Tin Swift (13 page)

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked as Mae tore back the length of cloth so she had a better strip to tie with.

“Caught in an explosion. A bit of…of tin is wedged in there.”

Hink frowned. “Small wound to be causing so much pain,” he said. “Did it blow through the back?”

“No. We checked. It’s in there. And it’s plenty big enough to kill her, Captain.” She paused as if listening to a far-off sound, then shook her head and got back to seeing that the binding was down tight. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” she said. Maybe to the woman, maybe to him. Maybe just to herself. “He isn’t looking, he doesn’t want it.”

“What?” he asked.

“The Hold—”

Captain Hink leaned in closer. The word had died on her lips, and
she shot a glance up at him. Fearful eyes lowered, and she set her shoulders as if to remind herself of the weight of them.

“The hole,” she said. “That might have been blown through the back of Miss Small’s shoulder. You aren’t looking for it. Now, if you’d move your hand so I can tug the knot tight?”

“Talk to yourself often, do you?” he asked with his best bar-side smile. “They say the winds do that to a person. You often been aboard an airship?”

“No, Captain. I prefer to keep my roots in the ground. But thank you, for…” She looked up, looked around her as if maybe just seeing the place for the first time. “Oh. Thank you for pulling us up and out of that town. Why were you there?”

“We make drops, supplies and such. Doing a run before winter storms wash out the sky trails.”

Mae Lindson’s eyebrows notched upward. She clearly did not believe him. “Is that so?” she asked, like a schoolmarm catching a student putting a frog in a neighbor’s lunch pail.

“Or maybe we’ve just come back from the mountains and are looking for some supplies ourselves,” he said with a wink. “You see what happened to that town, ma’am?”

“We just came through before sunset.” She buttoned up Rose’s dress, but not so high that it would pull tight across her bandages. Then she buttoned up her coat to keep her warm and decent.

“They were already dead when we got there.”

“The townfolk?” Hink asked, not quite knowing what to do with his hand now that he wasn’t touching Miss Small. He finally decided to loop his thumb through one of the rigging belts at his hips. “They looked lively enough to me.”

“It’s a difficult thing to explain, Captain Hink,” she said. “Very strange happenings.”

“There,” Cedar Hunt said. “Can you slow the ship?”

“Captain,” Guffin called out.

“Well,” he said to Mae, “once we put our feet earthward, I hope you’ll save some time to tell me your tale.” He tipped his finger to his forehead, even though he wasn’t wearing a hat. “Ma’am.”

Captain Hink strode away from the women and stopped beside Mr. Hunt, peering over his shoulder at the ground below.

There was a fair amount of movement going on down there. People moving about, but they seemed slower. As the airship paused overhead, they looked up. Well, the ones that still had eyes anyway.

“There’s a mess that’s gonna need cleaning up come morning,” he said.

Cedar Hunt didn’t say anything.

“Spot him?” Captain Hink asked.

“No.” The word came out more as a growl. The hair on the back of Hink’s neck rose up in response.

“Why are you folks out this way?” he asked.

“We’re headed to Kansas,” Cedar said. “Mrs. Lindson has family there.”

Captain Hink nodded. That might be part of the reason. The women didn’t look related. Rose Small looked nothing like Mr. Hunt. He hadn’t seen a ring on Miss Small’s finger. If she and Mr. Hunt were married, Cedar wasn’t acting like a concerned husband whose wife just might be dying.

“And you and Miss Small?”

“I’m headed east from there. Miss Small’s traveling for education.” He glanced over his shoulder, the ruby lens of his goggle giving him the look of a mad deviser. “That sustain your curiosity, Captain Hink?”

“Oh, not hardly,” Hink said. “My curiosity has a hearty appetite. Wants to know things like what those mangled folk down there are doing alive, and what came through to mangle them in the first place.”

“I don’t have clear answers to either of those questions,” Mr. Hunt said.

“Mrs. Lindson said you came upon the town at sunset. That’s late on the trail this far into the year.”

“We didn’t kill them.” Cedar looked out the window again. “We rode through for supplies. Found them dead. Miss Small insisted we stay to bury them.”

“And you listened to her?” Captain Hink glanced at the hammock where Rose tossed restlessly.

“She can be convincing,” Cedar said. “There!”

Captain Hink looked out the window again. They were over the outskirts of town near the mill that squatted over the wider end of the creek. Trees, scrub, more scrub.

“I don’t see anything,” Captain Hink said.

“By the barn. On the edge. It’s Wil.”

Captain Hink pulled his telescope out of his pocket and put it to use. He finally caught sight of something moving. “Big enough to be a wolf. You sure it’s the one you’re looking for?”

“That’s him. Land the ship.”

“That’s not going to happen, Mr. Hunt.”

“I won’t leave him behind.”

“And I won’t bring a wild animal onto my ship.” At the killing glare Cedar gave him, he had to work on not grinning. Meant a lot to him, that wolf. Enough he appeared willing to shoot Hink out of the sky for it.

“Then we are at a very dangerous impasse,” Cedar said. “I won’t leave him behind.”

“Heard you the first dozen times, Mr. Hunt. But the last thing I want on my ship is a beast that could kill us all. So you need to give me a damn good reason to make me change my mind. ’Cause where I stand it’d be just as easy to let you all off, down there into that town, and let fate have at you.”

A blast clapped across the heavens, cracking hard as thunder.

“Cannons, Captain!” Guffin yelled.

Hink glanced at his crewman, and then found himself getting grabbed and grappled by Cedar Hunt, who moved faster than a man should. Hink hit the floor with an
oof
, all the wind slammed out of him as an elbow bent around his throat.

The spine-chilling click of a hammer thumbing back filled his ears. As rightly it should, since the barrel of the gun was pressing a cold circle against his temple.

“You already have a wild animal on your ship, Captain Hink,” Cedar said. “And I’ll blow your head off unless you bring my brother aboard.”

I
t never took Captain Hink long to make up his mind. And whenever a man put a gun to his head, he right off decided that one, the man might not be the friendly sort, and two, he was not going to let anyone blow his brains out.

But before he could so much as make a move to ungun the man, the roar of another cannon splashed a wash of orange over the sky just north of them.

“It’s a ship, Captain,” Guffin said, not moving from his station.

“Damn it to glim, man,” Captain Hink said. “Of all the times to put a gun to my head it’s when my ship’s under fire?” Another blast thundered off, close enough it rocked the
Swift
. “Let’s you and I pick this up after I make sure we don’t go tumbling to our deaths.”

“Pull my brother up and I’ll put my gun down.”

Mr. Seldom was already halfway across the ship, a grappling hook hanging casually from one hand. Hink didn’t think there was an object, tool, or knickknack Mr. Seldom couldn’t make into a deadly weapon. He’d once seen him use a doily to strangle a man.

At a nod from Hink, Seldom would let that grapple fly. High chance he’d knock Mr. Hunt out before his finger squeezed the trigger. High chance Mr. Hunt might be faster with the gun than he looked, just like he was faster in a fight than he looked.

“Days like this I wish I’d listened to my mama and gone into robbing trains,” Hink said. “Let’s do as he says, Mr. Seldom.”

Seldom stopped in his tracks and tilted his head. It gave him a sort of startled-chicken look, but it was clear he thought Hink had gone straight out of his mind.

“I’m of a fine curiosity,” Captain Hink explained to his second. “You know how I hate leaving a puzzle unpieced.”

Another blast rocked the night, and Guffin started up on his swearing. Looked like he was going to go through it by the ABC’s, starting in Spanish.

“Just lower the catch arm, Mr. Seldom,” Hink said. “We should be able to scoop the wolf up. If he wants to be scooped.”

Seldom rubbed at his face, as if trying to scrub away the stupid of that order. “Aye, Captain.”

Man might not say much, but he got his opinion understood.

“You’d be better off taking your gun away from my head, Mr. Hunt,” Captain Hink said. “I don’t think your brother’s going to willingly jump into our net, but it’s the best you’ll get. There isn’t a clearing large enough to land in these hills, except for across and south of town. If you want your brother aboard, you need to come up with something that will lure him in.”

Captain Hink felt the squeeze around his throat lessen. He could have broken free right then. Could probably have broken free before that if he’d wanted to waste time on stabbing the man with the knife he kept up his shirtsleeve.

But he had made a promise to Molly that he wouldn’t completely kill their guests. And he was pretty sure Cedar Hunt was the kind of man who wouldn’t stop fighting until he stopped breathing.

Cedar Hunt’s arm loosened and the gun was pulled away from Hink’s head.

Captain Hink took a couple steps forward and straightened his coat and breathing gear. “If you broke my gear, you’ll pay or replace it,” he
said. “See to the wolf. Mr. Seldom will help you. And don’t get so close he can kick you out the door. He’s been of a short temper most of his life.”

A blast cracked against the mountainside, the ricochet sharp as the devil’s laughter.

“We have a visual on that ship yet, Mr. Ansell?” Hink didn’t care what happened between Mr. Hunt and Seldom. He had a ship that needed to keep her skin on her bones.

“What do you see, Mr. Guffin?” He walked up the rocking floor, keeping one hand on the overhead bars for balance.

“Not a
mierda
of a thing, Captain,” he said.

“Made it to the M’s already?” Hink asked. “Your Spanish is improving, Mr. Guffin. Keep her here. We’ll hover long enough to give Seldom a chance at the wolf. Maybe that will also give our cannon-happy companion a chance to go to hell.”

“Aye,” Guffin said. He pulled levers and Mr. Ansell, who was manning the wheel and humming a deep, slow song, set the rudders and wings in place. The
Swift
huffed and puffed, her fans running slower, as she came to a full halt, resting on her inflated envelope.

Hink scanned the skies, as much as he could see in the night, without lanterns, up against the wall of a cupped-off valley. He pushed away from the front of the cabin and stomped to the back, opening the rear starboard door. Mr. Hunt and Mr. Seldom stood about midway the ship, on the port door. So far, Mr. Hunt hadn’t gotten himself booted off the ship.

But both men looked intent as Seldom used levers and pulleys to lower the basket. Huh. Hink would have just tried to snatch up the beast with the arm, but it looked like Seldom had decided the basket—the same device they’d used to pull Rose Small up into the ship—was the better way to go.

Captain Hink was surprised Seldom hadn’t insisted that Mr. Hunt ride down and act as bait so he could dump him free a few hundred yards above the ground.

Seldom must have taken some kind of liking to the man. Or maybe he just feared Molly Gregor’s midnight wrench-to-the-head.

Captain Hink spun the lock on the door and pulled it open. He latched his rigging onto the overhead bar, then stepped out, one foot on the running board.

The wind was cold, the night made of teeth that bit through leather, coat, and wool, digging down into the meat of him.

The familiar hum of the
Swift
’s fans was absent. But there was another sound in the night besides the
Swift
. Another airship. Captain Hink closed his eyes and lowered his head, much like the praying man he’d never be. He knew the ships that worked the ranges. Knew the sight of them, the smell of them, and most certainly knew the sound of them.

He didn’t know who would be fool enough or desperate enough to be running at night. Air at night wasn’t favorable to most ships. Neither was seeing the elevation changes of the land. Weren’t enough lanterns for running by night to make much sense. And the wet that came along with the cold this late in the season was sure enough to send a ship down like a brick.

The wind stole away his hearing. Then another pounding explosion from the ship’s guns roared out. Too big a gun for
Sweet Nelly
, not nearly loud enough for
Brimstone Devil
. Who was out in these parts, wasting money and black powder firing out charges, looking, he knew, to flush them out?

He caught the huff of an engine, working at idle. The wind cut out the sound again, and he shifted his face so the wind was blowing straight into his eyes.

The distant engine caught, then pushed up strong again. Sounded like they had a wet mule in the firebox.

The
Saginaw
.

Captain Smith, who had the worst luck gambling Hink had ever seen, had lost his last boilerman in a five-card draw. He’d ended up
taking on that Boston boy, who rode the furnace with the kind of subtlety he must have learned from working in his daddy’s slaughterhouse.

But why would Smith be out looking for them? Maybe the crewman he’d plucked from the
Black Sledge
had sent a flare to call up the next passing ship.

Naw, they’d dropped him from high enough, he wouldn’t be awake for a day at the least.

Hink wondered if Les Mullins had pulled himself off his cabin floor back at Stump Station and talked Smith into a little round-the-mountain look-see.

It was getting to weigh on his conscience, keeping these men at the chase. He much preferred to gun right for them and solve the problem on the clearest of terms—with firepower, or if they wanted the personal touch, fists.