Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel (A Mormon Steampunk Anthology Book 2) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Immortal Works
Published: 2019-01-20T23:00:00+00:00

I woke in a white room. At first, I thought I’d gone on to my next estate, though mainly because of what I had just endured. How could I be anything other than dead? Any moment, I’d meet my parents, long since deceased. Or perhaps the Savior Himself would come visit me. For all our talk of knowing what waited for us in the hereafter, I realized then how little it was.

But then I noticed it was just a white ceiling, and that it was marked and scarred by years of use. And a banged-up wardroom stood in the corner, an old washstand next to it, complete with a chipped porcelain bowl. If this were the hereafter, they had fallen on hard times.

My muscles ached in protest when I tried to sit up. My hand was bandaged, as were both shoulders, my left leg, and my head. But the dressings were clean and neatly done.

The image of the gearsmith’s death flashed through my mind, taking me by surprise. The feeling of my finger getting cut off had more of an impact somehow than being shot. It was more personal. I’d lost a part of me, and I wiggled my fingers in my bandage, just to check. Strangely, it felt like I still had all five on that hand. Had it been sewn back on?

I debated calling out to see if anyone was close enough to come and give me answers. What had the gearsmith been trying to do? Had any of her creations escaped? What about Brother Stout? I did not think he could have found a way out, but if any man alive could have, it would be him. In the end I lay there, content to be alive. There would be time enough for answers later.

Some while afterward, the door opened, and the woman I’d rescued from the gearsmith—the one with the frenzied braid—came in, arms full of a serving tray that smelled like heaven. I almost didn’t recognize her with her hair in such better shape.

“Awake, are you?”

I nodded. “Did everyone else make it to safety?”

“More or less,” she said. “We found you with … her. That’s a battle I would have paid to see in person.”

It’s one I wished I’d been no part of, but I kept my peace and accepted her food with a smile. She told me of the other villagers and how grateful they all were. I thanked her for her hospitality. We didn’t speak of my religion. I’d gone out to convert sinners, but it didn’t seem that important at the moment.

“Do you know why she was doing it?” I asked. “Or what she was trying to accomplish?”

“Black magic,” the woman said. “Devilry, I don’t doubt, and the less said of it, the better.”

Had I really expected any other answer?

We exchanged small pleasantries, and she went to leave the room, but paused. “I almost forgot,” she said, patting down her apron before reaching in and pulling out a letter. “He left this for you yesterday.

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