The Doctor (Magic & Steam Book 3) by C.S. Poe

Author:C.S. Poe [Poe, C.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emporium Press
Published: 2022-05-25T18:30:00+00:00

First Chance’s nightly establishments were in full swing when Gunner and I slipped out the backdoor of Peggy’s shop. Saloons one street east of Main were rowdy as all hell with two of America’s favorite pastimes: drink and dance. We headed in the opposite direction of a horribly out-of-tune piano, cutting across dark streets of quiet storefronts, some signs of which I could make out by starlight alone: Jameson & Kennedy Pharmacy Counter; Miss Annie’s Hardware; and one particularly grim reminder of life in the Wild West: Coffins by McCabe.

Gunner had considered me for a long moment when I’d told him of my shot-in-the-dark idea for procuring information. Eventually, all he said was “Give me twenty minutes and then come downstairs.” So I had. And when I’d reached the shop’s showroom, Gunner had been standing at the counter with Peggy, wearing a new bowler and calmly slotting Waterbury ammunition into his gun belt. I hadn’t asked if the bullets were full of aether, because I knew Gunner would only smile to himself and say nothing, so as not to divulge his suppliers. Instead, I’d asked why a bowler when I knew he preferred a Stetson, and Gunner had once again told me it stood out too much if we found ourselves in an urban setting.

Gunner cut between two businesses and onto the next street. Halfway across the dirt-packed road, he turned left and made for a little shop standing alone on the corner, the low glow of a gas lamp in the window marking its occupancy in the pseudodesert night. We’d very nearly reached the porch steps when a shadow detached itself from the building.

“Evening, Gunner,” a young man’s voice called.

Gunner didn’t draw his weapon or respond. Instead, he pulled a few coins from his trouser pocket and paused long enough to drop them into the man’s extended hand.

“Ready and waiting on my desk,” the man said, pocketing the money.

Gunner strode up the steps and opened the door.

I rolled my eyes and was about to make a passing comment regarding Gunner’s tendency to conduct business without a word of explanation and how it drove me mad, when I caught the lettering of the sign overhead from the flickering light of the gas lamp: Western Union Telegraph Co. So apparently Gunner had been doing more than shopping in the twenty minutes he’d requested—like rousing the town’s telegraph operator with the promise of some after-hours coin to be had.

I let the door fall shut behind me and looked around the storefront. It was quite simple: a counter with a register, stack of telegraph blanks, and courtesy pen and inkwell for writing out messages. On the private side of the counter was a worn and battered desk and chair, telegraph equipment neatly laid out on its surface, as well as a Personal Discussion Device headset and its handheld transducer. PDDs were few and far between outside of major cities, but Convey & Dispatch had years ago gone into business with Western Union, essentially

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.