Clementine

Maria gathered up her folder, her papers, and she tucked the money into her skirt’s deepest pockets. She gathered up the large carpeted bag she almost always toted (a lady needed to be prepared, and anyway, one never knew what trouble might lurk around a bend); and she palmed a smaller handbag for essentials.

She was as ready as she was going to get.

“Beware of rattler? What on earth does that mean?” she puzzled aloud, but no one was within earshot to answer her, and outside, a coach was waiting to take her to the passenger docks.

3. CAPTAIN CROGGON BEAUREGARD HAINEY

Croggon Hainey, first mate Simeon Powell, and engineer Lamar Bailey gave up on the u

Fifteen miles across the bone-dry earth, as flat as if it’d been laid that way by a baker’s pin, the three men lugged their surviving valuables. Lamar was laden with ammunition, small arms, and two half-empty skins of water. Simeon toted a roll of maps and a large canteen, plus two canvas packs crammed with personal items including tobacco, clothes, a few dry provisions, and a letter he always carried but almost never read. The captain held his own satchel and his own favorite guns, a stash of bills on his money belt, and a white-hot stare that could’ve burned a hole through a horse.

The Rattler was in its crate, gripped and suspended by Hainey’s right arm and Simeon’s left. It swung heavily back and forth, knocking against the men’s calves and knees if they fell too far out of step.

Simeon asked, “How far out do you think we are?”

And Lamar replied, “Out of Bo

The captain added through clenched teeth. “We won’t make it by dark, but we ought to be able to scare up a cart, or a coach, or a wagon, or some goddamned thing or another.”

“And a drink,” Simeon suggested.

“No. No drinking. We get some transportation, and we get back on the road, and we make Kansas City, before we try any sleep,” Hainey swore. The pauses between his words kept time to the swinging of the Rattler. “And one way or another, we’ll get a new ship in Kansas City,” he vowed.

“Ol’ Barebones still owe you a favor?” Simeon grunted as the crate cracked against his kneecap.

“Barebones owes me a favor till he’s dead. Four or five miles, you think?” he asked the engineer without looking over at him.

“At least,” Lamar admitted, sounding no happier about it than anyone else. “But it’s a miracle we got this close before the bird gave up the ghost. I could’ve sworn she’d never make it back into the air, but man, she made a liar out of me.” He kicked at the dirt and shifted his load to strain the other shoulder for awhile. “I never thought she’d fly again,” he added.

The captain knew what Lamar was fishing for, but he was too distracted or too exhausted to humor anybody, and he didn’t say anything in response. He only ground his jaw and stared into the long, stretch-limbed shadow that stomped in front of him, and he wondered if his arm would fall off before they reached Bo

But Simeon’s free arm swung out to clap the engineer on the back, and he said, “That’s why we keep you around.”

“Not five other folks of any shade, in any state or territory could’ve got her back up into the sky with only a set of wrenches and a hammer, but I made her work, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you sure did,” Simeon said. “It was a nice job.”

Hainey grumbled, “Would’ve been nicer if the patches could’ve held another five miles.”

Lamar’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t snap back except to say, “Would’ve been even nicer if nobody’d crashed our ride into Kansas in the first place.”

The captain’s nostrils flared, and even though the approaching evening had left the flatlands cool, a bead of sweat rolled down into the scar on his cheek. “Four or five miles,” he breathed.

Simeon said, “And then some food. If we don’t stop and eat, I’ll starve to death before we can grab a new bird anyhow.”

“Me too.”

“Fine,” Hainey shook his face and slung more sweat down to the dust. “But we eat on the road. Once we hit Bo

Lamar shook his head and said, “Not that far, even. Maybe fifteen or sixteen. We can do it easy in a couple of hours, if we get horses good enough to pull us. We play our cards smart, and we might be in bed by midnight.”

“Midnight,” the captain grunted. Then he said, “Hang on,” and stopped. “Other arm,” he suggested to Simeon, who nodded and complied.

They switched, and Simeon said, “I’d like that a lot. I could sleep a week, easy.”

“Well, you aren’t go

“We know,” Lamar said it like a complaint, but the look on the captain’s face made him to keep the rest to himself.

The sun set fast behind them, and the world went golden. The sky was rich and yellow, then pale maroon; and before it went a royal shade of navy, the captain stopped to pull a lantern out of his satchel. They lit it and took turns holding it by their teeth, and by the ends of their fingers. When the last of the rose-pink rays had finally slipped down past the horizon line, the lone lantern made a rickety bubble of white around the three dark men.

As they trudged, coyotes called back and forth across the grass.

Snakes rattled and scattered, winding their way into the night, away from the crushing boots of the heavily laden travelers; and while the crew staggered along the wheel ruts that passed for a rural road, sometimes overhead they could hear the mocking rumble of a dirigible passing through quickly, quietly, looking for a place to set down and spend the night.

By nine o’clock, they reached the town’s edge, and by ten they’d purchased a tiny, run-down stagecoach that was almost too old to roll, and they’d bartered two horses to pull it. The horses were only marginally younger and fresher than the coach itself, but they were well fed and rested, and they moved at a fast enough clip to bring the trio rolling into Kansas City by half past midnight.

Hainey drove the horses. Simeon sat beside him and smoked. Lamar stayed inside the cabin with the Rattler and the provisions, where he would’ve been happy to nap, except for the persistent, jerking bounce of the coach’s worn-out wheels.

Even though their backs and arms still ached from the loads, the crew was refreshed by the gas lamps and the late workers who ma

They moved deeper into the heart of the place, keeping to themselves even as they drew the occasional curious eye. There were places in the west, as everywhere, where free black men could find no haven-but likewise, as everywhere, there were places where useful men of a certain sort could always find a reception.

In the central district, where the street lamps were fewer and farther between, the saloons were plentiful and the passersby became more varied. Indians walked shrouded in bright blankets; and through the window of the Hotel Oriental, Hainey saw a circle of Chinamen playing tiles on a poker table. On the corner a pair of women gossiped and hushed when the old coach drew near, but their business was an easy guess and even Simeon was too tired to give them more than a second glance.