Read Online Steampunk Carnival (Steam World Book 1) by Cassandra Leuthold - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cassandra Leuthold
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could be run on electricity rather than steam. Instead of so many gas lamps creating heat and fire hazards, light bulbs would more efficiently illuminate the night. Some said the bulbs would stand on posts as the gas flames did already, and others ruminated the bulbs could be hung in strands strung over the grounds. Light bulbs could brighten the top of the Tower, the spokes of the Warden wheel, and the tracks of all three coasters.
At the time, seated comfortably in the Weekly Boarder’s dining room, and even now, occupying the solid wooden pew waiting to find out if the carnival could indeed be referred to as Mr. Warden’s, Katya denied the idea that the carnival could be improved through such an innovation. Whoever had created it put the best technology of the times to new uses, and Katya respected that. The withering heat of the gas lamps, exploding valves, and chugging machines were small prices to pay to work there or enjoy it as a patron. Katya had fallen in love with the carnival’s grandeur the first time she saw it advertised on a poster: Management seeks qualified workers for all positions! She had lost her breath when she saw it in person and entered its hallowed grounds. It still struck her with its ingenuity and gleaming presence every night she worked there. Electricity could no more improve it than a phonograph could replace the musicians in the band.
Katya glanced toward the door, but no one had moved much in the time she and Magdalene had been waiting. The more she thought about the carnival, the more she wanted to know the truth. Was it Mr. Warden’s success, or did it belong to this man whose name no one knew?
The front door of the church creaked open. Katya exhaled with relief and patted Magdalene’s hand.
The game runner stole into the room, and Magdalene waved to catch his attention. He sat down beside her in the pew, lowering his hat to rest on his thighs. Katya leaned forward to see him past Magdalene.
“What’s your name, sir?” Magdalene whispered.
“Brady Kelly.”
Katya spoke up with insistence. “How come you’ll tell her and not me?”
Brady’s apologetic eyes flicked to Katya’s face. “It’s nothing against you, Miss Romanova. I didn’t want to speak my name at the carnival. Mr. Warden knows that name, or at least he should. He stole that notebook from me. I’ve spent three years trying to get it back.”
“You invented the carnival?”
“Yes.”
Magdalene picked up the conversation again. “That’s what we don’t understand, Mr. Kelly. How did Mr. Warden use your ideas to do what he did?”
Katya interrupted. “More importantly, how did you ever think of the carnival? What inspired you to draw such fabulous things?”
Magdalene glanced at Katya, not so much condemning as wondering how creative brilliance rivaled the underhanded nature of Mr. Warden’s accomplishments for what they needed to discuss.
Brady moved his hat to the empty space beside him, his fingers clutching the brim. “I’m not sure I can answer all your questions, ladies, but I’ll try.” He fiddled with his hat, rotating it one way and then the other. “I had a family once, in Illinois. My wife, Sarah, cleaned houses so we could afford our own to raise our little boy, Nathaniel. They made me so happy, I would’ve lived with them anywhere. I was already working with engines and machinery, fixing and designing them. I thought, what would be more perfect than a place for families to go where they could enjoy themselves and see something they couldn’t see anywhere else?”
Brady pulled his hat into his lap, his fingertips tapping a jittery dance against the band. “Nathaniel caught diphtheria when he was three. I’d already started the journal – my notebook, as you call it. I had some basic ideas of how to connect the steam engines to the gears that would make the rides move. He died never seeing more than that, just my drawings.” Brady tore at his hat brim, pulling it and
At the time, seated comfortably in the Weekly Boarder’s dining room, and even now, occupying the solid wooden pew waiting to find out if the carnival could indeed be referred to as Mr. Warden’s, Katya denied the idea that the carnival could be improved through such an innovation. Whoever had created it put the best technology of the times to new uses, and Katya respected that. The withering heat of the gas lamps, exploding valves, and chugging machines were small prices to pay to work there or enjoy it as a patron. Katya had fallen in love with the carnival’s grandeur the first time she saw it advertised on a poster: Management seeks qualified workers for all positions! She had lost her breath when she saw it in person and entered its hallowed grounds. It still struck her with its ingenuity and gleaming presence every night she worked there. Electricity could no more improve it than a phonograph could replace the musicians in the band.
Katya glanced toward the door, but no one had moved much in the time she and Magdalene had been waiting. The more she thought about the carnival, the more she wanted to know the truth. Was it Mr. Warden’s success, or did it belong to this man whose name no one knew?
The front door of the church creaked open. Katya exhaled with relief and patted Magdalene’s hand.
The game runner stole into the room, and Magdalene waved to catch his attention. He sat down beside her in the pew, lowering his hat to rest on his thighs. Katya leaned forward to see him past Magdalene.
“What’s your name, sir?” Magdalene whispered.
“Brady Kelly.”
Katya spoke up with insistence. “How come you’ll tell her and not me?”
Brady’s apologetic eyes flicked to Katya’s face. “It’s nothing against you, Miss Romanova. I didn’t want to speak my name at the carnival. Mr. Warden knows that name, or at least he should. He stole that notebook from me. I’ve spent three years trying to get it back.”
“You invented the carnival?”
“Yes.”
Magdalene picked up the conversation again. “That’s what we don’t understand, Mr. Kelly. How did Mr. Warden use your ideas to do what he did?”
Katya interrupted. “More importantly, how did you ever think of the carnival? What inspired you to draw such fabulous things?”
Magdalene glanced at Katya, not so much condemning as wondering how creative brilliance rivaled the underhanded nature of Mr. Warden’s accomplishments for what they needed to discuss.
Brady moved his hat to the empty space beside him, his fingers clutching the brim. “I’m not sure I can answer all your questions, ladies, but I’ll try.” He fiddled with his hat, rotating it one way and then the other. “I had a family once, in Illinois. My wife, Sarah, cleaned houses so we could afford our own to raise our little boy, Nathaniel. They made me so happy, I would’ve lived with them anywhere. I was already working with engines and machinery, fixing and designing them. I thought, what would be more perfect than a place for families to go where they could enjoy themselves and see something they couldn’t see anywhere else?”
Brady pulled his hat into his lap, his fingertips tapping a jittery dance against the band. “Nathaniel caught diphtheria when he was three. I’d already started the journal – my notebook, as you call it. I had some basic ideas of how to connect the steam engines to the gears that would make the rides move. He died never seeing more than that, just my drawings.” Brady tore at his hat brim, pulling it and
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