Devon Monk - Dead Iron

The widow Mae Lindson stood for a long, long while, face tipped up to the glow of the eastern sky, her eyes closed as if she could not yet find the strength to look upon the world now that her husband was no longer upon it.

Rose Small knew the new day would bring new people out to find them. And if the town had wanted to burn Mae as a witch before, she knew once they got an eyeful of this mess, they wouldn’t wait for a slow flame to kill her this time. It’d be the noose for all of them, and it’d be fast.

She had found the water barrels and washed up Elbert. He wasn’t talking, but he didn’t let go of her hand. Eventually, he’d seemed content to sleep while she kept him propped on her hip. The wolf and Mr. Cedar Hunt slept, and Mae finally let Rose lead her to one of the water barrels so she could wash her arms and face.

Rose walked back to where Cedar Hunt slept, and pulled her canteen from her belt and sloshed the water a bit. She uncorked it, took a long drink to soothe her smoke-burned throat, and steady her nerves.

“It’s time we be going, I think,” she said, though she didn’t know who among them was listening. “We’ll need to get little Elbert back to his family and the rest of you somewhere out of the town folk’s eyes.”

Cedar Hunt stirred.

He slowly sat, and Rose watched as a cool breeze brought him to realize he was naked, except for the blanket she had covered him with. He situated the blanket around himself so it covered him in a more civilized manner.

Rose did the proper thing and looked away until he got himself decent. When she looked back, Cedar Hunt had one hand on the wolf who was still drowsing, and was looking out across the rubble, taking in the damage around them. He looked sorely exhausted. Sounded it too.

“Clothes, and food, if we have them,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I can find that for you. You’ll be all right, then, here with the wolf?”

Cedar looked back at the wolf and a serene sort of ease crossed his face. “I’ll be fine. The boy?” he asked, as if dredging deep dreams.

“Shook, but breathing. And Mae’s whole too. Mostly.” Rose nodded. Cedar Hunt’s gaze followed to where she still stood near the water barrels, face tipped to the sky. He swallowed hard and looked away.

Then: “The Madders?”

Rose shrugged. “Ran off into the night as soon as that device flew into bits.”

“Ah,” he breathed. Cedar closed his eyes, and drowsed, sitting.

Rose shook her head. There was no one but herself to take care of things. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to round up a horse and wagon and hitch them up, while still juggling little Elbert. Mae wasn’t in her full senses, but climbed into the back of the wagon, and thank God and glim, Elbert was content to curl up with her.

It took a little more coaxing, but Rose got Mr. Hunt and the wolf into the wagon too. As a last thought, Rose set the railcar on fire—just the one that had held the doorway and those wicked Strange. She wasn’t sure if there was enough fire in the world to destroy that evil, but wasn’t about to leave it out here for folk to find.

She climbed up into the wagon, kicked the brake free, and flicked the reins, guiding the horse away from the rail. The wide cleared area up and down the rail looked like a battlefield. Broken metal, steaming piles of gears, coils, and tubes, carved eerie shadows in the early-morning light. The still forms of dead rail workers sent a chill up her spine. That could just as well be her on the ground, could be Mae or little Elbert. She held tighter to the rifle and headed up the tracks and around the slight curve in the hill. She’d go to Mr. Hunt’s cabin, figuring it was the only home among them that was still standing, and not in plain sight.

Birdsong, late to the morning, had started up slow, but now filled the air. Rose took a deep, full breath, wishing the new morning could clean her of the long night’s pain and fear. But it would take more than a clear dawn to take away this horror. It had been a hard night. Still, her friend was alive, and so too were Mr. Hunt and Elbert. She was grateful for that. Grateful she had lived to see the day.

Cedar Hunt swung down off his horse with a grunt, Elbert in his arms. The bullets had not been properly dug out, but Mae Lindson had done what she could to clean his wounds of the Strange black bugs and oil. There wasn’t time for more. They’d all decided to leave town and head east together, but they’d gone first to Cedar’s house to give Mae Lindson and Wil a roof while he brought Elbert back to town.

Well, while he and Rose Small brought Elbert back to town. The girl had refused to stay behind and had instead ridden alongside him, saying she’d stand up for his character against the crowd if needed. It had not gone beneath his notice that she brought along her shotgun and her goggles fitted tight against her bonnet.

Though she’d been cheerful about it back at the cabin, she’d had no choice but to cut her hair just below her ears, evening the ragged edge the fire had left behind. He couldn’t help but notice how often her fingers wandered to tuck it behind her ears, or drop it forward to try to hide the burn on her cheek and neck, which had thankfully not blistered.

The townsfolk were riled up and skittery, holding to clumps in the street and talking about the happenings of last night—from the witch burning to the rail explosions, likely caused by some sort of malfunction of the strange matics and tickers under LeFel’s lock and key. The townsfolk had quickly cleared out of Cedar’s way once they saw him come riding. Word of the night’s fight with the matics out on the rail had come to town, probably from the surviving railmen.

Cedar didn’t know whom they had painted as in the right or the wrong, nor if any of the men had spotted Rose, the Madders, or Mae, and truth was, he didn’t much care. He’d be riding east. East to see Mae Lindson safely to her sisters she’d left at the coven. Then east to find the universities, the scholars, the devisers, who might know of a way to break the curse he and his brother still carried.

Rose Small stubbornly insisted she wanted to go east too, and when both women had stood side by side against him, he knew there wasn’t a man born who could convince her the road was no place for a lady such as she.

But looking around the town at the suspicious gazes the men and women cast at him, and in equal measure Miss Small, he got to thinking Hallelujah might not be a place for a lady like her anymore either.

They had ridden straight through to the blacksmith’s shop, and word had preceded them.

The blacksmith strode down the main road, his wife beside him.

At the first sight of Cedar and the bundle in his arms, Mrs. Gregor cried out with joy.

Cedar was careful to hand the boy to her, after he dismounted, but Mr. Gregor interrupted his intent, and took the boy his own self. He unwrapped him and pulled up his shirt to reveal his back, scratched and weeping with small punctures, but not bearing the mark of the pentagram Rose Small had told Cedar had been carved into the Strange changeling.

“Papa!” the boy cried, catching the big man in a hug. It was the first word Cedar had heard out of him.

Mr. Gregor pushed him back gently and looked up at Cedar, then Rose. Then he looked quickly away.

“Elbert,” the big man said gently. “This is important, now. Tell me your middle name.”

“James. Like Uncle.”

Mr. Gregor nodded. “That’s right, son. That’s right.”

Mrs. Gregor sobbed, and pulled her son into her arms.

“Go on and take him inside, Hannah,” Mr. Gregor said. “I’ll be there soon.”