Read Online Steampunk Carnival (Steam World Book 1) by Cassandra Leuthold - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cassandra Leuthold
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folding it. “Have you ever listened to someone dying from diphtheria?”
Katya and Magdalene shook their heads.
“He couldn’t breathe. He coughed and coughed, but he couldn’t breathe. He could barely swallow, his throat hurt so bad. Sarah sat with him as long as she could. She wiped the drool from his lips and the blood from his nose. He shook from the chills but burned with fever. We buried him.” Brady nodded slowly, his eyes unfocused as he remembered it. “They shouldn’t build coffins so small, but there are a lot of them, aren’t there?”
Katya nodded. One of her sisters had not lived past her first few weeks.
“My wife,” Brady continued, “Sarah. She caught consumption the year after. I gave up my job to care for her, but nothing helped. We sold the house, and she passed much the way Nathaniel did, coughing and fighting for breath. She sweated all night, no matter how much I fanned her. When she died, I took whatever jobs I could, and I threw myself into that journal. I dreamed of a place where families – anybody – could go and enjoy themselves and be together.”
Katya interjected gently. “Did you know how you were going to build it?”
“No. I got lost in those drawings. I didn’t know if it would ever really happen. Then the notebook disappeared, and I had no idea what to do.” Brady raised his hand, resting it over his face for a moment.
Magdalene’s voice fell soothing and quiet. “Did you know William Warden?”
Brady composed himself with several blinks. “Loosely. He stayed at the same boarding house for a while. We worked together at a factory. He was a friend of the foreman, so he didn’t spend very long fixing machines before he was simply supervising the rest of us. He didn’t really have the technical knowledge needed for the job, but he could discipline.”
“Did you tell anyone what you were working on?”
“No. I always figured Warden was a petty thief. He must’ve stolen bigger, more expensive things than my journal, although the journal did pay off.”
“Do you have any idea how he turned your journal into the Steampunk Carnival?”
“Not exactly. He’s a smooth talker, Warden. People like him. People who don’t know much about him, that is. It’s easy to picture him in a boardroom of some city skyscraper with a cigar between his teeth, selling my inventions to a group of builders and investors.”
Katya recalled multiple headlines and articles about the carnival. She could not resist sharing its colorful history with Brady. “It wasn’t called the Steampunk Carnival in the beginning. People weren’t sure what to think of it when the workers were building it. I think they were excited, but they were also quick to condemn it. The night we opened, reporters from the News and the Journal and the Mirror were all there taking photographs and interviewing people. Everything was so disorganized, only the children seemed to enjoy themselves. The newspapers called us the steam-run carnival for punks, writing us off, thinking we wouldn’t last long.” Katya felt proud to reveal the change in public opinion. “The carnival caught on like wildfire, and there wasn’t enough room in the papers to keep calling us that, so they shortened it. Mr. Warden liked the phrase so much and so many people repeated it, he had it printed on that sign put up outside the gates even bigger than the original name.”
Magdalene adjusted her position on the edge of the hard bench. Her next question came almost inaudibly. “Mr. Kelly, did you send those death threats to Mr. Warden?”
Brady lowered his gaze. “Yes. I got the job at the carnival to see it for myself and be a part of what I dreamed about for so long. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but it’s close. I wasn’t sure what to do then.” Brady’s eyes widened as he focused on Magdalene’s face. “I’d never kill Warden. I only meant to scare him.”
“You might have scared him into throwing out the
Katya and Magdalene shook their heads.
“He couldn’t breathe. He coughed and coughed, but he couldn’t breathe. He could barely swallow, his throat hurt so bad. Sarah sat with him as long as she could. She wiped the drool from his lips and the blood from his nose. He shook from the chills but burned with fever. We buried him.” Brady nodded slowly, his eyes unfocused as he remembered it. “They shouldn’t build coffins so small, but there are a lot of them, aren’t there?”
Katya nodded. One of her sisters had not lived past her first few weeks.
“My wife,” Brady continued, “Sarah. She caught consumption the year after. I gave up my job to care for her, but nothing helped. We sold the house, and she passed much the way Nathaniel did, coughing and fighting for breath. She sweated all night, no matter how much I fanned her. When she died, I took whatever jobs I could, and I threw myself into that journal. I dreamed of a place where families – anybody – could go and enjoy themselves and be together.”
Katya interjected gently. “Did you know how you were going to build it?”
“No. I got lost in those drawings. I didn’t know if it would ever really happen. Then the notebook disappeared, and I had no idea what to do.” Brady raised his hand, resting it over his face for a moment.
Magdalene’s voice fell soothing and quiet. “Did you know William Warden?”
Brady composed himself with several blinks. “Loosely. He stayed at the same boarding house for a while. We worked together at a factory. He was a friend of the foreman, so he didn’t spend very long fixing machines before he was simply supervising the rest of us. He didn’t really have the technical knowledge needed for the job, but he could discipline.”
“Did you tell anyone what you were working on?”
“No. I always figured Warden was a petty thief. He must’ve stolen bigger, more expensive things than my journal, although the journal did pay off.”
“Do you have any idea how he turned your journal into the Steampunk Carnival?”
“Not exactly. He’s a smooth talker, Warden. People like him. People who don’t know much about him, that is. It’s easy to picture him in a boardroom of some city skyscraper with a cigar between his teeth, selling my inventions to a group of builders and investors.”
Katya recalled multiple headlines and articles about the carnival. She could not resist sharing its colorful history with Brady. “It wasn’t called the Steampunk Carnival in the beginning. People weren’t sure what to think of it when the workers were building it. I think they were excited, but they were also quick to condemn it. The night we opened, reporters from the News and the Journal and the Mirror were all there taking photographs and interviewing people. Everything was so disorganized, only the children seemed to enjoy themselves. The newspapers called us the steam-run carnival for punks, writing us off, thinking we wouldn’t last long.” Katya felt proud to reveal the change in public opinion. “The carnival caught on like wildfire, and there wasn’t enough room in the papers to keep calling us that, so they shortened it. Mr. Warden liked the phrase so much and so many people repeated it, he had it printed on that sign put up outside the gates even bigger than the original name.”
Magdalene adjusted her position on the edge of the hard bench. Her next question came almost inaudibly. “Mr. Kelly, did you send those death threats to Mr. Warden?”
Brady lowered his gaze. “Yes. I got the job at the carnival to see it for myself and be a part of what I dreamed about for so long. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but it’s close. I wasn’t sure what to do then.” Brady’s eyes widened as he focused on Magdalene’s face. “I’d never kill Warden. I only meant to scare him.”
“You might have scared him into throwing out the
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