THE IMPERIAL ENGINEER (47 page)

"I hope so." Tony felt his ears burn as the bartender wiped away the mess he'd
made. He didn't regret losing the mouthful, though, and had already decided not to drink
the rest. He liked beer and bourbon, but hadn't ever acquired a taste for Scotch whisky.
"Look, Mr. E, I've got to go home. Lulu's probably wondering why I'm not there for
supper."

"Get on with you, then. I'll see you Monday. We'll sort through the telephone
company papers, see what the new owners will need."

Lulu had already done a preliminary sort at Eagleton's request, but Tony knew the
man had to feel as if he'd done it all. "I'll stop by the switchboard tomorrow, make sure
all's well." As he crossed the room to the door, he waved at several acquaintances sitting at
tables. He didn't wave at Frank Correy, who sat alone near the door.
He's usually cheek
by jowl with Newell. I wonder where...

Lulu and Ru Nan sat in a buggy just outside the door. His surprise at seeing them
chased the thought from his mind.

"I was out saying farewell to Imajean Teller," Lulu explained, when he'd mounted
the buggy. "And before you scold, yes, I did take a guard. Mr. Yu's cousin, I believe he
was. A good-sized fellow with a very long knife at his hip."

"A knife's not much good against a gun," Tony reminded her.

"Neither's the shotgun, which I also have, if you don't see who's shooting at
you."

He had to admit she was right.

"Did you pick up the mail?" she asked when they were underway.

"I did, and there's a letter from your professor. One from Regina, too. I didn't have
time to open them."

Mrs. Graham's apartment was dark, which was unusual. "She must have gone to
her nephew's for supper," Lulu said, "and Xi Xin must be visiting her uncle."

Tony lifted her down and held her for a moment. She loved the way he always
seemed reluctant to remove his arms from around her. When he released her, she smiled up
at Ru Nan. "I won't need you tomorrow, but I imagine Mr. Dewitt can find work for you to
do."

"You bet I can. Come to the switchboard and I'll keep you busy."

Arm in arm, Lulu and Tony walked the short distance to their front door. "I'll miss
this place," Lulu said, as he unlocked the door. "It's become home in the last while."

"A pretty small home, if you ask me. Stay here. I'll light a lamp." He pushed the
door open and stepped inside.

Lulu heard a scrape of leather on wood, a scuffle, and a thud, and then she was
captured in a hard, painful embrace from behind. Before she could cry out, a rough hand,
smelling of horse and coal oil, was clamped over her mouth. Her captor shoved her ahead
of him into the house and kicked the door closed behind them.

The scratch of a match came just before a flare of flame. She squinted at the
sudden brightness as a lamp lit the room.

Two more men stood in her parlor. She recognized the squatty fellow as one of the
miners who'd attacked Tony the night of the League meeting. The second was Frank
Newell, armed with a holstered pistol on one hip and cavalry saber in his hand. He wore an
ugly, triumphant smile. At his feet lay Tony, held there by point of the saber at his throat.
A trickle of blood had already found its way to his collar, staining the stiff, starched cotton
bright red.

"Good evening, Mrs. Dewitt."

She glared, unable to speak past the dirty hand clamped over her mouth. Inside,
she was sick with fear, not for herself but for Tony.

"I understand you're leaving our fair city." He laughed, a soft chuckle, so at odds
with the scene before her. "Excuse me. You
were
planning to leave. I'm afraid I
can't allow that."

"Let her go, you slimy bastard. You've got nothing against her," Tony said.

The sword point moved infinitesimally. More blood trickled and the red stain on
his collar spread. "Shut your mouth, you godless heathen." Newell chuckled again, a gentle
sound that frightened Lulu more than his threats. "I have nothing against her? Surely you
jest. Does she not carry your spawn? Another like you to threaten the natural supremacy of
the white race? Another liar, another imposter? Another murderer?" His head jerked to the
side. "Take her into the bedroom and tie her, Harry. I'll be along when I've dealt with this
offal. Alf, you help him."

Lulu dug in her heels, but she might as well have been on ice, for all the good it
did. Her captor merely picked her up and carried her into the bedroom.

She bit, kicked, and screamed, but against the two of them, both brawny men
whose muscles had been built in the mines, she was helpless. When they finally had her
tied, hand and foot, they were both breathing hard and bleeding from scratches and bites.
But she was helpless, which was what mattered.

However, she wasn't tied as tightly as she should have been, for her pappa had
taught her a few tricks before sending her out into the cold, cruel world. Given time and
solitude, she was sure she could get her hands free.

Time was short and she was not alone.

When called from the parlor, the man Newell had named Alf went out, pulling the
door shut. Harry, the squatty man who'd first caught her, settled onto the chair across the
room and seemed unable to take his eyes off her.

She willed him to fall asleep. To go away. To do something so she could slip her
hands out of the bonds that hadn't been tied tight enough because she knew how to
whimper pathetically while she clenched her fists to make her wrists expand.
Unfortunately, she had left the shotgun in the buggy. She hoped Ru Nan would notice it
before he turned the buggy in at the livery stable.

Once Lulu was out of sight, Tony said, "Turn her loose, Newell. She's done you
no harm. And her folks are rich. They'll pay well if she's returned to them in good
health."

"Rich? A nigger woman's folks?" Newell's mouth twisted in an ugly sneer. "Oh,
yes, I saw it immediately, and it made me sick, that touch of the tarbrush. But I put my
revulsion aside and danced with her, was polite to her. Then I went home and washed my
hands, like a decent man does after handling filth.

"You say her people are rich? They probably stole their wealth from some
hard-working white man. Just like you yellow slime do, sneaking around and taking advantage
of your betters. Cheating and lying, pretending to be good servants, while all the time
plotting to take our jobs and our homes, even our cities. Oh, yes, I've seen it, back home,
where the damn Yankees have set the niggers up in houses and businesses and whatnot,
until they think they're as good as white folks.

"I don't give a damn if her people
are
rich. We'll see how they like getting
their little girl back when I'm done with her."

The sword stopped its sharp prodding at Tony's throat and sliced across his chest.
It cut through his wool shirt and Union suit and left a stinging line along his lower ribs. He
couldn't stop a sharp inhalation.

He forced himself to relax, to keep his voice even and his tone mild. "Think, man!
She's not a nobody. People respect her. She's got powerful friends. Let her go."

"Shut up! Just shut up! She's your wife. That's all that matters." Newell wiped his
hand across his mouth, glanced toward the bedroom door. "Your wife. Yes! What better
way! I was going to save her until I'd killed you--slowly, like you deserve--but I think I'll
deal with her first. While you watch."

Before he could order his henchman to bring Lulu out, Tony said, "Wait! First tell
me. Why are you doing this? What have I ever done to you?"

"You killed my father! Killed him without a thought, in the prime of his life." One
booted foot lashed out and hit Tony in the short ribs.

Shit, that hurt!
"Newell, I've never killed anyone." As soon as the words
were out of his mouth, he remembered Newell's accusations last week. "I was absolved of
any blame for the bridge collapse," he said, and knew it sounded weak, beseeching.

"
I
haven't absolved you!" The words came out in a shout. "He was
my
father
!"

"I'm sorry," Tony said, meaning the words with every ounce of his being. "I'm
sorry for your loss."

"You'll be a lot sorrier before I'm done with you." He kicked Tony again, then
yelled "Alf! Get in here!"

When the bedroom door opened, Tony strained to catch a glimpse of Lulu. All he
saw was the sole of one of her boots.

He eyed the saber, wondering if he could move quickly enough to avoid being cut
in half.

A RANCH TO LEASE
For one or more years, to parties that can furnish terms to plow, grow grain, cut hay, and
grow vegetables. A good garden of 5 to 10 acres can be increased to 100 acres. A dairy of
20 to 30 cows.
Also,
A JOB TO LET
Of driving railroad ties, logs, wood, cutting logs, wood and railroad ties.
WANTED,
To purchase from 100 to 5000 head of cattle.

ABNER C. EAGLETON.

Wood River Times
- Classified Advertisement

~~~

Gauging his chances, Tony decided they'd never get better. He rolled to his side,
wrapped his arms across his ribs and moaned.

Newell's boot prodded him in the spine. "Shut up. I've done nothing to you
yet."

Tony curled tighter, moaned again. "You've broke me inside. I'm dying!
Please--"

The sword prodded him, then withdrew. "No you're not. I didn't kick you that
hard. Sit up!"

From under slitted eyelids, Tony took stock of Newell's position. He was leaning
on the sword, as if on a cane. His face was twisted in an ugly smile.

"Oh, God, please. Get me a doctor!" Tony writhed, getting his feet in position.
"I'm going to--"

He struck.

His feet caught Newell's heel, threw him backwards. Before Newell could recover,
Tony grabbed the sword and threw it at Alf. A scream told him it had reached its target.
But he had no time to check.

With a quickness Tony hadn't expected, Newell rolled to his feet. He snatched at
his pistol. Tony kicked, felt the hard steel of the barrel slice his shin. The shot went into the
ceiling, not into him. The hot pain in his leg drove all calm, all discipline from his mind.
Rage, such as he'd never experienced, drove him to his feet.

He closed with Newell, one hand wrapped around a bony wrist, the other
scrabbling to catch at Newell's throat. Just as Newell's knee slammed toward his groin, he
twisted aside, but not quite far enough. The blow knocked him off balance and he went
down, with Newell on top of him.

"I'll kill you," Newell snarled. Spittle sprayed from his mouth with the words.

Outweighed, Tony locked his leg around one of Newell's and rolled them both
sideways, putting himself on top. Knowing he had only an instant, he put all of his strength
into wrenching the gun free. Newell fought him, but Tony had an advantage of leverage.
He strained, twisted, and at last felt the wrist break, just as the gun fired again. The blast
deafened Tony and burned his cheek. For an instant he thought he'd been shot.

"Damn you!" Newell gasped. He reared up, throwing Tony from atop him. He
crabbed sideways and snatched at the leg of the small table on which Lulu's knitting sat.
With a sweep of his arm, he smashed it across Tony's head and shoulders.

His head ringing, Tony aimed a clumsy kick at Newell, but it had little effect.
Newell raised his arm to strike at Tony again with the table. "Harry! Come here!" he
yelled.

Oh, shit!
Tony had forgot about the big fellow who'd taken Lulu into the
other room. Desperately, knowing he had only seconds, he lunged upwards, catching
Newell in the gut with his head. He knew it was a good blow from the sound of air
exploding from Newell's lungs.

Then he had his hands full as Harry came barreling through the door.

The big man wasn't the fighter Newell had been, but what he lacked in
proficiency, he made up for in sheer mass. Tony used all his skill to land blow after blow,
but they seemed to have little effect. When one of Harry's ham-like fists connected with
the side of his jaw, he saw stars. He managed to get in a few kicks that knocked Harry
back, but it was as if the man was made of rubber, for he rebounded immediately.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Newell pushing himself to his feet, and
wondered if he was going to win this battle.
I must. If I don't, Lulu--

He picked up the broken table and used it as a club, shattering it across Harry's
skull. While the big man was untangling himself from the splintered table legs, Tony
attacked Newell, driving him back against the wall with a flurry of flat-handed blows.
Newell got in a couple of brutal punches to Tony's gut, before Tony felled him with a hard
kick to the belly. He collapsed against the wall with a breathy grunt.

As he stepped back, Tony was grabbed from behind, held in an unbreakable bear
hug that had his arms clamped to his sides and his feet dangling a foot above the floor.

* * * *

As soon as her enormous guard left her alone, Lulu gave one last desperate twist
and felt skin tear as she pulled her hand from the loop of rope. She'd been carefully
working at her bonds, but had made little headway until the big bruiser's attention had been
caught by the sound of battle in the other room. While he'd stared at the closed door, she'd
been busy.

They'd obviously not taken her seriously when they'd bound her. The knots on her
ankles yielded to a few tugs, and she was free. She went to the door and peered through.
Newell was lying against the wall, gasping for breath. Tony was sparring desperately with
the big bruiser, and appeared to be holding his own.

The squatty man lay against the wall not a yard from her, with Newell's sword
stuck in his thigh. He looked as if he'd fainted, for he showed no other wound, and there
was practically no blood.

Newell was getting to his feet when Lulu looked his way again. Although he
leaned against the wall for support, Lulu had no doubt he'd attack Tony again as soon as he
could. And Tony was still fighting the big man. He wasn't winning.