Blood Ties (4 page)

Cole laughed a bit nervously. “Is that coffee I smell?” he asked. Cole’s dark brown hair flowed out from under his hat, and his mulatto skin looked almost golden in the morning light. He wore a light blue button-down shirt, jeans, and his weathered tan boots.

“Sure seems that way,” Jake replied, taking another sip as he contemplated the explosion.
Damn,
he thought,
I’m just too tired to pry this one out of him
. Jake closed his eyes and let the morning soak in.

Cole stepped up onto the porch, grabbed the empty cup, and poured himself some coffee. Setting the pot back down, he stood up straight, stretched his back, and stared out across the grassy plains that rolled away from the house in all directions. The view was broken only by an occasional patch of sage or yucca. He watched Morse stroll toward Deer Creek for a bit and then turned his gaze northeast. A trail led away from the house, making a curving line through the prairie and winding its way toward Denver.

Cole’s eyes froze and narrowed, gazing intently at something in the distance. He held his gaze there for a short while, sipping from his coffee slowly. “You expecting anyone?” he asked, sitting down into the rocking chair next to Jake.

“Nope,” Jake replied slowly as he opened his eyes. Cole nodded in the direction of the trail. Something floated in the distance, well above the prairie, a small white dot heading straight for them. “You got that hide-away?” Jake asked calmly.

Cole patted his right forearm, saying, “You know I sleep with this thing.”

“Palm it,” Jake said, his eye narrowing at the approaching object. Cole switched the coffee cup to his left and extended his right arm with a jerk-twist of his hand. With a
spring-click
, a small over-and-under pistol popped into his waiting fingers. He laid his hand on his thigh, hiding it out of sight.

“Think it’s trouble?” Cole asked, taking another sip of coffee.

“Normally I’d say no, but after last night.…” Jake let his voice trail off before adding, “And you know how I
hate
surprises. Mornings like this just beg for ’em.” He turned his good eye to Cole and leered slightly. “I
did
see a crow on my windowsill when I got up.” Jake gave his partner a knowing look.

“Uh-oh,” Cole replied suspiciously. He’d spent enough time around Jake to know that crows usually meant trouble. “So does that mean you want to head to San Fran and hit ’em head on? Or are you planning to lay low here and stay business as usual?”

“Cole, that is the only question really worth asking this fine morning, explosions not excepted.” Jake took another sip of coffee, a thoughtful look on his face. “I’ll let you know if I figure something out.”

Chapter Five – Qi’s Telegram

“Ain’t nothin’ more valuable than friends. Not gold. Not land. Not horses. You do for them like they’re your very own soul.”

~ Jake Lasater

“So, uhh …” Jake said slowly, “since I ain’t figured out the big question, you wanna tell me what that ruckus this morning was all about?”

Cole’s eyes went looking for gopher holes again, and he had the same innocent look on his face. After a few seconds, he gave up on the missing varmints and let his eyes drift up to Jake’s good one. His face broke into a smile, and he chuckled. “Not particularly,
amigo
.”

“Come on, god damn it. What the hell was going on?”

“I can’t tell you, Jake. It’s a
surprise
.” Cole laughed harder, knowing Jake was not a big fan of surprises.

“Son of a …” Jake started, but that only got Cole laughing more. Jake clenched his left fist, the bright metal glinting in the sunlight. “I swear, I oughta pop you one with the left.” He shook it at Cole for emphasis.

Between laughs Cole managed to get out, “Why Jake, now that’s just not friendly. That’d be like hitting me with a sledgehammer. You wouldn’t do that, would you? Not to poor old Cole? After all the times I’ve saved your life?” The chair creaked with Cole’s laughter, and he stomped his foot on the porch trying to stop.

Jake’s face turned to a grimace, and all he could do was simmer as Cole’s laughter eased into nothing more than the occasional chuckle.

“I’m sorry, Jake. I really can’t tell ya.” Cole fixed him with a genuinely apologetic stare. “You’ll just have to trust me on this one, all right?”

Jake continued to sulk, but he gave Cole a brief nod and then, with a long sip of coffee, stared out into the sky toward the approaching object.

The two men sat there calmly, rocking and waiting for it to get close enough to identify. As it approached, they heard a soft, chattering staccato of steam and machinery.

“I’ll be damned,” Cole muttered. “Ain’t seen one like that before … and certainly not that small.”

The aircraft came toward them at the speed of a trotting horse. They couldn’t see how long the dirigible was, but it was at least eight feet in diameter and covered in red, white, and blue fabric. Suspended underneath sat a small person astride what had been a bicycle at some point—frame, seat, wheels, and all. It still had the wheels, but neither Jake nor Cole could fathom the purpose of all the pipes and gadgets bolted to the frame and sticking out in every direction. Behind the bicycle frame, suspended on struts that came out of the zeppelin’s envelope, were two large, chain-driven rotors obviously powered by whatever made the chattering sounds coming from within the thing.

The handlebars had been replaced with a small shipman’s wheel that the rider adjusted now and then, turning the wheel gently to compensate for gusts of breeze as he angled it forward. As the craft descended, they saw a small trail of white puffs dotting a line behind the envelope.

After a few minutes they realized that a teenage boy operated the contraption, and he was clearly coming in for a landing. He worked a couple of levers set into the bicycle frame, and the chattering cut off. As his wheels touched the ground, he pulled another lever that caused the wheels to lock up. With a skidding sound, the mini-zeppelin came to a slow stop. The rider hit a button set into the center of the shipman’s wheel and there was a loud
hiss-clank
as two arms set on either side of the back wheel slammed down. They hammered sharp spikes deep into the dirt, anchoring the small craft.

The boy dismounted, pulled brass goggles up off his face, and set them atop a well-worn grimwig he had on backwards. He gave the seat a firm shake to make sure the zeppelin was stable and strode up to the porch. He wore a simple tan vest and knee-length, black wool pants. Tan spats covered his shins, leaving the tips of his worn leather shoes exposed.

“Either one of you Jake Lasater?” the boy asked with an Irish accent, his young voice cracking on the last word. He looked embarrassed and cleared his throat. He stared at Jake’s exposed golden feet and left hand, the rune-carved plates of brass glinting in the sun. The boy seemed unable to take his eyes off the clockwork limbs.

“I’m Jake Lasater.” Jake eyed the kid and nodded, noting he wasn’t armed. He’d had a fifteen-year-old come at him once in St. Louis, so he didn’t take chances with anyone who had the use of their limbs. “Who’s asking?”

“My name’s Mickey O’Malley. I just started workin’ down at the telegraph office for Mister Whitaker. We got a telegram for you late last night.”

Jake reached out his left hand. The boy’s eyes never left the metallic fingers.

“From who?” Jake asked.

The boy’s face scrunched up in concentration. “Key somethin’ or other.”

Jake looked surprised and a little worried. “Qi Lau Xing?” he asked, remembering in exquisite detail several days and nights spent with the woman in San Francisco. He realized that if the Tong was after him, they might have involved her somehow.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Mickey reached into his vest and pulled out a folded piece of yellow paper, deftly handing over the telegram. “It says URGENT,” the boy added. Jake’s fingers closed around the paper, and there was a faint clicking sound as the digits came together. The boy released his grip and pulled his hand back quickly.

Jake had seen it before. There were plenty of folk, even in big cities, who felt uncomfortable around what many referred to as
machiners
. It wasn’t as bad as how some folks referred to blacks, but they meant it the same way … to put a man down. There were even some churches that claimed clockwork limbs, any enhancement for that matter, were ungodly—the work of the Devil. Jake had been run out of Topeka, Kansas once by a crazed mob from the Eastborough Congregational Church. They’d come after him with torches and a noose, screaming
“God hates machiners!”
A few had even thrown rocks as he high-tailed it out of town.

Jake turned to Cole. “Could you go get two dollars off my dresser? Seems old man Whitaker has hisself a new assistant … and a fancy new zeppelin.”

“You got it,” Cole replied quietly as he stood. Putting his coffee cup carefully on the rocker, he slipped the hide-away up his sleeve and compressed it back into the spring-loaded holster. The boy gulped nervously when he realized there’d been a gun in the mix. Cole smiled and winked once at the lad before disappearing through the front door.

“So what’s she want?” Jake asked, figuring the boy had been in the telegraph office when it came in or had at least read it. Teenage boys were the same all over.

“She’s got a job for you.”

“A job?” Jake asked quietly, wondering what on Earth Qi would need him for … not that he would really mind an opportunity to see her again. Something didn’t feel right, though. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Jake received a telegram from Qi the day after Tong assassins tried to take his head off. Maybe she was in trouble. Maybe she was in on it. There just wasn’t any way to know for sure.

“Yessir. Something about needing your help with a package … for the Tong, whatever that is?”

“What?” Jake asked, incredulous. That made no sense at all. She could simply ship packages on the Central Pacific Line. But a package for the
Tong
? It just didn’t figure. They’d exchanged a few letters after his hasty exit from San Fran. She knew the story, so there was no way she could think everything was peaches and cream between him and the Tong.

“That’s what it says.…” The boy’s voice trailed off, and he got a look of curiosity on his face. “Hey mister, what’s a Tong?”

Jake chuckled, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Hmm … well, I s’pose the only explanation you’d understand is that the Tong is a group of fellas who tried to kill me … a couple of times, now … on account of a disagreement between who owned a bag of money … me or them.”

“Jeez, mister. Guess you ain’t goin’ to San Fran then, are ya?”

Jake looked at the sky above, squinting at the bright sunshine and realizing the crow had indeed been prophetic. In that moment he made his decision. His statement about the peace and quiet not lasting was dead on. “Well, son, lemme tell ya … when a lady like Qi Lau Xing sends you an urgent telegram asking for help, you pretty much get off your tail and lend a hand. You’ll understand better when your suspenders are a little further from the ground.”

The door opened behind Jake. “Understand what?” Cole asked, holding out two shiny, Carson City dollars.

Jake held up the telegram. “We’re going to San Fran.” The horrified look on Cole’s face was payback plenty for both the explosion that woke Jake up and the secret Cole was keeping. Judging by Cole’s open mouth, Jake figured he could have pushed his partner over with a feather.

“San Fran?” Cole finally asked in a
You’re out of your damn mind
tone in his voice.

“Afraid so,” Jake confirmed. He knew what Cole was thinking, and there was a conversation coming. Maybe a loud one.

Cole dropped the coins into Jake’s outstretched metal hand, and they clicked into the cupped palm. He pursed his lips, a stern look on his face. “Pardon me for sayin’, but seems to me the last time we was in San Francisco, you damn near got killed … and them Tong boys had paid me to help out.”

“That’s true enough,” Jake admitted thoughtfully.

“And it was only me coming to your rescue that kept you from ending up a Chinese shish-a-kabob.”

“Yep,” Jake confirmed with a grin.

“After last night, I figured San Francisco would be the last place in the world you’d want to go. What in hell would get you to go back there?”

“Qi,” Jake said simply.

“That tinker woman you mentioned?” Cole asked with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s the one.” Jake turned to Mickey. “You can head on back, kid.” Jake held out his brass hand, and Mickey hesitantly held out his flesh one, still nervous about the artificial limb. Jake overturned his hand, and the two coins dropped into Mickey’s palm.

“Thanks, Mister,” Mickey said, quickly depositing the coins into an inner vest pocket. Without another word he trotted back to the small zeppelin, pulled the spikes out of the dirt, and let them click back into piston-like housings behind the seat. The small dirigible drifted slightly on the breeze. The boy quickly leapt up onto the saddle, flipped several switches on the shipman’s wheel, and cranked a lever above him that jutted out of the envelope.

With a groan of metal gears and a high-pitched burst of steam, the chattering motor inside started up. The boy pushed a lever and the propellers whirred to life, pushing the whole thing forward on the wheels. He pulled back on the shipman’s wheel and turned it sharply to the right. With a lurch the thing lifted off the ground and rapidly turned back the way he had come, gaining altitude quickly. As the broadside faced Jake and Cole, they could see that the upper section was nearly thirty feet long with cross-mounted tail fins for steering. The boy waved and then sailed off towards Denver.

“I think you made him nervous,” Jake chided. He wanted to diffuse Cole’s obvious discomfort about going to San Fran.

“Me?” Cole sounded hurt. “It was that damn arm and those legs of yours.” His voice was harsh. “Proper folk ain’t accustomed to treatin’ with a half-man, half-machine gunslinger like you.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “As I recall, you were the only one with a gun.” They eyed each other with scowls on their faces for a few seconds, but it didn’t last. Smiles split their faces and they chuckled. In unison they sat back down, took sips of their coffee, and started rocking in their chairs again. Neither was ready to head into the discussion of San Fran. Jake opened the telegram and read it. He looked thoughtful for a moment.

“So?” Cole asked, sounding impatient.

“Well, it’s just like the kid said. Qi has a job for me.”

“A job.” Cole said it like it was the most unlikely thing in the world. “What sort of job would get you to go back to that den of assassins the day after they sent someone to kill you?”

“Well, according to this it’s an escort job.” Jake tried to make it sound like it was all perfectly natural, but he knew how ridiculous it sounded after leaving three dead bodies and a pile of ash growing cold in a Denver stable the night before. Cole shook his head, not believing a word of it. Jake continued, “She just needs someone to ride shotgun on a package and get it out of town safely.” He hesitated, dreading the last detail of the request. He looked Cole square in the eye and prepared for an explosion. “She says the Tong has the package, and I suppose they’re using her as a go-between.”

“
The Tong
?” Cole’s shout scared a flock of quail roosting beneath a nearby sagebrush. He stared at Jake, appalled. “Jake, they’re the ones who just tried to kill you! And for the
second
time. Have you lost your damn mind?”

“I know, Cole. Believe me, I know. It sounds crazy. But it’s Qi doing the asking.”

“Jake,” Cole eyed his riding partner like he didn’t know him, “I’ve known a lot of women, and aside from my mamma, there aren’t many I’d ride square into a trap to help out, not to just escort a package, anyway. And just escort it out of town? Are their legs broken? This whole thing stinks.”

Jake nodded. He knew exactly where Cole was coming from. “She and I have an understanding, Cole. You know?” Jake rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It’s like we were cut from the same cloth. We both have our work … our
duties
. I never told you, but she and I talked about a future … together. You know what we came up with?”

“What?” Cole’s tone was still incredulous.

“It would never work out. We’re both on … hell, I guess you’d have to call ’em crusades. And we both gave up on the notion of settling down ’cause there’s just no room for it … for either of us. But that doesn’t change whatever it is we have. Not one bit. She’s a
friend
, Cole. If I turned my back on Qi, it would be like turning my back on everything I believe in.”

Cole was quiet for a bit. He stared out at the prairie as his thoughts tumbled around the notion of facing down a group of Chinese assassins who would know they were coming. He understood his riding partner pretty well and knew that Jake was fearless when it came to getting the job done. It had gotten them into bad fixes more than once, but Cole knew with absolute certainty that Jake would never give up once he committed to something. And between the two of them, they’d learned there was little they couldn’t handle.