The Madame of Gravestone (4 page)

Chapter Eight

Emma sat in the cabin’s reading chair and stared at the man sleeping in front of her. The bed sheets were wrapped around his muscled torso while his head rested on the pillow they had shared.
Tripp Monroe, you’ve stolen my heart and that scares me
. She snuggled into his shirt and curled her legs underneath her.

A knock on the door startled both of them. Tripp grabbed his pants and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Just a second,” he said loudly as he looked out the peephole. Shaking his head, he let the Sheriff of Gravestone inside. “Honey, I believe your muscle has arrived.”

“Beatrice.” Emma ran over and gave her a hug.

“Ma’am.” Sheriff Bea handed her a bag and seemed uncertain how to act given the present circumstance. “There’s something we need to talk about in private,” nodding at Tripp in defiance, “without the snitch present.”

“It’s okay. Tripp has offered me his services …” She blushed. “Um, what I meant to say was …”

“I can read the self-destruct plans.” He gave Emma a wink and sat on the end of the bed. “Apparently that’s an important quality.”

Beatrice looked back and forth between the two. “If that’s your decision,” she hesitated before continuing, “but I’m here to tell you the king’s henchman is waiting for you at the docks. Word has it he’s here to finish what he started. The guillotine has your name on it, ma’am.”

Emma dropped the bag on the bed next to Tripp and opened it in silence. A disguise, along with weapons were inside. She slowly took out a gray newsboy outfit. There were knickers, suspenders, a wrinkled shirt, knee high socks, a news hat and goggles. “Really?”

Beatrice shrugged. “It’s all we could find on short notice. Sneaking you off this boat is going to be difficult enough as is.”

Emma motioned for the sheriff and Tripp to turn around as she dressed. “Bea, I’d like you to consider this a direct order.”

“Ma’am?”

“You’re to help Tripp get off this rig and finish the mission. I’ll need to stay and deal with the Sargent.”

“No,” Beatrice and Tripp said in unison. They both turned back around as Emma pinned up her hair into the news hat.

“We’re out of options. The clockwork army has to be stopped and I need to make certain that the king’s buffoon doesn’t get in the way.”

Tripp walked over to her. “We can all escape together.”

“Not this time.” Emma stood on her tiptoes and placed a tender kiss on his lips. “If you care for me at all, please, go with Beatrice.”

“I’m not going to leave you. I can’t do that.” He pulled her close. “I’m falling in love with you, Emma.”

“And because you love her, you’ll do exactly what she says.” The click of Beatrice’s gun got their attention.

“Sorry.” Emma looked into his eyes and hoped he understood. Then she slid the goggles into place and walked out the cabin door.

It took her no time to get to the top deck. The guests of the Queen Penelope allowed the petite newsboy to move through the crowds with little to no trouble. And, once she secured a spot on the rail, Emma saw the large cave opening. The steamboat would be outside in the polluted Kingstown air soon and she prayed Tripp could do the impossible.

* * *

The Sargent felt his muscles twitching where human skin collided with metal, and he could still remember the surgeries that had made him this way. Half of his body was now a jumble of mechanical parts, thanks to a mining accident during Westland’s gold rush days. The king had been greedy then, just like he was now. But, none of that mattered. Sargent Baxley Duncan had another job to do.

He stood on the docks and waited for the little traitorous princess to arrive. Her actions had made him look worse than any of the hateful nicknames he tolerated from his superiors and for that he would show no mercy. Word had been sent from the Queen Penelope that an arrest had been made. So, all he needed to do was make sure she got to Kingstown square by noon. If his men were a little rough with her along the way, so be it.

The king’s gambling boat whistled as it came out of the cavern and pulled into the docks. The upper class of Westland lined the railing and waited impatiently. “I don’t care who they are. No one leaves the boat until I get my prisoner,” the Sargent yelled at his men as they walked to the lowering plank.

“Excuse me, sir.”

The Sargent glared at the first man to arrive on the beam. “Get off the plank. I want my prisoner.”

“I am Professor Greggor and I’m a special guest of the king—”

“I don’t care if you were the king himself. The prisoner will de-board first.”

“If you say so.” The man in the safari suit raised his hands in mock surrender. “He’s being brought out as we speak.”

“What do you mean,
he?
” The Sargent quickly lost patience with the eccentric old fool.

Two constables arrived with a man in ropes. “I’m not one to care, but I do believe this is a fellow.” The self-proclaimed guest of the king smiled. “If you’re looking for a woman, the Madame of Gravestone perhaps, then I believe we can come to an arrangement.”

Chapter Nine

Tripp and his armed companion used a precarious rope ladder to lower themselves down into a life-raft while all the other passengers of the Queen Penelope ranted and raved over some sort of delay.

“I can’t see a thing.” Tripp squinted in the fog as they paddled to land.

“Here, use these.” Beatrice handed him a pair of goggles and put on a pair of her own. “They’ll help you see through all the grime and soot in the air. They’re just another present from the king and his clockwork army.”

Tripp put them on and was actually surprised by the difference. Everything was in varying shades of gray, but clear nonetheless. He saw the embankment where they would sneak ashore, the official looking docks that were closer than he liked and some sort of struggle on the plank. “That old bastard.”

They both turned and watched Emma being dragged onto the docks. Her bright red hair showed through the polluted fog while a man in a safari suit held her hat and chatted pleasantly with her captures.

“Who the hell is that?” Beatrice almost stood in the raft.

“I’ll take care of him later.” Tripp pulled her down. “What matters right now is saving Emma.”

“That’s … that’s not what she would want. We have a job to do.” Beatrice looked torn. “She gave me strict orders.”

“And you’re following them.” When they got close enough, he jumped out of the raft, pulling it the rest of the way into the weeds. “You got me off that rig like she wanted. And…you’re still going to help me with the mission. We just have to save Emma too.”

The sheriff of Gravestone nodded in understanding. “They’re going to take her to the jailhouse in the square. It’s actually pretty close to the clockwork control room and I’ve already arranged for a carriage to take us there.”

“Then lead the way.”

Up and over a hill on a grimy side street, they found the carriage. It was tipped on its side and empty. “Looters.” Beatrice took out her pistol and scanned the area. “We’ll have to go on foot. Keep in the shadows and stay close.”

Tripp followed the curvy blonde. They stayed in the alleyways and moved from one trash heap to another. A rat ran over the tip of his boot when they finally stopped. “This place smells as bad as it looks.”

Beatrice pointed at the open space ahead. “That’s the square.” It was a patch of bricked ground encircled by tall, decaying buildings. In the center was a platform with a guillotine. Venders pushed carts around while small groups of people shopped in the dismal atmosphere.

“And where’s the jail?”

She pointed to a dilapidated structure in the corner. “The building isn’t the problem. It’s the guards.” As she said this, giant robots marched past the alley where they hid.

“What the hell are those?” Tripp couldn’t take his eyes off of the mechanical monsters. They were at least ten feet tall, with what looked to be cannons for arms. “It’s a tank on legs.”

“Those are just a few of the clockwork soldiers. The guards are smaller versions.”

“And this self-destruct plan? Will it take them all out?” The importance of their mission became more and more clear.

Beatrice shrugged. “That’s what we’re hoping. There is a control center in the basement of the military building—over there.” She pointed at a large stone structure with metal bars on the windows.

“I’m supposed to get in there?” Tripp quickly realized Emma was safer in prison than participating in this suicide mission.

“The location of the control center is top secret. Our Intel tells us there’s an easy entrance in the back with little support. For what it’s worth, I think we should shut the clockworks down before attempting to free the Madame.”

They moved in the shadows and stayed close to the roaming shoppers as they made their way to the military building. Following a vender into the side alley, they soon came across the alternate entrance. A clockwork guard lay slumped on the ground beside the door. It had been shot and its inner wiring had been torn out. The vender moved along.

“Someone’s already here.” Tripp moved in front of Beatrice. “Give me a gun. I’m going in first.”

He moved with lightning speed. This job was the only thing keeping him from Emma and nothing was going to stand in the way; including the two other clockwork guards that had already been taken out.
Who could be doing this? Are they here for the same reasons?
His mind raced with possibilities.

“Tripp.” A soft voice came from a room to his left.

Emma?
He raised his gun and went in without another thought. She was propped up against another dismantled guard. Her hands were bleeding, each clutching a handful of the guard’s severed cords.

“It’s about time you showed up.” She offered him a faint smile as Beatrice came running into the room.

“Ma’am.” The Sheriff had already ripped her shirt in an attempt to make bandages.

Tripp went over to Emma, gently helping her to her feet. “We thought you’d been captured.” He stroked away her wayward curls and kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

“Your friend, the professor, came up with an ingenious plan. He met me on the boat and offered to help.” She handed Tripp a package wrapped in newspaper. “He said if the self-destruct didn’t work, to use this.”

He tore it open to find a package of dynamite and a single match. “Crazy old man.”

“That just might be a better option than the tinker’s plans.” Beatrice shook her head in amusement as she worked on Emma’s wounds. “It can’t control the army if it’s blown to the high heavens.”

“We’ll need to do this fast. That crazy old man is in prison because of me and I’d like to save him.” The Madame nodded at the dynamite. “Let’s go for the quick explosion.”

Tripp took off his fancy dress coat and ripped out the lining. Inside were the plans he’d been carrying since the farmer’s wife had offered to sew them in place. He took a glance at them before letting them fall to the floor. “According to these, the main compartment is located right here.” Using his gun to bust a hole in the control panel, he smiled as the sparks flew. “Get ready to run.” Tripp pushed the dynamite in and lit the fuse.

Chapter Ten

Sirens blared. The military facility was up in smoke as balls of fire jumped from one building to another. The clockwork soldiers lay on the ground where they had fallen as the Kingstown citizens crawled over them, desperate to get through the city gates.

The three traitors raced through the chaos to the jail. Beatrice lifted her skirt and took her communicator off her garter belt. “Madame, should I contact Captain Grace? She can lower a bucket.”

“Tell her to set it down right in the middle of the square. We’ll never make it through the mass of people flooding the gates.”

Tripp and Emma left her outside and went into the old jailhouse. There was no one inside except for the professor. “I have too many questions for you, old man.”

Greggor only sighed. “Just wanted one last adventure before going home.”

Emma rattled the bars. “These have been welded shut.”

“Ah, yes. When the sirens went off, the Sargent came in and welded it closed. He decided if I wasn’t getting my head cut off, then I could burn to death instead.”

“We’re going to get you out of here.” Emma looked angry and determined as the room filled with smoke. “You freed me from the paddy wagon and took the blame for my escape. It’s the least I can do.”

Tripp searched the jailer’s desk for anything useful.

“Such a promising photographer,” the professor nodded toward Tripp, “bring me the two cameras from my backpack. It’s in the corner.”

“What?” Frustration was laced in Emma’s voice. “There’s no time.”

Tripp gave him a questioning look. “How are they going to help?”

The old man winked at the couple. “Watch and see.” Tripp found a digital and an old-fashioned Brownie. Taking it over to the cell, the professor took the high-tech cameras and posed. “Cheese.”

“This is ridiculous.” Emma stalked toward the door. “I’m going to have Grace send down a small explosive.”

“Remember how you got here?” The professor held up the digital in the same way Tripp had held the Brownie in the convention center. “It’s one world crossing into another. Take my picture.”

The flash of his box camera lit just as the building rocked from a nearby explosion. Tripp watched the professor fall back…then disappear.

* * *

Emma fluffed out the ruffles of her white dress and tried to steady her shaking hands. They were still wrapped in Bea’s homemade bandages but she didn’t care. They had escaped Kingstown and destroyed her father’s clockwork army. The professor had gone home and Tripp had decided to stay. There was nothing that was going to stand in the way of the ceremony waiting for her downstairs.

Her young assistant, Kit, came into the room. “Oh. You looked lovely, Madame.”

Emma blew the girl a kiss of thanks. “Are they ready for me?”

Kit giggled. “Your fella is shaking in his boots, but he’s staring at the top of the stairs as if nothing else matters.”

“Well, I hope so.” She took one last glance in the mirror. “I wouldn’t be marrying him if I didn’t feel the same.”

Emma heard the organ music and knew it was time. She left her room in the Gravestone hotel and gracefully went down the stairs. The love of her life waited and there was no one else in her world…or his…she would rather spend the rest of her life with.