Flash Gold (a steampunk adventure set in the Yukon)

Flash Gold: Pt 7

 Kali chugged into town well after the race finished. Gray clouds hovered low, promising snow. Smoke wafted from chimneys, and the smell of burning wood hung in the air. Nobody lingered at the finish line by the docks, though boisterous noises flowed from the bit house up the bank. The winner buying everyone rounds, no doubt.

She wondered if she would have won if she had not gone back. Surely she would have if she had not been attacked three times and could have pushed straight through without delays. She could have taken the winnings, ordered the parts she needed, and escaped Moose Hollow by summer. She could have sailed the winds and explored the world, a moving target the pirates and gangsters would never catch. But not now. She scraped at ice droplets in her lashes, telling herself it was weariness that made her eyes water, not self-pity.

A lone figure rushed outside when Kali steamed down Main Street.

“Honey, you made it. Thank the Lord.” Nelly jumped off the covered sidewalk and threw her arms around Kali.

“You weren’t expecting me to? What’d the other racers say?”

“Not much, but there were men here looking for you yesterday. Mean men. They roughed up a couple of my girls.”

Kali winced. Her troubles were bubbling over to affect others.

“And…” Nelly bit her lip.

“What else?” Kali asked, certain she did not want to know.

“They ransacked your home.”

Kali’s shoulders slumped. She told Nelly about the last couple of days while they trudged up the street with the sled. As promised, the door to her workshop had been kicked in and hung from a single, broken hinge.

Kali gripped the frame for support and gazed inside. Ransacked, yes, that was a suitable word. Devastated and violated also came to mind. Tools, upturned furniture, and her half-started projects scattered the floor, many in pieces now. A trunk from her bedroom lay beneath the railing, clothes thrown free.

Nelly laid a hand on Kali’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey. About your home and especially about the race. I can’t help but feel your loss is my fault. I thought that fellow seemed a good sort. You know you’re welcome to stay at my place as long as you need.”

“Thanks,” Kali mumbled. Maybe the fact she had not slept the night before was a blessing, for gazing at the carnage left her more numb than anything else.

The door to the cubby where she kept the mechanical hounds was bashed in. A crowbar and pickaxe lay on the floor before it. She needed to check…

“Nelly, could you let me be alone for a spell?”

“Of course. You come by my place for dinner. I insist.”

Kali nodded. Though spending time with all those pretty girls in their pretty dresses always made her feel awkward, some company would be better than none.

As soon as Nelly left, Kali shuffled through the mess to check on the dogs. Someone had dumped pipe tobacco on the floor, and the scent of smoke lingered in the air. She propped her rifle against the wall and pushed aside wreckage to peer inside the cubby. The pickaxe had done its work. The dog bodies were mutilated, heads dented beyond recognition. Scraps of metal littered the floor.

Brass plaques screwed into the dogs’ backs had been torn off. She checked inside. The thumbnail-sized piece of flash gold that powered each hound was gone.

“Bastards,” she muttered, stroking one of the broken heads. Having the gold stolen was irritating; having her work—her art—destroyed…hurt.