Tin Swift (19 page)

“Yes. But we didn’t fall. You cast a spell, Mrs. Lindson. You touched the captain.”

“No,” she said.

Cedar paused. She sounded afraid. He wasn’t sure if she was telling him no, or saying it to the voices of the sisters in her head.

“I didn’t touch him,” she said. “Tell me I didn’t touch him. Please.”

He could lie. She would find comfort in it. But he didn’t know what kind of spell she had cast.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But you did touch the captain. You were singing. Some sort of prayer. Then he brought the ship down for a safe landing here in the mountains.”

She shook her head. “Is he alive? Is he breathing?”

“He’s fine.” Cedar clamped his teeth down before he said more. Why was she suddenly so concerned about the captain? He was a stranger, a rogue. For all they knew, he could be their enemy. And yet she showed more compassion to him than she had to Cedar in the last few weeks on the trail.

The killing need of the beast rose in him. The need to destroy the captain, to tear him to bloody shreds and leave him for the vultures to
pick over. Just the thought of Mae caring for the captain set off a deep fury and jealousy, which he fought back.

No good would come of killing the only man who could repair the ship and fly them out of here.

No good would come of him being angry over Mae’s interest in a man other than him.

The beast squirmed under his logic and, finally, relented, leaving his head filled with reasonable thoughts again.

“I…” Mae seemed to be trying very hard to pull herself into a calmer state. She relaxed her fist, but did not let go of the shuttle.

“I may have harmed him,” she said quietly. “May have bound him to his ship in ways a man’s mind cannot endure. I have done worse with magic. Such terrible things.” Her eyes were bloodshot, and she was almost on the verge of tears, even though her voice was calm.

“He’s clearheaded,” Cedar said, still working to push his anger down. “I was just speaking with him outside. He’s decided to repair the ship, then go for supplies. He’s promised to take us to Kansas. To the sisterhood.”

“Are you certain?” she asked.

Cedar gently placed his hand over her fist. “Of his promise? Not at all.”

“No,” she said. “That he’s well. That he’s sane.”

“Yes. He shows no ill effects of what you did. If you hadn’t used magic, I’m not sure we would have landed in one piece. You made the right choice, Mrs. Lindson.”

Mae took some comfort in that, and even managed a small smile. “Good,” she said. “Good, then. And Rose? Has she shown any signs of waking?”

“Last night, and she’s awake now. Can you tend her?”

Mae nodded. Cedar helped her to her feet. She swayed just a little, her hands clutching his tighter. Then she bit her bottom lip and closed
her eyes for a moment, setting herself. “What do I have to work with, Mr. Hunt? My satchel at least?”

Cedar bent and picked it up off the floor for her. “What else do you need?”

“I’m not sure. Let me see to her first.” She brushed the stray locks of hair off her face and squared her shoulders.

Cedar glanced around the ship. The men were all gone, and so was Wil. He’d heard them head out the door. From the clatter and stomping coming from the roof area, he figured they were already working on repairs.

Captain Hink was in a hurry to leave this hidey-hole, for which Cedar was glad. Too easy to be trapped in such a tight squeeze. If the captain of the
Saginaw
decided to throw dynamite down just to cover his bets, there was every chance he’d bring down the walls and they’d be sealed in here.

And if the snows came, they’d be dead for sure.

Molly Gregor came out of the door at the far end of the ship. She had a teakettle in one hand. “Thought we could all use hot tea this morning. Take the bite out of the cold in this hole.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but instead poured a cup for Cedar and Mae, and one for Rose too.

Cedar took it gratefully, and swallowed down the fragrant brew. “Mint?” he said.

“Picked some up when we were last out Chicago way.” Molly pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle out of the leather bag at her hip. “I don’t suppose you folks have much on you in the way of food and supplies,” she said, offering a share of jerked meat and dried plums.

Cedar took some of the jerky and was happy to see Mae take both meat and fruit.

“We left all that we had behind,” Cedar said. “Do you know where the captain will be taking the ship for repairs?”

“Probably Old Jack’s,” she said. “He makes a profit keeping his
landing field open and his mouth shut. He’ll have food, supplies. Medicines too,” she said with a nod to Rose.

“Sounds like a good choice, then,” Mae said softly.

Molly smiled, and it softened her blunt features. “It is. The captain might be a blowhard, but he’s got a head full of clever.”

“How long have you known him?” Cedar asked.

“Too long, Mr. Hunt,” Molly said with a grin. “Now about Robert Gregor. How was he when you saw him?”

“He was well,” Cedar said. “He and his wife have a son.”

“Oh, that’s good news! Another addition to the Gregor clan. What’s his name?”

“Elbert,” Rose said.

That got them all turning back to the hammock. Rose’s eyes were closed, and her skin still looked an awful shade of gray.

“Elbert’s a fine name,” Molly said, glancing a question at Cedar.

“Miss Small had a fondness for Mr. Gregor,” Cedar said. “He holds her in high esteem also. Showed her the way around his smithy.”

“Did he now?” she asked. “Well, if you’ve been taught the secrets of metal by a Gregor, you’re practically one of the family. Think of going into the smithing trade, Miss Small?”

Rose opened her eyes. Glossy with fever, they still carried a hint of her spunk. “Maybe. Although a boilerman on an airship seems a real fine life too.”

“It is,” Molly said. “Would you like to help me check over the boiler today?”

“Yes,” she said, “I’d love to. Though I’m not sure how much help I can be, with this shoulder.”

“Let me tend to it,” Mae said. “I have some herbs. Black salve that might give you some ease.”

“And while Mrs. Lindson sees to your shoulder, I certainly would like to hear more about little Elbert,” Molly said.

The cabin door opened, letting in a gust of wind. Captain Hink
leaned his head in, his hand gripping the top of the jamb. “Mr. Hunt. Do you know your way around a hammer?”

“I can do my share,” he said.

“Good. We could use an extra set of hands. Molly, when will she be up to steam?”

“She’ll be ready to go by the time you get her feathers mended,” she said. “Are we going to have all fans on line?”

“Mr. Seldom’s never let us down before,” Hink said, ducking back out the door. “We’ll be in the air before noon. Mr. Hunt?” he called.

Cedar glanced one last time at Mae. She was unwrapping the compress on Rose’s shoulder, frowning at what she saw there.

“We’ll need more medicines than what I have on me,” Mae said. “It looks like an infection is setting in. Do you have any more hot water, Miss Gregor?”

“Of course.”

“It’s fine,” Rose said. “I’ll be fine.”

But Mae glanced up at Cedar and gave him a slight shake of her head. “As soon as we could be on our way would be best,” she said.

Cedar didn’t wait any longer. He strode out the door and then shut it behind him.

Morning had chalked clouds across the sky and brought out enough light that it was a fair share easier to see inside this pit.

Still, it was cold and wet, some areas still slick with frost. It was like walking across the bottom of a grave.

“Harbor here for too long and this will be nothing more than a death trap,” Captain Hink said. “If those clouds bring rain or snow, we won’t be able to launch. The faster we fix her, the faster we fly.”

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Cedar said.

Hink handed Cedar a hammer. “Take a turn on the rivet work with Guffin,” he said. “And pray we don’t get rain.”

R
epairs on the
Swift
were taking longer than Captain Hink Cage had hoped for. Not because the men were slacking. Guffin, Ansell, and Seldom were working as quickly as they could. And quite to Hink’s surprise, so was Mr. Hunt, who proved to be a ready hand at all levels of repair he put his effort toward.

“Ever work a ship, Mr. Hunt?” Captain Hink asked as Cedar crimped the seam to align the rivet hole in the tin skin envelope.

“Not an airship.” Mr. Hunt hammered the bucktail of a rivet into place. “But I worked the yards as a young man.”

“Hup,” Guffin called. He tossed a hot rivet off the small forge and up to Mr. Ansell, who sat the other side of the rip tight as a bug in honey. Ansell caught the rivet in an iron cone, then plucked it free with tongs.

Cedar waited for Ansell to set the rivet before hammering it down tight. Cedar leaned back against the rope rigging that let him latch and crawl about the curve of the ship like a man climbing a mountainside.

“I didn’t need more than a year before I decided the sailing life was not for me,” he said.

The
Swift
had taken more than one shot to the main envelope, and it had taken a good part of the day to mend those tears. They were on the last rip, placing a patch more than doing any final work. The thin
sheet of patch metal should be enough to hold her against the winds just so far as to Old Jack’s.

“What life did you go looking for, Mr. Hunt?”

Cedar was silent as he pounded another rivet down tight. “The university. Teaching.”

“You’re a long way from that sort of living,” Hink said, shouldering the pulley line to force the strut of the fans into place so Mr. Seldom could set the bolts proper again.

Cedar stared up at the wedge of sky above them, then back at the mostly black walls. “Yes, I am.”

“Don’t sound displeased about it,” Hink grunted, setting his heels to hold the line.

Neither of them spoke for a bit while Hink held muscle on the propellers for Mr. Seldom, and Mr. Hunt hammered another rivet into the patch.

Finally, Mr. Hunt spoke. “There’s things about this life I’d never had in the university. Not all of them bad.”

“Funny how things work out that way sometimes,” the captain said.

“So it is,” Cedar agreed.

“That’s it, Captain,” Ansell hollered as he hooked the iron cone to his belt rig. “She’s as tight as we can make her.”

“Then tell Molly Gregor to fill the bags. We’ll be dragging sky within the hour.”

“Aye, Captain.” Ansell clambered down the outside of the ship, unlatched his harness from the ropes, then dropped a good six feet to land beside the ship.

Hink just shook his head. Man was unafraid of heights or the falling from them, and seemed most alive anytime he was executing some high-wire stunt. Mr. Ansell was a man born to walk the skies.

“About time,” Mr. Guffin grumbled as he got to work on packing gear and setting the small forge to cool.

Mr. Hunt lowered himself down the side of the ship to the ground, then unlatched gear. He might not be as sure-footed as Ansell, but he still moved like he’d been crawling over airships all his life.

Moved through the rocks and tumble like he was born to them too.

Only other sort of man Hink had ever seen be quite so comfortable in every environment he fell upon was the native people.

He didn’t know if Mr. Hunt carried native blood in his veins, though his coloring leaned toward it far more than Hink’s own yellow and blue.

Cedar glanced off, suddenly still as the stones around him. His hands were held out to the side as if the wind told things to his fingers that ears and eyes couldn’t know.

A slight movement in the distance caught Hink’s attention. The wolf, Wil, coming this way. It had something in its mouth. Looked like a goat.

The wolf stopped. Cedar wasn’t watching the wolf. He was watching the sky.

Hink heard it. The hard chug of propellers pushing over the range. Sounded like she was working against the wind. Maybe against the rain.

It could be raining out there and windy enough that the rain couldn’t fall into this hole.

Captain Hink hoped he was wrong, but they wouldn’t know the flying conditions until they put their nose over the edge of this rock. And they weren’t going anywhere until they were sure that ship out there was gone hunting different ground.

Hink waited. Even Mr. Seldom stopped tinkering with his tools near the fans and leaned back so he could catch a gander at the sky.

The buzz faded off, growing faint, then coming in and out of hearing like she was threading peaks, the echo of her engines soon too quiet to stir the silence.

“Mr. Seldom,” Hink said. “Tell me we have wings.”

“She’ll fly,” Seldom said. What he didn’t say, what he didn’t have to say, was he didn’t know how long or how far she would take them.

A drop of rain hit Hink on the shoulder. Another followed. Captain Hink swore as he looped the pulley ropes and helped Mr. Seldom remove the repair braces and tackle. They were going to have to fly her out wet.

Wet, wounded, out of the bottom of hell’s well. Low on fuel, heavy on passengers, with airships scouting for their smoke.

Some days there wasn’t enough glim in the sky to make this job easy.

“Inside,” Hink yelled to Cedar and the wolf. “We’ll be launching as soon as Molly can give us steam.”

Cedar Hunt took the goat from the wolf and shouldered it as he strode to the ship, the wolf loping at an easy pace by his side. In the shuttered light, Cedar looked taller, inhuman, like a hunter out of legend, or some kind of warrior of old come to put the land right.

It was just a moment, a flicker of a thought. Then Hink shook his head. Those kinds of fool thoughts were the imaginings that had sent him down a life path even his soiled-dove mama hadn’t approved.

With wild thoughts, and wilder blood, Hink had been a terror growing up. Some days he wasn’t even sure there was enough sky and earth together to give him room to shout.

“Stop dreaming,” Seldom said as he slapped Hink on the back. Hard. “You’re all wet.”