulled, his heart pounded, and his thoughts whirled. Her lips, her tongue—more intoxicating than the whiskey on her breath. He’d meant to calm her and instead had stirred his own senses. Easing back, he grazed his thumb over her cheek. “All right?”

She swallowed, smiled. “Right as rain. And you?”

He shifted, winced. “That kiss was a welcome distraction.”

She studied him a moment, then nabbed another bandage. “I know you’re curious about the relationship between Briscoe Darcy and my father. Perhaps I can distract you further with their history. What I know of it, anyway.”

Tuck’s heart swelled at Amelia’s show of faith. Hell, yes, he’d been hungry for details, but he’d vowed to himself he wouldn’t pry, hoping all along that she’d instead offer the information. “Won’t deny your pa’s a source of fascination.” He smiled as she tenderly and awkwardly bandaged his wound. “Like you.”

Her own mouth lifted into a nervous smile. Gaze averted, she shared her tale while tending Tuck’s shoulder. “Papa and Briscoe were distant cousins, so they knew of each other and had in fact spoken at family gatherings—back when the majority of the Darcys lived in England and when they still gathered. That said, Briscoe was twelve years my father’s senior, so they did not have much in common.”

“Except a passion for science.”

“Except that.” She cast him a glance. “I assume you know about the Grand Exhibition of 1851.”

“Held in London at the Crystal Palace. A pet project of Prince Albert’s intended to celebrate scientific and industrial technology and designs from all nations.”

She nodded. “Millions of people, including several notable dignitaries, attended. Papa made several visits. He was eighteen summers old, impressionable and inspired by various scientific marvels. Imagine his surprise when his cousin showed up announcing his own grand and wondrous invention. A time machine. An engineering marvel that would breach dimensions.”

“Must’ve caused quite a stir.”

“Indeed. Briscoe, as I’m sure you’ve heard or read, was a confident, boastful man,” she continued while knotting off one strip. “He made quite a scene, colorfully describing what he predicted as a mind-bending flight through time. Then he stunned the audience by announcing he would be traveling approximately one hundred years into the future. An entire century! Papa said many scoffed, comparing Briscoe to a snake-oil salesman, but Papa dared to believe. In a moment of hero worship, he rushed forward to wish Briscoe safe travels.”

Anticipation nettled Tuck’s skin as her voice grew hushed, her expression intense.

“Briscoe pressed a folded letter into his hand. ‘I had hoped someone would prove worthy,’ he said to Papa, ‘and here you are. Family, no less. If I do not return, then
something went wrong. Perfect the process and profit from my knowledge, cousin.’ Minutes later, strapped into his time machine, Briscoe Darcy disappeared in a gust of wind and a burst of rainbow colors. At the time, everyone marked the moment as a magician’s trick. An illusion.”

Caught up in the story, Tuck couldn’t help himself: He pried. “What was in the letter?”

“Directions leading to da Vinci’s secret chamber.”

“And the mention of a rare ornithopter.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“There had to be more. Something pertinent to his time machine. Why else would Briscoe give your father the letter, deeming him worthy? Worthy of what? Mastering time travel? Amassing fame and fortune in the name of science?”

Anxious now, Amelia rocked back on her haunches. “Done! Wrapped tight as a mummy. How do you feel? Passable? Yes? We should go.”

He grasped her wrist when she moved to stand. “Why did your pa never travel here, Amelia? Five years passed between Briscoe’s departure and the arrival of the Peace Rebels. Why didn’t he spend that time ‘profiting’ from Briscoe’s knowledge and ‘perfecting’ the process?”

“Because he considered the information within the letter sacred. Because he kept expecting Briscoe to return.”

“And when he didn’t? When the Peace Rebels arrived in the Briscoe Bus, when they claimed Briscoe’s time machine had been confiscated by the government and Briscoe himself apprehended and sequestered by a covert agency, why didn’t that spur your pa into action? Even if only in an attempt to retrieve his cousin?”

She held his gaze, though her eye twitched. Annoyed? Anxious? He couldn’t tell.

“Talk to me, Amelia.”

“Because by that time Papa had a wife and sons, and mostly because he deemed it dangerous.”

“To whom?”

“Mankind.”

Tuck’s brain raced along with his pulse. “There’s something more in that chamber than that ornithopter.”

“But the ornithopter is all we need! The ornithopter poses no threat, only salvation. For my family. For Lily. Name your percentage.”

Her rising anxiety and an extreme dip in temperature prodded Tuck into action. He pulled on his bloodied shirt. “What’s in that chamber, Amelia?”

A distant rumble catapulted her to her feet. “I don’t know…specifically.”

“Generally. I need to know what we’re dealing with, honey.”

“Something to do with time travel, dammit! Are you happy now?”

“So Briscoe Darcy wasn’t a genius after all,” Tuck noted aloud. “He stole or borrowed from da Vinci. Interesting, but not particularly pertinent to this moment.” Heart hammering, he pulled Amelia into his arms. He looked into her eyes, telegraphing his sincerity. “To answer your question, no, I’m not happy. I’m concerned. Feel the frigid drop in temperature? Hear the wind kicking up? Trust me when I say I’m the least of your worries.”

Her eyes grew wide. “The Stormerator? You think Captain Dunkirk’s here?” She rushed out of the cave without an answer.

Tuck nabbed his coat, holstered the Blaster, and hurried after her into the open air, the frigid air. The sky had darkened with an incoming thunder buster. “Good chance that particular storm’s a work of nature,” Tuck said. “That rumbling, black cloud bank’s massive and slow rolling. From what I’ve witnessed thus far, Dunkirk’s mercenary Freak strikes fast and furious.”

Amelia cast Tuck a panicked look. “What if it’s a new trick up the Stormerator’s sleeve?”

Good point
. “We should hurry.”

“Once we get the ornithopter—”

“I’ll signal StarMan and the
Maverick
will be here lickety-split.”

“We’ll load up the ornithopter—”

“And be on our way.”

She licked her lips and glanced at the sky. Motioning Tuck to follow, Amelia took off on foot. “Come on!”

Astonishing how one decision could affect the entire world.

In spite of a brutal headwind, Amelia raced forward, contemplating fate and happenstance, and the possible ramifications of her actions. Was she about to open Pandora’s box?

Tucker was right.

Briscoe had borrowed something that had been locked away for centuries by Leonardo da Vinci. That artifact, or knowledge, had enabled Briscoe to launch himself into the twentieth century, and it enabled men of the twentieth century to catapult back to the nineteenth century. That one decision, whether impulsive or calculated, had altered the course of natural history.

Papa’s warnings about tampering with dimensions and time rang in her ears, along with wicked winds and distant cracks of lightning. “The ornithopter,” she said to herself as she ran past two landmarks mentioned in Briscoe’s letter. “That is all we will take. In and out. Here and gone.” She hadn’t come this far to give up. Papa’s death would not be in vain, and her family would not succumb to ruin. As for the time-travel artifact…“We won’t touch it. We won’t take it.” She repeated that vow like a mantra.

“Amelia.”

She turned and saw Tucker lagging behind, jaw clenched in dogged determination, complexion ashen. Blooming hell, she’d been running full-out and he’d been hot on her heels. Until now. “Your wound!” How could she have forgotten?

“I’m fine.” He caught up in three long strides. “Just don’t get out of my sight. How can I protect you if…Oh, Christ. Never mind.” Irritated, though she wasn’t sure why, he glanced around. “Sure you’re going the right way?”

“Yes,” she said, moving on at a slower pace. “I’ve studied maps. I recognize landmarks. I know where the cave is, the secret workshop. I just don’t know how to access the secret chamber.” She stopped at a stone marker. “Cava Sarti is that way.” She turned in the opposite direction. “So our cave is just over here. I’m surprised we haven’t spotted more tourists.” In fact, she hadn’t spied another soul. “I was under the impression that, given its history, Mount Ceceri was a popular destination.”

“Typically is,” Tucker said, glancing up at the ominous sky. “Weather scared everyone off, I suspect. Looks like a damned cyclone is gearing up.”

Just then balls of hail rained down, assaulting them like icy minicannonballs.

“Crikey,” Amelia complained. “Ouch!”

Tucker grasped her arm. “Take cover.”

“No, wait! There!” Her heart pounded as she moved toward the last landmark. “The vine-covered wall. That’s the entrance.”

They both tore at the ancient twisted vines as balls of ice continued to pound.

“Nothing but stone!” Tucker yelled over the wind and hail.

“Keep looking!” It had to be here. Her fingers ached and her palms stung as sharp twigs and burrs poked and scratched. Then, without warning, a portion of the wall swung open and Amelia careened face-first into a dark, musty cave.

Tucker followed and pulled her to her feet. “You okay?”

“Spectacular.” After the motor chase, the full-out run over rocky hillside, being assaulted by hail, and now this…every muscle ached. Her head throbbed and her hands
stung. She couldn’t imagine how Tucker felt, what with the gunshot wound. “What about you?”

“Ducky.”

Amelia’s lip quirked. The irritation she’d felt toward Tucker had evaporated the moment they’d made haste and fallen into this cave. This moment she burst with anticipation and wonder. She spun in a circle. “Can’t see a thing.”

“Hold on.”

A beam of light burst forth.

Amelia gawked at the tubular device in Tucker’s palm. “What is it?”

“An electric torch. Compliments of Mod technology. Bought it on the black market.” He dipped back into his coat. “Here’s one for you.” He thumbed a switch and passed her the flameless torch.

She squinted into the lit end. Some sort of lens and bulb. “Astounding. I must know how it works.”

“I love that you must know, and I’ll be happy to explain. Some other time.” He flashed the beam across the dirt floor and stone walls. “Workshop, huh?”

No shelves. No tools. No tables. No evidence of a workshop at all. “Long deserted, I suppose.” She flashed her own torch about. “Not what I expected.”

“Maybe this is the wrong cave.”

“No.”

“Maybe
this
is the secret chamber. Well hidden. Difficult access.”

“Do you
see
an ornithopter?” she asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice. “You know, a man-size, wing-flapping device?”

He didn’t answer.

She turned to find him staring at one of the walls. “What is it?” she asked whilst he sleeved away dust and grime.

“Markings.”

“Like hieroglyphics?” She moved in beside him and flashed her torch on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Sketches and writing. Calculations and codes. Definitely da Vinci.

“It’s as if he used this wall like a blackboard.”

Her skin prickled with excitement. “Can you make out any of the words?”

“Not really. They’re pretty faded.” He moved along the wall. “Fascinating. This one’s almost three-dimensional. More of a carving than a sketch. See the strange indentation here? Looks familiar. A circle filled with clockwork and a cannon shooting…flowers?”

“What?” She fumbled her torch and caught it before it hit the ground, then crowded in next to Tucker. “Where?”

“Here.”

She was too short to see it straight on, so he swung his arm around her waist and hoisted her up. She shone her torch next to his. “I don’t believe it!”

“What?”

“My astronomical compendium!” She wiggled about, reaching under her coat into her inner vest pocket.

Tucker grunted.

“Your shoulder. Good heavens, put me down.” The moment her feet touched down she whipped out her compendium. “Look!”

With both torches now shining on the back of the gold disk that served as both sundial and compass, Tucker whistled. “Perfect match. Where’d you get it?”

“Papa. Gave it to me for my tenth birthday. Said it was a family heirloom. You don’t suppose Briscoe gave it to him, do you?”

“Your pa never mentioned?”

“No. Just said it was his most prized possession. But he said that about a lot of things. Like the top hat he gave me. He was sentimental that way.” She flipped open the compendium. “You can see how old it is. How simple the workings are, but…” She flashed her light along the sketches
and calculations on the cave walls. “It couldn’t be this old, could it?”

“What if, along with the letter,” Tucker said, borrowing the compendium, “Briscoe passed along the key to the secret chamber?”

Her lungs seized as he matched up the back of the compendium with the indented carving on the wall and pressed it in like a puzzle piece. “It couldn’t be that simple,” she rasped.

“Sometimes it is.” The wall groaned, dust spit, and the section in front of them gave way.

Anxious and mesmerized, Amelia burst in and…
“Arrrrrrgh!”

“What the hell?”

“Spiderwebs! In my face and my fingers! Are there spiders in my hair? Get them out! Get them off!”

“Hold still. Jesus.” He laughed while sweeping away the silky, creepy webs.

“It’s not funny!”

“After all you’ve been through today, you’re terrified of a few teeny spiders? Well, at least I can save you from something. There. Gone. No cobwebs. No spiders. Well, one.”
Stomp
. “None. All clear.”