Tin Swift

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Hink was having a hell of a time trying to sleep. He heard Cedar come into the room with that wolf of his. Listened to him check in on Mae and Rose.

Mr. Hunt was nothing if not a protector of the women. Hink found that commendable, though right now he’d prefer if Mr. Hunt would mind someone else’s business.

He lay still, wishing sleep would drag him down already, but there was too much on his mind. He’d checked the Swift. It wouldn’t take much, maybe half a day to repair her, less than that to supply her.

He’d paid his gold to Old Jack and signed the billing of what he could take from Jack’s stores. If luck would land on his side, they’d be out of this bear trap by tomorrow evening.

The things Mae Lindson had told him about Rose stuck and rubbed, no matter how he turned his thoughts around. Rose was dying. And the longer it took him to get his ship in the air, the less of a chance that there would be a way to see to it that she didn’t die.

Hink was itchy with the need to be doing something. To find the Holder or Alabaster Saint for the president, to get Rose to someplace that could mend her—hell, to get himself and his crew on a range of mountain that wasn’t filled with folk bent on wanting to see him and his ship dead.

But no matter how much he tried to tell himself it was all the crashing and being shot at that had set his nerves on edge, he knew that wasn’t so.

It was Rose Small.

He’d only spoken to her twice. But there was something about her, something behind that knowing smile and innocent eyes. Yes, she was a pretty thing, but he’d seen plenty of pretty women when he was growing up in a bordello. And he’d seen plenty of pretty women since then.

There was something about her. Even fevered, in pain, she stirred him. Made him wonder what her laughter sounded like. Made him wonder what would catch her temper, and what would tease her toward forgiveness.

Mae said she was looking for family. And Rose had seemed intense, rapt, when he’d been talking about the ship, about glim.

The sort of woman who wanted to travel, who found things around her wondrous even when it was just as clear how equally dangerous they were, was rare in this world.

Molly said he had fallen for her. He hated it when that Gregor woman was right.

Still, there wasn’t anything he could do about his feelings. Not right now.

He rolled over, and punched at the blanket roll under his head. The cots were loose strung and about as comfortable as sleeping on a swayback horse. He thought the stone floor might put fewer kinks in his back.

Didn’t seem to be bothering the others. Seldom and Guffin were snoring away, and Molly too, though more softly. He could pick out Cedar Hunt’s breathing and wasn’t fully convinced he was asleep. Mae, though, was still and breathing evenly. And Rose…

She made a small coughing sound in the back of her throat as if she were thirsty.

Then he heard her shifting, likely trying to get to the cup of water near her bed.

Mae would help her.

He waited for Mrs. Lindson to move. Nothing. Waited a bit longer.

Rose made that sound again, then caught at her breath as if waiting for a pain to pass, or trying to keep a coughing spell at bay.

Surely Mae heard that.

When Mae still didn’t move, Hink shifted a bit in his bunk, then sat. His eyes had adjusted to the light and he could see Mae was curled on her side. Her eyes were closed. Everyone else looked lost in the land of dreams, so Hink made his way over to Rose’s bed.

He wasn’t bringing a pillow this time. No, he’d do his best to avoid talking to her, for that matter. She had a way of making him feel doubtful, clumsy. Except for when he was talking about his ship. Nothing made him feel awkward when he was talking about the Swift.

Mr. Hunt didn’t stir as he passed. Neither did Molly or Mae.

He paused below Rose’s cot. She had her hand over her eyes. Maybe she was sleeping. She coughed again, a dry hack, and he could see her throat working to get moisture.

Hink came up beside her bed. “Rose?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer.

He tried again. “Miss Small, do you need some water?”

Rose lowered her hand. Her eyes were wide with surprise, but she nodded. “Please,” she barely rasped.

Hink took the cup from the shelf and sniffed it. Didn’t smell like booze or tea. Just to be sure, he took a very small sip. Stale, but water.

“Here.” He held the cup out and she took it, raising it up to her lips. But her hand was shaking so badly he was afraid she was going to knock a tooth out.

Hink wrapped his hand under hers, helping her bear the weight of the cup and steadying her trembling.

She drank the cup dry and then let him take it away and replace it on the shelf.

“Was that enough?” he whispered.

She nodded.

He just stood there staring at her. Like a boy who was tongue-tied and slow.

“I suppose I should go,” he said quietly. “Unless you need anything else?”

“No.” Then, thinking twice, she said, “Yes. I mean, yes, if it’s not too much of a bother.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I was already up. Can’t seem to sleep tonight.”

“Neither can I,” she said.

“So what is it you need?” Hink asked. “Medicine? Mrs. Lindson?”

“The sky.”

“What?”

“I feel…” She licked her lips as if trying to work out the words before she said them. “I feel all cooped up here in this stone, here in this bed. I feel like I’ve been on my back, sick, for years. It hasn’t been years, has it?” she asked.

“Just a couple days, I’m given to understand,” Hink said.

“I’d like to see the sky. The stars, if they’re out tonight.”

Hink considered the wisdom of such a thing. She could catch her death of cold out in the mountain air. Even moving her out of the bed might make that shoulder wound of hers worse. He was fairly certain Mrs. Lindson would be set against it. And if Cedar Hunt caught him taking Miss Rose for a midnight stroll, he was fair certain the man would happily string him up by his own tendons.

“Please,” Rose said.

Hink nodded, and let out a breath. “I don’t think you’re up for walking and I don’t have a pony hid away in my pocket.”

That earned him a quick smile, and his heart took to a happy thumping.

“I can walk some,” she said. “As far as I can go, I want to. Need to.”

“How about we save your walking for outside the caverns. I’ll carry you.”

“I…” She glanced at his face, and he knew it was set in a determination that made it clear he was not going to take an argument on this.

“Very well. Thank you,” she whispered.

Hink figured some of the folk in the room must be awake from all their whispered words. Well, maybe not Guffin or Molly, but Seldom slept like a snake—with both eyes open.

And he figured Mr. Hunt wouldn’t have slept through all that.

Still, he reached down and lifted Rose, blankets and all, into his arms as carefully as he could.

She wrapped her good arm around his neck and moaned softly against the pain of movement.

At that sound he instantly stilled. “Are you sure? I could set you back in your bed.”

“No,” she said. “I’m fine. Please.”

He started across the floor. To his great surprise no one stirred. The wolf at the door even let him pass by.

Maybe luck was slipping this one his way.

“How about we go catch us a bit of sky, Rose Small?” he asked as he made his way down the corridor that led to the flat rock just before the landing pads.

“You don’t know how happy that would make me,” Rose said, her voice breathy on a whisper.

Hink smiled, but didn’t say any more for fear of tripping over his words. He liked the idea of making her happy. More than liked the feel of her in his arms.

And for the moment, for the first time in a whole lot of years, there was nothing more important to him than seeing that Rose Small got what she wanted.