Pistons and Pistols (11 page)

“May I play?” she asked.

“Well, I suppose so. But…” The barkeep paused, as if embarrassed to continue. He cleared his throat then finished with, “You do realize they’re gambling.”

Gabriella did realize that, and although she didn’t approve of such things, she decided to make an exception. She rummaged around in the pockets of her blouse for the few bits she always carried with her in case of emergency. One never knew when a couple of pennies would come in handy. When she pulled out the coins, the barkeep’s eyes twinkled.

“Clemet!” the barkeep yelled.

A small man turned round in his seat to face her. He looked as though he had been in a fight and hadn’t won. The poor man’s nose was swollen, as were his eyes, both of which sported huge bruises of various hues. His companions weren’t much better to look at. One was bone thin, the next portly to the point of being barrel-shaped, and the third was so short Gabriella almost didn’t see him amidst the others. But the last man at the table was an impressive sight to behold. With a broad face and flat nostrils, he was the size and almost the shape of an ox.

“Whatcha yappin’ about?” the beaten man asked.

“This young thing wants to learn the game,” the barkeep said.

“Then teach it to her.”

The men at the table laughed together.

“She has money,” the barkeep said.

The beaten man smiled, or rather tried to. His wounds twisted the grin into a grimace. “Why didn’t you say so? Come on over here then, little miss.” He pushed one of the men from the chair beside him to the floor, then motioned to the now-empty seat.

Gabriella thanked the barkeep and turned to join the game when Atom grabbed her by the arm. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed away the longing in favor of a tight grin.

“Do you think this is wise?” he asked, searching her eyes with his.

She could have stood there for an eternity, staring into those copper eyes. “Yes. I do.” She left him at the bar with Jayne, taking the open seat and placing her coins in front of her.

“I’m Clem.” He pointed out each man at the table, from the thin one to the ox, saying their names as he did. “That’s Dover, June, Tobias, and that’s Buford.”

Every man tipped his head in greeting, except for Buford.

The big man stood, removed his hat and gave Gabriella a deep bow, almost to the floor, as he said, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The room broke out in wild laughter at his offer of gentility.

Gabriella was amused, but also charmed by the attempt. She stood, silencing the group as she dipped a dainty curtsy for the man. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Buford.”

The crowd laughed again, but Gabriella found it to be more benevolent than cruel. Perhaps it was their nervous way of dealing with such a strange set of circumstances. She couldn’t blame them, having dealt with much stranger things herself in the past.

Clemet took the deck of cards, passing them with fluttering ease from hand to hand as he explained the rules of the game to Gabriella. It only took a few minutes before she was confident she understood how it was supposed to work.

“Are you sure you have it?” he asked.

“May I see a few rounds played?” she asked. “Just to see?”

“Certainly. And we call them hands.”

True to his instructions, the game was simple but very intriguing. As it turned out, the entire game relied on the odds of particular cards making their way into your hand. It seemed logical that if the odds were low enough, one would just quit the hand, or rather fold. Yet the men seemed to rely on luck most of the time, hoping that the cards they desired would show up. Which, almost invariably, didn’t happen.

“Would you like us to deal you in?” Clem asked.

The men seemed very eager for her to play. And all of them, every last one, kept giving in to the compulsion to glance at her small stack of coins.

Gabriella had just one more question before she was ready to risk what little money she had left. “I hate to be a bother, but, may I ask what you’re betting with?” She had noticed when she first sat down that the papers on the table they were passing back and forth looked like neither treasury nor promissory notes.

“Shares of the mine,” Clem said. “Probably not worth the paper they’re scrawled on, but it’s all we got.”

Gabriella cocked her head at the odd news. “I thought the professor owned the mine. Privately. Why would he give shares away?”

“Ma’am,” Buford said. “The professor ain’t been able to pay us in real money for some time.”

“Business has been slow,” Clemet explained. “Or so he says.”

“You gonna play the blasted game or not?” Tobias asked.

“Tobe,” Dover snapped. “Watch yer mouth around the lady.”

“I just wanna play cards,” the little man whined.

“Then by all means, gentlemen,” Gabriella said. “Let’s play.”

* * * *

In sharp contrast to the town beneath them, the house was in tip-top shape, neat and tidy to the extreme. The décor of the room was early Greek, with busts and statues of various gods taking up almost every available space. The professor had eclectic tastes, though Rose guessed it was the manservant who did most of the actual decorating. Getting into the house was easier than she expected. A neatly dressed manservant answered the door with an easy smile, which doubled in size when she announced she was there to speak with the professor. The man seemed amused by the prospect of having his employer engage in discussions with a woman.

As the servant bowed out of the room, leaving them alone, Rose asked, “What do you think?”

“I think this will not work,” Jax said.

“It will work,” Rose said. “Trust me.”

“It’s not you I have problems trusting,” Dot said. “If this man has problems with women, why not let Atom and Click handle things?”

Rose gave Dot a grave look. “Really? When have you known Click to competently handle something that wasn’t attached to a woman?”

“Oh, yes,” Dot said, between giggles. “I see what you mean.”

A small cough interrupted their discussion, and the group turned as one to the door, where the manservant had returned. “Allow me to present Professor Otto Von Maxwell the Third.” The manservant tipped his head as he stepped aside.

The professor stopped just as he entered the room, an obvious shock griping him as he stared at the crew. Rose would’ve pegged him as a professor even if she weren’t aware of his occupation, simply because he looked the part in every classic sense of the word. Tall, lanky and dressed in the compulsory white lab coat, the professor was gray at the top, pale in the face, and bore a set of eyebrows that she could only describe as forested in their thickness. His dark eyes, wild with curiosity, darted from woman to woman while his hands fidgeted against one another in a ceaseless nervous dance.

After a few moments of staring at them, the professor snapped for his manservant’s attention as he asked, “Thaddeus?”

The manservant sighed. “Yes, sir?”

“There are women in my sitting room.”

“Yes, sir. It would appear so.”

“Why?”

“As I told you, sir, the captain of what you referred to as ‘that magnificent airship’ wished to have a word with you.”

There was an awkward pause of silence, after which the professor said, “That doesn’t explain the women.”

“Professor Von Maxwell?” Rose asked.

The professor squeaked, as if surprised Rose could speak, or perhaps shocked that she dared to.

Rose extended her hand in greeting. “I’m Captain Rose Madigan of The Merry Widow.”

Staring at her palm, the professor raised his bunched eyebrows. “You are the captain?”

“Yes.”

“Of that ship?”

“I’m afraid so,” she said, withdrawing her ignored hand. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“Wrong?” the professor asked, in a tone that suggested there was so much wrong with it he couldn’t even begin to explain it all.

Before he could get to just what was wrong with it, the manservant cleared his throat. “Sir, these ladies stated that they were suffering from some kind of an emergency. An emergency with which only a man such as yourself could assist them.”

Rose bristled at the implication that she had to rely on the professor because he was a man, but she appreciated the manservant’s attempt to move the conversation along. He was clearly used to manipulating his employer, and wasn’t above doing so in front of guests. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could manipulate a man.

“Is that so?” the professor asked in a much more polite voice, as if moved by the suggestion of a distress that only he could relieve. He motioned to the various chairs about the room. “Please, have a seat.”

Rose snagged the closest seat to the man, while Dot and Jax sat on a small divan just across from them. The professor seemed uncomfortable yet roused by her proximity, which was just what Rose wanted.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

With her best flirty smile, Rose said, “I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’m told that you run an independent mining operation in your town below.”

The professor sat back, eyeing her for a moment before he said, “You aren’t with those contraption lovers. Are you?”

“Who?”

“He is referring to the Mechanics, ma’am,” Thaddeus said.

“Ah,” Rose said. “No. I’m happy to say we are not.”

The professor seemed pleased by this. “Good! Excellent. In that case, yes, I do run a mining operation. Independent, as you put it.” He drew closer to her, lowering his voice to a whisper as he added, “It’s a private operation.”

“How private?” Rose asked in a purr, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs as she did. It was times like these she regretted wearing breeches. No matter, she decided, as the professor’s sudden sheen of red was enough to tell her the desired effect was achieved. She hated to stoop so low, but there was a tactic for every bargaining table. At least she wouldn’t have to turn Jax loose on him.

“V-v-very private,” he stammered, then sat back and swallowed hard enough for her to hear the loud gulp. “It feeds my experiments. I use a lot of coal, I’m afraid. If I were to purchase it, the cost would ruin me.”

“I see.” Rose leaned across the chair, pushing her bosom to the top of her blouse, where the cool air of the room kissed her cleavage. “And I don’t suppose I could talk you into sparing just a little bit of that fuel for us, could I?” She ran a finger across the open collar of her blouse.

The professor’s gaze was glued to that bare patch of flesh just below her neck.

“Professor?” Rose asked.

The man shifted his dreamy gaze to her face, smiling wistfully at her. “Yes?”

“The fuel? Can we buy some from you?”

“I’m afraid it’s quite impossible,” the professor said.

“Impossible?” Rose echoed, on the verge of pouting as she perched against the armrest of the chair. “How can anything be impossible for a man like you?”

The professor glanced to her cleavage again, licking his lips as sweat dotted his brow. Rose could feel him in her grasp, knew her seduction was successful, when, without reason, the man sat back and asked, “Would you like some tea? Thaddeus, bring the trolley.”

“Yes, sir,” the servant said, wheeling in the tea trolley before the professor finished asking for it. Thaddeus served everyone while the professor rambled about his experiments and how important it was for the fuel to remain in his lab. He failed to give Rose, or her ample bosom, another glance.

Rose leaned back into her chair with her cup, deflated as well as defeated. Jax smirked, and with it Rose could already hear the woman’s speech about sinking so low for so little. Rose nodded to Dot, who slipped into the part she was brought along to play.

“Professor,” Dot said in her frailest voice she could manage. “I’m sure you are a very busy man with loads of troubles of your own—”

The professor snorted. “You have no idea, good lady.” His ensuing laughter was little more than a few squeaks mixed with that annoying sort of chuckle.

“I’m sure I don’t have a clue,” Dot continued. “But you must appreciate the spot we find ourselves in. If we don’t get a fresh load of coal, we will be forced onto our sails. And I’ll be the first to admit, I prefer the slower pace of sails, the beauty of the countryside rolling past at the rate one can really appreciate it.” She looked into the distance, encouraging the professor to look with her, which he did. For a moment he seemed as though he were caught up in her visions, grinning and nodding with her, until her sharp voice pulled him back to the present. “Yet our schedule won’t permit such sluggishness. Without the coal, we can’t complete our duties. If we don’t complete our duties, we won’t even have a ship to sail.”