Free Dead Iron by Devon Monk

the Smalls’ doorstep.”
    She swallowed and pushed tendrils of hair stirred by the wind back away from her face. A thimble left forgotten on her right ring finger glinted in the morning light, and he noticed the black smudge of coal at the edge of her hand.
    She was blushing again, understandably embarrassed she’d admitted she’d been abandoned. “Just a trinket of brass and tin, a silly thing.” She gave him that smile again and tucked the necklace beneath the collar of her dress.
    LeFel held her gaze, letting some of his hunger play through his expression. “I consider it a lovely trinket, no matter its common beginnings. From such humble soil rare beauty has grown,” he said smoothly.
    “I don’t know that its beauty is all that rare,” she said.
    “I wasn’t speaking of the locket.”
    Her eyes widened as his words sank in. But instead of falling for his sweet words, she took a step backward, her hand falling to the pocket hidden in her skirt. He wondered what she kept there. From the beat of her heart, he’d assume it was a gun.
    “That envelope has the papers I was asked to bring to you,” she said with a nod. “I’m sure my mother and father are looking forward to your reply. I’d better be on my way. Good day, Mr. LeFel.”
    “Oh, come, now.” LeFel smoothly caught her elbow before she could walk off, effectively keeping the gun out of her reach. “Won’t you have a cup of tea with me before you go, Miss Small?”
    “I don’t believe—”
    “Surely, your parents wouldn’t think poorly of a few moments indulging my humble hospitality. I so rarely find time to socialize with the fine ladies of Hallelujah, what with all the work I must do to see that the rail is completed. We shall sit there”—he pointed at a distance toward the trees and away from the rail—“beneath the canopy my man Mr. Shunt has erected, and oversee this fine morning. Mr. Shunt, fetch our tea.”
    Mr. Shunt bowed, and slipped silently up the stairs to the train carriage.
    Rose looked after Mr. Shunt, then back at LeFel. He could tell she was sorting her options, looking for a way out. Fear had taken the sun out of her smile and he savored the shadow of her distress.
    “You are too generous, Mr. LeFel,” she finally said. “I’d be happy to sit awhile. A cup of tea would be very welcome, thank you.”
    “This way, then, my dear.” He stretched his arm, pointing toward the red silk canopy set at the edge of trees not far from his train carriage. Rose kept a tight hold on her horse’s reins, her other hand tucked in the pocket of her dress. Bits of metal and wood jingled quietly at her touch. Perhaps she did not carry a gun.
    They made their way across the dirt and grass, her horse following quietly behind her.
    “I was unaware you were orphaned,” LeFel began, probing for her pain. “Did the Smalls know your parents?”
    “No one knew my parents,” she said steadily, as if she’d been repeating this statement all her life. “It’s assumed my father was likely killed in the war. And my mother couldn’t care for me. Plenty of speculation as to why that was.”
    “Yes,” he said softly. “Such a tragic state of things, the war.” They had reached the silk canopy, where two red and gold tapestried chairs sat beside a marble and wrought iron table.
    Rose led her horse over to the nearest tree and wrapped the reins over a low branch. LeFel pulled a chair out for her and waited.
    Rose walked back to him and paused beside the chair. He could see the fear in her, could see the hard line of her back as she fought not to run. That fear tasted sweeter to him than any rare wine. What was it about this woman that burned so bright within? It was more than the locket. There was something about her. Something Strange.
    Sit, my little bird,
he thought
. Drink at my table so I can better see your delicate bones.
    A gunshot rang out. Loud. Close. Two more followed.
    LeFel and the men working the rail looked toward the