Devon Monk - Cold Copper

Maybe she would just sit here for a bit and dry out.

She ducked under Hink’s arm and settled onto the bench.

Hink dropped down next to her. “Thought you were headed up to luxury seating.”

“I look like a drowned rat: my skirts are dripping, my shoes are covered in straw. They’d turn me away.”

“They’d be fools,” Hink said, pulling his hat back on and down over his eyes and stretching his long legs out as far as he could. “You’re a beautiful woman, wet or dry.”

Rose felt the heat of a blush brush her cheeks. Man could charm when he wanted to.

“Are you going to sleep?” she asked.

“Might as well. Next stop’s still an hour or more off.”

“What happens at the next stop?”

He didn’t reply, so Rose poked him in the shoulder with her finger.

“Ow,” he grunted. He pushed his hat out of the way and looked over at her.

“Well?” she asked.

“Next stop is where I get off and see to some business.”

“What about me?”

“What about you, Rose Small?” he asked with that soft drawl that made her want to kiss him. “Aren’t you going on to whatever destination that horizon of yours has painted for you? For you and your greenhorn?”

“Yes,” she said. “Of course. But what if I don’t?”

“You’re sweet on him. Why wouldn’t you go with him?”

“I’m not…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“No matter what you think, Captain, I’ve just met Mr. Wicks. I’m not looking to…to fall in with someone. My horizon is my own.”

He grunted. “You are a changeable thing lately.”

“I’m not changeable,” she said. “I’m just full of surprises.”

That got a smile out of him. “Aren’t you just?” Then, quieter: “Wouldn’t want you to be any other way.” He settled back, tipping his hat down again. “Get some rest, Rose Small. Your horizon’s coming up quick.”

Rose shifted until she found a fairly comfortable position cradling her head against the wall. She didn’t mean to sleep, just to rest and think for a while.

The train swayed hard to one side and she jerked awake.

Hink was awake too, looked like he had been for some time, sitting forward and keeping an eye on the other passengers and the door at the end of the car.

“Are we there?”

“Kansas City?” he said quietly. “No.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re not moving.”

That must have been what woke Rose up.

“See that man up there?” He nodded just slightly.

Rose leaned to the side so she could see around the woman seated in front of her.

At the head of the train car stood a man. He wore black from hat to boot, including the heavy duster that hung open to reveal the black of his shirt, tie, and suit beneath, with only the shine of his silver gun at his hip and the other gun in his hand to draw any light.

He wore a black kerchief over the lower half of his face.

“A bandit?” Rose asked, her heart pounding.

“Appears so.”

“Appears?” His shoes most caught her eyes. Shiny and familiar. He was one of the men from first class.

“Ladies and gents,” the bandit said in a voice that would carry to the North Pole even without the windows open. “You are being robbed. Do not get any ideas about drawing on me. My friend there at the end of the car is a crack shot.”

Rose twisted to see another man, also in all black and with covered face, aiming a triple-barreled gun rigged for bullets and also emanating that ear-pinching whine of an electric coil shot. He had shiny shoes too.

If he was any good with that gun, he could pick off a dozen people before anyone could get a shot off.

“We will spill your blood unless you cooperate. If you want to stay alive all the way to Kansas City, then put your money and jewelry into this bag and pass it on to your neighbor to do the same.” He held up a canvas bag and threw it at the man in the seat nearest him. “Now.”

The man dropped a pocket watch and a few coins into the bag and handed it to the man next to him.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Rose whispered over the frightened muttering of the fifty or so people in the car.

Hink hadn’t moved, his eye still on the bandit ahead. “They’re not the problem,” he said.

Two metal-on-metal impacts rang out through the car twice, as if something had just hit the train. The car jerked.

“That,” Hink said, “is the problem.”

“Did they uncouple the train?” Rose asked.

Hink shook his head. “Not this car. But one of the cars.”

“Why?”

He nodded again, this time toward the window. “For that.”

Rose looked out the window. She didn’t see anything but a snow-covered field.

“What?”

“Listen.”

That’s when she heard the low buzz of an airship drawing near. Not the Swift ; this ship had a much deeper roar. At least a four-stack. Maybe six. It must be massive.

“Do you know it?” she asked.

Hink and his crew were good at identifying other vessels by the sound of their fans alone.

He shook his head. “When I tell you, duck.”

Rose pushed at her luggage with her foot, then bent a bit to pick it up and sling the strap over her shoulder. Her heart was hammering, but she couldn’t help but feel a little happy thrill. She’d seen Hink get out of all kinds of life-threatening situations. If he had a plan, it might not be safe, but it might work.

“That’s right,” the bandit bellowed. “All of your valuables. I want to see coins, jewelry, and paper money. If you’ve got a deed in your pocket, it better be in that sack.”

Hink leaned back, pulling something out of his right inside coat pocket as he did so.

The bag was passed, hand to hand, seat to seat, the clink of coins and rattle of contents revealing its passage.

Rose was practically holding her breath.

The airship boilers chugged on, fans growling louder and louder, like a beast snarling down at its prey.

The man in front of Hink twisted around and handed over the sack. Hink took the bag and dropped something inside it. “Duck,” he said quietly.

He stood and hurled the bag at the bandit at the front of the car.

A rapid cacophony of gunshot rattled out; everyone screamed and ducked while blinding flashes of orange light splattered through the air.

The car fell into chaos.

People rushed to run or hide, yelling and pushing, though there was no space to do either.

Hink stayed calm during it all, twisted to face the back of the train car, pulled his gun, and shot the bandit there straight through the head. A second later, he turned back and shot the other bandit right through the heart.

Both men crumpled to the floor.

Then Hink faced Rose and offered his hand.

She took it, and with one smooth, waltzlike step, he exchanged places with her so that he was near the window and she was nearer the aisle.

People were rushing to the doors, crowding and pushing and trying to get out.

“What?” she asked as he held her tight against him with his left arm. With his right, he fired three shots to clear the glass from the window.

He looked down at her. “Stay with the train, Rose,” he said. “Keep your gun ready, and when the train starts moving again, go on up to Wicks in first class. Kansas City ain’t far.”

“Where are you going?”

“To stop the real robbery.”

The airship fans added to the chaos, their sound so thunderous and so close above the car that the glass lampshades rattled in their casings.

Hink tugged Rose close for a brief moment. Then he bent and kissed her.

Rose knew there was no time for this sort of thing. But at the touch of his lips, all time seemed to slip, and then the world was filled with him, her senses overwhelmed by him, and she found herself wondering how she could possibly go on without this man in her life.