In the starboard corner in front of her was a coal-burning stove and to its left a freestanding cupboard. Two bunks were built into the left-hand wall. She scanned the upper reaches of the room, lowering her eyes until they reached the floor, where she found what she wanted near her feet. Under the drop-leaf table was the toolbox she’d seen the last time the Emorys had transited Swains Lock. It was heavier than she expected and she had to slide it out from under the table to lift it, but the thick, hinged handle supported the box and its contents easily. She tightened her grip and carried the box up to the stern deck.
Tilting toward the cabin wall for balance, she retraced her steps along the rail past the legs of the sleeping men. She quietly set the toolbox down a few inches from Tom’s feet, perpendicular to and flush with the rail. After retrieving the leg-irons from the lock wall, she knelt next to the toolbox, flipped its handle upright, and threaded one of the open cuffs and half the chain through the opening beneath it. Leaning over the box, she held the open cuff above Tom’s right ankle. After a deep breath, she eased the opposing C-arm under his ankle and pushed the arms together until she heard a click. She pulled lightly to test the cuff; it was closed and locked around his ankle. His rhythmic breathing rattled on.
She sidestepped to Kevin’s shoulder and listened for a second. The breaths were slow and deep, so she gingerly gripped his coat with a hand near each shoulder. He didn’t stir. She pivoted and dragged him toward the rail, then gently lowered his head and shoulders to the deck. He was still snoring, with his hat balanced precariously on his forehead. She slid his feet into alignment with Tom’s, soles facing each other across the toolbox. The second cuff was still open and she positioned it above Kevin’s left ankle. Speed was more important than silence now, so she drove the C-arms together with a metallic snap. She pulled to confirm the cuff was locked and backed away to survey her work.
Both Emorys were still asleep, though Kevin was twitching and starting to move his hands. Tom was still slouched against the cabin wall, hat brim concealing his eyes. The leg-irons ran along the rail – from Tom’s right ankle, through the opening under the toolbox handle, to Kevin’s left ankle. The cuffs were wider than either man’s ankle but narrow enough to prevent the shackles from slipping off.
A knowing smile formed on her lips. Making no effort now at stealth, she retrieved the lock-key and carried it back toward the sleeping men. She plucked Kevin’s fedora from his face and he sputtered momentarily, lips and brow twitching. She flipped the hat toward the middle of the deck, then removed Tom’s hat and tossed it alongside. The light made Tom stir and bring his hand to his face.
Katie knelt beside the toolbox and removed the sandstone pendant and its cord from around her neck. She wrapped the cord around the toolbox handle, tying off the loose end to hold the pendant against it. Then she pulled the box halfway out across the rail. The chain grew taut as the toolbox teetered over the water four feet below. The box began to tip and the cuffs pulled against the ankles of the men.
She stood up and held the lock-key like a sword, then swung its socket against the sole of Kevin’s shoe. He swiveled his foot and began to grumble. She swung the key back and tapped Tom’s shoe. He waggled his head and brought an arm to rest on his extended leg. She swung the key more forcefully, again striking the soles of both men’s shoes. The third time she struck, the snoring had stopped. Kevin was trying to sit up and Tom was rubbing his eyes with both hands. She struck a fourth time and heard Kevin issue a guttural protest.
“God dammit. Stop hitting my foot!” She looked back at him and smiled. He was sitting now, hands against the deck, trying to understand his position. His eyes settled on the cuff around his ankle and followed the chain through the toolbox to the cuff on his brother’s leg. Tom’s eyes were open as he gripped his shackled leg and tried to bend his knee. His effort swung the toolbox away from the rail and left it dangling more precariously over the water.
“The money!” Kevin cried as the scene in front of him began to register. He thrust toward the toolbox, but the slack in the chain created by his lunge allowed the box to tumble free, and the falling box pulled his foot off the rail. The cuffs bit more deeply into their ankles. Tom tried to retract his leg but pain from the strangling cuff dissuaded him. He swore and jerked his head, then noticed Katie for the first time, standing just beyond reach. “Get these things off of us!” he yelled at her.
She glanced at him, then turned back toward Kevin. He was poised on one knee now, left leg stretched out over the water by the leg-irons, eyes focused solely on the toolbox. It hovered three feet above the water in the lock, but the chain was tantalizingly close. If he could just snare it with his left hand… He took a deep breath and stretched for the chain just as Tom made a parallel gesture, which sent the toolbox dipping toward the water. To Kevin’s horror, the chain fell away from his outstretched fingers and he felt his center of gravity follow it past the rail. Tom tried to roll toward the centerline, but his effort was overpowered. Both Emorys tumbled into the lock.
Katie walked to the rail and looked down. Part of a hip and a shoulder broke the surface. The lock held almost five feet of water and she knew the toolbox would find the dirt-covered stone floor at its base, pulling the men into an upright position. The water was cold despite the warming weather, and the chill should jar them to their senses.
As she expected, both Emorys brought their heads above water. They used their free legs to tap-dance against the floor of the lock, balancing themselves. With water draining from their heads, they looked first at each other and then up toward the scow, where Katie was already stepping from the rail onto the rope ladder. She climbed to the top of the lock wall.
Kevin tried to hop toward the ladder while Tom prepared to jump for the scow’s rail a few feet overhead. Their efforts nullified each other and both brothers lost their balance and cursed. Katie retracted the ladder, which she bundled up and tossed toward the lockhouse.
“Fuckin’ whore!” Tom swore.
“No use cussin’ her now, Tommy,” Kevin said grimly. He shook his head and spat into the lock, then looked up toward Katie on the lock wall above. “If you help us out, Miss Elgin, we can forget about what your brother owes us,” he said, using his unchained leg to bounce against the floor of the lock. “Maybe better than that… maybe we could provide some financing for him.” He shaded his eyes to see her better. “I mean, for both of you. You and Cyrus.”
Katie looked down at him with no sign of recognition.
“I think using the ladder might be easiest,” Kevin said. “Or if you got a key for these cuffs…”
She walked over to where the ladder had been and picked up the lock-key, then carried it to the upstream gates, stepped onto the walkway, and turned to face the lock. The outermost stem was in front of her and she placed the socket over its squared end. With both hands on the key, she rocked it to make sure it was seated, then swung it ninety degrees at full force. Water flooded through the open wicket and a kicking, haystack-shaped fountain formed instantly at the bottom of the gate.
“What the hell are you doing?” Kevin screamed above the sound of rushing water.
“The bitch is fixing to drown us!” Tom yelled.
Ignoring the men, she jiggled the key and lifted it off the stem. She sidestepped across the walkway, set the key on the second stem, and swung it to open the wicket. The roar of the water intensified as the level in the lock surged higher. She looked up to find the Emorys. The water was rising toward their chins. She twisted the key off the second stem and continued across the walkway toward the stems on the opposite gate.