Chapter 14 - Blood on Mahogany
The Governor’s composed facade cracked for a split second. His eyes flicked toward the small steel safe bolted into the corner behind Bartholomew’s desk.
"You don't have it," Bartholomew shrieked, backing into the heavy drapes. "The combination died with—"
"With my mother?" Clara took a step forward, the twin barrels of the ten-gauge kissing the fabric of Bartholomew's vest. "She didn't write it in a bank book, Uncle. She carved it inside the music box you gave me for my eighth birthday. The one you stole back when she died."
Bartholomew’s breath hitched. He lunged backward toward a side cabinet, frantically reaching for an antique derringer.
Clara didn't hesitate.
She pulled the forward trigger. The deafening roar of the shotgun blast ripped through the salon. The buckshot caught Bartholomew in the shoulder, hurling him backward through the heavy plate-glass window. He crashed onto the snow-covered platform outside, shrieking in agony as shards of glass rained down around him.
Governor Bell moved like a striking viper. He flipped the table, sending crystal, silver, and burning oil lamps crashing to the carpet, diving behind the overturned mahogany mahogany slab as his revolver cracked twice.
The first bullet punched through Nathaniel’s coat sleeve, tearing the flesh of his forearm. Nathaniel grunted, firing two rapid shots through the thick tabletop. Wood splinters flew like shrapnel. A muffled groan escaped from behind the barrier.
"Nathaniel, out!" Clara yelled as flames from the overturned lanterns instantly caught the velvet curtains, roaring up the walls in a wall of suffocating orange heat.
Outside, the heavy clatter of iron wheels began to grind against rails.
"The train is moving!" Nathaniel yelled over the roar of the fire.
Governor Bell had pulled the emergency engineer's signal cord before diving. Up front, the massive Baldwin locomotive groaned, its steel driving rods thrusting forward as high-pressure steam hissed violently. The train lurched violently, knocking Clara off her feet.
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"Clara! Grab my hand!" Nathaniel roared, leaning out the shattered doorway into the freezing night as the parlor car began rolling out of the depot, accelerating into the black expanse of the mountain pass.
***
