Claimed (The Flash Gold Chronicles, #4) (2 page)

Cedar heeded her warnings and weaved around what could only be a new set of booby traps. He wondered if she’d moved her one and only block of flash gold into the cave. “It’s the fifty percent, is it? I thought you might enjoy producing for me simply because you’re drawn to my virile masculinity.”

“Nope, sorry. I have a few more parts I need to buy.” Kali ducked into a niche, did something that elicited a clink-clink-clunk, then pulled out a foot-long iron box.

“So after your work is complete, I’ll have to find something other than money to trade for your creativity and labor?”

“You will, indeed.” Kali arched her eyebrows at him. “Might be you can find something to do with that virile masculinity.”

It wasn’t flirting exactly—she was hardly the type to bat her eyelashes or give men coy come-hither looks—but her teasing always pleased him. She had intimated that she wanted a more physical relationship earlier in the summer, and they had kissed a few times, but there was always a wariness about her comments, as if she weren’t sure her body, her heart, and her mind all wanted the same thing. She had told him enough that he understood why, that she’d been hurt by almost everyone who she had cared about in her life, or had wanted to care about. For her, it had grown easier—
safer
—not to care.

Cedar could understand that. In truth, he didn’t want to be distracted right now, not when the end of his years-long quest was in sight, or at least within smelling range. He still hadn’t managed to find Cudgel’s base of operations. The man ghosted in and out of the city without rustling a leaf; at times, Cedar had doubted whether he was truly in the Yukon, but Kali had seen him once and described him to perfection. He was here in Dawson somewhere. With the Northwest Mounted Police guarding the pass and keeping gangsters and outlaws out, it wasn’t surprising that he was lying low, but Cedar was disappointed in himself for not finding the man after more than six weeks of searching. Maybe he had moved on. But why would he? There were fortunes to be made here. What better place was there in the world right now for an opportunistic man who craved money and power?

“You’re thinking of Cudgel, aren’t you?” Kali asked, still holding the box, her voice a mix of sadness and understanding that tugged at his heart.

“Uhm.” Cedar cleared his throat. She would know if he lied, and he didn’t care to lie to a business partner, anyway, and certainly not someone... more. “Yes, but I’d like to remind you of that lovely summer evening last week when I brought a picnic dinner up. You said you were done working for the day, and we went out to watch the sunset and engage in some post-picnic activities, during which you leaped to your feet, shouted something about using a turbine engine, and left me sitting in the grass, alone with the howling wolves. For hours.”

Kali’s face turned sheepish. “Well, that was an important insight. Do you know how much space the new design is going to save? And how much lighter the overall craft will be?”

“’Twasn’t the insight I minded, so much as its timing coming when we were... having our tenders. It might lead a less self-assured man to believe you didn’t find his ardor particularly engaging.”

“I’m fortunate then that you’re so assured.” She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

Cedar decided it would be wise to accept this offering with good cheer. As she had pointed out, he certainly had a subject that was wont to distract him.

“I think you’ll forgive me for my distractible nature when you see your new goods.” Kali opened the lid of her box, revealing several brass spheres nestled amongst crinkled canvas padding.

Four of them Cedar recognized, her twist-to-arm smoke nuts, compact devices that spewed smoke while they counted down to hurling a flurry of shrapnel designed to burrow through clothing and flesh. There were four other spheres, two with sections that reminded him of a peeled orange, and two smooth ones with tiny holes and a circle or perhaps a raindrop etched in the top. Kali pointed to the “oranges.” They were larger than the other orbs, each bigger than his fist but still small enough to throw easily.

“These are the compact nets you asked for. You press that indentation and hurl the ball. There’s a one-second delay, then the sections split away and a silk net flies out. The corners are weighted, and the thrust is such that it’s ejected in the direction of the target. I did a couple of trials, and they seemed to work well, but you can let me know if they need any modifications.”

“I reckon they’ll work mighty fine.” Cedar didn’t know how anyone could make what he’d been thinking when he had described his idea for a throwable net, but this sounded perfect.

“Double check, anyway. You being so tall, the wind is probably stronger up there.”

Cedar snorted but went along with the joke. “Yes, it’s why I don’t wear a hat. Can’t keep the cussed thing on.” He touched the smooth spheres, laughing inwardly when he realized his touch was almost as much a caress as her stroking of the ship’s hull had been. “What do these other ones do?”

“I don’t know how useful they’ll be, but they were fun to make. You’ve heard of Eureka moments, right? Well, I slipped in some grease the other day and ended up on my backside. That gave me an idea.”

“Interesting. When I fall on my backside, all that pops into my head are curses.”

“Someone else said the same thing, but my mind works uniquely.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Say someone is chasing you, and you need a moment to get away. You can press this here...” Kali tapped an etching on the side of the sphere, “and these little nozzles—” she waved at the holes, “—will spew out a slick oil, enough to cover some stairs or a small landing. It’ll make the footing in that particular area as treacherous as walking across the river in January.”

Cedar nodded, imagining the possibilities. “Thank you. These will be right helpful. And if your backside personally tested the oily one, I’m extra grateful.”

“Nah, I used some drunk fellows in town as unwitting volunteers for that.”

Cedar started to smile, but it disappeared when Kali added, “That’s when I first met Travis Andrews. He was being picked on for being new or well-dressed or something—I didn’t ask—and they were pawing him up with their muck forks. I figured they’d make fine volunteers.”

“I imagine he was appreciative.” Cedar tried not to let any displeasure or disapproval into his tone. Kali could talk to other men; it didn’t mean anything.

“He seemed a might chagrined at being rescued by a girl, but he was intrigued by the device.” Kali smiled. She wouldn’t take a compliment on her hair or her eyes or her figure—which was quite fine beneath the coveralls and men’s pants, as he knew from a rare night she had deigned to wear a dress—but when people showed an interest in her work, that was another story.

That it was another man showing interest didn’t enthuse him, though he could see her brightness appealing to someone who wandered around with a pencil behind his ear. Cedar didn’t think this whelp was enough of a man yet to appeal to many women, but then again, Kali was only eighteen herself. Maybe she would be drawn to someone her age? At twenty-four, he wasn’t exactly ancient, but he had killed his first man at sixteen and didn’t imagine anyone had thought of him as young in a long time.

Once again, Cedar made an effort to keep his tone neutral when he spoke. “How long have you known him? It’s not possible he’s sidling up to you for more than a story, is it?”

“About a week now. I keep running into him when I go into town for supplies. The little newspaper office is on the same street as the mercantile store, and he sits outside a lot with his notepad, watching the people pass, he says.” Kali shrugged. “I’m not letting out any secrets or getting too close. I’ve learned my lesson about trusting folks.”

“Yes, I believe you’re still deciding whether you trust
me
.”

“On account of you greeting me with a passel of lies.” She waggled a finger at his nose, a waggling he deserved. He hadn’t had courting on his mind when he had shown up at her first tinkery in Moose Hollow. “And you’ve been secretive about your past too,” she added. “If you hadn’t saved my life six or seven times, I probably wouldn’t have given you a second chance.”

“No need to get crotchical with me, Kali. I fully admit I’m not the easiest fellow to love.” Love? That wasn’t the word he’d meant to use. Trust or even tolerate, those would have been appropriate. Why had love slipped out? She’d never used that word with him, nor had he with her. He’d figured they would have time for that once they both finished their quests. It was the appearance of this Travis Andrews that had him feeling less sure of himself, less certain that she would happily wait for him to finish with Cudgel. They had made no promises to each other, nor promised never to send inviting smiles to others. But maybe they should. Just to keep things clear. And because he wanted to be... all that she wanted.

“Uhm, Kali?”

“Yes?”

Cedar waffled. Maybe he should have rehearsed this. “I’ve been thinking that we get on tolerable well.” Oh, yes, those were courting words there. He huffed at himself and started again. “What I mean is—”

Ding!

Her head spun toward the front of the cave. “That’s Alarm Number Two.”

“Might be your newspaper boy, wandering around lost, tripping over ferns,” Cedar said, but Kali was already running for the entrance and for the Winchester 1873 leaning against the stone wall.

He sighed and strode after her. So much for suggestions of dedicated courtship.

Kali also paused to pull a satchel over her shoulder, one bulging with tools and round bumps. Cedar wagered the smoke nuts she had made for him weren’t the only ones from her latest batch.

They pushed aside the canvas door and stepped outside. Darkness had descended during the time he had been inside the cave, and the lights of Dawson sprawled below, visible between some of the trees—the deciduous varieties were already starting to lose their leaves.

Kali didn’t ask for help, but Cedar slipped past her and led the way down the trail. She could take care of herself, but a man ought to make himself useful for a woman. Despite his size, he’d learned to trot through the forest without a sound, and he should be able to slip behind anyone approaching so Kali would be safe when she confronted the uninvited guest. It probably
was
the newspaper boy, but one never knew. Cedar’s heart sped up at the possibility that it might be one of Cudgel’s men. Kali had been the outlaw’s prisoner for a short time, and he knew she meant something to Cedar. Cedar had been staying as close as he could, given that he had to spend time hunting Cudgel himself, for he feared his nemesis might try to strike at him by kidnapping—or killing—Kali. As yet, though, she had been left alone.

Foliage rustled on the trail ahead. Though his thoughts had wandered, Cedar had never taken his attention from his surroundings. Prepared for someone’s approach, he stepped into the undergrowth, the darkness hampering him little.

A hint of daylight remained in the southwestern sky, enough for Cedar to make out a single figure striding up the winding path. There wasn’t enough light to make color distinguishable, but the hat on the man’s head—more of a pith helmet—had a familiar shape to it, so the dark outline of a rifle didn’t disturb Cedar overmuch. He decided not to call out, though. One couldn’t be too careful.

He let the man pass and stepped out on the trail behind him.

“That’s far enough,” came Kali’s voice from farther up the hill. On the brushy path, she couldn’t have seen Cedar taking a position behind the newcomer, but her timing was impeccable. “I’ve got a firearm on you, and it’ll remain there until you state your business.”

The man stopped. Cedar kept an eye on his rifle, but he didn’t raise it. Careful not to commit his weight until he tested each step, Cedar drew nearer, until he could have touched the newcomer with his own rifle.

“I’m Sergeant Tremblay of the North West Mounted Police,” the man said.

Cedar recognized the deep voice and French accent. He had turned in enough heads of criminals to the NWMP headquarters that he recognized most of the men stationed there, but they usually waited until he came by if they needed him; none of them had ever approached Kali’s cave. Maybe the sergeant wasn’t here for
him
.

“That’s your name, and I appreciate knowing it, but you’ll recall that it was your business that I asked on.” Kali wasn’t one to pussyfoot about an authority figure—or any figure for that matter. Cedar grinned.

“Yes, ma’am,” the sergeant said, not revealing if her dryness irked him. “I’m looking for Kali McAlister and Cedar about... It’s work related. I’d like to discuss it in private. The coyotes talk.”

The introduction was enough that Cedar was ready to speak with the man, but he waited to see if Kali would invite him up to her cave or tell him he could say his piece from the middle of the trail. She mulled it over for a moment before answering.

“Cedar?” she called. “This fellow sound right?”

“Yes, I recognize him.”

Tremblay jumped, though he kept himself from spinning about, rifle raised. Cedar would have had to disarm him if he had, and that might have led to hard feelings, so he was pleased not to have to do so. Given that the United States law wanted him arrested—or dead—he would prefer to keep the Mounties as allies.

“Follow me, then,” Kali said. “It’s not a good idea to wander about unescorted up here.” After a few steps, she poked a stick into the brush. The snap of a bear trap clanging shut rang out.

“Understood, ma’am.”

Cedar grinned again. There might be more than one reason that Cudgel hadn’t tried to harass Kali up here yet.

They walked up the hill and into the cave, blinking at the return to light. Tremblay paused inside the entrance to gape at the ship taking shape, along with the first engine, a work in progress, that lay on canvas beside it. Kali would have to move the airship out to attach the yet-to-be-sewn balloon—and complete the assembly, but it was already an impressive craft.

“I’d heard about that,” Tremblay said. “She’ll be a pretty ship, eh?”