Teancum (16 page)

“Orrin Porter Rockwell,” Sam said, shaking the mountain
man’s hand.
 
“I’ve never seen a
human being take so much damage and keep moving.”

“No bullet or blade,” Rockwell averred proudly.

“Have you had any news of Absalom?” Burton asked Abigail,
bowing slightly.

“Last I heard he’d been spotted in St. George,” she
said.
 
“They were heading east into
the red rock country, and thought they were hot on the trail.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Burton said, radiating
confidence.

“I don’t,” she agreed.
 
“Not anymore.”

“We want to come along,” Rockwell grunted, and then Sam
noticed that two young men from the crowd were dragging a large trunk between
them from the buggy to the steam-truck.
 
“Hell, you smashed my hotel all to pieces, I think you owe it to me.”

“You aren’t worried about the security of the Kingdom?” Sam
gestured in Brigham Young’s direction.

Rockwell shook his head.
 
“Lee and Hickman and Cannon are gone,” the mountain man
said.
 
“Brother Brigham’s got good
men around him now, and besides,” he grinned, “I’ll be back.”

“We thought we should go back to England and spend a little
time with my family,” Abigail explained.
 
“Especially since there’s no telling how long Absalom will be gone on
his errand.”

“His
quest
,” Burton
jumped in.
 
“I hope you will allow
me to accompany you.
 
I’ll be
collecting my thoughts and memories into notes.
 
I plan to write a memoir of this journey, and your
assistance would be invaluable.”

“I ain’t ever wrote a book before,” Rockwell guffawed.
 
“Hell, I ain’t hardly read one.
 
But I’m game to try!”

Sam took the wheel of
Jim Smiley
, marveling how perfect it looked, and unaffected by
the truck’s charge into the blazing inferno of the Tabernacle.
 
Either the wheel had survived unscathed
and been cleaned to perfection, or someone had lovingly produced a perfect
replica.
 
The same went for all the
rest of the controls, and the entire interior of the cabin, with one tiny
exception—

in the center of the wheel, which had previously been a
blank disk, was affixed a discreet brass beehive.

Sam laughed.

“What’s the mate do, then?” he heard Coltrane say, and he
realized the dwarf was standing at his elbow.
 
“It might be best if I, uh, don’t have to mingle too much
with the Shoshone, boss.
 
I ain’t
sure jest how much they know, but they kinda have reasons to be unhappy with
me.

Sam handed the little man a Cohiba, took one for himself and
lit them both.
 
“Shovel coal when
we need it,” he said.
 
“Stay away
from the Indians.
 
Eventually, take
the wheel so the captain can nap.
 
For now, see to our passengers.
 
Especially any minors we have aboard.
 
I believe there may be some hard candy somewhere in the
galley.”

“I believe there may be.”
 
Coltrane affected a very sloppy salute, grinned a lopsided
grin and hobbled off, holding his chest stiff to avoid irritating the bandages
on his healing belly wound.

Sam released the brake, shifted the
Jim Smiley
into gear and turned left up South Tabernacle,
towards the mountains, Fort Bridger and the Wyoming Territory.
 
Chief Pocatello mounted his horse and
the Shoshone fell in around the steam-truck like pest-eating birds on the back
of a rhinoceros.

With the morning sun in his eyes, Sam leaned out the window
of the wheelhouse to wave at Brigham Young, Heber Kimball and the entire
crowd.
 
His passengers leaned over
the steam-truck’s railing and waved too.

“Good-bye!” everyone shouted.

“I’ll be back!” yelled Sam.

“We’ll be ready for you!” roared Brigham Young.

Here ends
Teancum

and
City of the Saints

More stories about the
Kingdom of Deseret will follow.

###

About D.J. Butler

D.J. Butler (Dave) is a novelist living in the Rocky
Mountain northwest. His training is in law, and he worked as a securities
lawyer at a major international firm and inhouse at two multinational
semiconductor manufacturers before taking up writing fiction. He is a lover of
language and languages, a guitarist and self-recorder, and a serious reader. He
is married to a powerful and clever woman and together they have three devious
children.

Dave has been writing fiction since 2010. He writes
speculative fiction (roughly, fantasy, science fiction, space opera, steampunk,
cyberpunk, superhero, alternate history, dystopian fiction, horror and related
genres) for all audiences. He has written and is writing novels for middle
grade, young adult and adult readers. He is working on getting published via
the traditional route; in the meantime, he is entertaining readers with
City
of the Saints
and
Rock Band
Fights Evil
. Dave has always had a soft
spot for good pulp fiction.

Follow Rock Band at
http://rockbandfightsevil.com
.

Hear about
City of the Saints
and D.J. Butler’s other writing projects at
http://davidjohnbutler.com
.