BLOWING OFF STEAM (Going for the Gold 5)
released March 8, 2012 from Siren-Bookstrand, Inc.
Erotic Romance, Historical, Menage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Field now said, “I was thinking of sending Stan Sitwell over there to investigate the new engine. That good-for-nothing jackass Bixby would recognize Cincinnatus.”
Calliope inserted, “Or have Stan make some kind of booby trap.”
“No!” Rushy insisted. “I’ll win this race fair and square. Even if I have to shoot out their boilers with a Sharp’s rifle.”
“Well,” said Calliope wanly, “that isn’t entirely ‘fair and square’ now, is it?”
“Not really,” Rushy had to admit. “But I can’t rightly lose a race. Not after having established such a grand rep on the river.”
“Let’s just not race him,” Field suggested. “He wants to start at four. We can malinger. Say we’re waiting on a shipment of something.”
Calliope pointed. “Then the passengers will be soreheads. You know how fast word gets around. And you can’t avoid this Clive Bixby fellow forever.”
Rushy exploded. “Damn it all to hell!” In frustration, he walked in circles about the deck. “We have to race that bastard!”
“We can’t, Rushy,” said Field. “Remember what Soquel Haight said.”
Calliope said, “Who cares what Soquel Haight said? Everyone races on the river. It’s part of the entertainment the passengers pay for. They know the El Dorado will win and they want to get nice and wallpapered and watch our rivals get whipped.”
Field explained patiently. “Haight will find out in a jiffy that we were racing. Hundreds of passengers can testify to that.”
Rushy wanted to wallop Field in his frustration, but he only feebly punched the rail. “By Saint Michael, Field! I’m with Calliope. We can’t allow Haight to dictate our decisions as owners. Just because we’re carrying a few rancid stiffs for him, can he tell us who to race?”
“Bully for you, Rushy!” Calliope seemed to admire this decision.
“I think he said it,” Field opined, “because the more we race, the more wallpapered people will get. Maybe he’s afraid someone will stumble over one of the bodies. And I heard a story about someone in Sucker Flat who just dug up a body to get a ring off its finger.”
“Besides”—Calliope pointed with her cigarro—“how can you be sure old Chan Ho from Kwangtung isn’t going to recognize one of the bodies as his dead uncle and start mourning over it?”
Rushy agreed. “Or worse, give it a burial at sea?”
“Right,” said Calliope with finality. “Drop it over the rail over in Steamboat Slough. I mean, where’d these bodies come from, anyway? They must be someone’s relatives.”
Rushy said, “I think they came from the morgue, but that’s beside the point.”
“The Chinese don’t have a morgue,” Field said.
Rushy continued, “Either way we’re taking risks, Field. Racing or not racing, burials at sea or whatnot. We’re taking big risks. If we suddenly stop racing, that alone might look mighty suspicious.”
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