Lindsay Buroker - Flash Gold

He was watching her, though not, it seemed, with judging eyes. He simply waited for an answer to his question.

“I modified it to be self-loading.” Kali lifted the rifle.

“Do you do custom work for people?”

“Of course. That’s how I scrape together enough money to buy bacon and flour. It’s also, I suspect, the main reason nobody’s tried seriously to drive me out of town. I’m useful.”

Cedar nodded. “I’d be interested in some of those smoke nuts.”

“I thought you had no money,” Kali said, thinking she might catch him in a lie.

He spoke without hesitation. “We’ll win, and then I’ll have one hundred dollars.”

“Not if we have more delays like this.”

Cedar squinted at something below. “There’s a woman, too, isn’t there?”

Kali winced. She had forgotten. “Yes.”

They picked a route back down the river, following the trail of already-broken snow. Wind gusted through the valley, and powder skidded sideways. With the exertion past, Kali shivered as sweat-dampened skin cooled. She clawed at the moisture that had frozen in her eyelashes and under her nose.

The woman was nowhere in sight. Cedar gestured, and they split up to see if she was hiding behind the sled. They closed, rifles raised, but nobody hunkered there. Blood dotted the ice, thanks to her smoke nut, but not enough to imply a mortal wound.

Cedar followed a set of tracks toward the far shoreline.

Kali checked the sled for damage. Dents from bullets pockmarked the boiler and smokestack, but none had ruptured a crucial part. Kali patted the side of the sled, glad she had not, in her quest to achieve lightness, skimped too much on the boiler design. If they returned to the trail immediately, they might have a chance at catching up.

She shoveled coal into the firebox. Cedar trotted out of the trees and rejoined her on the ice.

“The woman went over the hill.” He pointed. “Back the way they came. I could catch her, but I noticed you preparing to leave.”

Kali lifted the brake, and the sled rumbled forward, runners scraping on ice. “The race is more important than killing people, however irritating they’ve proven themselves by trying to kill us. If I don’t win that prize money, I’ll be stuck in Moose Hollow forever.” Or until someone succeeded in dragging her off to some crime lord for torture. More than ever, she needed to get out of town.

“In other words,” Cedar said, jogging beside the sled, “you’d leave me if I went after her.”

“I’d toss your bag of supplies out so you could make it back to town.”

“Magnanimous.”

Kali twitched a shoulder. “I’m sure you can take care of yourself. Besides, she ran away. Unless she’s got an airship waiting for her, we won’t likely see her again before we get back to town.” She gave him a sidelong look. “You didn’t have some specific reason for wanting to capture or kill her, did you?”

“I doubt she’s anybody important. It’s simply unwise to leave enemies around to take a shot at you another day.”

As they chugged down the frozen river, Kali continued to watch him out of the corner of her eye. Maybe her previous experiences were making her too suspicious. He had been nothing but helpful so far, and he had not even demanded to know why those bandits attacked her. Whatever his motivations, he was risking his life on her quest.

“Thanks for your help with those bandits,” Kali said. “You’re not as much of an unwelcome burden as I thought you’d be.”

“That’s…a compliment?” A mischievous glint entered his eyes.

“Maybe.”

“You’re a hard woman to win over.”

“I’m not looking to be won over,” she said. The last time that happened, she ended up losing. Big time.

“I see.”

Kali clammed up. She did not want him seeing. She did not want anybody seeing.

When Kali designed the tent, she had not been thinking of sharing it with anyone, especially not a six-foot-something man with broad shoulders and feet the size of snowshoes. She shifted, trying to figure out how she was going to find enough space in the dug-out hollow to lie down. For the third time, she adjusted her blanket, grimacing at a damp corner. Before leaving, she had worried about being too cold after dark; apparently, she should have worried that keeping the furnace running all night would melt nearby snow. Her next tent would be freestanding, not a lean-to designed to use the sled’s metal frame for support.

A dog yipped outside. Deep in the forest, a wolf howled in response. Low voices spoke nearby. Kali and Cedar had caught up with several sled teams after dark, and they were camping on a popular beach.

She shifted again, still looking for a comfortable spot. Her shoulder clunked against the sled, sending a jolt of pain through her. She spewed Han curse words.

“Don’t say anything,” she told Cedar, who had been watching her with a bland expression that did not quite mask his amusement.

“What would I say?” He lay parallel to the sled, tucked into some fancy all-in-one bed-blanket-pillow he called a Euklisia Rug.

“Sorry for being so big?”

“My size is usually an advantage.”

“You must not share tents very often,” she muttered.

“Not often.”

Kali adjusted her position again, almost knocking their single lantern on the ground. She caught it with a lunge before kerosene could spill. Snow found its way onto her blanket. She sighed, scooping it off.

Finally, she settled on a spot, her back against the sled, knees scrunched to her chin. Though not comfortable, she did not know Cedar well enough that she wanted any of her body parts touching his body parts. They were both fully clothed, but she had known too many men who took such things as an invitation. Men who would ignore her in town, where there were witnesses ready to tease, got squirrelly notions out on the trail. And Cedar was watching her now, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Could you make your modifications to the loading mechanism on the 1873 work on the 1890?” he asked.

Kali blinked. All that thoughtful gazing, and he’d only been thinking about her ability to tinker with weapons? A stab of disappointment went through her. She squashed it. She didn’t want him thinking of anything else.

“Maybe,” she said. “May I see it? I haven’t taken apart one of the slide-action ones before.”

The rifle lay beside him on the blanket. He nudged it her direction.

She started out examining the firing and loading mechanisms, but ended up simply sliding a wistful hand along the barrel and running a finger over the inlays. Expert engraving decorated the frame on both sides. She held it to the lamplight. A floral scroll ran around the outside while a circle in the middle framed a tree. She squinted. A cedar tree? She supposed that made sense, though… “Who’s MK?” she asked, tapping initials. Given the value of the weapon, she wondered if he had taken it-through force, gambling, or theft-from someone else. Though his clothing and gear were high quality as well, and it all fit him.

“You don’t think my momma named me Cedar, do you?” he asked.

“What did your momma name you?” Maybe if she could get him to answer a simple secret, he would share others. Such as why someone who did not appear to need money was here working for her, possibly for nothing.

“The loading mechanism,” Cedar said. “What do you think?”

Kali sighed. So much for sharing secrets.

She returned the rifle to him. “I’m not sure I’d want to risk damaging it. This is one of the prettiest Winchesters I’ve seen.”

“Functionality is more important than looks.”