The Madame of Gravestone Read online

  A few minutes later, Emma gracefully walked down the stairs in Gravestone’s only hotel to find her all-female staff waiting.

  “The prisoner escaped.” Sheriff Beatrice approached first, as everyone spoke at once.

  “We think he might have heard us talking outside of the saloon.”

  “The storekeeper thought she saw someone jumping the fence.”

  “I could have sworn someone was sneakin’ around last night.”

  Captain Grace cleared her throat and quieted the room. “There was nothing on the radar last night. None of my crew has any idea how this snitch even got here.”

  Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “All right. Our mystery guest both arrived and disappeared without our knowing.” All the women in the room interrupted and she waved their comments away. “Ladies, the prisoner is gone and I have no intention of losing any more sleep over it. We have much more important things to worry about today.” She swept past them and went out into the street. The zeppelin fliers would be landing Gravestone in a matter of minutes.

  It’s too bad, though. He was one good-looking man.

  Emma pulled at the chain around her neck. A few important pieces of gadgetry hung close to her body both day and night. And one of those pieces was the key to her town. “Prepare for landing,” she yelled as the town shook on impact. “Opening the gates now.”

  The morning quickly filled with all the usual duties. The women of Gravestone assisted ones in need in any way they could. They traded goods, offered medical care and asylum to the suffering and helped with any issues dealing with their greedy king. It wasn’t long before a reoccurring problem was taken to the Madame herself.

  Several of the locals surrounded her table in the saloon. All talked about the king’s newest henchman. He had recently ransacked their villages and stolen anything of value in the name of taxation. Their leader, an elderly woman, took a seat next to Emma and spoke softly. “Most of our men are dead ‘cause of the war. This area mainly has only womenfolk and children. We cannot survive without the things he took from us.”

  Emma nodded. “Please. Take what you need from our supplies. We will see what we can do about this new lawman.” She tilted her head toward the bartender who then announced a free round of liquor. It was her cue to leave the locals and arm herself for some good old western justice.

  She made her way to the town stables where a small group already waited for her. They were the Gravestone outlaws and were called that for a reason. So, Emma knew they wouldn’t have any trouble recovering the area’s money. That’s how her town supported themselves. They would help the locals and take any rewards offered. It worked well enough for both parties in this time of shady loyalties.

  Winding up their clockwork horses, Emma laid out the strategy of attack. They would steal back from the king’s greedy henchmen and perhaps find the smuggler as well. It couldn’t be just coincidence a new lawman had gone on such an attack the very eve their smuggler was supposed to hand them secret plans.

  She strapped on a gun holster and mounted her steed. “I’ll ride into the enemy camp first. Maybe have a little showdown with the king’s newest puppet.” Emma nodded at her little assembly of thieves. “Ya’ll go in and take everything you can while I keep them busy.”

  A couple of miles from where Gravestone had landed, Emma’s group found the enemy encampment. Their tents were situated in a small valley with a circle of overflowing wagons on the south-end. Sheriff Bea motioned for the others to follow her toward the loot while Emma stayed on top of the hill.

  When she saw her ladies were in place around the wagons, Emma shot a traditional showdown flare into the air. The streak of red smoke initiated a one-on-one challenge. Now to see if the new henchman has the balls for a shoot-out. She dismounted her metal horse and practiced her draw.

  A blue streak crossed over the fading red and Emma acknowledged it with a smile. “Time to play,” she said aloud as she walked down the hill.

  The men in the encampment had filed out to meet her on the north side. Working like a charm. She took her stance and waited as all eyes focused on her. “Where’s the new lawman?” Emma yelled to the crowd. “This fight is for him and him alone.”

  A short and thin man appeared out of the crowd. He wore the king’s military uniform over what appeared to be a mix of human and mechanical body parts. His walk was motorized and stiff. “Good day, Madame Emma. I’m honored by your challenge.” A distinct clicking noise followed every word.

  She did a little curtsy and graciously tilted her head. “Why thank you. And if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother, could you tell me who I’ll have the privilege of shooting?”

  Her opponent laughed. “You can just call me Sargent.”

  Emma let her fingers trace over her holstered guns. “Shall we count it off?”

  “I’m not one for tradition, Miss Em.” He pulled his revolvers and pointed it in her direction. “I’m also not really good at what people call a fair fight.”

  She sensed movement in the scrawny underbrush around her as the click from the Sargent’s trigger danced in the wind. “Spitfire.” Emma ducked, rolled and pulled her specialized gun from where it had been strapped to her leg. Aiming as best she could, she pressed an unusual spring and the one barrel gun effectively turned into three. This little gadget shot straight, right and left. Within moments, she had clipped the Sargent on the shoulder and taken out two of his men hidden in the scrub. Unfortunately, this didn’t account for the man behind her. Emma turned just in time to watch helplessly as he hit her over the head with a slab of wood.

  Chapter Four

  Emma woke with a throbbing pain that started at the back of her head and went all the way down to her toes. Of course, it didn’t help she was tied to two long metal poles and laid out flat. Train tracks. Just great. The Sargent doesn’t do showdowns, but tying a girl to the tracks—that’s okay. A distant squeal from a steam engine made her jump. “This is one hell of a day,” she mumbled as she tried to pull and tug on her ropes.

  “Isn’t it?” His voice was casual and assured. “I tell you what. Ever since I fell into your crazy world, I’m amazed just how bad things continue to get.” Emma looked up to find the snitch kneeling at her ankles. His dark brown hair blew in the wind as he offered her a teasing smile.

  “Are you going to untie me?” Another squeal pierced the air. “Or are you planning on watching me die?” The metal tracks underneath her shook.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you since we last met.” He took a knife out of his pocket and cut her legs free. “The Madame of Gravestone …” He leaned over her, unnecessarily close and freed her hands.

  “Emma.” She moved to safety just as the train came into view.

  “You can call me Tripp.” He walked over to a nearby tree and took his cowboy hat off a low branch. “I saw what happened to the villages nearby and I want something made clear right now.”

  “All right.” She dusted herself off and enjoyed the breeze as the train whizzed by.

  “I’m not a spy or a snitch for this power-hungry king of yours.”

  Emma pulled her red curls back and offered him a skeptical look. “I don’t trust easily and there is a lot of … uncertainty about you, Tripp.”

  “Fair enough.” He walked away from the tracks. “Too bad, though,” he said over his shoulder, “I think I might have some plans you might be interested in.”

  “What?” She ran behind him. “Mr. Tripp, if you have the clockwork plans …”

  He pointed to a broken-down building off in the distance. “A nice elderly couple said I could spend the night in their barn. Would you care to join me?”

  Emma picked up a clod of dirt and threw it at his back. “I don’t care what you’re offering. I won’t sleep with you to get it.”

  Tripp stopped short and turned around. “Your group of bandits drove the wagons of stolen goods into a nearby village and then your illegal little town flew off. I was just trying to
be polite. So if you have some better place to lay your head, please go ahead.”

  “Oh. Well.” Unsure of what to say about the sex comment, she decided it best to drop it entirely. “My colleagues did what they were supposed to. Leaving me was clearly the best option.”

  He nodded and walked toward the barn. “I think the lady mentioned something about dinner.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me where Gravestone is going, or why I need those plans?”

  “Nope.” Tripp grinned. “You can tell me when you trust me.”

  They reached the barn at sunset. A basket full of sandwiches, raw vegetables and a jug of apple cider waited for them by the door. And Emma’s heart swelled with pride. She loved this part of the country. The people here were always so friendly. They didn’t deserve what happened to them. “I just want what’s best for Westland, you know.”

  Tripp opened the big barn doors and motioned for her to go in. “The plans are in that crate in the corner. A very skittish man passed them to me on his way out of the territory. He seemed terrified of almost everyone.”

  “He’s a rogue tinker turned smuggler.” She shook her head in dismay. “Probably won’t live very long pursuing either profession these days.” Emma unrolled the plans and stared at the intricate drawings. “Too bad he didn’t stick around, though, looks as if I’m going to need a tinker to read this thing.”

  “Come on over here and eat dinner. I might be able to help you out with those specs afterward.” Tripp had covered a bale of hay with a burlap sack and laid out their food. “Tastes pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

  “You understand this?” She rolled up the plans and carried them over to his makeshift table. “Are you a tinker by trade?”

  “Honey, I can only guess what that means.” He patted the dirt floor next to him. “But I am a trained photographer who can take apart and put back together almost any camera made. So those drawings seem pretty straight forward to me.”

  Emma sat down. “Those drawings are to help me start the self-destruct mechanism on the king’s clockwork army.” She stuffed a sandwich into her mouth and closed her eyes. For some reason, she didn’t want to see the stranger’s reaction to her devious plan. “And you might as well know, Gravestone is carrying some very important people over the border. Traitors who plan to help our neighboring countries attack the king.”

  When he didn’t respond directly, she opened her eyes to find him sitting back against a pile of flour sacks. “I can help with the self-destruct part.” He absently tossed a coin in the air. I’m kind of stuck here for the time being, anyway.”

  “What do you mean by that?” She put away the rest of their meal. “You fall from the sky. Don’t seem to know any current events. You refer to this place as my world …” Emma’s voice faded into silence.

  “I can’t explain it really. All I can say for sure is I’m not from here.” He tossed the coin in her direction. “I was supposed to take pictures at an event hosted by someone who claimed to have found another world … this world. At the time, I thought he was full of shit. Apparently I was wrong.”

  Emma caught the coin and stared at it in disbelief. “If that’s true, how did you get this?”

  “The professor, the man hosting the event, said it was his only souvenir from this place. Does it mean anything?”

  “It’s our ticket to Kingstown.” She looked up at him and smiled. “It will get us on the royal gambling steamboat.” Emma walked over, straddled his long legs and squatted down in just the right place. She pulled off his hat and ran her fingers through his sandy brown hair. “I think that deserves a reward.”

  The kiss started out soft and tender, but quickly turned into something more. She felt his cock harden through their clothes and passion rising as his hands trailed down the tied back of her corset. She had presumed from the moment she had laid eyes on him he would be a good lover. But, when she pulled her lips free to kiss his neck, he gasped, “What about your virtue, Madame? You made it quite clear you weren’t going to sleep with me.”

  “To hell with my virtue.” She unbuttoned his shirt. “I said I wasn’t going to sleep with you in trade.” Her hands found his defined chest and then her lips followed. Between her heated kisses, she whispered, “Bedding you for pleasure is another thing entirely.” She unzipped his pants and freed his throbbing penis. “Now if you don’t have any further objection …” Emma licked the head, slowly sucking in his full length.

  Tripp moaned. In between her pulls, she felt him working the golden ribbon of her corset. When it finally fell to the side and her heavy breasts were easy to manhandle through the thin camisole top, he took one in each hand. “Oh god, Emma … wait.” He teased both of her nipples with his agile fingers. “I’m about to come and I want …” One hand stayed on a breast while the other moved quickly up her skirt. He pushed away her under-things and found her already wet sex. “I want to come, in here.”

  She let his cock escape the pressure of her lips. “Then I’ll ride you.” In one swift yank, Tripp tore off her panties.

  The ferocity of it nearly made her lose control. Her need for him had become primal and urgent. So, with no intention of furthering foreplay, Emma positioned his cock at her opening. “I want everything you can give …” She lowered herself down, “…And more.”

  Chapter Five

  She’s amazing. His fingers stroked her long red hair as she slept on his shoulder. They had made love most of the night and her soft, nude body was now comfortably pressed against his side. Somewhere in their aggressive lovemaking, they had both lost all their clothes and tried almost every position he knew. And even though Tripp was aware their time together had been only for physical pleasure, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he had the love of this gun-slinging woman too. I’m just going to have to figure out how to keep her.

  He carefully slipped out from under her and pulled the blanket up over her sexy curves. That farmer’s wife thought of everything. She gave us food, bedding and a nice warm barn. He put on his clothes, snuck out, and headed for the nearby farmhouse. Wonder if I can bother them for a little more hospitality.

  Emma awoke when he returned. “My, my. Don’t you look the gentleman?”

  Tripp had borrowed a suit from the elderly farmer, one the man had worn in his younger days. It was typical Victorian style with a top hat and a coat with tales. “I aim to please.”

  “That you do.” She wrapped the blanket around herself like a makeshift dress. “I’m afraid I have nothing to match.”

  He winked and went back outside. She followed him out, into the early morning sunshine. “This might solve the problem,” he said as he handed her an elegant looking gown. “The old lady wanted the Madame of Gravestone to have it. She was a little embarrassed to learn you had spent the night in her barn.”

  Emma gave him a withering look. “You shouldn’t have told her.”

  “She’ll be all right.” He turned her around and gave her a slight nudge. “Now go in there and change before she announces it to the whole village. The farmer said he would give us a lift.”

  Tripp waited as she went back into the barn. He no longer cared that he had fallen into steampunk hell. This place with its strange reality was quickly becoming his reality. And even though he wasn’t quite prepared to say it aloud, the Madame of Gravestone was rapidly becoming the center of his new world.

  The barn door swung open and Emma appeared in a beautiful, green gown. It offered a glimpse of cleavage, trailed down to a tiny waist, then opened into a full length skirt that shimmered in the daylight. Her red hair was up in a dainty bun with sexy little curls already breaking free. “What do you think?”

  “Exquisite. If only I had my camera.” He took her hand as the farmer’s wagon pulled up next to them. A mechanical horse was at the end of the reigns.

  “Time to get going, kids,” the old man said with a toothless smile. “I’ve oiled and wound-up Bessie for our little adventure. It’ll ta
ke most of the day to get where we’re going.”

  Tripp helped Emma into the back of the wagon. A bale of hay would be their chairs for the ride. “Why haven’t I seen any real horses?” He nodded toward the robotic animal that would pull them along.

  Emma shrugged. “The East domesticated their horses and used them in the Civil War. Not many are left, I might add. The West never bothered with them. We built what we needed.”

  “And Bessie’s better than any breathing animal, anyway,” the farmer yelled back to his passengers as they rolled down the bumpy dirt path.

  * * *

  The Sargent paced before the throne. His mechanical parts squeaked ever so slightly with every movement. “But I left her tied to the train tracks—”

  “You left her alive and there are now reports coming in of her grand escape.” The portly king motioned for one of his servants to bring him another glass of wine. “The Madame of Gravestone is quickly becoming more and more of a nuisance.”

  The Sargent dropped to one knee and ignored the twitch in his wounded shoulder. “Your majesty, I swear—”

  “Stop it, you bundle of bolts,” the king growled in a drunken fit. “You messed everything up, made a laughing stock out of yourself and this kingdom. All I want you to do now is bring her here, so we can make an example out of the traitorous bitch.”

  The Sargent tilted his neck from one side to the other. His king tested his patience. “Our spies say she is heading to the Queen Penelope. My men can intercept her there and you would no longer have to be bothered. I swear to you, she will die a painful death.”

  The king sneered. “Let her have fun on my boat. It’ll be the last thing she does.” He stood, then looked down on his newest henchman. “Your opportunity to fix this problem has passed. She has proven you are a worthless adversary.” The arrogant leader leaned over and smacked his shoulder. “Her bullet still rattles inside you.”