Her Sky Cowboy Part 31

The frog barreled on.

Blooming h.e.l.l! Imagining blood pouring from some bullet hole in Tucker, she fired up the miniblasterbeef.

"What are you doing?"

She steered Bess Two directly toward the edge of a sheer dropoff.

The great bird will take its first flight on the back of Monte Ceceri.... If da Vinci's a.s.sociate could do it, so could she. Although she would strive not to crash.

"Amelia..."

Another flicked switch, then...Thwap, thwap. Snick, snick, snick.

The wings fully extended just as Bess Two rocketed off the ridge. They dropped, bounced twice-"No!"-then lifted and-"Yes!"-soared.

"h.e.l.l of a game of leapfrog," Tucker said as they swung around.

Amelia looked down.

Unable to veer away in time, the frog plunged over the side, tumbling over jutting rocks, landing dented and mangled in a field. Amelia refused to ponder whether or not the ruffians had croaked with the frog. They'd shot Tucker. All she cared about was attending to his wound lickety-split. "Hold on, Cowboy."

"Why?" he asked sounding somewhat amused. "Gonna attempt another wild stunt?"

"Does landing on a rocky plateau count?"

"d.a.m.n."

Tuck's shoulder hurt like h.e.l.l, but not half as badly as his pride. Considering the rough terrain, Amelia's landing had been pretty d.a.m.ned amazing. She'd also managed an impressive motor chase up the hillside and through a copse of trees. And d.a.m.n, it had taken some b.a.l.l.s to race toward a cliff's edge without knowing for sure and certain the wings would engage in time. He was supposed to protect her, but she'd saved him.

Wings retracted now, he helped Amelia hide Bess Two in one of the many hillside caves, then proceeded to slip out of his bloodied coat. He eyed her as she wrenched off her parachute pack. "You're crazy. You know that?"

She quirked a shaky smile. "Like a fox."

"Mmm."

"I'm almost afraid to look."

"Pretty sure the bullet went straight through. Doc packed an emergency kit in Bess's right saddlebag."

"I'll get it." She scrambled to the kitecycle. "How could it go straight through and not hit me, seated flush as we were?"

"I leaned and angled to get a good shot." Grimacing, he peeled off his ruined s.h.i.+rt, rolled and prodded his damaged shoulder. Near as he could tell, no bullet.

"Do you really think they were road bandits?"

"These are hard times, Amelia. Thievery is common."

"It just seems everywhere I go, criminals follow. Dunkirk, Dogface, frog thugs."

"Makes you yearn for the serene seclusion of Ashford?" Had her constant exposure to danger and unpredictability soured her taste for adventure? His gut kicked with dread.

"I confess to a smidgen of homesickness, although I attach it to the people, not the place." She returned with the kit and met his gaze. "I wouldn't trade this adrenaline-charged journey for the world, although I do fret over the end."

Before he could comment, she looked to his wound and paled. Tuck quirked a grin. "Looks worse than it is, darlin'. We're gonna clean this, bandage it, and move the h.e.l.l on."

"But-"

"I've suffered worse. Come on." He sat on the dirt floor near the cool stone wall.

She hunkered down in front of him, gaze averted. "Need to wipe away the blood and stem the flow." She ransacked her parachute pack and utilized the silky material.

"Don't faint on me, miss."

"Don't be ridiculous, sir." Yet sweat beaded her brow.

Tuck smiled as he watched her fuss over his wound. Brave in spite of her trepidations. "Should be some whiskey in Doc's kit. Pour it in and over the wound. Then use those strips of linen as bandages."

She nabbed the flask from the medical kit, uncorked the bottle, and sniffed. "Smells strong."

"I'm sure it is."

"Good." She took a swig, winced, and coughed. "Okay."

Before he could brace himself, she poured copious amounts over the open wound. "Jesus."

"Sorry."

"Get the back of my shoulder too." He clenched his teeth and hissed as the alcohol seared. "Christ."

"You told me-"

"I know. It's fine. Hand me that strip." d.a.m.n. He folded the cloth and pressed it hard against the front of his shoulder. "You're gonna have to do the same to the entrance wound, and use the rest of these strips to wrap around my shoulder and chest. Can you do that?"

She nodded, wide-eyed and worried.

Tuck grasped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss, sweet and slow. The pain in his shoulder dulled, his heart pounded, and his thoughts whirled. Her lips, her tongue-more intoxicating than the whiskey on her breath. He'd meant to calm her and instead had stirred his own senses. Easing back, he grazed his thumb over her cheek. "All right?"

She swallowed, smiled. "Right as rain. And you?"

He s.h.i.+fted, winced. "That kiss was a welcome distraction."

She studied him a moment, then nabbed another bandage. "I know you're curious about the relations.h.i.+p between Briscoe Darcy and my father. Perhaps I can distract you further with their history. What I know of it, anyway."

Tuck's heart swelled at Amelia's show of faith. h.e.l.l, yes, he'd been hungry for details, but he'd vowed to himself he wouldn't pry, hoping all along that she'd instead offer the information. "Won't deny your pa's a source of fascination." He smiled as she tenderly and awkwardly bandaged his wound. "Like you."

Her own mouth lifted into a nervous smile. Gaze averted, she shared her tale while tending Tuck's shoulder. "Papa and Briscoe were distant cousins, so they knew of each other and had in fact spoken at family gatherings-back when the majority of the Darcys lived in England and when they still gathered. That said, Briscoe was twelve years my father's senior, so they did not have much in common."

"Except a pa.s.sion for science."

"Except that." She cast him a glance. "I a.s.sume you know about the Grand Exhibition of 1851."

"Held in London at the Crystal Palace. A pet project of Prince Albert's intended to celebrate scientific and industrial technology and designs from all nations."

She nodded. "Millions of people, including several notable dignitaries, attended. Papa made several visits. He was eighteen summers old, impressionable and inspired by various scientific marvels. Imagine his surprise when his cousin showed up announcing his own grand and wondrous invention. A time machine. An engineering marvel that would breach dimensions."

"Must've caused quite a stir."

"Indeed. Briscoe, as I'm sure you've heard or read, was a confident, boastful man," she continued while knotting off one strip. "He made quite a scene, colorfully describing what he predicted as a mind-bending flight through time. Then he stunned the audience by announcing he would be traveling approximately one hundred years into the future. An entire century! Papa said many scoffed, comparing Briscoe to a snake-oil salesman, but Papa dared to believe. In a moment of hero wors.h.i.+p, he rushed forward to wish Briscoe safe travels."

Antic.i.p.ation nettled Tuck's skin as her voice grew hushed, her expression intense.

"Briscoe pressed a folded letter into his hand. 'I had hoped someone would prove worthy,' he said to Papa, 'and here you are. Family, no less. If I do not return, then something went wrong. Perfect the process and profit from my knowledge, cousin.' Minutes later, strapped into his time machine, Briscoe Darcy disappeared in a gust of wind and a burst of rainbow colors. At the time, everyone marked the moment as a magician's trick. An illusion."

Caught up in the story, Tuck couldn't help himself: He pried. "What was in the letter?"

"Directions leading to da Vinci's secret chamber."

"And the mention of a rare ornithopter."

"Yes."

"And?"

"And what?"

"There had to be more. Something pertinent to his time machine. Why else would Briscoe give your father the letter, deeming him worthy? Worthy of what? Mastering time travel? Ama.s.sing fame and fortune in the name of science?"

Anxious now, Amelia rocked back on her haunches. "Done! Wrapped tight as a mummy. How do you feel? Pa.s.sable? Yes? We should go."

He grasped her wrist when she moved to stand. "Why did your pa never travel here, Amelia? Five years pa.s.sed between Briscoe's departure and the arrival of the Peace Rebels. Why didn't he spend that time 'profiting' from Briscoe's knowledge and 'perfecting' the process?"

"Because he considered the information within the letter sacred. Because he kept expecting Briscoe to return."

"And when he didn't? When the Peace Rebels arrived in the Briscoe Bus, when they claimed Briscoe's time machine had been confiscated by the government and Briscoe himself apprehended and sequestered by a covert agency, why didn't that spur your pa into action? Even if only in an attempt to retrieve his cousin?"

She held his gaze, though her eye twitched. Annoyed? Anxious? He couldn't tell.

"Talk to me, Amelia."

"Because by that time Papa had a wife and sons, and mostly because he deemed it dangerous."

"To whom?"

"Mankind."

Tuck's brain raced along with his pulse. "There's something more in that chamber than that ornithopter."

"But the ornithopter is all we need! The ornithopter poses no threat, only salvation. For my family. For Lily. Name your percentage."

Her rising anxiety and an extreme dip in temperature prodded Tuck into action. He pulled on his bloodied s.h.i.+rt. "What's in that chamber, Amelia?"

A distant rumble catapulted her to her feet. "I don't know...specifically."

"Generally. I need to know what we're dealing with, honey."

"Something to do with time travel, dammit! Are you happy now?"

"So Briscoe Darcy wasn't a genius after all," Tuck noted aloud. "He stole or borrowed from da Vinci. Interesting, but not particularly pertinent to this moment." Heart hammering, he pulled Amelia into his arms. He looked into her eyes, telegraphing his sincerity. "To answer your question, no, I'm not happy. I'm concerned. Feel the frigid drop in temperature? Hear the wind kicking up? Trust me when I say I'm the least of your worries."

Her eyes grew wide. "The Stormerator? You think Captain Dunkirk's here?" She rushed out of the cave without an answer.

Tuck nabbed his coat, holstered the Blaster, and hurried after her into the open air, the frigid air. The sky had darkened with an incoming thunder buster. "Good chance that particular storm's a work of nature," Tuck said. "That rumbling, black cloud bank's ma.s.sive and slow rolling. From what I've witnessed thus far, Dunkirk's mercenary Freak strikes fast and furious."

Amelia cast Tuck a panicked look. "What if it's a new trick up the Stormerator's sleeve?"

Good point. "We should hurry."

"Once we get the ornithopter-"

"I'll signal StarMan and the Maverick will be here lickety-split."

"We'll load up the ornithopter-"

"And be on our way."

She licked her lips and glanced at the sky. Motioning Tuck to follow, Amelia took off on foot. "Come on!"

CHAPTER 31.

Astonis.h.i.+ng how one decision could affect the entire world.

In spite of a brutal headwind, Amelia raced forward, contemplating fate and happenstance, and the possible ramifications of her actions. Was she about to open Pandora's box?

Tucker was right.

Briscoe had borrowed something that had been locked away for centuries by Leonardo da Vinci. That artifact, or knowledge, had enabled Briscoe to launch himself into the twentieth century, and it enabled men of the twentieth century to catapult back to the nineteenth century. That one decision, whether impulsive or calculated, had altered the course of natural history.

Papa's warnings about tampering with dimensions and time rang in her ears, along with wicked winds and distant cracks of lightning. "The ornithopter," she said to herself as she ran past two landmarks mentioned in Briscoe's letter. "That is all we will take. In and out. Here and gone." She hadn't come this far to give up. Papa's death would not be in vain, and her family would not succ.u.mb to ruin. As for the time-travel artifact..."We won't touch it. We won't take it." She repeated that vow like a mantra.

"Amelia."