Kali crept to within a couple paces of it and paused, head tilted, ears straining. No voices murmured inside, and she had not heard another thump since the first. Shards of wood sprinkled the snow about the hole and footprints led to and from it.
She eased the last couple steps to peer inside. A bulky object hunkered on the threshold. In the predawn light, she struggled to make out details. She touched it and encountered damp canvas. Something lumpy in a sack. She found the opening and tugged it down, so the flames burning in a nearby tree would illuminate the contents.
A pair of lifeless human eyes stared up at her.
Kali screamed and dropped the sack of severed heads. She skittered back, heart in her throat, rifle clenched in both hands.
Footsteps pounded inside the ship, and she backed farther. Her outburst had been a mistake. Now they knew she was there.
A dark figured loomed in the hole.
She jerked her rifle up to shoot before it could.
“Kali!”
At the last second, the name pierced her fear-clouded mind, and she kept from firing.
“It’s me.” Cedar stepped out, arms spread. One hand gripped his sword. “They’re all dead. It’s all right.”
“All
“Easy,” Cedar said as if he were soothing a beast. “I can explain.”
“Do so.” The calm detachment in her voice surprised her. She did not feel calm. Or detached. The flames created strange shadows on Cedar’s face and gleamed yellow against his sword. Blood dripped from the blade to the snow.
“I’m not decapitating everyone,” he said, “just the ones I recognize as having money on their heads. I’m a bounty hunter. The heads are required as proof of the deed done, so I can collect the reward.” He hesitated, and she realized she had not lowered the rifle. “I only hunt criminals. You’ve nothing to fear from me, Kali.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid. I’ve got my gun, and I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, you can.”
There was a fondness in his voice that she might have found flattering if he were not standing next to a sack full of heads he had cut off. And that was not the only problem. Her gears clicked into place.
“You joined up with me, knowing I’d be a target?” she asked. “That these thugs were after me? You figured I’d make some good bait, and you could stand back and shoot at the people shooting at me?”
Wind moaned across the lake and through the trees. A wolf howled. Cedar said nothing. Kali shook her head slowly as she stared at him. She had not wanted to be right.
“How much will you make for turning those heads in to…wherever the head depository is?” she asked.
“One thousand dollars for Captain Brandt, and a couple hundred for the lesser felons.”
“I see,” Kali said. “I guess you don’t need my one hundred dollars then. Which is good because coming back to check on you means I don’t have a chance of winning now. Because I’m stupid. Because I bothered being worried you’d been captured or shot.” She finally lowered her rifle. “Thanks so much for your help out here.”
“Kali,” Cedar said softly. “I didn’t ask you to-”
“No. No, you didn’t.” She kicked snow. “Like I said, I’m just a stupid fool. Nothing new.”
Tears stung her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and turned her back.
“Kali….”
She stalked away. A part of her wanted him to run after her, to apologize for using her. A part of her was relieved when he did not.
Part VII
Kali chugged into town well after the race finished. Gray clouds hovered low, promising snow. Smoke wafted from chimneys, and the smell of burning wood hung in the air. Nobody lingered at the finish line by the docks, though boisterous noises flowed from the bit house up the bank. The winner buying everyone rounds, no doubt.
She wondered if she would have won if she had not gone back. Surely she would have if she had not been attacked three times and could have pushed straight through without delays. She could have taken the winnings, ordered the parts she needed, and escaped Moose Hollow by summer. She could have sailed the winds and explored the world, a moving target the pirates and gangsters would never catch. But not now. She scraped at ice droplets in her lashes, telling herself it was weariness that made her eyes water, not self-pity.
A lone figure rushed outside when Kali steamed down main street.
“Honey, you made it. Thank the Lord.” Nelly jumped off the covered sidewalk and threw her arms around Kali.
“You weren’t expecting me to? What’d the other racers say?”
“Not much, but there were men here looking for you yesterday. Mean men. They roughed up a couple of my girls.”
Kali winced. Her troubles were bubbling over to affect others.
“And…” Nelly bit her lip.
“What else?” Kali asked, certain she did not want to know.
“They ransacked your home.”
Kali’s shoulders slumped. She told Nelly about the last couple days while they trudged up the street with the sled. As promised, the door to her workshop had been kicked in and hung from a single, broken hinge.
Kali gripped the frame for support and gazed inside. Ransacked, yes, that was a suitable word. Devastated and violated also came to mind. Tools, upturned furniture, and her half-started projects scattered the floor, many in pieces now. A trunk from her bedroom lay beneath the railing, clothes thrown free.
Nelly laid a hand on Kali’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey. About your home and especially about the race. I can’t help but feel your loss is my fault. I thought that fellow seemed a good sort. You know you’re welcome to stay at my place as long as you need.”
“Thanks,” Kali mumbled. Maybe the fact she had not slept the night before was a blessing, for gazing at the carnage left her more numb than anything else.
The door to the cubby where she kept the mechanical hounds was bashed in. A crowbar and pickaxe lay on the floor before it. She needed to check…
“Nelly, could you let me be alone for a spell?”
“Of course. You come by my place for dinner. I insist.”
Kali nodded. Though spending time with all those pretty girls in their pretty dresses always made her feel awkward, some company would be better than none.
As soon as Nelly left, Kali shuffled through the mess to check on the dogs. Someone had dumped pipe tobacco on the floor, and the scent of smoke lingered in the air. She propped her rifle against the wall and pushed aside wreckage to peer inside the cubby. The pickaxe had done its work. The dog bodies were mutilated, heads dented beyond recognition. Scraps of metal littered the floor.
Brass plaques screwed into the dogs’ backs had been torn off. She checked inside. The thumbnail-sized piece of flash gold that powered each hound was gone.
“Bastards,” she muttered, stroking one of the broken heads. Having the gold stolen was irritating; having her work-her
She wandered around the workshop, making sure nobody lurked in a corner, then climbed the stairs to her tiny office and bedroom. Tangled ropes and bells in the latter proved someone had triggered a booby trap. Too bad she had not been there to do anything about it.
In the office, she removed a slender pick from the backside of the stovepipe, then counted the knots in the
