Blood Ties Read online

  Jake sighed and shook his head. Knowing Ghiss wouldn’t say more about his deal. “So, where does that leave us?”

  “You know me Mister Lasater … or at least know me enough. I’m not a villain, per se. This is business. I intend to settle my accounts with Szilágyi and his little group, with or without you. It seems to me you could use all the help at your disposal.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Jake asked. “We’re talking about a deal here, right Ghiss?” he asked. He’d stopped himself from shooting Ghiss in the hope that they could work out a deal. “A business arrangement to nail Szilágyi. No tricks. No bullshit. We don’t kill you here and now, and you work with us to bury that son-of-a-bitch. After that we drop you off at the next stop. Right?”

  “Again, Mister Lasater, I find your terms acceptable.”

  Jake held out his hand and Ghiss shook it firmly.

  “Then you’ve got a deal, Ghiss. Until Szilágyi is a corpse, you work for me.” Ghiss nodded once.

  Jake turned to Tyler. “You got a minute?” he asked the big man, nodding toward the door that led to the forward passenger compartments.

  “Sure, Jake.” Tyler turned and walked towards the door.

  Jake looked at Cole and flicked his eyes toward the door. Cole caught the hint and stood, but his eyes didn’t leave Ghiss until he stepped through the door ahead of Jake.

  “Hey, Jake?” Skeeter called out.

  “What’s up, Skeeter?” Jake replied as he stopped and turned back to her.

  “When I’m done here, would it be okay if I went down and checked the hold? There’s something that’s been bothering me.”

  “Go right ahead,” he said and smiled. Jake had learned to trust when something bothered her. She bragged about being smarter than most people, and though it could come across as arrogant and irritating, Jake knew that on her worst day she could figure out stuff Jake and Cole wouldn’t come close to on their best days. “Let me know if you find anything, and if you can’t find me right away, find Tyler here or the captain.”

  “You got it!” she called back.

  “Head for our cabin, Tyler,” Jake said, turning once again towards the door. “Last one on the left,” Jake offered. He wanted the conversation to be as private as possible.

  Tyler led them through the passageway and stepped past the door, allowing Jake to unlock it and step inside. Tyler and Cole followed him in as he stepped up to the windows. Cole closed the door behind them, locking it.

  “What’s up, Jake?”

  “We’re not heading east.”

  “Oh, yeah, that. You know that rain and fog we had last night?”

  “Yeah,” Jake admitted.

  “Well, that was the southern edge of a big system coming out of Oregon heading over the Rockies. We got reports from the telegraph stations all the way through to Salt Lake saying it was a real gully-washer. The captain doesn’t want to take us through it, so he’s heading south toward Albuquerque to gain ground without getting hammered. We’ll go north from there up through Raton pass.”

  “Couldn’t we lose them in the storm?” Cole asked.

  “Possibly, but storms like that can play havoc with a zepp, forcing us up and down without warning, even crash us into the Sierras or drop us into the middle of the desert. And heavy cloud cover would give Szilágyi a lot of opportunities to sneak up on us.”

  “I get ya,” Jake said. “This way we have a better chance of at least seeing him coming.”

  “That’s the theory, although that black zepp of his will be damn hard to see at night. I figure if he’s gonna hit us, it’ll be when it’s dark.”

  “I think I can help out there,” Jake offered. He tapped his ocular. “With this I should be able to pick him out better than most. You got a place at the back of this rig with a good view?”

  “We do, but I’ll go one better,” Tyler said, smiling. “There’s an observation bubble up top with a three-hundred-sixty degree view. It even has a quad-Gatling mounted in it. We call her El Diablo, and the whole turret rotates.” Tyler’s grin went wicked. “It’s not one of them chainguns, but El Diablo shoots like a shit-storm on fire. You’ve fired a Gatling before, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, a few times over the years.” Jake’s tone clearly indicated he was more than comfortable with the weapon.

  “El Diablo’s all yours, if you want her,” Tyler offered.

  “I like the sound of that,” Jake clapped Tyler on the shoulder. “Cole, you wanna take the aft quarter with the Thumper?”

  “Sure, Jake,” Cole agreed, but Jake noticed Cole wasn’t smiling. There was definitely something bothering him, and Jake had a good idea what it was.

  “I’ll go tell the captain the plan. I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you’re up top.”

  “Thanks, Tyler. And thank the captain again for me. No matter what he says about justice, I owe him one.”

  “You got it.” Tyler stepped past Cole and unlocked the door. “I’ll come get you both around eight o’clock or so. That’s when our shifts change. You boys okay to stay up all night?”

  “Won’t be a problem,” Cole answered. “Just another all-night poker game … but with more shooting.”

  Tyler gave a snort, nodding his head as he closed the door behind him.

  Jake sat down on his bunk and took his hat off, giving Cole a wary look. “What’s on your mind?”

  Cole remained silent for a few seconds, and Jake could feel the anger pouring off his partner.

  “You know I’d never question your play, Jake, not in front of everyone. But why the hell haven’t we blown Ghiss’ head off?”

  “I figured that was it,” Jake admitted quietly. He sighed, took the ocular off his head, and leaned back, rubbing his eyes and then the bridge of his nose where the ocular had left a dent. “Because right now I own his sorry ass,” he said with both fatigue and ice in his voice.

  “Own his—?” Cole blurted in disbelief. “Jake, I’d trust a rattlesnake before I’d trust that son-of-a-bitch! You can’t believe a thing he says, for Christ’s sake!”

  “Actually, I can,” Jake replied, trying his best to keep Cole calm. This was mostly about Koto, and Jake knew his partner was hurting bad over the loss. The other half was obviously who Ghiss had fought for during the war and what sort of man he was, but Cole didn’t know the whole truth.

  “And how the hell is that, Jake?” Cole asked angrily.

  “You ever met a gentleman?” Jake asked, looking out through the window at the dark clouds filling the distance. “I mean a real, blue-blood southern gentleman.”

  “No, can’t say that I have … not without shooting at him, anyway.” Cole admitted, but the anger remained in his voice.

  “How can I put this to you?” Jake turned and looked at Cole, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. Cole returned Jake’s thoughtful gaze with impatience. “Look,” Jake said, thinking of a good example. “Would you ever shoot a woman in the back?”

  “Course not!” Cole blurted, offended by even the suggestion.

  “Why not?”

  Cole looked frustrated, unable to come up with a reason. “You just don’t,” he exclaimed finally, turning his back on Jake.

  “You’re right. You just don’t. For a man that comes from where Ghiss did, it’s the same for breaking his word. He could no more break his word than you or I could shoot a woman in the back. He simply wouldn’t do it. It would tarnish his honor, and the honor of his family, if he still has such a thing.”

  “How do you know all this?” Cole asked. The anger had faded a little, but he still wasn’t convinced.

  “I told you a while back that Ghiss visited Tinker Farris while I healed up after I got this, right?” Jake held out his clockwork arm.

  “Yeah,” Cole said.

  “Well, there’s a whole lot more to that story. It was right after Tinker Farris had fixed me up. Farris and I had a conversation about Ghiss pretty much like this one the day after Ghiss showed up to get his leg repaired …
only I sat where you are now.” Jake tried not to think about those days, but Cole needed to have faith in the mercenary, at least for a little while. “The war still raged, and at the time I feared Ghiss would turn on us, well, on me, for being with the Union. I planned to shoot him in the back the first chance I got when I found out he was the Night Stalker. Farris stopped me, on account of being neutral during the war. He didn’t want to get involved, and he said that he and Ghiss had an arrangement … that he’d trusted Ghiss with his life and had every confidence Ghiss wouldn’t turn on him.

  “So what happened?”

  “You know Bloody Bill Anderson, right?”

  “Hell, yes,” Cole agreed, his eyes going wide. “Anderson slaughtered hundreds of people. Scalped folks, cut arms off, even heads … burned churches with people still inside, killed anyone that wasn’t with the Confederacy. That bastard was plum loco.”

  “That he was,” Jake agreed. “Well, one day, when I’m still bed-ridden, Anderson comes barging into Farris’ house on his way to Boonville.”

  “Boonville? That’s where Price ordered Anderson to blow that bridge up north, right?”

  “Yep. And that’s where Anderson finally bought it at the hands of the Missouri Militia. Well, Anderson comes in and is ready to shoot Tinker Farris and Maggie-Mae where they stand for not siding with the Rebs. He’s got about forty men outside when Ghiss steps in from the other room and stands between ’em.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit. Ghiss tells Anderson that he best go on about his business, that if he hurts Tinker Farris or Maggie-Mae, Ghiss will hunt down and kill Anderson’s family. All of them. Anderson says he’s ready to kill Ghiss too, that the forty men outside would tear the place apart. Old Ghiss, cool as a cucumber, says that Anderson’s men might get him, but they might not. And if they don’t, Ghiss would make every last member of the Anderson clan wish they’d died in their mamma’s bellies. He then asks Bloody Bill if he’s ready to gamble with the whole Anderson clan. Anderson goes real quiet, and then him and his men ride off, simple as you please.”

  “So you think you owe him?” Cole asked cautiously.

  “No,” Jake said curtly. “I don’t owe that bastard a thing. He would have thrown me to Anderson’s dogs himself if there was money in it. He risked his life to protect Farris from Confederate soldiers simply because he’d given his word. He gave me his word back there, and I have no doubt he’d die to keep it. Fair enough?” Jake asked, searching Cole’s face for a glimmer of understanding.

  Cole pondered that in silence for a long time, mulling over everything he’d heard. “All right, Jake. I trust you.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Jake added.

  “What’s that?”

  “When this deal is over, if Ghiss and I ever end up on opposite sides of the equation, you blow his brains out if you get the chance. Deal?”

  Cole grinned wickedly. “Deal.”

  Jake sighed and looked at the window as they tracked along the edge of the storm. He was delighted they’d made it out of San Fran with the Lady’s box—reliquary, he corrected himself. Under normal circumstances, he’d chalk up the job as done. A quiet zeppelin ride back to Denver and he could get paid. But Szilágyi was still out there and in all likelihood gunning for him to take possession of the Lady and her property.

  He looked at Cole.

  “Now all we gotta do is get home, and I reckon that bastard crazy European colonel intends to make the trip as troublesome as he possibly can.” Jake sighed, a long drawn out resignation of more people shooting at him. “Let’s get some shut-eye, amigo. I can’t wait to wake up and check out El Diablo,” Jake’s sudden grin was as wicked at Cole’s. “A quad-Gatling sounds like a whole lot of fun, and it just might put a kink in Szilágyi’s style.”

  The end of:

  Blood Ties

  Book 1 of the Blood War Chronicles

  Be sure to read:

  Blood Curse

  Book 2 of the Blood War Chronicles

  About the Author

  Quincy J. Allen, a cross-genre author, has been published in multiple anthologies, magazines, and one omnibus. His first novel Chemical Burn was a finalist in the RMFW Colorado Gold Contest. He made his first pro-sale in 2014 with the story “Jimmy Krinklepot and the White Rebs of Hayberry,” included in WordFire’s A Fantastic Holiday Season: The Gift of Stories. He’s written for the Internet show RadioSteam, and his first short story collection Out Through the Attic, came out in 2014 from 7DS Books.

  He works as a Warehouse and Booth Manager by day, does book design and eBook conversions by night, and lives in a cozy house in Colorado that he considers his very own sanctuary—think Bat Cave, but with fewer flying mammals and more sunlight.