Tin Swift (24 page)

“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.”