March 17, 1853
DS.
You muSt deliver the enclosed to Portland in the Oregon Territory by 3 in the afternoon on March 31st. Missing this date forfeits your bounty of $175 and results in expulsion from the Airborne Express.
Axii
*****
The loveseat creaked and groaned like a washerwoman after a 12-hour shift. Dapper Sasquatch straightened as much of his 8'7" frame as the dining car permitted, keeping knees bent and shoulders hunched lest he knock the top hat from his head. It wouldn’t do for a lady to see a gentleman without his top hat.
He folded the telegram and slipped it into his waistcoat.
"Well, this has been lovely. Truly a pleasure having coffee with you, Miss. I must beg your leave. Deadlines to meet, you see,” he said, his voice was the guttural sound of two redwoods sprouting full grown.
Red velvet curtains framed a yellow-green blur. Train travel, DS thought, was the only truly civilized transportation. Horses and buggies ended with beetles, twigs, and dust mangled in his fur. While reminiscent of home, a gentleman is never to be seen with a beetle in one’s ear.
Yet, trains limited him.
Tipping his hat, DS turned to leave, bracing the brass chandelier above the table. Starting a fire merely because one wanted to stand upright was the height of rudeness.
"Wait. Sir, please. A moment longer." she said.
"Madam?"
"May I join your travels? Please, I am but a journalist."
"Miss," manners begged another tip of the hat. "My vessel accommodates one."
"Ruby, please. I am small compared to other guests. A slight 110 pounds. Surely, compared to yourself," she trailed off. "My editor requires a series on the life of an unseen. You, kind sir, are the only unseen I have seen."
"Ruby, then. I'm a tad large to be unseen," he said. "I truly must be going."
"I mean your profession. Expressors carry post throughout; and still go unnoticed, unobserved, and unknown," she said. "My editor requests unlimited access to this new breed of worker. He offers a handsome sum."
The car swayed. Metal screeched as the Hasty Betsy slowed into the Des Moines station. "No. By your leave."
*****
Dapper Sasquatch gripped a rung and bounded to the top of the car, coal conveyance, and Sasquatch landing.
“Percy, my dear fellow. What is the toll for this day’s lounging and three days of coal?” DS asked.
Percy, chief coalman, crouched oiling the fore wheel shaft of the aerial and waved off the question. “Are you headed east or west?” he asked.
“West,” said DS. “West again, I fear.”
“Haven’t found ‘er yet?” Percy removed his cap smearing coal dust and sweat from his black brow and stood.
“Save a blurry image in the wanted poster and a sliver of copper,” DS shrugged. “Axii's dispatch takes me to the northwest. A homecoming of sorts.” Tears darkened the fur at the edges of deep brown eyes. “Children by the dozens vanished all in a month. The Oregon Territory.”
He walked the perimeter of Ellie, turning her propeller, opening and closing the umbrella, flapping a wing. “Is she ready?” DS opened the trunk to inspect his supplies. Airborne Express satchel, food sack and coal.
“Yes. Yet, she requires three steady days aground. The gears and both the hand and foot pedals need to be repaired. Your 762 pounds wears on ‘er,” he said, wiping grease off the hand pedals. "This is your last trip. Bring her in once you land in Portland, or I'll send Wasal after you."
“Children?” A blue silk cocoon squirmed at the edge of the train car.
“Eavesdropping, Miss Ruby?” Dapper Sasquatch asked.
“Not intentionally, no.”
Layers of her white lace and dark blue cotton dress twisted, turned, and tangled around her legs, arms, and boot heels. Petticoats and bloomers flashed. Percy and DS took a sudden interest in filling both the brass pump and spare container with water. Having righted herself, Ruby sat up. Only the high navy collar remained in place.
“My editor needs something else, I’ll be without work.”
“Miss, this is not the place for ladies. Slipping in your fine boots might lead to a fall over the side. Now, we aren’t moving, but a fall is still a fall,” said Percy. He presented his arm and slight bow as he assisted the lady to her feet.
She patted at the layers of her dress and stepped around the coal chief. “Is this your vehicle?” Ruby asked. “I’ve not seen the like.”
Three bronze wheels, a pedal and pulley system, a forest green settee grander than any she had seen, copper pipes no wider than the bowl of a sugar spoon, a pump moist with dew, a brass burner, an immense umbrella, a cracked leather trunk and whale bone propeller; it was beyond imagination.
“How does it fly?” she asked.
“A combination of coal and physical power. Miss Ruby, as you can see, only I fit. You have a few lines to suffice your editor.” DS said. “I mean not rudeness, but I must be off.”
Dapper Sasquatch clasped Percy’s shoulder. “Scant over 12 days. I’ll telegram.”
*****
A thundering boom woke him somewhere over the Oregon Territory; east of the Willamette, based on the trees.
DS startled fully awake at the second Crack. Swoosh. Ribbit. Belch.
Seven unremarkable days from Iowa to the Oregon Territory. Now, three days from Portland and a living mechanical flying frog aimed three cannons at his vehicle.
“I suppose if a Sasquatch can defy gravity and fly, so can a frog,” the Dapper Sasquatch said.
Pungent gunpowder burned his nostrils. A cannon ball ripped through the umbrella. The wind whipped through his fur and the trees grew larger.
Ellie dropped.
DS fussed with the back of the settee as the air rushed and tornadoed around him. A lavender cloth strung on horsehair twine released and ballooned, slowing his fall.
The creature swerved and dove. Its lumbering flight devoured the 50 yards separating them. Two stagecoaches wide, three long and another tall, the creature bore little resemblance to its river kin. Leather wings flapped and geared legs hopped to keep it aloft.
The next shot veered wide but the blast spun Ellie again.
He searched the rotating and ever-rising landscape. Thirty miles to the west, DS glimpsed a red mass above the evergreens. His head spun as fast as the aerial. Gripping the settee against the force, he triggered a latch on the deck with his big foot. A brass speaking trumpet flipped up. A twist of the base engaged the mechanics. Clicking and clacking, the tube lengthened and plates spiraled out to reach three feet across. While gentlemen never screeched or scream, occasionally they did holler.
“PAUUUUUUUUUUL!”
