ORION
ORION
HETTY SHUT THE DOOR to the safe house, one ear listening for gunshots. They were distant, and growing more so. She ran her hand along the weathered wood of the door, over the dipper carved there. They would be safe for now.
They had to be.
She glanced over where Lou lay on the ground, a hand pressed to his shoulder. His older brother, Cassius, hovered nearby, distracting Penelope as she pulled bundled leaves from pouches in her dress.
Hetty had initially considered leaving the younger girl behind. Penelope had wasted precious time muttering prayers over a stub of a candle before they slipped out of the quarters. But when bad luck had them stumbling into the guns of men eager to get their hands on coin, Hetty was glad they hadn’t left Penelope behind. Without her quick thinking, the younger boy would have bled out by now, and his brother would have lost his head.
“We stay here long enough to get him settled and not a minute more,” Benjy said.
“Not through the night?” Hetty asked. “That wasn’t the plan.”
“Plans change. The supply cache is low and the sigils have been copied instead of drawn with skill.” He gave her a sharp look. “Someone’s been here since the last time we came through.”
“You’d know all about that.” The scarf tied around Hetty’s face hid her smirk and made her words harsher than she meant them to be. Benjy didn’t appear to notice. Although he could read well enough to make sense of tightly packed words filled with denser meanings, he copied the star sigils she made without knowing how they worked, and it was a miracle that before he finally admitted this to her he hadn’t gotten them killed.
“If you’re worried,” Hetty said, “poke fingers around and see what jumps out of the corners.”
“I’m more afraid about who’s outside. Might be One-Eyed Jack out there with his boys.”
Hetty resisted the urge to box his ears. If he simply thought it, that would be one thing. Speaking it aloud meant it was true. Suddenly she knew why he’d insisted she wear trousers. It wasn’t to make it easier for them to travel—it was to disguise her. One-Eyed Jack was mighty sore she’d put a gun to his head and left him trussed up to a tree stump like a young chicken. “We just got to keep ahead and not get ourselves tripped up by anything. Then we can—”
Hetty stopped speaking as she recognized a ringing noise. She felt it more than she heard it, and without thinking, she strode forward and placed her pistol at the base of the older brother’s skull.
“Give me one good reason not to drop you like a sack of hay.”
“What are you doing?” Penelope said, her voice rising over Cassius’s protests and his brother’s weaker cry.
“I’ve done nothing.” Hetty slid the pistol down until it reached the tarnished silver collar. “He, on the other hand, is going to get us killed with this collar around his neck! Don’t you know they can find you with it?”
“It’s been quiet,” Cassius protested.
“Well, it’s not quiet anymore,” Hetty growled, “and once it starts it won’t stop until you’re dead.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Lou cried out, struggling against Penelope’s hands. “Leave him alone!”
“Sparrow isn’t going to shoot your brother.” Benjy approached, giving Hetty a mild look of reproach. He had a nail file in hand, and a smaller tool she didn’t recognize. “It’ll be too loud. We just need to take it off.”
“We don’t have the time for that! We need to get out of here,” Hetty said, keeping her arm steady. She never shot anyone before and wasn’t keen to start with a spineless coward.
“We don’t leave anyone behind.”
The snap in Benjy’s voice cut through all the protests in the room and even Hetty’s best argument.
Leaving people behind was not an option for Benjy, even when it was the most troublesome path.
“They will find us here,” Hetty protested. “We got an injured boy and we’re too far south to cross the river—”
“You can cross it.”
The new voice that entered the room got Hetty’s pistol pointed at it.
The man seemed unbothered by it as he stepped out from the shadows that clung to the corners of the room. He was older than Hetty by at least ten years. The right side of his face was a wrinkled mess of burned flesh that extended from just below his eye to his chin. A deliberate meeting of the wrong end of a candle to rid himself of something nasty. A runaway brand, most likely. He was not the first Hetty had seen to take to such drastic measures to hide that mark of shame, nor would he be the last. His clothes were as rough and threadbare as the other three, but he was much thinner than what suited his broad frame.
So someone did sneak into the safe house after all.
“There’s a boat,” the man said. “When the moon hides her face, I take it to get fish.”
“Why haven’t you taken it further upstream?” Hetty demanded.
“It’s not mine.”
Benjy shrugged and turned the nail file to the collar at Cassius’s neck.
Gunshots were growing louder now, and as much as Hetty wanted to fight with this man, she made a choice—the only one she could make.
She lowered her pistol.
“Show me the boat. You two come with us,” she added to Penelope and Lou. Penelope looped an arm around Lou’s shoulder, helping him up. As they scrambled off, Hetty glared at the stranger. “If you’re lying, this will not end well for you.”
He spread out his hands. “I got nothing to lie about.”
“There’s always something,” Hetty said, and urged him forward.
The boat was exactly where he said it would be, tied up near a farmhouse with a set of knots that fell away as Hetty ran her sewing needle along them, her magic giving the needle a sharper edge.
She and the man carried the boat to the closest part of the river, where Penelope shivered with Lou’s arm slung across her shoulders.
“Is the boy still alive?” Hetty asked, sliding the boat into the water.
“I think so.”
“Keep him like that.”
Gunfire sounded much closer now.
“They’re coming!” Penelope squeaked.
“Quiet.” Hetty put a hand on Penelope’s shoulder. “You’re safe with Sparrow and Finch.”
Something like a laugh escaped her lips. “Are those really your names?”
“They weren’t my idea,” Hetty said. “Get the boy in the boat. You,” she said to the man, “stay where I can see you.”
“I have a name,” he interjected. “It’s Thomas.”
“Well, Thomas,” Hetty said. “Stay put.”
Gunfire blew the bark off the top of a tree, followed by the telltale flare of wand light.
In that light, Benjy and Cassius came running to meet them.
“Go!” Benjy called out, shoving the boy forward. “Both of you get in! They’re not far behind us!”
Thomas didn’t need telling twice. He bounded forward, shaking the boat with his efforts.
“You got the collar off ?” Hetty asked.
“Part of his neck, too,” Benjy said with a grimace, handing her his bag of tools. “Those things are tricky.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t die too.” Penelope appeared at Hetty’s elbow.
With her help, Hetty brought the stumbling Cassius into the boat, then jumped in herself. She held out her hand to Benjy.
He stepped back.
“I’m going to lead them in a circle, get them off our trail.” He held up the broken pieces of the collar. “Or they’ll be waiting for us.”
“That’s a terrible plan.”
“I know.” Benjy shoved the boat into the river. “You know where to meet me.”
“I’m not waiting for you,” Hetty called. “I’ll be gone at dawn!”
If he heard her, Benjy didn’t show it.
He was already running along the muddy banks even as something bright whizzed through the trees.
In that flare of light, Hetty saw men astride horseback with flaming torches. The ones not firing guns spat out curses that blew chunks of earth into the air.
Hetty yanked the scarf off and ran her fingers along the fabric’s stitching. At her touch, Pegasus escaped. It flew at their pursuers on the riverbank, bringing with it a rush of wind as it went in a direction opposite where Benjy had fled.
Yelling split the group apart, as some went east and others west.
“Are you all still alive?” Hetty called back into the boat.
“Mostly,” Penelope said as she tended to the brothers. But her simple answer was overshadowed by a gasp.
“You’re a woman!” Thomas stammered, pointing at Hetty as if this was the most remarkable thing he’d seen all night. “But how—”
“Spells sewn into the cloth to mask my voice,” Hetty said, retying the scarf around her neck. Hetty tilted her head backwards, studying the stars and trying not to look at the coast. “We have other worries. Pick up an oar—we need to row to shore while we still got cover.”
“Or you’ll shoot me?”
“You’re not worth wasting a bullet on.”
Thomas and Penelope took turns rowing with Hetty, neither complaining as she steered them along the river. There were some complaints when they banked near some shrubbery and left the boat behind for the hard-packed road. Low grumbles about how they should stay in the boat the whole way.
Hetty ignored her charges, and in time they grew quiet once more.
Their detour had taken them a roundabout way that diverted them from their destination, but thankfully not too far. Once they got back on the road, it wasn’t too long before she spotted familiar landmarks. Her stride became more purposeful as she grew confident that her path went to safety instead of danger.
Pushing through the brush and bramble, she spotted the doctor’s house, set back some distance from the road. A light in the attic window danced like the rest of the stars in the sky. The sight the first good thing she’d seen all night.
Hetty went up to the back door and knocked once, and then twice.
“Who’s there?”
“Sparrow with four.”
The door opened, and light framed the only person who could help them that night.
“You’re early,” Oliver grumbled.
“Plans change.”
“I see that.” Oliver opened the door to let them in. “Where’s Finch?”
“He’ll be here. We leave at dawn.”
“Dr. Gardner is out delivering a baby, so you can stay up here instead of the cellar. I’ll bring up some spare clothes.”
Oliver peered at the others. His eyes moved from the injured brothers to Penelope and then lingered on Thomas. His frown deepened. “You said three in your last message.”
“Plans change,” Hetty repeated. “This one was hiding in the safe house.”
“Smart move if he meant to catch a ride going north,” Oliver said. “But I think he was planning to hide until the president makes good on his threat to free slaves.”
“Is that what you plan as well?” Thomas shot back.
Oliver coolly turned his way. “At least I’m doing some good. Have you helped any of the people that came through there, or did you just stay hidden the whole time? Don’t say you helped tonight,” Oliver said. “You’re only here because you’re riding with good people.” Thomas staggered backwards, but Oliver was sniffing about for a kill. “Are you the reason we’re one conductor short?”
“Stop it,” Hetty hissed, pushing Oliver back. “He’s a passenger and needs help.”
“I’ll help them,” Oliver said, and with a gesture, he urged the runaways into the next room.
Hetty settled at the table and picked at the stitching in her scarf with her sewing needle. She had unraveled most of them when Oliver returned.
“You should rest.” Oliver pulled out a train schedule and spread it across the table. “I can wait up for Finch.”
“He’ll be back soon enough.” Hetty eyed the schedule. The tiny printed words blurred before her eyes, before she gave up on it. “I’m glad you’re here. I was worried we’d be too early.”
“You’re lucky this time.” He paused. “Can’t promise I’ll be here next time you pass through. The doctor signed up for war, and I’m going with him. If I make it through the other side with him, I’ll be free.”
“The doctor is a good man.”
“You think he’s lying?”
“He won’t admit he’s your brother. Though none of them do, even when their father’s faces are staring right back at them.”
Oliver shook his head. “You can’t just wish me luck?”
“You’ll need more than luck,” she said, “but when you’re free, we can find a place for you in Philadelphia.”
“Is that city so wonderful?”
“It has been for me.”
Dawn slipped through the shutters the next morning, and Hetty watched as sunlight tiptoed into the room. The brothers and Thomas were still asleep, but Penelope was awake.
She entered the kitchen just once with a question she never asked once she saw Hetty’s face.
The scarf had holes in the places where she’d ripped out the stitches and used the thread to a new purpose. She was finishing off the last set when a bird flew through the wall—a dark blue bird glittering with the sheen of the stars.
“Pack the wagon!” Hetty called as the bird flew away. “We’re leaving!”
Voices called back in alarm, but she didn’t hear them as she ran out to where the wagon was waiting.
But someone was already there.
Benjy lay stretched out in the wagon’s bed. He was covered head to toe in mud and one of his sleeves held on by the barest of threads.
At the sound of her approach, he lifted his hand off his face and grinned at her.
Hetty tossed his tool bag into the wagon. It bounced and nearly struck him, but that cheeky grin didn’t fade.
“You’re late!” she grumbled.
“I got here before dawn,” was all Benjy said. “Where were you?”