Hard Ride to Wichita (18 page)

Light from that camp was also becoming clearer and brighter. Luke knew that was just a trick of his eyes, but his stomach clenched all the same. He shifted his eyes without moving his head to look in the direction of the camp. As he stared at the dimly glowing light cast by several distant fires, he could make out the shadows of figures walking back and forth in front of the flames. He was too far away to catch any details, but could sense he was close to his reason for leaving Maconville in the first place.

“Easy,” Carlo whispered. “Looks like he's about to move on.”

“What if he comes this way?”

“He won't.”

Although Luke wanted to ask how Carlo could know such a thing, he held his tongue and trusted that the other man wanted to avoid getting caught as much as he did.

“His back is to us,” Carlo said. “Drop down nice and slow.”

The air's chill had become so biting that Luke swore his knees would creak when he eased himself to the ground. He barely felt the cold dirt when his fingers finally touched it and didn't stop moving until he lay like a snake with his belly pressed against the earth.

Carlo lay prone as well, keeping his legs and torso still while reaching behind him to slip one hand into a pouch that was strapped across his body like a bandolier. He quickly found his field glasses and brought them to his eyes so he could take a better look at the horseman.

“He's heading away all right, but not to the camp,” Carlo said.

“Where's he going?”

“Probably making his rounds, circling the perimeter.”

“Any more of them?” Luke asked.

Twisting to look in the opposite direction, Carlo said, “Probably at least one more. Odds are that another sentry will be more or less on the other side of the camp than this one. If we want to get in closer, now's the time to do it.”

“All right, then. Let's go.”

“Now, just to be clear, we're only scouting here.”

“Right,” Luke snapped. “I heard you the first couple of times you told me that.”

“And somehow I still don't think you've heard me.” When Luke started to climb to his feet, Carlo grabbed the shoulder of Luke's jacket to give one quick tug that was strong enough to take the younger man off his balance. “If you go off half-cocked,” Carlo said as Luke glared at him defiantly, “you're on your own. Don't be stupid.”

“I won't.”

“We need to get a look at what we're up against. That way we can put together something of a plan before riding in to face Granger.”

“All we've been doing is planning,” Luke said. “Them four that came after us knew we were on our way, so that means Granger knows too. Since two of them bushwhackers got away, I'd say we're lucky this whole county isn't swarming with Granger's men.”

“Granger may be an army captain, but he doesn't have his pick of the litter where soldiers are concerned. He needs to be careful when making a move, and so do we. The last thing we want is to make things easy for him.”

Luke pulled free of Carlo's grip and stood up. “I'm paying you to do a job. Let's go and do it.”

As Carlo led Luke toward the camp, he felt more like a rat wandering into a bear's den.

The sky was shifting to a dark purple hue by the time Luke and Carlo were close enough to see their horses tethered near their camp. Neither said a word to each other, but not out of any malice between them. They'd had two long walks in the frigid night air with a whole lot of crawling in between. They were so tired and intent on getting back to camp that neither one of them noticed the armed man creeping up on them until it was almost too late to do anything about it.

Luke pivoted toward the approaching footsteps. Carlo did the same while dropping to one knee and drawing his pistol.

Red walked up to them with Smith & Wesson in hand. “Where have you two been?” he asked while looking at them over the top of his pistol's barrel. He was so angry that he didn't even lower his weapon once he'd seen who was nearing the camp.

“Put the gun down, Red,” Luke sighed.

“Him first!”

Carlo holstered his pistol and stomped toward the crackling fire. “If you want to shoot me, go right ahead. After the night I've had, you'd be doing me a favor.”

Shifting his aim between both of the other two, Red let out a frustrated grunt and jammed his revolver under his belt. “You two just wander off in the middle of the night and then stroll back without a word of explanation?”

“We explained it to you before we left,” Luke said. “You were half-asleep and probably don't recall.”

At the moment, Carlo didn't recall either, but he wasn't about to join the conversation before helping himself to some of the coffee brewing over the sputtering flames.

“No, you . . . Oh, wait . . . ,” Red said as some of the fury left his voice and face. “I do recall you two chattering on about something when I was trying to get some shut-eye.”

“Well, that's what we were chattering on about,” Luke grunted as he moved past his friend. “Did you make any breakfast?”

“I made coffee.”

“How about fixing some breakfast? I can hardly move.”

Red furrowed his brow in a way that made him look every bit the angry kid that had taken a swing at Luke when they'd first gotten to know each other outside their schoolhouse. “You think you can just order me around to do your cooking?”

Turning to face him, Luke asked, “Why haven't
you
had any breakfast yet?”

“Um . . . well . . .”

“Go on.”

“I just got up,” Red admitted.

“And we've been walking all night, crawling on the cold, hard ground, and trying not to get our heads blown off while getting a look at Granger's camp. That,” Luke said with unmistakable finality, “is why you're gonna stop complaining and fix the breakfast.”

When Red turned toward Carlo, all he got was an amused shrug from the older man. “Okay. I'll make breakfast,” Red said. “But not because you told me to. Because I'm hungry and you two can't cook to save your souls.”

“Perfect,” Carlo said. “I'll have griddle cakes and bacon.”

“Don't push it,” Red growled. “You'll have what I give ya. Now tell me what you two saw when you were sneaking about.”

“It's not a very big camp,” Carlo said as he poured some coffee from the tin pot and swirled it within his cup. “About half a dozen tents and most of those are just big enough to shelter an infantryman or two. Two officers' tents and two wagons. One of them's probably for the cook, and the other must carry supplies. Horses are corralled in one spot. Some men riding the perimeter. Nothing special there.”

Red looked over to Luke, who shrugged and said, “That about sums it up.”

“Sounds like what my brother said when he wrote home about the camps he lived in while marching into Virginia,” Red said. “Only a lot smaller.”

“Granger may be working outside of any law,” Carlo said, “but he's still an army captain, and the habits that come along with that uniform are hard to shake.”

Luke nodded. “That's good. If his habits are that predictable, it'll make it that much easier for us to get to him.”

“Hold on, now,” Carlo told him. “We've made it this far by keeping our wits about us. No need to lose them now.”

“We did our scouting and I held up my end. I didn't go off on my own doing anything stupid.”

“So let's keep it that way. Another few days of scouting and we should be ready to—”

“A few days?” Luke roared. “What's gonna be different in a few days? That is, apart from Granger and his men having more time to do some scouting of their own. Maybe they get lucky and find us!”

“If you would've let me finish, I was gonna suggest we break camp today and ride into Wichita. A town that size, we can rent a room and go unnoticed for a good while.”

“And what do we do in that time?”

“I've got some ideas,” Carlo said. “While I see to them, you two just need to sit tight.”

“Sit tight while you ride off on your own?” Red asked. “I don't know if I like the sound of that.”

Fixing a stern glare on Red, Carlo said, “Then it's good that it don't matter one bit if you like it or not.”

Luke stepped up to the fire and placed his hand on the grip of one of his holstered guns. “I want to know what that money is for.”

“What?” Carlo asked.

“I want to know why you were paying Granger.”

“It's not important.”

“I didn't think so at first,” Luke said. “But things are different now. Perhaps we've just made it farther than I thought we would, but we're putting our lives into each other's hands, and one slip can make a difference between seeing the next day or not.”

“We may be riding together, but that don't mean I have to answer to you for every step I take. I'll be relieving myself after this coffee runs through me,” Carlo said while holding up his cup. “You want me to ask permission for that too or can I just tend to my own business?”

“That isn't all,” Luke said. “You seem to know an awful lot about Granger and how he conducts himself. If you're closer to him than you let on, that could turn out real bad for me and Red.”

Red took a reflexive step back. “How close? What did he do? What does he know?”

“Calm down,” Carlo said. “Both of you.”

“We will,” Luke told him without moving his hand away from his holstered gun. “Just as soon as you give us some answers.”

“You don't need them. All that matters is that we're here and we've both got things to settle with Captain Granger.”

“That was enough before,” Red said as he walked around the fire to stand at his friend's side. “But not anymore. Tell him what he wants to know.”

Carlo set his coffee down and slowly climbed to his feet. Although he still looked every bit as tired as he'd claimed to be, there was nothing in his posture that made his gun hand seem impaired in the slightest. And there was nothing in his eyes to hint that he might be starting to feel the first lick of fear at facing both men in front of him. “I haven't done a thing to deserve this,” he told them.

“We're trusting each other with our lives,” Red said. “I know I can trust Luke here. Give me a reason why I should trust you.”

“Because I've already fought to keep both of you breathing back when we were ambushed,” Carlo said.

“All we're asking is for you to put your cards on the table,” Luke said. “I've told you everything about what I did to get here. You do the same.”

Carlo's eyes narrowed into slits. When he moved again, both of the younger men flinched. Instead of making a move to the gun at his side, however, Carlo's only move was to sit back down and pick up his coffee. Staring down at the little fire, he said, “I was a soldier.”

“Figured as much,” Luke said. “Keep talking.”

“I'd been in the army since I was your age. Then the war broke out and things changed. Everything changed.” Slowly shaking his head, Carlo said, “You can't even know what war's like until you're hip deep in good men's blood, seeing the dead piled up in one place and the survivors screaming as the doctors . . .” He closed his eyes and steeled himself before opening them again. “Well, let's just say I'd rather die on the battlefield than let them butchers get a hold of me with their saws.”

“Where did you fight?” Red asked.

“South Carolina at first. Then I was attached to another commander who led a smaller group of men. We headed north. I . . . scarcely recall where we were at any given time. It was just one fight after another. We'd meet the enemy and move on. Fight and ride. Fight and ride. That's what my life became.”

“You're not in a uniform,” Luke said quietly. “You weren't living like a soldier when we found you. So that means you deserted?”

“The man who led me and my friends into battle,” Carlo said as if he were speaking about a ghost, “he lost sight of why we were fighting. He didn't need a reason no more. He was blinded by blood, spurred on by the gunfire that never let up, crazed from lack of sleep . . . I don't pretend to know what demons were in his head, but I do know he was leading us all to our graves.

“Every soldier knows any day could be his last. That don't mean he's about to throw his life away on another man's whim.” Grinding his teeth together, Carlo gripped his coffee cup as if he was about to crush it into a ball and throw it into the woods. “What we were doing . . . it wasn't fighting anymore. It was just destruction for the sake of destruction.”

“That's what war is,” Red said with fire in his tone. “A soldier goes where he's supposed to go and does what he's supposed to do.”

“That's what I thought too,” Carlo said. “That's why I followed my orders for as long as I did until there was a day when I just couldn't stomach it anymore. Once a fighting man loses that edge, he's no longer useful. Even worse . . . he's dangerous to himself and those around him.”

Scowling with disgust, Red said, “So you ran away. What's any of this got to do with Granger?”

“Captain Granger provides a lot of services,” Carlo explained. “Services that are valuable with the war on. One of them is to take people away from where they don't want to be so they can start fresh somewhere else.”

“Like those folks who help slaves come north?” Luke asked.

“Something like that, I suppose.”

“Only instead of helping people get their freedom,” Red said, “he's helping traitors run away from their duty. Ain't that right, traitor?”

Carlo stood up and walked over to Red. The younger man met him and puffed out his chest when he stood toe-to-toe with him. Even though Red was obviously welcoming a fight, he wasn't prepared for the speed in which Carlo snapped his hand up to clamp it around his throat.

“I know you've got a brother in the army,” Carlo said in a fierce voice. “And I know you want to enlist as soon as you get the chance. I respect that, which is why I've allowed you to get away with what you've already said to me.”

Red bared his teeth as he tried to speak, but his words were trapped beneath Carlo's grip and could not escape. His face reddened, both with frustration and a lack of air getting through to his lungs.

“I've got to pay for what I've done,” Carlo continued. “I've got to answer for my sins . . . but I don't have to answer to some strutting, selfish kid who barely knows a thing about how the world works.”

Carlo's fingers loosened as quickly as they'd snapped shut, allowing Red to fill his lungs with a couple of gulping breaths. Red created some distance between himself and Carlo with a powerful two-handed shove. “Don't put your hands on me again, tr—”

Red's insult was nipped in the bud by a slap across the face that was even quicker than when Carlo had grabbed his throat. The impact of Carlo's palm echoed in Luke's ears like a crack of thunder. He'd seen his friend display a violent fit of rage over much less, so he didn't know what to expect after this. One thing he knew for certain was that he didn't want to get in between the other two.

For a moment, Red was too stunned to do anything. Before he could get his wits about him, Carlo said, “That's a whole lot less than what you deserve, boy. If you doubt me, just think about what your brother would do to any man that looked him in the face and called him a traitor more than once.”

“My brother wouldn't have to worry about that,” Red told him. “Because he'd never do anything to deserve that name.”

“As far as you know, I didn't either. You march through a street covered in blood and then tell me I'm wrong for not wanting to be a part of it any longer. Until then, keep your insults to yourself and show some damn respect.”

Much to Luke's surprise, Red nodded. “All right. I guess you've got a point. I still owe you something, though.” Without a second's hesitation or a hint of warning, he balled up a fist and delivered a sharp, snapping left cross to Carlo's face. Carlo recoiled at the impact but brought his head straight back around to look at Red.

Brushing the side of his hand against the spot where he'd been stricken, Carlo said, “You done?”

“For now.”

“Good.” Carlo then looked over to Luke and started talking as if the only interruption he'd had to endure was a loud sneeze. “Captain Granger was to provide me a safe passage on a cargo ship bound for the Caribbean.”

“You couldn't do that yourself?” Luke asked.

“Not if I wanted to avoid dodging all the men that would be looking for me. In case you didn't know, there's a lot of ground to cover between Kansas and a seaport. Plenty of soldiers to be found at stations and such, not to mention the ones marching from one engagement to another. Makes it a whole lot easier if someone who knows about troop movements can tell you which way to ride and when to lie low.”

“Surely the army's got better things to do than hunt down one deserter,” Luke said.