Like a Wisp of Steam (14 page)

When Maggie called her name, Trista ran to her, found safety in her arms and wept. So very cold.

* * * *

When the lawmen came by later to give her a commendation and reward for the capture of Black Paul and his gang—no small sum—the cold returned.

Maggie had tears in her eyes when she saw the money.

She got even sadder when the story appeared first in the local paper and then in papers all the way back to New York City.
Girl Scientist Stops Bank Robbery
, the headline read.

Shortly after that, letters found their way to Trista, offers of patronage, of a government position as part of a new Marshaling force using steam engineering and science, and even a letter from Wayne Foglio, begging for her to return to the CCST School of Engineering as an assistant professor.

One night, after the flood of letters began pouring in, Maggie found a smile, one that proved to be rich with misery.

Trista asked, "What's wrong?"

The Shooting Lady indicated the letters with a sweep of her hand. "This is your chance, honey. With the right one of these and the money you've been saving? You're done with this Traveling Show."

Trista thought on this and her head began to bob. "I doubt anything short of a miracle will get Benjamin up and running again. I don't know what Heck would want me to do around here."

"Remember what I told you, sweetie? About leaving this life. This is your big chance."

Trista felt a pang of loneliness. "Come with me? We can both live pretty easy on any of these—"

"I'm no kept woman." That puckish glow appeared for a moment, until Maggie shook her head in slow and gentle negation. "I can't get away, just yet," she said. "Without Benjamin, Heck needs me more than ever. Sure, we have the kitschy shows and the tricks, but without either the cogwork man
or
the Shooting Lady? There's nothing that Buffalo Bill can't offer ... Maybe he'll sell, but I don't see that happening."

She noisily swallowed, pride maybe, and added, "They need me here, and I ... I need to stay."

They embraced, and when it was done, Maggie said, "Don't become a stranger."

The world seemed terribly cold.

For a while.

* * * *

Heck's reply was a simple nod and a grin. "I figured you'd be heading out. Love to keep you, but ... I can't compete with real money."

Unable to find the words to thank him, she hugged him. He reciprocated. "You'll always have a home in Heck Lansdale's Traveling Show of Steam and Irons," he said, "though I suppose the name could do with a change."

When she finally took leave of Lansdale's Show, Trista left a chunk of reward money for him. Enough to buy a better Benjamin.

* * * *

"You look so smart," Cecilia said upon seeing Trista in her government-issued uniform.

The uniform—snug pants, shiny boots, crisp blue cavalry coat over starched white blouse, gleaming buckles and tight straps—certainly felt good. When she had looked at her own reflection, Trista saw a very different woman than the one she had been. A woman who stood up straighter, a woman who exuded confidence. She wondered:
Is that me?

"Thank you." Trista smiled instead of saying anything about the gold band on Cecilia's left ring finger. She had already heard the details: bowing to her father's

"encouragement," Cecilia Foglio had become Mrs. Cecilia Pedigrew, wife of the school's newest assistant professor.

Happily so, by appearances. Not quite so heartbreaking as Trista expected it might have been.

Headmaster Wayne Foglio tried to hide his nausea behind a tight lipped grin. "To what do we owe this visit?"

"I've come for that old skyship," Trista said, offering up a ream of official paperwork for its release.

"Care to give an old friend a ride?" Cecilia asked, and Trista felt a wistful smile.

"Actually," she said, watching Dr. Foglio turn a deeper shade of green, "I'd love to."

* * * *

There was nothing more romantic than floating half a mile over a metropolis like Washington, DC, under the brilliant illumination of a fat October moon. Trista and Maggie sat together in the newly refurbished skyship, kissing in the harvest red glow of that autumnal moon, their hands playing over each others' bodies, their minds and hearts dedicated to the sweet succor found in a lover's arms.

"Don't you have a line of headmasters' daughters waiting to be deflowered in such a vessel as this?" Maggie asked between kisses. The altitude was making her nervous, but the smile shone through.

Trista thought about her question and recalled Cecilia's earnest naiveté. Standing in her father's office, she had seemed somehow cloistered, ignorant of the world, and that innocence robbed her of a vitality that someone like Maggie had in spades. Trista finally shook her head. "Let them wait."

Words were lost to kisses and caresses and the moans and heat of their union, and when the whistles sounded, the cogwork monitoring steam release system Trista had designed kept them afloat and free of crashing fears.

There was little time or need for such earthly distractions, as they plumbed whole universes in each other's arms.

Table of Contents

Like A Wisp of Steam: Steampunk Erotica

CONTENTS

Introduction

The Innocent's Progress

An Extempore Romance

Hysterical Friction

In the Flask

Steam and Iron, Musk and Flesh