Read Online Wild Cards and Iron Horses by Sheryl Nantus - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sheryl Nantus
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the tournament started.
“Bastard,” Jon murmured to the darkness.
“Sir?” Gil appeared at his side.
Jon jumped, just a fraction of an inch. “What? What?” His right hand twitched, automatically preparing to reach for the derringer.
“Sorry, sir. Don’t mean to scare ya. Miss Sam sent me to find you, said she needed to see you right fast.” The youngster scratched his knee, rubbing through a gap in the thin linen pants. “She seemed quite excited, she did.”
Without waiting for the kid, Jon trotted along the wooden sidewalk. Victor could wait, the fascinating woman engineer could not. Not to mention she was much more pleasing on the eyes.
His long legs moved faster and faster, outpacing the street urchin until he was practically running towards the garage. He unerringly plotted the fastest route and avoided the alleyways, even with the youngster by his side. Coming to a skittering stop at the workshop door, he pounded on it with his left fist.
Gil peered at him, chewing on his lower lip before disappearing back into an alleyway.
The door opened a crack, then all the way in response to his knocking. Jake grinned, silhouetted against the interior’s bright lights. He waved him inside.
“Ah, then. The child found you. I was afraid that you’d turned in for the night. Not that we wouldn’t have woken you up, you understand, but Mrs. McGuire would never let me hear the end of it.” He pointed towards the workbench. “Sam forgot to take some measurements and she isn’t going to sleep a wink tonight until she gets a handle on this problem, so if you don’t mind…”
Jon stepped inside the workshop, wiping his forehead with one sleeve. The dark blue sleeve came away with a black stain on it, absorbing both the sweat and soot of the town. Jake motioned him onward, returning to his position at another table where he fidgeted with a series of gears. “Just over there, if you please. She’ll be with you in a minute. You’ll have to forgive me, we’re on a deadline with this particular project and I can’t spare time to chat.”
Trying to slow his racing heart, Jon adjusted his jacket before walking over to the far table. The workshop took on a new, much more sinister appearance at night. Shadows extended far across and up the brick walls, images of giant gears and springs and wires strung around the room. In the corner, the once-harmless silhouette of the iron horse now breathed darkness and danger, the metal head with eyeless sockets staring at him. Candles offered the slightest of illumination, with a few of the newfangled electrical bulbs spread out around the workshop, flickering with the attempt to deliver a stable light to work by. A fireplace set in the back wall roared with enthusiasm, the burning logs determined to throw off more light than the pretenders.
Samantha stood by the drafting table, still scribbling on the paper, which was almost filled with calculations and drawings. The stool stood nearby, unused. Her leather coat hung on a small hook set in the wall. The white men’s shirt she had been wearing on his previous visit hung off her slender figure, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. A small nub of a pencil sat in her right hand, dashing across the page as she wrote mathematical equations he couldn’t hope to understand.
She looked up at his approach, her mouth open. “Oh!” The woman gave a sideways glance at her father, almost scowling at the older man. “I didn’t think you’d be here so quickly.”
A half-eaten slice of chicken pot pie sat next to an inch-high stack of paper, threatening to sprawl crumbs across the worktable.
Jon frowned. “I’m sorry. Did I disturb your dinner?”
Jake laughed as he walked by. His lone hand slapped Jon on the back. “Ah, it’s a miracle she eats anything. Besides, she can’t cook worth a darn. We order in from the shops when she gets a fire going in her belly.” This earned him another scowl from his daughter.
“I need
“Bastard,” Jon murmured to the darkness.
“Sir?” Gil appeared at his side.
Jon jumped, just a fraction of an inch. “What? What?” His right hand twitched, automatically preparing to reach for the derringer.
“Sorry, sir. Don’t mean to scare ya. Miss Sam sent me to find you, said she needed to see you right fast.” The youngster scratched his knee, rubbing through a gap in the thin linen pants. “She seemed quite excited, she did.”
Without waiting for the kid, Jon trotted along the wooden sidewalk. Victor could wait, the fascinating woman engineer could not. Not to mention she was much more pleasing on the eyes.
His long legs moved faster and faster, outpacing the street urchin until he was practically running towards the garage. He unerringly plotted the fastest route and avoided the alleyways, even with the youngster by his side. Coming to a skittering stop at the workshop door, he pounded on it with his left fist.
Gil peered at him, chewing on his lower lip before disappearing back into an alleyway.
The door opened a crack, then all the way in response to his knocking. Jake grinned, silhouetted against the interior’s bright lights. He waved him inside.
“Ah, then. The child found you. I was afraid that you’d turned in for the night. Not that we wouldn’t have woken you up, you understand, but Mrs. McGuire would never let me hear the end of it.” He pointed towards the workbench. “Sam forgot to take some measurements and she isn’t going to sleep a wink tonight until she gets a handle on this problem, so if you don’t mind…”
Jon stepped inside the workshop, wiping his forehead with one sleeve. The dark blue sleeve came away with a black stain on it, absorbing both the sweat and soot of the town. Jake motioned him onward, returning to his position at another table where he fidgeted with a series of gears. “Just over there, if you please. She’ll be with you in a minute. You’ll have to forgive me, we’re on a deadline with this particular project and I can’t spare time to chat.”
Trying to slow his racing heart, Jon adjusted his jacket before walking over to the far table. The workshop took on a new, much more sinister appearance at night. Shadows extended far across and up the brick walls, images of giant gears and springs and wires strung around the room. In the corner, the once-harmless silhouette of the iron horse now breathed darkness and danger, the metal head with eyeless sockets staring at him. Candles offered the slightest of illumination, with a few of the newfangled electrical bulbs spread out around the workshop, flickering with the attempt to deliver a stable light to work by. A fireplace set in the back wall roared with enthusiasm, the burning logs determined to throw off more light than the pretenders.
Samantha stood by the drafting table, still scribbling on the paper, which was almost filled with calculations and drawings. The stool stood nearby, unused. Her leather coat hung on a small hook set in the wall. The white men’s shirt she had been wearing on his previous visit hung off her slender figure, the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. A small nub of a pencil sat in her right hand, dashing across the page as she wrote mathematical equations he couldn’t hope to understand.
She looked up at his approach, her mouth open. “Oh!” The woman gave a sideways glance at her father, almost scowling at the older man. “I didn’t think you’d be here so quickly.”
A half-eaten slice of chicken pot pie sat next to an inch-high stack of paper, threatening to sprawl crumbs across the worktable.
Jon frowned. “I’m sorry. Did I disturb your dinner?”
Jake laughed as he walked by. His lone hand slapped Jon on the back. “Ah, it’s a miracle she eats anything. Besides, she can’t cook worth a darn. We order in from the shops when she gets a fire going in her belly.” This earned him another scowl from his daughter.
“I need
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