1889: Journey To The Moon (The Far Journey Chronicles) (13 page)

“What are you thinking about, Billy?” she asked him.

“Nothing much. You, I guess. Well, you and me.”

They rode for a moment more in silence. Ekka reined in and stopped and Billy followed suit. He backed his horse up a pace and sat looking at her. Her knee brushed his lower leg.

“What?” he asked.

She stood up in her saddle. “Damn you, Billy. Won’t you kiss a girl?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and leaned over to her. She brought her lips up to his.

“
Ssst!”
They heard from the darkness.

The moment was dispelled. Billy whipped his Colt from his holster before his lips left Ekka’s.

“Do not shoot, Billy,” a deep voice whispered from the darkness.

“Two Hats?”

“It is I.” He motioned them to him,  “Come in shadows.”

Billy and Ekka moved their horses slowly out of the broad street and beneath the draping branches of a tall water oak.

“What is it?”

“Yellow Hair here. Many bluecoats come with him.”

“Where?”

“In drinking place you entered. Why did you not see him? Where are your eyes?”

“Our eyes are fine, Two Hats,” Ekka said.

“Why did you not see the two men following you?”

“What two men?” Billy whispered.

Two Hats chuckled softly. “The first man was this Sioux warrior. The second man wears black. He is one hundred yards behind you.”

“Give me your hat, Two Hats,” Ekka said. She swung off of her horse. “Here is my shawl. Billy, you two ride slowly down the road. I’ll wait for him here.”

Billy started to object, but Two Hats was already in Ekka’s saddle.

“It may be dark and all,” Billy whispered, “but I’m willing to place bets you make an ugly girl, Two Hats,” Billy whispered.

“All same, we act like lovers. Let us ride a bit. We hold hands.”

“Not on your life, you savage.”

“All same, I Ekka,” Two Hats said, and rode ahead.

“Go,” Ekka whispered harshly. “He’s coming.” She gave Billy’s stallion a light swat and the horse moved forward to join Two Hats.

Ekka waited in the dark until the figure was even with the tree. The figure stopped, his light footsteps on the cobblestones gone.

Ekka stood five feet away from the man’s left rear quarter and aimed her gun at his head. She started to speak, but found there was a gun aimed at her. The outstretched arm had made no sound. The man was a specter.

“Your name?” the man asked. He had yet turned to see her.

“Ekka. Yours?”

The man turned her direction slowly.

“Pat,” he said. “Pat Garrett.”

[ 30 ]

“So, you’re telling me that this wild tale of a flying ship is true?” Sheriff Pat Garrett asked.

The four sat at a table in the Colonial Room of the Menger Hotel, a block from the Alamo.

“Ekka and I, and even Two Hats here, are crew,” Billy said. “We flew here from Colorado Springs. The damn thing flies, I tell you. And without any hot air to make it light.”

“Me fly,” Two Hats stated.

Garrett regarded them one by one.

“All right, so you fly. Right after burning half of Colorado Springs to the ground.”

“That was Custer,” Billy said, and Ekka nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” Garrett said. “There’s a bunch of Army men in town. They’re unloading over at the train station now. A lot of armaments, too. You say it was Custer who burned up Colorado Springs.”

“The insane man attacked a well-fortified position,” Ekka said, “without foreknowledge of its strength. Typical military bravado. More guns than brains.”

“Amen to that,” Billy agreed. “By the way, not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you here?”

“
You
, Billy,” Garrett said. “By the time the wires were singing from Colorado Springs—and let me tell you, they’ve been singing all across the United States—I was already on a train to San Antonio.”

“You got my letter.”

“I did.” Garrett pulled it from the inside of his vest pocket. “It’s simple logic, Billy. ‘Leaving all the countries,’ you said. I wasn’t sure what you meant by that, and figured maybe you’d gotten a job on an oceangoing ship, or maybe one of those newfangled dirigibles. But then there’s been all the articles and speculation about Judah Merkam and what he was about to pull. Put that together with the postmark on the letter—the fact that you were
in
Colorado Springs—and the rest was easy. Particularly after the national news of the burning of the town and Merkam’s ship taking to the skies to escape the town’s wrath. Wherever Merkam’s planning to go, he’d better not go back there. I’ve heard that there will be a hundred lawsuits filed against him for damages to the town. Also, there’s a federal warrant out for him.”

“Big papers,” Two Hats waved a dismissive hand in front of his face.

Pat Garrett looked up at the ceiling for a moment, as if trying to recall something.

“What is it, Mr. Garrett?” Ekka asked.

“Probably it’s not related to anything. It seems like there was a report of a killing in Colorado Springs a few days before the fire. Did you happen to hear anything about it?”

Billy looked at Ekka, who shrugged.

“Me read little Chinese,” Two Hats stated. “No read folded papers of the news.”

“What was it about?” Billy asked.

“Some prostitute got cut up, if I recall. Sliced and diced something devilish, I believe. Now why the hell is that familiar? I don’t know. Maybe it means nothing. Still, if Custer’s in town—”

“Saint Josephine!” Billy swore.

“What?” Ekka asked.

“If he saw us at the Vaudeville, then his men must have followed Judah’s agents back to the factory.”

“What factory?” Pat Garrett asked.

But Billy was already on his feet. “Come on Ekka. Two Hats. Custer may be about to confiscate the armaments factory. And there goes the whole game.”

“Shit,” Garrett swore and jumped to his feet. “Wait for me.”

[ 31 ]

The JPM factory was a three-story brick affair ten blocks north and a few blocks west of the Menger Hotel. It sat like a red monolith at the edge of an orchard of young pecan trees planted in soldier-like rows, while beyond it were a few small farms and the rolling Texas countryside. Steam billowed like streamers of white cotton from the factory’s two tall chimneys before dissipating into wisps in the blue sky, and the thrumming sounds of working engines carried well beyond the building.

Ekka and Billy raced slightly ahead of the others as they approached the tall, red walls. Ekka pointed to the west side of the building, “The freight entrance! We enter there!”

Billy glanced behind and said, “Spur ‘em boys, Custer’s right on our heels!” They reined their mounts around the corner and arrowed toward the open gate. Ekka leapt from her still-running horse and landed on her feet. Her horse continued into the walled yard with the others. She ran to one massive, iron-strapped wooden gate and pushed to close it. Billy and Pat ran to the other as Two Hats joined Ekka and the four of them slammed the gates together with a
boom
.

The instant the gates closed, Pat and Two Hats slid the crossbar into place while Billy and Ekka dropped inch-thick anchor pins into the ground holes at their bases just as the sound of Garryowen came on the breeze. Factory employees ran to Ekka, who told them what was happening, and for them to arm the roof with whatever weaponry they had.

One older Mexican man with a white walrus moustache and powerful looking hands indicated the other workers and said, “This is all of us. We’re a light crew today, but we will give them old Billy Ned.” He trotted away, barking orders in English and Spanish to send the ten other men racing into the factory.

Two Hats said, “We no see good here. We go up.” He pointed to the factory’s roof. “Up there, we see Yellow Hair.” His black eyes had a hardness about them when he spoke of Custer that made Billy glad he was not the focus of this tall Sioux’s wrath.

Ekka said, “Come,” and led them to a flight of stairs. When they stepped on the roof, Billy noticed the perimeter wall was a three-foot high parapet of red brick.

“That’ll be nice to hunker down behind, once the fireworks commence,” he said. The four stood side by side, looking at the massed group of men and equipment gathering on the grassy prairie a half-mile distant. One of the big freighters Custer had used in Colorado Springs steamed to a halt near the still-playing band, and from the dropped tailgate ramp emerged two TerraCycles streaming plumes of steam, and both showing the dents and scars of the Colorado battle. The sidecars still carried the harpoon cannons, but Billy could tell they were not nets, this time, but sharp, arrow-like points.

“They came ready to settle our hash,” Pat said.

“They not here to eat hash, they here to kill us plenty dead,” Two Hats said, and pointed to the tree line behind Custer. Four dirigibles floated into view, each with a large ship attached twenty feet below it by long cables. Bright, triangular flags of red and white fluttered along the silver skin of the blimps. Massive twin propellers extended on long metal struts from the back of each ship, and the blades spun slow but steady to maintain them in a fixed position in the breeze. Steam issued from two small, cone-shaped exhausts under each ship’s keel, and rifle barrels bristled like cactus spines from the four decks as soldiers prepared to fire down into the factory. Each ship had a two-pound swivel cannon as well, and a man ready to fire it stood behind each one.

“I’m starting to feel like Crockett at the Alamo,” Garret said. He pointed in the distance, “Look yonder, there’s more trouble.” Several miles away and so small in the distance they looked like toys, were more airships gliding toward them, coming faster than the wind.

Ekka motioned for the older Mexican to follow her and they disappeared down the stairs. Pat said, “She can’t leave now, the fight is gonna commence in a few more ticks on the pocket watch!”

Billy said, “She’ll stand, don’t worry.”

“They come,” Two Hats said.

Custer raised his saber and started the men of the Seventh Calvary forward. Billy could see him saying something to his left and right, but the man was too far away to hear. The huge freighter’s stack puffed out a white cotton-ball of steam and the lumbering wagon lurched forward, taking the lead and steadily accelerating as it targeted the factory gates with its plow-like iron ram.

The TerraCycles took their places on the left and right flanks, and the Seventh, on Custer’s command, divided into three columns. They came forward another three hundred yards, then the left and right columns broke away at a canter to encircle the factory, gradually increasing their speed as the men limbered their rifles. The four airships stayed over Custer’s central column and paced their airspeed to that of the horsemen.

Pat said, “I count twenty rifles showing on each ship, plus the two-pounder. Our parapet ain’t going to be any comfort at all once they are above us and shooting.”

Billy heard a rumbling from inside the factory, then he felt a tiny shudder through the soles of his boots. “You boys feel that?”

Pat and Two Hats nodded. Two Hats pointed at the speeding freighter, just seconds from colliding with the gates and said, “It is a good day to die.” He smiled at the two cowboys, and the smile was both fierce and joyous.

Two Hats dropped over the parapet and ran to stand against the inside wall beside the gates just as the iron ram tore the gates from their hinges with a piercing shriek of metal and the groaning cracks of splintering timbers.

The impact slowed the freighter. Two Hats leaped high, grabbing a thick tie-down rope, and pulled himself up to the top of the fifteen-foot high side of the Studebaker Steamer. He peeked down inside and saw one driver seated behind the steerage. Sheet metal shielded him from the front, but there was nothing behind his seat but the space where the two TerraCycles had been, and the square metal containers of water and fuel that powered the freighter.

Two Hats dropped into the freighter and killed the driver with a quick knife thrust before the man knew he was there. The freighter lurched to a stop. The Sioux crawled over the body and out the front to stand on the iron ram, looking for more bluecoats.

A movement at the factory caught his eye as the older Mexican man shoved open a large sliding door. Then Two Hats watched as a beautiful, sleek, dangerous-looking machine as long as four buffalo and as tall as a rearing grizzly came into the sunlight.

Billy looked at it and said, “Now that…is a daisy.”

The shape was like a low hill with the sides sliced away, leaving the front and back sloping down. The base metal was a dark smooth color, almost black but not quite. Round windows like portholes were evenly spaced around the top and along the sides. Each one was set off with bright, polished brass surrounding it and extending toward the next window in an interlacing vine-like pattern to connect one window to the next. Across the front, in brass script letters a foot high was the name,
ARES.