Jessie's War (Civil War Steam) (38 page)

For a second, nothing existed
but the fall. Nothing between Jessie and the rapidly approaching earth but a
whole lot of empty sky. For a brief, terrifying moment, she thought she was
dead and this moment her inexorable fall from grace.

And then she hit the basket
and crumpled to the floor as the basket continued its descent, slowed by the
rope holding it. The basket reached the end of the line and jerked hard, and
Jessie bounced around the bottom of it. She clawed her way to
standing—her legs shook so badly she could barely stand and she still
felt like she was still falling—and peered over the side.

She was about fifty feet off the
ground and over frozen marshland. It was good, but not good enough. Several
hundred yards away, a spit of land protruded into the lake. A small town had
risen up nearby.

If the airship continued to
descend, she might be close enough to the ground to jump out. Maybe right on
that spit of land, if she were lucky and her ancestors chose now to smile upon
her.

It was high time they did.

She looked up at the dark
underbelly of the airship, and then down at the frozen marsh below and Great
Salt Lake not far off.

And she realized she was an
idiot.

Even though the airship had
slowed to the point where it was rapidly losing altitude, the speed was still
too fast for her to jump onto land and not break
something
. She didn’t hold out hope she’d make land, and she didn’t
want to fall into the lake. It wasn’t frozen, but swimming in the middle of
winter was not an idea she relished. Even she knew she wouldn’t survive in
those waters for more than a few minutes.

Now over water, she was only
about twenty feet off the ground, but two hundred yards from shore. Two hundred
yards in a partially frozen lake was a death sentence. She needed to get a
little bit closer to shore, so she could jump and maybe have a chance of making
it.

The airship bellowed as the
steam engines roared to life, and the blue silver coating the skein shimmered a
pearlescent blue as electricity arced through it.

The descent slowed and
ceased. She would get no closer to the ground.

She raised the gun and shot
the rope. It frayed, but did not break.

She shot again. And again.
She shot until she ran out of bullets. The basket spun as the rope frayed and
unraveled.

It broke, and she plunged
into the frigid waters of the Great Salt Lake.

The water cushioned her fall,
but nothing prepared her for the bite of that water, of the cold that cut at
her like thousands of tiny knives. It caused her legs to cramp, her heart to
seize and froze her lungs.

Jessie surfaced, bobbed,
gasped for air and went under again. Kicking desperately, she broke free of the
basket and kicked toward shore. Her feet hit the bottom and she tried to stand.

Her legs buckled, and she
went under again.

Her vision tunneled, until
she saw nothing but the small, brown spit of land that was her salvation. So
close. The water was shallow. She could make it.

She clung to that hope,
because she had nothing else. Hope and determination and the strength of her
will. She would make it because she had no other choice.

Because if Jessie lost hope,
she lost Luke.

Her hands touched bottom, and she pushed
off toward the surface. Tried to get her feet underneath her. Her head broke
the surface of the water and she sucked in a desperate breath.

Land was so close. So close.

Her fingers broke through ice
as she clawed her way back up to standing. Her legs were heavy as she pushed
through water toward land. She lost her balance and fell back, but this time,
when she fell, the water only came up to her midsection.

She gained her feet and tried
again.

Sodden skirts weighed her
down, and ice bit into her tender flesh. Water gave way to rushes and reeds,
and she tasted the salt of the lake on her tongue as she made one last push
toward shore.

She couldn’t breathe, the air
bitter and cold and freezing on her tongue. She fell forward.

Shallow water touched her
cheek, and salt water and briny air flooded her mouth. The airship ascended
into a cerulean sky before Jessie lost herself to the darkness.

Hang
on. I got you. I got you.

A fluffy white cloud passed
overhead, bright against a sky so blue Jessie thought she must be in heaven.

Darkness.

The oxygen filling her lungs
tasted sharp and bitter on her tongue, so she stopped breathing. She didn’t
need to, anyway.

That’s
it. I got you. Hang on.

Her body rocked in time with
the pounding of hooves, and her head fell back as a dark horse’s mane whipped
her face. She closed her eyes and the darkness swallowed her again.

She dreamed of a boy with
star bright eyes and wavy dark hair. He yanked on her braids and chased her
around the rocks, through sagebrush and past her father’s barn. He caught her,
and suddenly he was a young man, grabbing her around the waist while they both
howled with laughter.

In the next moment, he framed
her face with his hands and kissed her for the first time, there in the dark
behind her father’s barn, her heart filled with him. He was everything to
her—her Earth and her Heaven, and everything in between.

Luke.

Her frozen heart beat only
for him.

A woman’s face Jessie didn’t
recognize appeared. Curly, light brown hair framing strong features. Her face
changed, her skin darkening as her features shifted and morphed until Jessie’s
mother stood over her, her dark eyes shining. Her touch burned. Behind her,
there was only darkness.

Stay
here, Jessie
.
I know it’s hard. This is where you belong.

The air in her lungs burned
like fire.

What’s
your name?
a distant
voice asked.

Jessie
. Only no sound came out, her voice
frozen in her throat.

You’re
gonna be okay
.

Darkness enveloped her again.

* * * *

Jessie shifted, and
everything hurt. “Luke,” she whispered in a voice like broken glass.

“Mama, she’s awake!” a child
cried.

Skirts rustled, and soon
someone touched Jessie’s arm.

“What’s your name, hon?

“Luke.”

“That’s a funny name for a
girl,” the child said.

“I don’t think that’s her
name. Open your eyes. Tell me your name.”

Jessie opened her eyes to a
pretty, sweet-faced young woman. She had curly, light brown hair, long-lashed
blue eyes and strong features. Freckles dusted her nose and her cheeks.

“Jessie.” The voice that
answered was hoarse, and didn’t sound like hers.

The woman brushed her Jessie’s
hair from her face and squeezed her shoulder in a companionable way. Behind
her, a fire crackled merrily in the hearth. Jessie stretched, her muscles
shrieking in angry protest. “Good. That’s good. You’ll need to move.” She
gestured to the little girl standing beside her. “I’m Lucy Duvall and this is
my daughter. My husband Emmitt brought you in.” She turned to her daughter. “Why
don’t you go talk to your dad?”

“Mother!”

“No, child. Go.” When the
girl retreated, Lucy handed Jessie a cup of tea. “You gave us quite a scare.”

Jessie adjusted the blankets
around her and stared at the fire for a long time. Pulling the blanket around
her body, she attempted to stand, but her legs cramped and she fell back.

“Whoa. You’re in no shape to
be going anywhere. You were near frozen when you got here. The doctor said you’d
need to rest for at least a few days.”

Jessie brushed her hair out
of her face and found it dry. She didn’t have any idea how long she’d been
under, or any memory of being visited by a doctor. “How long have I been here?”

Lucy turned and went back to
the kitchen. Her home was tiny, the kitchen and sitting room little more than
one big room. “It’s been five or six hours since Emmitt brought you in. Doctor
came and went a couple hours ago.”

“That long?” Jessie’s heart
drummed beneath her ribcage, harsh and frantic. “I have to get back.”

“Absolutely not. A few hours
ago, we were certain we’d be sending for the undertaker. Then you said a name,
and I sent Emmitt out for the doctor instead.”

Jessie chewed her lip and
stared into the fire. “Luke.”

“That’s the one.” She wiped
flour-covered hands on her apron. “He’s your husband?”

“Yeah.” Jessie turned her
eyes to the window. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me, but I need
to get back.”

“Give us a name, and we’ll
get word to him. He can fetch you in the morning.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t.”

Lucy sat down on the sofa
next to Jessie. “What kind of trouble you in?”

“The serious kind,” she
answered. “I can’t stay here. They’ll come for me.”

“Listen, the law here can
help you.”

Jessie shook her head. “Not
with this, they can’t.” She paused. “Look, I’m grateful for everything you’ve
done, and I promise I’ll repay your kindnesses, but I need to get back. Please.”

Lucy nodded solemnly. “If you
say so.” She stood up and returned with Jessie’s clothes, and deposited them on
the sofa. “Your shoes aren’t dry, and neither is your coat, but I’ll get you a
blanket. It’s not much, but it’s what we have.”

On shaking legs, Jessie stood
and moved behind a screen. Her clothes were warm and dry. Lucy had placed hot
rocks in her shoes, and they were drier than Jessie had expected.

As soon as Jessie came out
from behind the screen, Lucy turned to a man standing beside her. “Jessie, this
is my husband, Emmitt. He’ll take you into town.”

Emmitt removed his hat and
nodded. “Ma’am.” He had the air of a gentle man—easy smile, a relaxed
face, and merry blue eyes, but Jessie knew he had to be tough. Pioneers always
were.

But he hadn’t been broken by
years of war, and she thought of the boy Luke had once been. He’d never been
like Emmitt.

Oh, he’d smiled easily once,
but he’d seen too much too early to be anything other than what he was. His
upbringing hadn’t been gentle, and there had never been a time when despair
hadn’t lurked in his eyes. Didn’t matter how happy he was in the
moment—he had been a haunted boy who had turned into a haunted man.

Emmitt tucked her hand into
the crook of his arm. “The horses are ready if you are. I’d take the wagon, but
it would take me until tomorrow night to get back.”

She turned to him. “Is there
a cab-for-hire I could take into town?”

“From here? Oh, heavens, no.
They don’t come out this way very often. Besides, I pulled you from the marsh, and
I’ll see you safe. Seems only right.” His voice was eager and boyish.

“Don’t fret, Jessie.” Lucy
patted her arm. “Go on, now.”

“I can’t thank you enough for
what you’ve done.”

“Nonsense. We only did what
was right.”

Emmitt helped her onto the
horse. “Come on, now, Miss Jessie. Time to get you home.” He kissed his wife on
the cheek. “Don’t wait up for me, Lou.”

“Take care of her, Em.”

“I will.”

“Take care of you, too.”

“I always do.”

And with those parting words, Emmitt and Jessie started back
to Great Salt Lake City.

* * * *

She fell asleep twice on the
way back. Sometime after the second time, Emmitt mounted the horse behind her
and allowed her to sleep resting with her back against his chest.

By the time they reached the
charred remains of The Desert Belle, the moon was just beginning to set.
Several uniformed constables milled around the site, probably to keep looters
at bay, as the buildings nearby were now hollow shells. Jessie pointed the way
to the Jameson house, her eyes never leaving the destruction she’d caused.

What had once been a bakery,
a butcher, and a tailor had been reduced to nothing.

The streets were dark as they
made their way to the big, yellow house with its wrap around front porch. Light
sneaked out from under the heavy curtains, evidence that someone was still
awake.

Emmitt took her arm, guided
her up the steps, and waited patiently for her to knock on the door.

Only she didn’t.

Jessie stood rooted in place,
terrified of what she might find inside.

“You gonna knock? I’m sure
your man is waiting on you.”

“Yeah.” They stood in silence
as they both stared at the solid oak door with the big brass knocker.

Emmitt squeezed her shoulder
gently. “You know, if what happened to you had happened to my Lou, I’d want her
back any way I could get her. Knock on the door.”