A Matter of Blood Read online

  Praise for A Matter Of Blood

  A Matter of Blood is a familiar retelling set in a steampunk world full of creative inventions, fashion, and classes. Jake’s story as a country boy heading to the big city allowed me as the reader to also experience everything through his eyes. I especially loved how creative Lauren was with the steampunk fashion which isn’t always easy to convey through fiction form. Excellent steampunk adventure!

  - Morgan L. Busse, award-winning author of the Ravenwood Saga and Skyworld series

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  In A Matter of Blood, Salisbury’s imaginative creatures and steampunk inventions form the framework for a story of forgiveness and how far brothers will go for each other. With relationships that tug at the heart, this is steampunk worth reading!

  - Cathy McCrumb, author of Recorder

  Copyright © 2022 Lauren H Salisbury

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  Cover designed by Miblart

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permissions contact: www.laurenhsalisbury.com/contact

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  ISBN (e-book): 978-1-915438-00-3

  ISBN (paperback): 978-1-915438-01-0

  For my grandparents, Nancy and Bill, who believed in me enough to support my writing career. I will forever be grateful for your encouragement.

  Contents

  1. Jake

  2. Jake

  3. Nathan

  4. Jake

  5. Jake

  6. Jake

  7. Nathan

  8. Jake

  9. Jake

  10. Jake

  11. Nathan

  12. Jake

  13. Jake

  14. Jake

  15. Jake

  16. Jake

  17. Jake

  18. Jake

  19. Jake

  20. Ralph

  21. Jake

  22. Nathan

  23. Jake

  24. Jake

  25. Jake

  26. Ralph

  27. Nathan

  28. Jake

  29. Jake

  30. Jake

  31. Ralph

  32. Jake

  33. Jake

  34. Jake

  35. Jake

  36. Nathan

  37. Jake

  38. Jake

  A Note of Thanks

  Also by Lauren H Salisbury

  Chapter 1

  Jake

  Lightning nudged Jake’s shoulder.

  “Stop it,” he said. Daft animal.

  She bumped him again, nearly knocking him over, and he pushed her massive head away. “I’m trying to work, you stupid mammox. Give me some room.”

  He stood back to inspect the fence post he’d just finished setting in place. It listed a little to the left, but it would withstand a brush with one of the cows. Good enough. Removing his hat, he wiped his sweaty face with the back of his arm and swigged water from his canteen.

  Lightning’s warm breath ruffled his hair, and she nuzzled his cheek. He reached up to stroke her long snout, the fur coarse beneath his palm. Her ears flicked, and he smoothed his hand over her crest and the line of feathers down her neck.

  “Easy, girl. We’ve got hours to go yet.”

  He eyed the remaining pile of logs, which looked just as high as it had when he’d started that morning, and a huff escaped his lips. If only he had his brother’s abilities. Nathan would have replaced half the fence line by now if he’d been here.

  Jake’s mouth twisted down, and his hands fisted at his sides. He turned his back on the mountain of wood and gazed across the meadow to the distant crags bordering their estate. The hazy, jagged peaks blurred as he envisioned his latest mechanical design—a machine that could erect a post at the crank of a handle and push of a button.

  If only his father would let him build it. It would save so much time and effort. And he’d finally be able to keep up.

  He jammed the stopper into his canteen and shoved it back in his saddle bag. “I need to get out of here.”

  Lightning snorted, and he scratched her flank, his fingers sinking into her thick golden fur. Her neck muscles rippled in response, accompanied by a low rumble in her chest. She lifted her forelegs off the ground and dropped them back down, her toes thudding into the earth a half beat apart.

  “You want a break too, huh?”

  She sidestepped, the feathers along her tail ruffling as she swished it around her rump.

  He chuckled. A short ride wouldn’t hurt. “Okay, you win. But only to the woods and back.”

  They flew across the fields, the wind whipping Jake’s hair back and stinging his cheeks. All his problems fell away as he became one with Lightning, matching her movements and sinking into the perfect rhythm. Exhilarated, he tucked in close to her spine and urged her to even greater speeds.

  In no time at all, they reached the edge of the woods and plunged straight on into their shadowy depths. Lightning was barely winded, and he was having too much fun to turn back so soon.

  The track they followed was well worn and safe at that time of day, so he slowed them only enough to be able to avoid any low-hanging branches. He didn’t intend to finish their ride by being unseated or getting entangled in knotwood vine.

  Gradually, the path grew steeper, the undergrowth thicker, and their breathing heavier. Jake eased up on the reins and brought them to a gentle lope. Still, he didn’t turn back. Not yet. They’d come this far; they might as well keep going to the lookout.

  It was his favourite spot to think and dream. He reached back and patted the pocket of his jacket, slung over the saddle packs behind him. His notebook was still tucked safely inside.

  They broke through the treeline and came to a stop at the edge of a ridge, the entire estate stretching out before them like a vast, rolling carpet. So much potential. From the rocky northern coppices to the southern meadows, everything in the valley belonged to his family.

  Make that his adopted family.

  His heart twisted, his good mood evaporating. He’d never measure up to Dad or Nathan, never share their special gifts. He didn’t even share their love of working the land or living so far from civilisation. How many times had his father refused even to listen to his ideas for improving things? His inventions wouldn’t cause problems, they’d help. If I could just build the machines...

  He struck his leg with his fist and turned Lightning back towards the path. Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

  She jerked to a stop, and the feathers along her neck shot up, quivering in a bright fan of chromatic pink-purple.

  Leaning forwards to stroke her shoulder, he cooed softly, “Whoa, girl. What’s wrong?”

  Her feathers calmed at his touch, but he nearly fell when she suddenly darted off the path into a patch of dunberry bushes. He looked all around but couldn’t see anything. “What in the name of the founders has gotten into you?”

  As the rustle of leaves quietened, a faint howl caught his attention. Lightning shivered again and sidestepped deeper into the bushes. Was that a fell-hound? Impossible. They never ventured this far down into the foothills. Did they?

  He sat up straighter and tried to ignore his skittish mount in order to pinpoint the sound. It came again, much closer. Definitely a fell-hound. If it had caught their scent… Icy fear doused his heated skin, and he urged Lightning back onto the path, headed for home as fast as she could manage.

  Why had they come so far? He hadn’t cared about the distance on the way out. Now he became fixated on each marker they passed.

  A cry rose no more than a few hundred yards behind them. He dared not look back.

  Founders’ beards, let it not be a pack. They’d be lucky to escape a lone hunter—evading a multi-pronged attack would be impossible. Lightning was fast, but she didn’t have the strength or sharp tusks of her brother to fend off an assault if they were caught. He ducked closer to her neck, gripped her sides with his legs, and gave her free rein.

  “Fly, Lightning! Fly!”

  The ground sped past in a blur as she carried him back through the heart of the forest. Her powerful muscles bunched and stretched beneath him, her efforts spurred by the danger stalking them. The scent of hot sweat tinged with metallic fear clogged his nostrils. But the growls grew ever closer.

  Jake squeezed his eyes shut. Images of slashing teeth and claws ripping through flesh flashed unbidden behind his closed lids. He opened them wide. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

  The gnarled fingers of a tree branch caught his shirt as they passed, tugging him to the side. It held on for only a second before the fabric ripped and he was free, but it was enough to throw Lightning’s stride. She veered off the path at the involuntary yank on her reins and dived between two trees straight down the steep incline.

  “Oh cra—” Jake’s teeth clacked together with the force of their landing, and he was thrown forwards. He managed to right himself and cling onto the saddle pommel, his head bouncing as he tried to stay on Lightning’s back.

  She thundered down the slope, loose dirt raining around them, saplings snapping under the weight of her descent. How she kept her feet, Jake had no idea. He was too focused on keeping his stomach in place.

  When they reached the bottom and regained th
e winding track that led out of the woods, he dared a glance behind. Nothing there but a dust cloud, so he pulled Lightning to a stop.

  The thudding of his pulse in his ears made hearing difficult, but the sounds of pursuit seemed to have faded. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a breath—they’d made it.

  He rubbed Lightning’s flank. “Well done, girl. You saved us.”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth than something large and grey flashed among the trees deeper in the forest. A brace of birds took to the air, drawing his attention to a patch of dense bushes. Jake narrowed his eyes and shifted for a better look. A moment later, the fell-hound emerged from between the leaves, its yellow eyes glowing in the shadows.

  Jake didn’t wait to discover more. He dug his heels in to get Lightning moving again.

  The poor mammox was blowing hard, but they didn’t have far to go. The fell-hound would never follow them out into the open. They raced through the woods, making better time on the flat terrain.

  “Come on, Lightning. You can do it.”

  They reached the grass, and Jake breathed out with an almost triumphant sense of relief. Bright sunlight dazzled his eyes after the gloom of the woods, and he blinked to adjust. He swung his head around to make sure they were alone.

  Unbelievably, the fell-hound burst through the undergrowth directly behind them. It let out a whiny bark when it left the shade but didn’t even pause in its chase.

  Jake’s heart leapt into his mouth. Now what? He scanned their surroundings and steered Lightning in the direction of a nearby stream. Fell-hounds hated water, didn’t they? Please let it be true.

  He checked their rear. The beast bounded ever closer. It would rip them to pieces if it caught them, teeth and claws shearing through bone like an axe through firewood.

  Shuddering at the image, he scoured the area ahead. Where was that water? A ribbon of blue caught the sunlight as they topped the next rise, the sparkling liquid beckoning.

  Calculations whirled through his head. It would be close, but they should make it. He thought. He bent low over Lightning’s back, squeezing with his heels, and she surged forwards.

  At the same moment they splashed into the stream, an almighty yelp came from behind them. Jake peeked over his shoulder in time to see the fell-hound fly backwards through the air and slam into the ground. It scrambled upright and set off for the treeline, whimpering and favouring its left side.

  What—? Jake whipped his head around, and his eyes landed on his brother.

  Nathan sat atop his mammox, Flame, on the opposite side of the stream, one hand outstretched towards the fleeing fell-hound. Concentration pulled his features into a frown, but his muscles weren’t straining as they sometimes did when he expended his power. Tossing a fell-hound through the air with his mind clearly wasn’t overly taxing. He looked every inch the confident hero.

  Of course he did, with his sculpted physique and thick black hair in perfect waves. Jake shoved a hand through his own mousy brown mane, dislodging a stray leaf and catching his fingers in several knots.

  “Lucky I was out here. You all right?”

  Yep. Here he was to save the day and show off his powers. Again. Why couldn’t he, just once, wait to see if someone needed his help before stepping in? Jake ground his teeth together. Great. Now I get to feel guilty for resenting him saving me. Why do I always end up the bad guy?

  He said nothing while his brother rode down to him. What could he say? That he wanted to take credit for something on his own? That he was sick of constantly being shown he was second best? Nathan didn’t get it, and there was no point explaining because he never would.

  Jake winced. Maybe that wasn’t fair. Nathan was a great brother most of the time. It was just hard to measure up to him when he did things like this.

  Nathan folded his forearms over his pommel and stared across the gap between them as the silence lengthened. His eyes sparkled, but all he said was, “You’re welcome.”

  “I had it under control.”

  “Under control?” Nathan’s gaze swung to the woods and back, his brows disappearing beneath his fringe. “You were being chased by a fell-hound. Have you lost your mind, riding out there alone?”

  “I only went up to the lookout. How was I to know it would come this far down the mountains in broad daylight?”

  “You could’ve been killed.”

  “But I wasn’t. And I’d have been fine on my own. I had a plan to get away from it. I was going to use the water as a barrier. They hate it. I was already in the stream, and it was still at least ten yards behind me. I’d have made it across in time.” Jake clamped his mouth shut. He didn’t need to explain himself. He was eighteen, not eight.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Of course not. I just told you, I had it handled.”

  Nathan looked back the way they’d come and ran a hand over his close-cropped beard. “Yeah, I saw that.” He smirked. “Nice riding.”

  Cheeks burning, Jake steered Lightning out of the stream and up the slope. “What are you doing out here, anyway?” he threw over his shoulder.

  “Oh, come on, Jake. Don’t be so sour. I did just save your life.” Nathan’s voice held a note of amusement that dug its way under Jake’s skin. He spun around and glared at his brother.

  Nathan shrugged one muscled shoulder. “I came to see how you’re getting on with the new fence. Need a hand?”

  “No.” Jake set Lightning walking again.

  “We could get it done in half the time if we work together.”

  “I can do it by myself. Dad gave me the job, not you.”

  “If you say so.” Nathan’s voice floated after him. “I’ll see you back at the house then.”

  Chapter 2

  Jake

  By the time Jake returned to the barn that evening, he and Lightning were both bone-weary. He slid down from the saddle and leaned against her, scratching behind her shoulder. A ripple spread down her flank and through her tail feathers.

  “Bet you’re ready for a rubdown after all that, eh girl?” She bent her neck around and nuzzled his pocket, but he batted her away. “Not yet, greedy. After I get you settled in your stall.”

  He walked through the wide, open doors, her heavy footsteps following behind him, and snatched the bucket hanging from a nail just inside, replacing it with his hat. The water barrel was almost empty, but he scooped out enough to slake her thirst until he could fetch more from the well. He sloshed it into the trough in her stall, then checked her feed pouch and stepped aside to let her enter.

  While she drank, he unfastened the saddle, hefted it over to the rack along the back wall, and returned with a cloth and brush. The action of rubbing her down usually calmed him, but his mind raced, and he swept the rag over her damp coat in jerky swipes. When she let out a whine, he dropped his arm and closed his eyes. Breathe. Just breathe.

  Warm sweat wafted from her flank, mingling with the scents of manure and hay that permeated the barn. It brought to mind the days he’d spent here as a child, hiding in the hayloft and working on his designs when he should have been cleaning out the stalls. He smiled at the recollection of Smitty’s expression each time the foreman had found him—red brows bunching and the slash of his mouth disappearing inside his thick beard.

  The clang of something striking metal shattered the stillness, and Jake whipped his head towards the sound, his eyes popping open.

  Matthew Dorver, one of the field hands, stomped across the open space at the front of the barn. His hands were clenched, face thunderous, and hat shoved down over his dirty blonde hair. The bucket he’d kicked came to rest against a coil of rope, its contents painting the surrounding dirt floor with damp patches.