Jessie's War (Civil War Steam)
Read Jessie's War (Civil War Steam) Online
Authors: Meggan Connors
Civil War Steam
Meggan Connors
This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright
© 2013 by Meggan Connors. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written consent from the
Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
The
scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any
other means without the permission of the Publisher is illegal. Please purchase
only authorized electronic editions. Your support of the author’s rights is
appreciated.
For
information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Canoe
Hill Publishing
1344
Disc Drive #121
Sparks,
NV 89436
Edited
by Red Wolf Media
Cover
design by Debbie Taylor of dcadesigns
Ebook
ISBN-13: 978-1-939976-00-0
First
Edition April 2013
For
my wonderful husband, whoever he may be when you read this book. I’m sure he’s
done something good recently to merit it.
I love you.
For
my children, who can make any room brighter just by being in it.
First,
I have to thank Brooke Moss, the best, most supportive critique partner a
writer could have. Her unwavering support of this book and her unconditional
love of these characters was instrumental in the final version of this story.
No matter the twists or turns this story took, she was always there with her
support and friendship. Without her, writing wouldn’t be nearly the fun it is!
Second,
I need to thank my fantastic editor at Red Wolf Media. Her support and guidance
helped mold this book into the version you are reading today. A big thank you
also goes out to Janna Shay, RJ Gordon, and Michelle Franco, who have been so
willing to help when I needed it, and have always let me bend their ears when I
needed to.
Then
there are my friends: Michelle Brown, Kristen Flagtvedt, Amy Gonzales, Jessica
Haight, Wendy Linnenbrink, Tiffany and Holly Miley, Kathy Ross and Dana Serini.
Each of you, in your own way, have inspired me to be a better person, a better
writer, and a better teacher.
And
last, I want to thank my husband for his support, dedication and love. I’m a
lucky girl to have you in my life.
Chapter
One
Virginia City, Nevada
January 1871
Jessie dismounted in a swirl
of snow, behind rocks overlooking a narrow valley, the only cover available.
The few trees that once stood had long since been cut down as supports for the
mines. Only scrub and sagebrush remained.
She pulled out segmented
binocular telescopes from her saddlebag. She ran her hand over her horse’s pale
flank, and Taba turned her head and put her warm nose into Jessie’s open hand.
“Just a few more minutes.”
Jessie’s breath smoked in the winter wind.
Taba chuffed and pawed at the
ground, her nervous prancing in perfect time with the pounding of distant ore
processors.
“I know.” She pressed her
forehead against the Appaloosa’s. “We’ll go home soon.”
The sooty grayish-brown snow
disguised the horse’s mottled white and dun coat. Jessie glanced to the west,
at the dark clouds coming over the horizon. All day, the storm had pressed in,
and word in town was that this storm was going to be one of the biggest since ‘46.
Granted, for as long as
Jessie could remember, the next big storm was always “the biggest since ‘46.”
Just another way for the merchants to maximize profits. They’d drum up
excitement about the coming storms, then inflate the prices on everything from
meat and flour to kerosene and coal. Then they’d sell to the desperate
newcomers in town, men fresh from Ireland or the already half-starved East
coast refugees who didn’t know any better. After all, who hadn’t heard the
tales of starvation and cannibalism that had filtered down into this territory
ever since that fateful winter of ‘46?
She crouched as far as the
thickening snow would allow and brought the binocular telescopes to her eyes.
Searching the landscape, she wasn’t even sure what she wanted to find.
Down in the valley, a crawler
belched black smoke as it made its way on down the rocky hillside with its
cargo of unprocessed ore. Farther still, the smelters’ smokestacks billowed
into the sky already dark with soot and sulfur. Even upwind, the scent of hell
burned her nostrils.
Several large, snow-covered
lumps dotted an otherwise flat landscape. With shaking hands, she shoved the
telescopes into her saddlebag and mounted Taba. “C’mon, girl.”
The horse flung her head as
if in protest, and Jessie gave her an affectionate pat. “A little farther, and
then we’ll go home.” She hoped the words weren’t a lie.
The snow fell faster and
heavier as they rode into the valley. With any luck, the storm would slow the
crawler’s progress back up the mountain to the mine, and Jessie could get in
and out. Reaching the first mound, she dismounted. But even before she’d wiped
away the several inches of snow covering the corpse, she knew what it was.
An antelope lay dead in the
snow, its murky, sightless eyes frozen over. Blood caked the animal’s body.
“I am sorry this happened to
you.” Looking away from the body, she found several other mounds similar to
this one, as far as she could see before the snow obscured her vision.
An entire herd exterminated.
Not far off, she heard
horses. Standing, she retrieved her revolving shotgun from the side of her
saddle just as two horsemen appeared over a rise. She rested the weapon on her
hip and waited.
“Well, if it’s not Miss
White.” The man touched his hat in a gesture that mocked propriety.
Jessie gritted her teeth. “Mr.
Smythe. Pleasure as always.”
“You’re gonna want to put
down that weapon.” He pushed his duster back behind his hip, and put his hand
on the butt of his still-holstered pistol.
“Nah. I think I’ll keep it.”
“You’re trespassing,” Smythe
said.
She shook her head. “No, I’m
not. Both the Dorado and the Bonnet companies claim this little patch of hell,
but neither of them owns it. Court still hasn’t decided who gets it.” When
Smythe opened his mouth to speak, Jessie cut him off. “I can read, Mr. Smythe.
I know who owns this land and who doesn’t.”
The older man frowned. “What
are you doing here?”
“Maybe a better question is
what have you done here?” She gestured to the dead antelope. “They entire
herd’s been killed.”
“Damn shame.”
“The Tasiget Tuviwarai and
the Cui Ui Ticutta depend on these animals for food.” As cold as it was, she
felt her cheeks growing hot.
“The what?” The younger man
didn’t even look at Jessie.
“The Paiute down by Fort
Clark,” she said. “They depend on these animals to see them through the
winters.”
Smythe glanced at his
companion. “See, Miss White here labors under the impression we care about the
Indian brothers she’s trying to protect. Hasn’t figured out they don’t want her
any more than we do.”
His comment stung more than
Jessie cared to admit, but she didn’t acknowledge the insult. “The refugees could
hunt these animals and have meat for the winter. Half of them are starving, Mr.
Smythe. The camps are riddled with disease. They’re white folk, like you. You
care about that, don’t you?”
Smythe shrugged. “Not
especially.”
“Then what do you care about?”
“Money,” Smythe laughed. “I
care about money. It’s what everyone in this town cares about. You should know
that by now, Miss White. No one cares about a couple of dead animals, the
refugees, or the Paiutes. What everyone cares about is money.”
“Not everyone.”
“Yes, everyone. Speaking of,
you’re going to come with us. There are some people who want to talk to you.”
“No.” But as she said the
word, she heard the distinctive sound of a pistol cocking.
“Put down the gun.” A deep
voice growled behind her. “I got a pistol aimed right at your skull, miss. I
ain’t afraid to use it.”
Jessie spread her hands wide,
and the muzzle of her gun dipped toward the ground.
Smythe dismounted and plucked
the weapon from her. “Nice gun.”
“Thank you.” She glanced over
her shoulder at the man behind her. “Oh, Jeb, when did you start working for
them
?”
Jeb gave her a lopsided
frown. “Since they started paying me.”
“I taught you how to read.
You’re better than this. Better than them.”
Jeb shrugged, but his gun
never wavered. “And I’m real grateful you did, but you ain’t paying me. A man’s
gotta eat, Miss Jessie.”
Smythe rifled through her
saddlebags and pulled out a handful of leaflets. He glanced at them only
briefly. “You know this is slander.”
Jessie shook her head. “No,
it’s not. Not if it’s true.” She gestured to the bodies of the antelope around
her. “And I think I have the proof right here.”
“I don’t see nothin’.”
Smythe’s companion spat, then wiped tobacco stained spittle from his chin.
Smythe laughed. “You see,
Miss White? It is a shame that such a pretty girl is so misguided. What you
call proof will be gone by morning, and no one here will corroborate your
story. Why don’t you mount your horse and we’ll all ride in together, all nice
and civil-like? There are some people who’d like to have a few words with you.”
“Am I being offered a choice?”
Jessie asked.
“No.” Smythe jerked his head
in Taba’s direction. “Go on.”
As she walked to Taba, Jessie
slid her hand into her pocket. Her fingers curled around a cold, brass disk.
Concealing it in the palm of her hand, she yanked the stopper free that would
engage the wire.
Pretending to stumble, she
threw the disk, closed her eyes, and went down to her knees.
The device exploded in a
flash of light and noise. Horses spooked and reared. Leaping forward, she
tackled Smythe around the knees and wrenched her weapon from his grasp.