“And if it isn’t,” Cedar said.
Wil nodded and gave Cedar a slow smile. “Then you and I will do something about it, won’t we?”
“Cedar, Wil,” Mae said. “Riders.”
Cedar heard it, had heard it for some time. Horses coming this way. Mayor Vosbrough never traveled alone. Cedar had been surprised to see him by the river with nothing but the Strange matic. It appeared his lawmen had been called to the river to finish what Vosbrough had started.
“Go,” Cedar said. “Now.”
“Should we do something with that?” Wil pointed at the matic and dead man lying near the river bank, as they quickly gathered guns and ran across the rocks.
“No time,” Cedar said.
“It must not remain,” Wil said in a stilted tone. Wil stopped and raised the Holder. The Strange said words that Cedar had never heard, not from men, not from Strange.
The Holder glowed in Wil’s hands. With one last word, a blast of lightning arced wildly around the Holder, snapping there in a globe of electricity.
Wil wavered on his feet, then directed the arc of electricity toward the matic.
The lightning struck the matic so hard it was thrown across the riverbank and onto the icy river. The ice cracked from the impact, and the headless puppet sank quickly out of sight.
Wil nearly collapsed, but Cedar wrapped an arm around his waist, and helped him walk as quickly as he could away from the river as thunder rolled.
Cedar took the Holder out of Wil’s hands before he dropped it. He didn’t know how the Strange knew to use this piece of the great weapon, but whatever it was that went into doing so had left Wil nearly unconscious.
Mae was already at the horses, and Cedar shoved Wil up onto his mount, then swung up behind him.
Time to run. More than time to run.
Cedar jerked the reins, sending his horse into the sparse woods.
“Mae,” Cedar said. “Can you slow them? Can you hide us?”
A gunshot broke through the air, striking a tree just behind them.
“I can try.”
They pounded across snow, pushed through brush and brambles and fallen logs in a headlong race to reach the city.
They were losing ground, the men behind them closing in. And the men knew the city far better than Cedar and Mae. Where could they run to? The church had been surrounded when they left. Unless Miss Dupuis, Mr. Wicks, or Captain Hink had a smooth way to talk the lawmen out of believing they’d just escaped and destroyed the jail, they were either already in custody and back behind new bars, or they were dead.
A far-off humming grew louder and louder above the treetops. There was an airship coming in fast. Fast enough she sounded like she was screaming through the air.
He didn’t know how she had found them, but he knew the sound of those engines. Knew them very well.
Cedar Hunt laughed.
The Swift. Gunfire from behind took chunks out of trees, just inches from Cedar’s head. He ducked, turned his horse to match the airship’s path, and made for the break in the woods.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Rose was glad the children did as they were told and were silent about it, to boot. She had managed to round them all up and lead them into the warehouse, which stored leather. It stank of old hides, the strong solutions it took to soften them, and the odd hickory smoke of meat and burnt hair curing.
But at least it was warmer in the shed. Rose gathered the children in a huddle close together on the sawdust floor. She wished they’d found a wool or cotton warehouse, or even a hay barn. Any of those would be warmer by far. Still, this was better than standing in the snow.
She brought over some of the supple pieces of leather, which were carefully folded and tied with twine, and draped them around the children to keep some of their warmth near their skin.
“Still mighty quiet,” Alun said as he helped drape some of the softer and warmer folds of leather over the children.
“So,” she said, putting her good hand on her hip. “How do we wake them up?”
“We’ll need to find the Strange that’s put them sleeping,” Alun said. “Could take days.”
“Months,” Bryn added.
“Minutes,” Cadoc said.
Rose turned to the youngest of the Madder men. “Minutes? Do you know a way to find the Strange?”
“No,” he said. “You do.”
“I can assure you, Mr. Madder,” Rose began, “if I knew how to fix all this, I’d be right about doing it—”
Cadoc tipped his head to one side, as if waiting to see if she caught on to the sense in his words.
She still didn’t understand what he was saying, but she suddenly didn’t care.
“The ship!” she said, tipping her face to the ceiling as if she could see through the boards and bracers there. “It’s the Tin Swift!”
She turned and ran toward the door.
“Thought the Swift was in pieces in a barn in Kansas,” Alun Madder said.
“She was,” Rose called back, already breathless with hope. “But you can’t keep her out of the sky for long. I’d know her fans anywhere!”
Rose ran out into the street and scanned the section of sky slotted above the buildings. That was the problem with a city grown so talclass="underline" it put its teeth into most of the sky.
She couldn’t see the ship, but she heard her.
And her heart soared with hope. Hink had said he sent a wire when they were on the train. He must have told Seldom to bring the ship.
If they had the Swift, they’d have a way out of this town. They’d have all the wide sky trails to ride, and the men and Strange in this snowed-down city wouldn’t be able to touch them.
The Swift could save Hink.
Rose ran. Ran toward the sound of that beautiful ship. She didn’t know, and didn’t care, that the Madders were shouting at her. She didn’t know, and didn’t care, that the children followed behind her, running as she ran, heedless and determined to save the man she loved.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Hearing the Tin Swift screaming through the sky was enough to make Cedar Hunt laugh, but the trouble with airships was trying to get their attention from the ground.
He didn’t have any of the bright orange flares Captain Hink always carried, and he was certain the sparse tree cover they were galloping through wasn’t helping their visibility any.
“Can you signal them?” Cedar asked Mae.
“Yes.” Mae urged her horse to the left, out of the cover of trees. Out where she’d be an easy target for their pursuers. An easy target for the crew of the Swift too, if they thought she was trying to shoot at them.
She tugged on the reins, pulling her horse up into a hard stop. Then she turned and lifted her hands toward the ship.
A small but bright yellow light flickered in her hands, growing larger until her entire hand shone like a small sun.
The Swift cut fans, swiveling in the sky until the port door, filled by the ship’s cannon, was bobbing just above Mae.
“Mae!” Cedar yelled.
A voice called down from the ship—the operatic baritone of one of Captain Hink’s crewmen, Mr. Anselclass="underline" “Howdy, Mrs. Lindson! Care for a ride?”
“Yes,” Mae yelled back. “The men behind us—”
“Don’t worry about them.”
The Swift wobbled in the air again and gunfire from the ship hailed down on the trail behind them. The rope basket dropped from the port door and Mae helped Cedar get Wil into it.
Then the ladder was lowered while the basket was being cranked back into the ship.
“Go,” Cedar said.
Mae started up the ladder and Cedar was right behind her.