Hard Ride to Wichita (16 page)

“What's so funny?” Luke asked.

“Between the money I owe and what you kept from getting to him, Captain Granger's pockets are mighty light. I've never known him to be a forgiving man, but he must be spitting nails right about now. You sure you want to cross paths with him now?”

“The sooner, the better. He's got a lot to answer for.”

“It might not be a bad idea to wait a spell,” Carlo suggested. “I wouldn't ask you to forget about what happened to your family, but men like Granger value their money more than they do anyone's life. Taking this much away from him is like walking up and kicking him right in the . . . well . . . where it hurts a man the most.”

“Yeah, well, I feel real bad about that,” Luke sneered.

“If the three of us were experienced gunmen, I might say we could put something together to give us the element of surprise. A man in Granger's spot doesn't exactly fear much from a few solitary souls like us. From what I've seen of you and Red . . . it might serve you well to get some more experience under your belts and let this particular storm pass.”

“This is how it was meant to be.”

Finally taking his eyes away from the pile of money on the bed, Carlo said, “You've got a peculiar notion of destiny, kid.”

“Destiny? Seems more like luck to me. Me and Red on our way to Wichita and we find you, who needs to go that way too. Pretty lucky that both of us have business with Captain Granger.”

“I wouldn't say that much,” Carlo told him. “Granger's got his hand in all the dirty business in this state as well as a few others. Just about every third or fourth trail leads back to him somehow. What I'm saying is that we might not want to be anywhere near him until he comes to terms with missing so much of his money.”

Luke studied him carefully. “There's one thing I don't understand.”

“Just one? You truly are sharper than most.”

“If you want to pay Granger for . . . whatever you were buying from him . . . why do you also want to come along with me and Red? We're not exactly gonna leave him in any condition to do much of anything for anyone.”

“What I'm getting from Granger is use of certain resources that are at his disposal,” Carlo explained. “If I can get my hands on those resources, I don't exactly need him. The money is just the grease that will make the wheels turn.”

“Well, there's what you owe,” Luke said while waving at the stacks that Carlo had separated from the rest. “I suppose it doesn't matter if you tell me about your business or not. I'm paying you for a job and you'll be getting something out of it as well. Just tell me one more thing.” Luke tightened his grip on the Colt. “Now that you have your money, why should I believe you'll come with us all the way to Wichita?”

“Let's just say my days of having a bunch of gunmen riding along with me are over. Granger moves around too much for me to sit idly by and wait for another chance. If you know where to find him, we need to hit him now. If he's not in Wichita when we get there, I'll be on my way. If he is, you and your friend are the best partners I'm likely to cobble together under the circumstances. You want some advice where that partner is concerned? Keep a close eye on your money. I'm not the one you should be worried about where spending it is concerned.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I suppose Red just now decided to take up playing poker? I sure hope so because he ain't very good at it.”

Luke shrugged. “At least he's learning a trade.”

“Poker's a trade? Blacksmithing is a trade. Being a tailor . . . that's a trade too. Poker is tossing your money away, hoping your luck holds, and being able to lie when it doesn't. And that's the good days when you don't need to shoot or stab some drunk accusing you of being a cheat.”

“Sounds better than being a tailor.”

Carlo started putting the money back into the bag. “Guess you might as well live it up. We all should, I suppose. Since we're riding to spit in the face of a man like Captain Granger and using his money to pay for everything along the way, we shouldn't count on having many days left to enjoy.”

“You think we have a chance of pulling this off?” Luke asked.

“By my calculations, I should've been dead a few times already, so what do I know? Between all three of us, we may have just enough crazy to get the job done.”

The sun was just a shimmering promise in the early-morning sky when Carlo buckled his saddle once more onto his horse. He'd only just taken it off the animal's back the day before, but he went through the familiar motions without the slightest hint of impatience or anxiousness. On the contrary, every move was as precise as ever as he took a moment to brush a few tangled spots on its gray coat.

“Today we're really going to get you some exercise, Old Man,” he said. “I know you got anxious to stretch your legs yesterday, but it didn't quite work out the way I thought it would. Come to think of it, I was partway convinced that I might be dragged in by the sheriff before last night was through. I guess that shopkeeper must have done some fast talking in our favor, huh? Imagine that.”

“When's the last time we've been to Wichita?” he asked while putting the saddlebags in place. Although the horse only seemed interested in lapping up a few more sips of water, Carlo said, “Well, we're headed back that way again. Should be eventful.”

“You always talk to your horse?” Luke asked as he walked into the stable.

“Mostly when I don't think anyone's around,” Carlo replied. “But since we'll be riding together, I imagine you'll be hearing it plenty.”

“Red's waiting outside.”

“He's probably not too happy about leaving town.”

“He's not happy about leaving Stormy's,” Luke corrected. “Probably wouldn't matter what town it's in.”

“Makes sense. A place like that is right close to heaven when you've got a bag full of money. That girl you were favoring. Emma, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you tell her about that money?”

Luke bristled as he said, “What does that matter?”

“It matters because the fewer people that know about it, the better.”

“She didn't steal anything, if that's what you mean.”

“You don't know that,” Carlo said as he calmly prepared his horse for the day's ride. “You told me you never even counted it.”

“You got your money just like I promised. The rest isn't your concern.”

Carlo turned to face the younger man. “I'm not questioning her loyalty, but you just met her. You don't have any notion of where her loyalties lie. She may be sweet and all, but you've got to keep your eyes open. She's a whore, and whores—”

Without hesitation, Luke pounced at Carlo. His right fist flew straight at Carlo's head and slapped against a callused palm before strong fingers closed to trap him. Luke tried to pull his hand free but couldn't break the other man's grip. The moment he moved his other hand to take a swing, Carlo warned, “Don't do it, kid.”

“Don't call her a whore!”

“It's not meant as an insult. That's just the job she picked. If you intend to ride this path you're on, you've got to start seeing things simpler. A woman in her line of work, call it whatever you like, steals from the men she entertains. That's just the nature of the beast. And stealing wasn't even what I was concerned about. Just telling her about that money did enough damage.”

“Yeah?” Luke grunted as he kept trying to reclaim his trapped fist.

Carlo relaxed his grip to let Luke yank his hand away. “That much money coming from a known killer . . . do you really think nobody else will come looking for it?”

“I . . . meant to keep moving.”

“That's a good idea,” Carlo said. “But all someone has to do is keep asking around before they eventually find someone who talked to some girl who talked to your Emma to find out where that money was headed.”

Luke shrugged. “I bet Emma or any of those girls could get a man to believe anything they want. They could send a man off to New York City looking for me, just to get them away from here.”

Where Carlo had been calm and near tranquil before, he suddenly became something else. His expression darkened and his eyes turned cold as he knocked Luke back with a quick shove. “Right there is why you've got no business making the ride into Wichita! You don't know anything about how this world works.”

“I've seen plenty of this world!”

“You've seen some blood and felt some pain, but I'm talking about the world where killers live. Killers who don't forget when they're slighted and they don't get sweet-talked by some little thing with a pretty face. They have no qualms with taking a knife to those pretty faces or a hammer to their soft little hands just to make them talk. And no matter how good their intentions are, even if that girl you fancy truly thinks highly of you, there ain't no one who will stand up under that kind of misery. That's the world I'm talking about and that's where you're fixing to go!”

“Maybe I know about that too,” Luke said. “I didn't just take that money away from the man that killed my family. I killed him to get it. I shot him dead and left him to rot on the floor.”

Without so much as a flinch, Carlo shook his head and said, “That doesn't mean a damn thing. Getting lucky and firing a few scared shots into someone isn't the same as being the one who walks into a quiet place on a quiet day knowing full well that he'll be spilling blood before he leaves. It takes a certain kind of man to do a thing like that, and that man ain't you. Not yet.”

“I can do what needs to be done where Granger or his men are concerned.”

“That might be true,” Carlo replied. “And that's why I keep trying to talk sense into you. I've seen plenty of men who've done their share of killing. I've waded through more blood than you can imagine, and the ones who ride into hell of their own accord aren't the same as normal folk. They got no spark in their eyes. Your friend may have a big mouth and is quick to anger, but his spark is still there. Yours is dwindling, kid. That's what worries me.”

“You don't even know me.”

“I know enough.” Slowly, the darkness in Carlo's features receded and he appeared to be more human than he'd been a second ago. “It may not be my place to change you or even to try. At least I can help you stay alive.”

Doing his best to salvage some of the dignity he'd lost by being so easily stopped when he'd tried to punch Carlo, Luke turned his back to him and waved him off. “Eh, what do you even care? You'll be getting what you want out of this.”

Carlo reached out to place his hand on his horse's neck and kept it there. “When a man has been broken down to a certain point, he tends to grab on to any chance at all to do some good. For some of us, those chances don't come along too often. I don't expect you to understand, but you probably will before too much longer.”

“You did your part and preached to me about being a good person,” Luke spat. “Are you coming with us to Wichita or not?”

“I suppose I am. I still need what Granger has.”

“Yeah,” Luke grunted. “That's what I thought. Get your horse ready and meet us outside.”

Waiting until Luke was almost out the door, Carlo said, “One more thing.”

Luke stopped and turned toward Carlo without looking directly at him. “What now?”

“Don't mistake kindness for weakness. You talk to me again like I'm some dog you're telling to sit or fetch, and I'll hit you so hard you'll forget your own name. Got that?”

This time, Luke was so rattled he didn't think to hide it. When he turned away, it wasn't out of disrespect or youthful smugness. It was to keep his face from being seen directly. “I got it.” He then went outside where Red was waiting.

Carlo rubbed his horse's ear. “You want another drink before we go? Take your time and have a drink. We're in no hurry.”

As the crisp autumn winds blew across the plains, they brought with them scents of burning leaves, cooking fires, and the chilly promise of the approaching winter. Luke, Red, and Carlo had been riding for two days without stopping unless it was absolutely necessary. The first day had been used to put Wendt Cross behind them and settle in as a group.

The second day was quiet.

On the third day, the riders had grown accustomed to one another and became more focused on the task at hand. Wichita wasn't much farther down the trail. As they drew closer, Luke and Red became anxious while Carlo fell into a calmness that wrapped around him like a shroud. Once his breakfast of bacon and oatmeal had settled into the pit of his stomach, Red looked over to him and asked, “So, what's that money for anyway?”

Carlo and the others were riding at a smooth pace that allowed them to make progress without unduly taxing the horses. Glancing over to Red, Carlo asked, “What money?”

“What money do you think?” Red said. “The three thousand you took from us.”

“You mean the three thousand I took from what was taken from someone else?”

“Well . . . yeah. What's it for?”

“Captain Granger was supposed to provide a service for me,” Carlo said. “It's a service I need done, so I needed to pay for it. If the wheels have already been set into motion for what I need done, I'll need that money to keep 'em turning.”

“This fella sure knows how to dance around something, doesn't he, Luke? All them words and not one answer among 'em.”

Luke laughed at that but didn't have anything to say.

“Captain Granger is the man to see to get things done,” Carlo explained. “Folks from Kansas and as far out as the Dakota Territories come to him for guns, ammunition, hired killers, or anything else they can think of. The Captain before Granger's name isn't just decoration, which means he's got the army behind him.”

“So the army is in the business of selling guns?” Red asked.

“The army knows what Granger tells 'em. As long as he protects enough settlers against Indians or throws enough grief at any Rebs that come through, he gets to do whatever he wants. With the war on, there's plenty of profit to be made by supplying either side.”

“So he's a traitor,” Luke said.

“Depends on how you come at it,” Carlo told him. “He probably sees himself as a businessman. Folks with that kind of stain on their soul tend to find a simple way of looking at things. Granger is what you'd call a profiteer. He looks for other people's misery and finds a way to use it to line his pockets. Gotten real rich doing it too. After all, there's plenty of misery to be had nowadays.”

“Still more dancin',” Red chuckled.

Luke looked over to Carlo and said, “He's right. You've said plenty without saying a thing about what he asked. I'm guessing you weren't trying to buy guns or such from Granger. So what kind of misery was he banking on in your case?”

“I wanted to disappear,” Carlo said. “Still do.”

“We found you half-buried in a horse stall,” Red said. “Seems to me like you were doing a pretty good job of disappearing on your own.”

Carlo smiled as he swayed to the plodding rhythm of his horse's steps.

“You're running from the law,” Luke said. “That it?”

Red snapped his fingers. “He killed a man! I bet that's it. Maybe he killed a whole bunch of men. He's a gunfighter! We seen that much by how he handles a pistol.”

“You're real smart,” Carlo said.

Red sat proudly in his saddle. “You hear that, Luke?” he said. “Book learnin' ain't the only kind of smarts there is.”

“He was stringing you along,” Luke told him. “There's no reason to pay someone like Granger that much money if he just killed someone. He could've used that cash to go to Canada or something.”

“That's not a bad idea,” Carlo said. “Why don't we take that cash so we can all go to Canada? I hear it's real pretty this time of year.”

“He's still stringing us along, right?” Red grunted.

“And dancing better than ever,” Luke added. “He still hasn't given a straight answer.”

“That's right! What are you h—”

“Quiet!” Carlo snapped. When he sat upright in his saddle, the caution he displayed spread quickly through the other two riding with him. Red went so far as to draw his pistol and hold it at the ready.

“What is it?” Luke asked.

“Someone's up ahead,” Carlo told him.

Leaning forward in his saddle, Red squinted at the horizon to find two men on horseback cresting a rise less than a mile away. “What are you so worked up about?” he asked. “They could be anyone.”

“They're circling around to get behind us,” Carlo warned.

“They could be goin' anywhere!”

“They were ahead of us before and then they turned to go up them hills like their tails were on fire.” Carlo reached into a saddlebag to retrieve a set of field glasses encased in a dented metal housing that looked as if it had seen more action than both of the younger men combined. He put the glasses to his eyes and studied the distant figures in front of him for a few seconds before twisting around in his saddle to look behind.

“You gonna tell us there's someone already behind us too?” Red asked.

“Yep,” Carlo replied. “That's exactly what I was gonna say.”

Both Red and Luke turned to survey the trail at their backs. “There's nobody there!” Red said. “You're just ribbing us again.”

“No, he's not,” Luke said. “There's another two back there.”

“Where? I don't . . . Ohhhh yeah,” Red said. “I see 'em now. Doesn't mean they're following us.”

“There's one good way to find out,” Carlo said. He dropped his field glasses back into the saddlebag from which they'd come and then snapped his reins. “Let's give them a race.”

“Now, there's something I like to hear!” Red said with a wide grin. With all the enthusiasm he'd show to a friendly challenge from his best friend, he flicked his reins and tapped his heels against his horse's sides to get the brown gelding off and running.

Allowing Red to take the lead, Luke urged his horse to catch up to Carlo. Since Missy was a whole lot younger than Carlo's Old Man, he pulled alongside him and kept even. Without taking his eyes from the trail ahead of them, Luke shouted to be heard over the thunder of hooves, “Where are we going?”

“Doesn't matter just yet,” Carlo replied. “If those men aren't who I think they are, they'll let us pass 'em by.”

“Who do you think they are?”

“Men who won't let us pass them by.” With that, Carlo snapped his reins to get his horse moving even faster. Old Man might have been lackadaisical most of the time, but he'd saved up enough steam to answer the call to speed right now. His hooves pounded against the dirt, building momentum until he was at a full gallop.

Luke could have overtaken him, but he kept just a pace or two behind so he could follow Carlo's lead.

“Red!” Carlo shouted.

For the moment, it seemed Red was too engrossed in stretching his horse's legs to worry about anything else. Carlo urged his horse to go a little faster, and somehow Old Man found the strength to meet the challenge. When he got closer, Carlo shouted to the younger man again. This time, Red turned around to look back at him and shout, “What?”

“If anyone shoots at us, you break right and I'll break left.”

“Who's shooting at us?” Red asked.

“Nobody yet,” Carlo replied. “Just do what I say if anyone does take a shot at us.”

Before Red could ask yet another question, a rifle shot cracked through the air to send a round hissing over their heads.

“Go!” Carlo shouted.

Red pulled his reins to the right and peeled away from the other two.

“You,” Carlo said to Luke, who was still keeping pace with him. “Follow Red and I'll meet these men head-on.”

“But there's four of them!” Luke protested.

“Do as I say, damn it!”

“Fine!”

As soon as Luke steered away from the trail to thunder across the stretch of flat, open land to the right, Carlo reached for the boot in his saddle to draw a Sharps rifle and lever in a round. Allowing the lower half of his body to move along with the motion of his horse, he steadied his upper half and brought the rifle to his shoulder. He fired twice, not worrying about hitting anything. His only intention was to let the other riders know they had a fight on their hands if they wanted to keep after him. The message was delivered well enough for the closer pair to split apart and close in on the trail from separate directions.

The firing stopped for a moment, but Carlo knew better than to take any comfort from that. Both of the riders that had split off were going to try to close him in, and he'd completely lost sight of the other two. Rather than try to push his horse any harder, he pulled back on the reins to slow him down.

“Easy, boy,” Carlo said as he fished in his pocket for some spare rifle rounds. When he found them, his hands went through the well-practiced motions of replacing the ones he'd fired. Still riding at a good pace, Carlo wasn't able to take exact aim, but he could get a lot closer than he'd been able to before. More shots cracked in the distance, coming from the right side of the trail. Apparently the other two riders had gone after Red and Luke instead of surrounding the easiest target. It had been a gamble that he could draw all of the riders to him, and Carlo was satisfied that he'd at least convinced half of them to come his way. The even larger gamble was that there weren't any more riders he hadn't yet seen.

Carlo's instinct and training were to take aim with his rifle and bring down as many targets as he could. However, he fought that back and lowered the Sharps on the off chance that the riders might just be responding to some mistaken threat. If they saw someone ready to take another shot at them, there was no reason why they wouldn't fire on him. If this was just some case of mistaken identity, they might retreat before anyone got hurt.

Hope truly did spring eternal. Unfortunately Carlo had found that drinking from that spring too deeply could get a man killed. The next shot that was fired burned through the air much too close for Carlo's liking. “Should've known better,” he grumbled as he gave his reins a snap and steered Old Man in another direction entirely.

A few more rounds blazed through the space where Carlo would have been if he'd kept his old course. He charged toward the trail, turned sharply, and came around so the two riders firing at him were once again in his line of sight. Without hesitation, he brought his rifle up, fired a round, and then fired again. He knew those shots would be wide and high, but they were mainly a way for him to adjust to his awkward position and the movement of both him and his targets. Old Man had been with him long enough that he didn't get rattled by gunfire and responded to the touches of Carlo's knees against his sides since his hands were too busy to use the reins to steer.

Ignoring an incoming bullet, Carlo fired at one of the riders to convince him to break off from the offensive until he could steer back to come in at a better angle. Harder to ignore were the shots still coming from Red and Luke's side of the trail.

Carlo forced his ears to shut out everything he heard so he could concentrate on what he could see. His mind filled with angles, estimations, and calculations required to make a shot that most would consider to be too difficult to attempt. It had been a while since he'd flexed those particular muscles, but Carlo found they came back to him nicely when needed. When he was at the height of the arc of Old Man's stride, he let out the breath he'd taken and squeezed his trigger. The Sharps bucked against his shoulder to send a bullet into the center of his target.

One of the riders grunted and flopped back in his saddle. He somehow managed to keep from falling long enough to slow his horse and fire a few wild shots that thumped harmlessly into the ground between him and Carlo. As soon as he saw the rider lose his balance and drop from his horse, Carlo shifted his aim toward the next one.

That man was taking some extra time to line up a shot as well, which gave Carlo a chance to do the same. Two shots burned through the air. The first exploded from Carlo's Sharps, and the second was taken by the rider who was hastily trying to avoid being dropped. Recognizing panic when he saw it, Carlo levered in another round and fired in the rider's general direction. As expected, the rider's sense of self-preservation took over and he steered sharply away from the fight to gallop out of harm's way.

“Whoa,” Carlo said as he shifted the rifle to one hand so he could better control his reins. After bringing his horse to a stop, Carlo sighted along the top of the Sharps while searching for Red and Luke. The remaining horses weren't difficult to find on such flat terrain, but he was having some difficulty distinguishing friend from foe.

“Come on, boys,” Carlo said under his breath. “Bring them in closer.”

There was no way for him to expect Red and Luke to follow a plan that had never been formally made, but he repeated the order again and again while waiting for at least one rider to strike a familiar chord. Finally the sunlight hit one of them at just the right angle for Carlo to spot the fiery red hair sprouting from his head. When another rider fired a shot at that one, Carlo shifted his aim away from Red and started thinking through the angles required to make the long-distance shot.

Carlo pulled in a breath to steady his aim. As he let it out, he slowly tightened his finger around the trigger. Before the Sharps could send its round through the air, a puff of smoke spewed from Red's hand and the rider that had fired at him reeled before falling from his saddle. Without wasting another moment, Carlo shifted his aim at the other two riders on that side of the trail.