Like a Wisp of Steam, Thomas Roche [list of e readers txt] 📗

Still, what could she do with the lives of her crew at these cutthroats' mercy?

As she listened to their plan she found herself starting to think outside of their short-sighted parameters. Black Paul would stay behind with two of his men, while Sykes led the others to the Brisbane Bank. She would accompany the men.

Should Benjamin need some kind of adjustment, which Black Paul's men did not understand that she could not easily perform on the fly, then she would be on hand. She would also be a hostage.

She longed to see that Maggie was okay. Sure, Black Paul's men gave their word that no one was going to be killed, but what did that promise really mean? She could not see Maggie, though. Not at all. She had to listen to these men, listen to their fool's errand, and try to make it work.

Or did she?

An exceptionally dangerous plan occurred to her. It was beyond risky, and yet it was her only chance. As she created the punch cards, she started putting her plan to good use. If it succeeded, this would undoubtedly be Benjamin's showstopper, and if it failed, well ... Failure was not an option. She could only hope that the skills she had picked up both at the CCST School of Engineering, which seemed a whole lifetime ago, as well as the six months on the road with the Show, would be enough.

* * * *

The wee hours came alive with man-made thunder.

When Benjamin stormed through the front doors of the bank, Sykes and his men let out a whoop of joy. When Benjamin stomped his way inside, ignoring the hail of gunfire directed his way, they were even more pleased. When they finally heard those weapons run dry and the great, cogwork monstrosity tear a path through the counter and the hallway to the safe, they were raring to go. They charged into the bank, Sykes shoving the engineer ahead of him. The men with guns, a pair with stars on their chests, were watching Benjamin when the outlaws arrived, so Sykes' men got the drop on them. With Trista presented as a hostage, the lawmen dropped their weapons.

Sykes had his fellows quickly (and poorly, Trista noted) bind them and then followed Benjamin's progress.

The great cogwork man was standing before the safe, his massive iron head leaning against the still sealed door.

"Why hasn't he broke it open?" Sykes demanded.

"I didn't expect him to get shot quite so much! Benjamin is a delicate creation, not accustomed to such violence—"

"Make him work!" Sykes practically threw Trista at the great iron man, and she felt a flutter of hope in her heart.

She jammed another punch card into his mouth, triggering the next phase of her plan.

Sykes had left two of his men to guard the prisoners, but there were enough present that any success would prove good enough. Benjamin stomped again into action, following Trista's routine. The iron man rotated until he faced up the narrow hallway, the steam spilling from his seams making him into an incredibly life-like demon instead of some mere automaton. He strode toward the stunned outlaws, faster than he had been designed for, arms extended as wide as possible, stooped and rushing like a bull. Benjamin bowled right into Sykes and the first of his men, plowing them effectively into the ground before something seized up inside his leg joints, loud as gunshots. Momentum carried him forward, right into the others, pinning many of them beneath several hundred pounds of iron. The last of the men in the lot was thrown backwards to the floor, where he sat staring in shock and terror as though he could not wrap his brain around the notion that the cogwork man had betrayed them.

By then, Trista had Sykes' guns in hand, holding it as Maggie had shown her. Her stance was impressive to behold, though she could not hit a rain barrel at five paces. "Give up,"

she said, a little of Maggie's ice finding its way into her voice.

Sure, she felt as frail as a daisy in a tornado inside, but she scared the man. He thrust his hands up.

Out front, she heard a fresh volley of gunshots. The lawmen were putting things to right, and she heard their calls for surrender. When they came back to find her with the others, they scratched their heads and wondered just how a gal like her could have undone the plans of so many tough hombres.

"A little knowledge," she replied, absolutely out of context but somehow appropriate, "is a dangerous thing."

"Isn't that Black Paul's man?" one of the lawmen asked, indicating Sykes.

"Yes," Trista said, "and I know where Black Paul is holed up."

When the other lawman said to his partner, "Well then, let's go get him," Trista stopped them.

"He says he'll hurt the crew. That might not amount to much for you, but I've lived and worked with these folks for

... for quite a time. They're important to me."

When the first of the lawmen asked, "Got a sweetheart there, huh?" Trista blushed.

"Let me try to flush him out," she said.

"You have a plan?"

She looked to the captured outlaws and nodded. "Yes I do," she said, though she was still assembling the particulars.

* * * *

Maggie's eyes were wide with concern and more than a little relief when Trista snuck into her wagon before dawn.

"Are you alright?" was quickly followed by, "Wherever did you find these?" when Trista pushed Sykes' pistols into her hands.

"I believe..." Trista wet her lips, but they still felt dry as her tongue rasped across them. "I'm about to do something absolutely stupid, Maggie. And I need to know if you can keep me safe."

"Of course." This was a simple matter of fact and needing no soul searching. It raised Trista's spirits enough for her to keep heart and hope. Not that she expected a different answer, but hearing her own faith validated was something indescribably uplifting. Maggie continued, "Is Black Paul really in