Born of Treasure (Treasure Chronicles Book 2) Page 7

  She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are these the type of people he should associate with? He’s not a poor farmer or a fifth son. We’re able to give him anything he wants.”

  “He needs to find his own path.” Those words couldn’t help Georgette, but she couldn’t control her son’s life no matter what she wanted for him. Clark’s mother had hated the dangers of the mine, but she’d never forbidden him from that work.

  “You could go work on a ranch,” she’d told him whenever he came home coughing.

  “I can’t leave you,” he’d said, and his mother had never pressed.

  Garth emerged from behind the barn and hugged Amethyst. He waved to Clark and Georgette before stepping back around.

  “I hate these people,” Georgette hissed. “I’d love to turn them out with a whack to the head, but the government would come after me. Do you know they abuse our Bromi? No human being deserves such ill treatment.”

  “The ranch hands? They were honest men. You got new ones?” Garth had introduced him to all the workers. They were men with hard luck or who wanted an outdoor life. They appreciated Garth’s fair pay and time off. Some ranches had the men working sunup to sun down, and sometimes at night, with little sleep and no days of rest.

  “No.” Georgette wrinkled her nose.

  “Run!” Amethyst darted around the barn, one hand holding her skirts up and her other one waving overhead.

  “The army,” Georgette continued. “They’ve been here insisting on having this huge Hedlund Day celebration. The government won’t let us touch them.”

  “Here?” The word choked in Clark’s throat. Some army men… they might not know about him. Figurehead Zachariah had no idea. Only an elite few knew all the government’s secrets.

  “Run,” Amethyst shrieked a second time.

  A man in a blue uniform darted past and seized her arm. She tripped, but he caught her against his chest.

  Clark froze. These army men were after him. Why had he thought the Treasures could protect him? Wealth didn’t count for anything against the government.

  He’d brought them all down on him.

  The front door of the house opened and three men in uniform dashed out, their laser rifles pointed at Clark. More men darted from around the house and barns, flooding the area.

  He couldn’t run. They’d shoot him before he took more than two steps. His heartbeat thudded. He’d never been this trapped.

  Stupid.

  Clark pulled his two pistols free from his belt and cocked them.

  Eric appeared in front of him. “Run, Clark! You don’t belong to them.”

  “What is this?” Georgette screamed. Garth ran after Amethyst and grabbed the man holding her. Another army man pulled him away and pinned his hands behind his back.

  A slow clap sounded from the front door. Captain Greenwood—the Captain Greenwood—sauntered onto the porch.

  “Woo-ee, boy, you’ve certainly led us on a merry chase.” The captain hooted a laugh. “It’s been years, hasn’t it? You’ve grown out of being that gawky boy with the whore mother.”

  “How dare you speak to my son that way.” Georgette pushed in front of Clark. “I don’t care about the army. You will all leave my premises immediately.”

  Captain Greenwood pulled out his pistol and stroked the barrel. “Here’s what I don’t think any of you know. Little Clark Treasure here is a wanted man. The government really wants him. So, why don’t you hand him over, pretty lady, and nobody here gets hurt.”

  “Captain Greenwood, what are you doing?” Zachariah pushed out of the house from behind him.

  “I didn’t do nothing bad,” Clark whispered to Georgette, and winced. He’d slipped back into Tangled Wire talk.

  Captain Greenwood shoved him toward the nearest man, who seized his arm. “So you all understand, Clark here stole something the army was testing. A nice little invention by some old fella. Gingham or Grisham. Something like that.” The captain narrowed his eyes, as if fishing for a comment.

  “Eric Grisham?” Garth sputtered. “He’s been dead almost twenty years.”

  The captain smiled, nodding. “Ah, so you do know a little. That would be him. Senator Horan paid him for those fancy machines. He invented this real nice serum. When it mixes with hertum, it reacts in your body. Makes it so you can see the dead and bring ‘em back. Won’t that be nice for an army? Endless soldiers.”

  “I heard about that.” Zachariah stood frozen on the porch. “Everybody talks about that. It’s a work in progress.”

  “They decided to finally try it out, and wouldn’t you know, this boy turned out to be the test subject.” Captain Greenwood waved his pistol at Clark. “Poor boy, you see the dead, don’t you? They want you to bring them back. Do you oblige, or do you behave and let fate play its role by itself?”

  “If you died, I wouldn’t bring you back,” Clark snarled. No escape without the army hurting the Treasures. The run had finally ended. He’d lost his freedom for good.

  “What will you do with him?” Garth demanded.

  “Oh, we’ll take him back. Study him. Use him. You’re going to be one of our main soldiers.”

  “I won’t fight for you,” Clark snapped.

  “You will so long as we keep your family safe. You really think we wouldn’t connect mine worker Clark Treasure with bastard Clark Treasure? You are stupid, boy, just like your mother. She let herself get shot protecting you. You both should’ve known you couldn’t flee from us forever.”

  A shot rang out from beside the barn. One of the army men jerked, falling to the ground. Amethyst stood over him, his government-issued pistol smoking in her hand.

  “I don’t think Clark’s going to bring him back.” She glared at Captain Greenwood. “I don’t think even our president would approve of killing a girl.” She aimed the pistol at the head of the man holding her father and fired again.

  methyst glared at Captain Greenwood. If she looked down, she would have to see the dead man, and know he was dead because she’d shot him. She’d had to. Clark killed when he had to. She wasn’t becoming an assassin or crazed bum who wandered the city park calling family names to pigeons

  Hello, Papa. What a shiny beak you have this morning.

  Amethyst aimed the pistol at Captain Greenwood. Clark would have a great remark: witty, biting, proof that he was an honorable man.

  “Meanie.” The childish word exploded from her mouth and she winced. What a great sentence. Next she would ask the insane army to tea.

  Captain Greenwood laughed. “Grab the girl. She’ll be tried in court. That’s what happens when you kill an officer, Miss Treasure.”

  Clark promised it got easier if he didn’t think as much before he shot. If you think about it too much, you hesitate too long.

  Her hands shook. She cocked the pistol and pulled the trigger. A bullet shot through the barrel toward Captain Greenwood’s chest. With him gone, Clark would be free.

  The bullet lodged in the chest of the officer beside Captain Greenwood, who paled. The officer slumped against the house, one hand to his chest where red gushed out.

  “Grab her,” the captain snarled.

  Her father struck the man beside him, who’d been gaping at his fallen comrade. Actions whirled past her senses as she shot again. The bullet struck one of the pillars on the porch, wood ricocheting into the yard.

  “Stop.” Clark’s voice toyed with her mind. “You’ll hurt someone innocent.”

  But the trick, not to think… Fire, fire, fire.

  The ranch hands exploded from the barns wielding axes and hammers. Their shouts rang off the walls and across the fields. She ducked against the barn door as they darted by in a blur of colors. The makeshift weapons struck the army. More shouts, now growls of rage and howls of pain, added to the jumble. The Bromi slaves called in high pitched yip-yip-yays. They spun in an intricate dance of high and low kicks, punches and outstretched arms. Those in the kitchen pummeled from the front door.

  A h
and seized her arm. She turned with the pistol raised, but another hand grabbed her wrist. Her father’s face shoved against hers.

  “This way,” he hissed in her ear.

  Still clutching the pistol, she ran with him, her boot heels sinking into the muck. Her skirts had never felt so cumbersome. Why did manners dictate she wear three petticoats under her brown corduroy overskirt?

  The shouts seemed louder although they ran between the stables toward the back fields.

  “We won’t be able to outrun them.” Her breath panted from her lungs. A stitch formed in her side and she bit her lower lip; no time to rub the pain loose. Fire shot through her legs as her muscles angered. “What about Clark?”

  Her father pulled on her harder. She’d never seen his eyes so wide or glazed, his jaw set. This was the man who’d left the east to start a ranch, the man who’d taken an acre of land and built what some newspapers called a Western Empire. She could trust him to take care of them.

  He pulled her into a barn and lifted a hunk of the wooden floor. Rusted hinges squealed and dirt from the air drifted into the space. “Get down.”

  “In that?” She would’ve cringed before, proclaimed she’d never go somewhere so dank, but her body already had her descending the ladder. It shook and wobbled, but her mind numbed.

  Her feet struck the dirt floor and she gasped a damp breath that tightened in her lungs to make her cough. She stumbled away from her father as he jumped down beside her, pulling her deeper into the underground hideaway.

  “Clark…”

  Footsteps pounded on the barn floor above, where the sunlight came through the trapdoor. She gripped her father and he held her across the shoulders. Hard muscles in his chest, thick arms… he still had the body of a man thirty years younger. She’d always pictured him as thoughtful and wise. He ran an empire. He didn’t outsmart the enemy or know how to escape.

  “Hush.” His voice emerged too calm. He should be panicking, his heart racing like hers.

  Georgette scurried off the ladder, followed by Clark. He was safe. The army hadn’t taken him prisoner. Amethyst jerked away from her father to grab Clark as above, Zachariah shut the trapdoor. His boots thumped the ladder.

  Clark clasped her head between his hands, his breath against her head.

  “I’m sorry. I tried to warn you,” she panted.

  “Hush.” Her father’s hiss came louder than before.

  Clark held her tighter against his chest—harder than her father’s, more muscular. It had his scent, and his heartbeat matched hers. Everything would be fine so long as Clark was safe. Amethyst squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her face against his neck.

  Shouts came from above and people ran past, gunshots echoing through the barn. A horse neighed from outdoors.

  She held her breath.

  Everything would be fine. The mantra played through Clark’s mind as he held Amethyst tighter. She’d become his rock when he had nothing else. Without his mother, she had become what his life focused on, and she was safe. They would both manage, somehow.

  He’d dragged all of the Treasures into his mess.

  Clark winced and swore under his breath. “I’m sorry.” The noises above had stopped what had to be hours ago, and they’d taken to sitting on the dirt floor. Amethyst clutched his left hand; he clutched his pistol in his right.

  Something shifted in the dark and a light flared. Garth held a mechanical lighter, the minute flame flickering near his face. “No one will find us under here.”

  “Why is this here?” Amethyst squeaked. Zachariah moaned from the side. He had to be crumbling inside. His idols had attacked his family.

  “When we first came,” her mother whispered, “Bromi attacks were prevalent.”

  “Amthyst,” Garth said. “Are you all right? Where did you learn how to shoot like that?”

  “Aren’t you glad I did learn?” she snapped. Silence hit the space, as if no one wanted to rile her, as if everyone was too weary to wonder over her or fight.

  “Clark.” Garth stepped closer, the firelight giving him an evil gleam. “Tell me what is happening.”

  He couldn’t lie or give half the information, not when he’d put them in danger after they’d shown him kindness. “Captain Greenwood’s right. I drank a potion that mixed with hertum. I can bring back the dead.”

  “That’s possible?” Georgette asked in a soft voice.

  “Apparently so.” Clark laughed, the sound hoarse. “I hate it, but it’s real. They want me for a test subject. I’ve been running. I came here hoping they wouldn’t touch me. I’ll go. I won’t come back. They won’t hurt you if you don’t know where I am.”

  “You can’t leave,” Amethyst shrieked.

  He squeezed her hand. He’d find a way to be with her. He’d run long enough to know how.

  “You’re one of us,” Garth said. “You won’t go alone.”

  Clark paused to breathe deep. His heart had to slow; it ached. “I can’t drag you all along.” What would it be like to have them at his side, to not have to worry alone or make every decision?

  “This is the government’s doing,” Garth continued. “We’ll all work out a way to fix this. I don’t know how yet, but you won’t be alone, Clark. Where would you run to now?”

  The only place they wouldn’t reach him, but it was the place he couldn’t stay long, lest it make things hard on them. “The Bromi.”

  Garth nodded. “Then we’ll go there.”

  he ground shook as a train approached. Clark stiffened, his hand closing around Amethyst’s. He should release her. Her family would think it odd, but they’d been traveling around Hedlund for a while. He and Amethyst could’ve grown close. Bloody gears, they had. They were married, for the cog’s sake.

  The ground vibrated harder and the whistle blew, steam pumping into the hazy sky. Twilight colored the corners with rays of copper and mauve. The metal black speck grew closer as the whistle blew again. To the right of the tracks lay the forest, and to the left, the desert, and them.

  Georgette grabbed the back of his shirt. “Should we hide?”

  He could’ve asked her where. Dry dirt shifted beneath their feet, a few weeds sprouting up amongst rocks. They could dart across the tracks and crouch amongst the trees, but that would expend too much energy, and it would look suspicious to anyone noticing them through the train windows.

  “Only hide if you need to,” Clark said. “Bide your time.” He’d learned his lessons well. Georgette may have braved the west from her soft childhood home in the east, but she’d never been a wanted woman before.

  Sweat beaded across her face and kohl smeared around her eyes. Amethyst paused to straighten the pearls nestled along her mother’s collarbone. “Listen to Clark. He knows.”

  Georgette nodded. How odd she looked against the endless browns of the desert, wearing her crimson skirt and scoop-necked shirt. Layers of frills danced across her legs and the bustle in back flounced. The corset structure of her shirt had to be painful from all the walking, but at least she’d stripped off her shoes and stockings, abandoning them a few miles back.

  “We’re supposed to be safe,” Zachariah muttered. Clark wondered if that made the tenth or fifteenth time he’d said that. Despite the sun that baked them, Zachariah’s teeth chattered and his skin remained pallid.

  His heroes had attacked, his dreams gone.

  Garth rubbed his son’s shoulder. “We’ll get through this. We’re Treasures. My family told me not to come out west. They said I wouldn’t make it.”

  “I always knew you would.” Georgette almost smiled before she sighed.

  “Look at what I did.” Garth spread his hands. “If we survived that, we can survive this.”

  “The government will take everything from us,” Zachariah growled. “All our lands and our money, all our livestock. I know how the army works. We’re traitors. They own everything now.”

  Clark stiffened. Could that be true? After all the Treasures had done, could he have ca
used them to lose literally everything?

  “My heir will get everything,” Garth said. “Jeremiah. It will stay in the Treasure family.”

  “Jeremiah won’t denounce Clark,” Amethyst exclaimed. “He won’t tell them where Clark is.”

  “Jeremiah won’t know,” Garth whispered. “He can’t tell them something when he’s clueless. We’ll get this straightened and everything will go back to normal.”

  The train rushed by, whistling again, steam pouring from the brass stack.

  “Wave.” Clark lifted his hand to the passengers. “We’ll look less suspicious that way. People who wave are friendly. You forget people who wave faster than people who act antisocial. A Bromi taught me that.”

  “How soon before we reach them?” Amethyst leaned her forehead against his bicep.

  Clark glanced at the darkening prairie, the desert, the plains, the mountain ridges in the distance. The Bromi traveled in their tribes to where the food lay, but they knew their surroundings. If they didn’t, they died or they were captured. They’d taught him the calls to prove he was one of them. They would find him when they were ready. “Soon.”

  They reached a thicket of pine trees, somehow burrowing their roots into the dust. Only a snippet of light remained to see by, and that light came from the moon and stars. Clark rested his hand over his chest, where the pocket watch that foretold the weather rested.

  Mist crept along the trees, thickening; the ground glowed as a shape formed.

  A Bromi woman, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Bullet holes decorated her translucent body. Beside her materialized two young men, perhaps a few years younger than Clark. The taller of the two wore a gray cap and a matching jacket, unbuttoned; a red line sliced across his throat. He’d been decapitated. The other, in a straw hat and overalls, had a jagged cut across his belly.

  “Keep going,” said the Bromi woman. “They’ll come for you. They will.”