town. Keep your head low but give your horse plenty of slack. Ready?”
Caldwell nodded. Thompson spurred his mustang and they thundered out of the corral. Ike Clanton fired his gun twice and missed both times before falling to the dirt in a tornado of dust kicked up by the horses. A bullet from Thompson’s gun was lodged deep in his brain.
They didn’t stop until they hit the trails. The sun was going down, turning the mountains to gold. Tombstone disappeared behind them in the shroud of dusk that enveloped the buildings and its dead. The following morning the Tombstone Nugget called the bloodbath the ‘Shootout at the O.K. Corral’.
VI
“And you’re certain he mentioned Cibola,” said Captain Townsend.
Lieutenant Thompson nodded.
They were sitting in her office, both washed and in uniform. The safe lay open, unlocked by Caldwell who was sleeping in an officer’s quarters. The Confederate bills would be worth something but Townsend had been hoping for something more. Maybe gold bullion or even mechanite. Ordinarily she would have considered the whole affair something of a washout. But this news Lieutenant Thompson had brought ignited a spark of hope within her.
Cibola.
The word clearly meant nothing to her lieutenant, Louisiana man that he was, but to her it was like something from a fairytale. To those who were Arizona Territory born and bred, the legend of Cibola and its seven cities of gold was as familiar as the legend of King Arthur was to the British or Siegfried and the Nibelungs to the Germans. The long sought after land with its unimaginable treasures had eluded the earliest Spaniards and everybody else since. It had passed into folklore. The fact that the Confederacy not only believed in its existence but was actively looking for it was incomprehensible.
And yet…
“Vasquez is said to be involved?” she asked.
“I was informed by one of Clanton’s gang that he knew something in connection with it that made him valuable to the Confederacy.”
That was puzzling. Townsend knew Vasquez. She had even tried to recruit him on a number of occasions. The bandit would make an invaluable ally and since they shared the same hunting grounds not to mention a hatred for the government, she had thought that some sort of understanding might be mutually agreeable. But the man was a loose cannon, tearing across the landscape, answerable to no one and owing none allegiance. But what could he possibly know about Cibola?
“Am I missing something, Captain?” Thompson asked.
“You are unaware of the legend of Cibola?”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a city. Or rather a collection of cities. Seven to be exact. It’s said to be somewhere in this corner of America. The Spanish first heard of it back in the days of the conquistadores. Seven cities of gold. But they never found them.”
“And we’re supposed to believe that Vasquez and the Confederates have?”
“Or have an inkling as to where they lie,” Townsend replied. She stood up and walked over to the map of the Southwest on her wall. She poked a finger at the range of mountains that separated Arizona territory from the Mormon State of Deseret and traced the distance to Fort Flagstaff in the south. “If the Confederates are stockpiling mining and smelting materials here, then it’s a good bet that they are confident in their theory.”
“And that is?”
“That Cibola lies somewhere in these mountains.”
“You can’t be serious, Captain.”
“I’ve never been more serious, Lieutenant. If Cibola exists then there is enough gold within our reach to win the revolution and turn Arizona Territory back to the Union, not to mention defeating the CSA once and for all.”
Thompson sighed. “It will take more than money to win this war. We need guns. Mechanite. Manpower. We can only get these things by continuing with our plan to join the underground railroad with Colorado. Not robbing trains or chasing after fairy tales.”
Townsend looked at him intently. “I know you’ve been upset by the recent turns we’ve taken, Lieutenant, but I swear to you that this is the best way forward. I mourn the loss of Nathaniel also. He was a fine man. But he was a soldier and a rebel. He knew the risks involved. And he died a hero.”
Thompson looked barely able to contain his rage and Townsend knew she had spoken out of turn. “My brother died chasing after gold like a common bandit. Under your orders, Captain.”
“Gold is more valuable to us than guns or manpower. Or even mechanite. Those things will only buy us open warfare and cost more lives. Haven’t enough lives been torn apart by this war already? Gold can grease palms. Buy stock. Hurt our enemy from within. Not to mention aid those who have lost everything. You know that the government owns orphanages that are little more than work camps for child slaves.”
“And so you want to buy up every orphanage with stolen gold rather than fight our enemy face to face?”
Townsend bit down on her rage. Thompson had cut too close. “There is such a thing as being too confrontational, Lieutenant Thompson. This debriefing is over. You are dismissed.”
Thompson stood up, snapped his heels together and threw up a surly salute before leaving her office, slamming the door behind him. She sighed and returned her gaze to the map.
Cibola.
This changed everything. If the cities of gold lay hidden somewhere in the mountains then their underground railroad was headed in the wrong direction. If she could only find out what the Confederates knew then she could reroute the Worm in the direction of untold wealth that would win the war and free her people.
But what McGrath had told her was worrying. There was no doubt in her mind that the Russian assassin he had told her off was sent here to kill Vasquez. The Russians didn’t know why he was important only that he was and they were game for any chance to hurt the Confederacy. Her mind was made up. The assassin had to be stopped and Vasquez convinced to tell what he knew to the partisans and not the government.
And the best way to do that was to find the assassin. Find the assassin, find the target.
She left her office and headed down towards the tracks. In the darkness beyond the Worm was still digging away. Her mind was made up. She would find Cibola and railroad its gold into the coffers of the resistance. With or without the approval men like Thompson.
The steam from the mechanicals and the locomotives drifted like the mist of a fairytale, enveloping her as she vanished into the darkness of the tunnel.
Author’s Note
I hope you have enjoyed this short entry in the chronicles of Lazarus Longman. It is but a prelude to longer and more exciting adventures in an alternate 19th century where the American Civil War has dragged on for two decades due to the discovery of mechanite; a mineral that burns ten times more efficiently than coal. In this world of dirigible battles, steam-powered machines of war and daring espionage, the powers of Europe play a game of shadows in an effort to gain access to America’s miraculous mineral; a prize which could envelop the world in its first great war.
The first Lazarus Longman novel – Golden Heart – is something of a western crossed with a lost world adventure as Lazarus sets out to discover the Seven Golden Cities of Cibola. Silver Tomb sees Lazarus journey to Egypt for an encounter with the undead reanimated by science. In Onyx City Lazarus scours the slums of Victorian London for Jack the Ripper while dangerous radicals try to overthrow the British Empire.
Don’t forget to keep an eye on my blog at https://pjthorndyke.wordpress.com/ for all things pulp and Steampunk related and check me out on Twitter and Facebook for more updates. If you are enjoying the Lazarus Longman Chronicles you could do me a huge favor by leaving reviews on Amazon and Goodreads or even just by recommending these stories to somebody. Now, I hope you will enjoy the first chapter of Golden Heart; the first Lazarus Longman novel, available now.
P. J. Thorndyke
Golden Heart