what she desires so a man doesn’t need to resort to guesswork.’
His lips, mere millimetres away, puckered gently as he pressed against her to reach for the connecting door handle to the final car. She watched him with a flick of the eyes as he did her in return, waiting to see who would be the first one to succumb to their baser instincts. Despite this display being nothing but teasing, of which she was equally as guilty, there was always the taint of frustration when one of the pair brought the game to a premature end.
Their bodies slipped against one another as he passed and this time it was him who finished things.
‘You have soot on your lips,’ he lied. ‘Stop dawdling, my dear, we have work to do.’
With a coquettish grin, Misu complied.
There was hardly any send-off for the Gambler’s Den’s departure. They left before the majority of locals managed to recover from their heady experiences, which only added to the venture’s mystique. Tales had to spread to be of value, and that couldn’t be done if the train dawdled in one location for too long. The locomotive hauled itself out of the station, its heavy wheels spinning and steam plume from the chimney venting into the clear sky.
Children running along the platforms did their best to wish it well on its travels. The sentiment was reciprocated with a sharp toot from the train’s whistle that whipped the youngsters into a frenzy. Tales of what they witnessed would carry well into adulthood.
The train began to pull out from Rustec, but as it followed the track past the flat-roofed houses, a lone figure gave chase, vaulting over gaps between the residences, ducking beneath cluttered washing lines and over timber decking. The figure was dressed all in beige, and adorned in a heavy poncho. A mask covered the lower part of her face, while her hazel eyes calculated distances with precision. Over her shoulder was a weighty knapsack, its burden not visually apparent as she darted from rooftop to rooftop.
The Gambler’s Den leant in to a bend, running it parallel to the buildings, providing a straight line for the approaching individual. As she sprinted her last, a hefty leap sent her skyward, crashing down onto the boxcar gable.
Hugging the car roof, she crawled her way to a trapdoor, flicked the latch, and slunk inside, her motions smooth and catlike. The beige-clad figure pulled down her facemask and shook out dirt that had collected in the poncho folds. She was young, too young to be up to such nonsense, but necessity had forced many a person to make rash choices. This happened to be one of Wyld’s less regrettable ones.
Franco was waiting patiently, arms defensively crossed, and sitting among the clutter.
‘Were you seen?’ he enquired.
Finally when the woman managed to take enough air to speak, she shook her head.
‘Never am. Wasn’t this time. Won’t be next. You needn’t fret.’
‘Did you get what you were after?’ Franco pressed the next question with equal urgency.
Wyld smiled, gently opened the knapsack and revealed a small gem-encrusted object that was tucked safely in the bag’s leather folds. ‘You would have figured that they would have locked this thing up better. Honestly, security is so lax nowadays it’s hardly a challenge. I somewhat wonder why I even bother sneaking in.’
‘If you’re going to steal whilst you tag along with us, I think I should charge you a higher rate for passage. You understand my concern that you could become a liability?’
Franco placed his hand out, fingers beckoning in gesture for his cut.
Wyld reached into a pocket, producing a small leather pouch that jangled with coin. There was no need to examine the contents when passed over; the weight and size matched her overdue payment.
‘I keep my part of the bargain – no need to remind me. I stay invisible and do nothing that would bring attention to your precious train.’
‘Just as long as our resident thief isn’t caught. Remember, if you’re not with us when we leave, then you’ve lost your ride. No need for the hostility; it’s all business.’ Franco pocketed the payment. ‘Thank you for your contribution. Breakfast will be in an hour. You are more than welcome to join us in the dining car.’
For the next five days, the Gambler’s Den weaved through the arid, rocky landscape. Franco spent most of his time dissecting various maps and charts. The region, whilst sparse, was not devoid of deep canyons, jutting mountains, and other such geographic features. Routes required revising, especially with the current dangers.
He made numerous pencilled scribbles. Most were symbols drawn while attempting to calculate arrival times: something at the forefront of his mind. This thought process was broken as Misu knocked on his carriage door and entered, looking fresh-faced as usual despite the stifling heat. She placed a glass of cold water on the table next to the maps, sipping a drink of her own. Her eyes wandered, then returned to Franco as he heavily picked up the glass, twirling it so the ice cubes struck the sides of the glass.
‘Thank you,’ he exclaimed. Misu took a seat on the leather sofa, patting her flamboyant red lace dress down over her thighs. They watched one another for a moment.
‘How are the girls?’ Franco asked, placing his glass back down but not before wiping the condensation from the table surface.
‘The girls are fine. They’re enjoying the downtime if anything. It’s unusual for a show somewhere new to be without incident. The Rustec gig was somewhat boring.’
‘Boring is good,’ Franco said, stretching out on his own sofa and raising his legs up so he could lie with his head tilted back. ‘Boring means we will be welcomed back. There’s nothing worse than when a bunch of lecherous idiots get drunk and manhandle the girls. We have a reputation to uphold. Can’t be doing that if we’re seen as a haven of sin.’
Misu nodded in agreement and sipped her drink.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing at the abundant paperwork beside him. Her eyes drifted to the scrawled notes, the numbers, and the proposed destination. Franco groaned, attempting to stifle the dull throbbing in his forehead. It wasn’t a question best answered. ‘A solution, I suppose.’
‘Looks to be more of a detour. Tell me honestly, is this another treasure hunt?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Not from Wyld, was it?’ Misu scowled.
‘Technically not. She may have mentioned things in passing, but I did the legwork.’
‘And Rustec?’ she said, speaking more firmly, placing her drink down.
Franco considered his words carefully. ‘A few of the locals may have had my attention. You’ll be surprised how talkative people can be after a few drinks. Stories get told, rumours spilt.’
She pursed her lips. ‘I knew it. The last thing we need is trouble. You of all people used to repeat that – until that rat came along. Keep it all legitimate, you preached, and now you’re looking into things like this. Don’t get yourself involved in her lifestyle. It’s not your business.’
‘I’m not. This is a side venture. It’s strictly a one-off.’
‘Rubbish!’ Misu exclaimed.
