A Dawn Most Wicked (Something Strange and Deadly 0.5)(17)

“How long have you been a striker?” Lang asked once he had set the pot back down.

I wiped crumbs from my mouth. “Uh, goin’ on a year now.”

His eyebrows arched high. “Only a year? And yet you’re already more adept at working the engines than the Chief Engineer. And Miss Cochran says you cover more than your fair share of engine duties. Is that correct?”

I didn’t answer, gulping back coffee instead. No, I didn’t like Murry much, but it also didn’t feel right to mud-sling. “We all do more than our fair shares in the engine room,” I finally said. “Ever since the other striker left.”

“You’re too nice.” Lang smirked. “Let me be frank with you, Mr. Sheridan. Are you interested in getting your engineer’s license?”

Now I did choke. Getting my license would make me a full engineer—and that would mean higher pay plus a permanent position. “Are you jokin’?”

He laughed. “Not in the least. And really—what a silly question. Of course you want your license.” He leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head with the easy poise of a man with everything. “The thing is, Mr. Sheridan, the Lang Company needs talented engineers like yourself. The steamship industry is having a difficult time competing with locomotives for business, but we’re having an even more difficult time competing for workers. As such, when we find an individual with skill, we like to keep him. Why, you could have your license and be a Second Engineer in under a week.”

A week. I mulled that over, chewing at my biscuit until it was all gone—until Lang pushed another my way. I stared at the golden top with unseeing eyes. . . .

I could be the one giving orders. Me, Daniel Sheridan, could be a Second Engineer in one week. I should be overjoyed at the prospect. Being a licensed engineer was a lot to offer a sixteen-year-old. It was certainly more than I had ever hoped for, and it was a million miles away from the prison cell I’d left behind. . . .

So why did it feel like the biscuit was burning a hole through my stomach?

“What about Schultz?” I asked at last, glancing up at Kent. “He’s the Second Engineer now.”

“Ah, yes.” Lang’s hands dropped to the armrests. “I can see why you might assume I meant you’d be Second Engineer on the Sadie Queen, but no. You will not be replacing anyone here. In fact, once the race is over, there will be no Queen upon which to engineer.”

“Pardon?” I sat up taller. “I thought if the Queen won, then she’d get to stay on the water.”

“No.” His lips pursed and he shook his head sharply. “That was never the plan.”

“But then why have the race at all?” I leaned toward him, speaking faster and faster. “Cass—I mean, Miss Cochran seems to think that if we can win the race, the Queen will stay on the Mississippi.”

“Hmmm.” His forehead knit, and he looked genuinely concerned by this information. “I am not sure why she thinks this since I never said—”

“Cochran thinks the same.”

Lang winced. “That is a problem.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The whole purpose of this race was to publicize the Lang Company—not bring business back to the Sadie Queen. When we reach Natchez, we intend to use the momentum and energy from the race to announce that I am the new company president. Additionally we intend to announce the removal of the Sadie Queen from the river.”

“You’re dismantling her?” My voice came out high-pitched. Incredulous. “Why wouldn’t you tell the captain that?”

“Because we aren’t dismantling her,” Lang rushed to say. “We are merely moving her to a lake outside New Orleans. We hope to turn her into a tourist attraction, you see?” At my blank expression he traced his hand through the air like a newspaper headline. “‘Come see the Sadie Queen! Ghosts to chill and thrill even the strongest man!’”

At those words anger brewed in my chest, hot and explosive. “That’s just as bad as dismantlin’ her.”

“But we expect it to draw quite a crowd.” Lang spoke as if trying to convince himself more than me.

“What about the crew?” I growled. “What’ll happen to us?”

“Most of you will have jobs on other Lang Company steamers. You”—he nodded at me—“will be welcome as Second Engineer on any of our luxury boats.”

“And Miss Cochran?” I pointed straight up, toward the pilothouse. “What about her?”

“I have . . . plans for her as well.”

“And Captain Cochran?”

“Yes, well . . .” Lang swallowed. “He is too difficult to work with, and his temper has made too many enemies for the Lang Company. After that incident with the Chief Engineer and the furnace, I fear Captain Cochran does not have a future with us.”

“No future with you?” I couldn’t believe they were going to keep me—promote me, even—and then fire Cochran. For half a breath triumph warmed my chest . . . a sense of justice and revenge.

But then the full impact hit me. If Cochran lost his job, things for his family would only get worse. Ellis, Cass—they would be affected too, and no matter how much I hated the captain, I didn’t want his family to suffer. I didn’t want Cassidy to suffer.