Hard Ride to Wichita (17 page)

From what he could see, there were no surprises over there and no additional men had come along to lend a hand with the ambush. Both of the remaining riders looked identical from a distance, so Carlo focused instead on their horses. He was just about to give up and ride in closer when he reminded himself that Luke's horse had brown patches along its side and rump. He picked out that one without much trouble, but kept his aim slightly high just to be on the safe side. Squeezing his trigger, he fired and immediately lowered his rifle so he could reload.

That wasn't the only round that was fired since both Luke and Red were now pulling their triggers to unleash a firestorm at the last attacker. Rather than try his luck with two gunmen and a third that was shooting at him from afar, the last ambusher peeled away while firing his remaining pistol rounds behind him to cover his retreat.

Carlo hadn't replaced all of his spent rounds but snapped his reins anyway and rode across the trail. As soon as he thought he was close enough to be heard by the other two, he yelled, “Let him go!”

The younger men didn't stop shooting, so Carlo continued to ride up to them while shouting for them to back off. Red was all too happy to charge after the retreating rider with his pistol blazing away, but Luke turned to acknowledge Carlo with a wave. He then rode after Red to pass Carlo's request along.

Once it was clear that both remaining attackers had no intention of doubling back, Carlo turned around to find the man he'd knocked from his saddle. That one's horse was standing dutifully over its fallen rider, which made Carlo's task that much easier.

Coming to a stop several yards away from the wounded man, Carlo dismounted and drew his pistol. He kept his steps slow and quiet as he approached the spot where the stranger's horse was grazing. The rider lay nearby. He wasn't moving.

“Danny?” the rider called out. “Is that you?”

Carlo stepped closer without responding. He wanted to make sure the rider wasn't holding a gun, but the man's hand was obscured by grass and weeds. After a few more steps, he could see the glint of iron buried amid the swaying green blades.

The rider tried to crane his neck enough to get a look at who was coming. When he moved too far in one direction, he let out a strained grunt and slumped into a heap once again. “Danny?”

Approaching from the rider's blind side, Carlo strode close enough to drop one boot upon the fallen man's wrist to pin it to the ground. Now that the rider couldn't lift his pistol, Carlo stared down at him and asked, “Who's Danny?”

“You probably killed him, didn't you?”

“There wouldn't have been any trouble at all if you men hadn't started it.”

“Yeah,” the rider said in a tired voice. “You must've killed him.”

“Who are you?”

“You're dead anyway,” the rider said. “Doesn't matter anymore.”

Hunkering down to take the rider's pistol away, Carlo asked, “Why did you shoot at us?”

When the rider looked up at him, he hacked up a cough that turned his teeth red with foamy blood. “We . . . know who you are. Captain Granger . . . put the word out. The army . . . is paying for you and your company . . . dead.”

“You picked us out from a distance. You fired on us before you got a good enough look to see who you might hit.”

The rider clutched his chest where his shirt and jacket were slick with a growing crimson stain. His face was already pale and his eyes were losing their focus. “We were . . . told you'd left . . . Wendt. . . .”

“Someone told you we left town?” Carlo asked. When it was clear that the rider didn't have much time or breath left, he reached down to turn his face toward him so he could see when he asked, “Who told you where I was or what I was doing?”

“Trader.”

“A traitor?”

“No,” the rider said with renewed vigor. “Trading company.”

“Was his name Bickle?”

The rider smiled. “That's the one. You don't have any friends in Kansas. Ain't no one gonna harbor. . . . one of . . . one of his men. I'm just glad I could . . . see the look on your face when . . .” He swallowed and his eyes drifted in another direction as if they could no longer find anything to see.

Carlo closed the rider's eyes before he started searching the dead man's pockets. All he could find there was a few dollars and a couple of clay poker chips with a buffalo's head painted on their face. He took those items and then stood up to find the rider's horse watching him with large brown eyes.

“Did you round them all up?” Luke asked as he rode toward him.

“One of the men who came for me got away. From what I saw, so did one of yours.”

“Yeah, and they're not coming back.”

“We shouldn't be too certain of that.”

“That's right,” Luke said. “Especially since they seemed to know all about us and what we'd be doing.”

“Is the one that Red shot still alive?”

“No, but he had a few words to say before he gave up the ghost. Seems nobody around here is very happy with you or anyone riding with you. I'm starting to wonder if it was a good idea to bring you along.”

“I was trying to tell you that from the start,” Carlo said.

Surprisingly, Luke laughed. It was a weary sound that shook him a bit more than it should, but it was a laugh all the same. “I was just fooling. You rode at those men like a demon and still had time to send a few shots at the ones me and Red were supposed to get.”

“You were supposed to lead them away,” Carlo reminded him. “Not shoot them. You and Red are lucky to be alive.”

“Red's the lucky one. He'll be boasting about the man he shot for a while, I'm guessing, but I saw what happened. He was firing all over creation and managed to put one round where it was supposed to go.”

“Did either of you get hurt?” Carlo asked.

“I caught a scratch, but it's nothing worth crying about,” Luke said as he raised his left arm to show a spot where his jacket had been ripped by a passing round. The material looked to have been clawed by a wild animal and was stained with only a small amount of blood.

“And Red?”

“I'll have to ask him once he sits still long enough to answer. Should we go after them two that got away?”

“No,” Carlo replied. “Whoever they are, we'll be seeing them again soon enough.”

Wichita

The day they intended to ride into Wichita was a quiet one. Not only was it uneventful, but none of the three men making the trip seemed very interested in talking. Even though they could have made it into town the previous day, Carlo insisted on making camp early so they could scout the area. He didn't receive any arguments. Luke gathered firewood while Red hunted for something to roast for supper. Carlo rode off to do his scouting a few hours before sundown and had yet to be seen when the sky was pitch-black and the stars were scattered overhead.

Having shot a few rabbits, Red turned them on their spits over a fire while staring into the flames. “Could be he ain't coming back,” he said to break the silence that had shrouded most of the day.

“He'll be back,” Luke replied.

“How do you know?” Picking up a stick to poke a large piece of wood into the fire, Red added, “If we had any sense, we'd find somewhere else to be as well.”

“You really think that?”

“Ain't I been sayin' it most of the time?”

Luke sat with his back against a tree stump, keeping his hands busy by disassembling the pistols he'd taken from Scott, cleaning the barrels, and fitting them back together again. “You want to turn back, you go right ahead. That's what
I've
been saying this whole time.”

“What if Carlo did decide to leave us behind?” Red asked. “You still goin' into Wichita after Granger? Even after hearing about who he is, being a captain and all?”

“I don't care if he's a general or president. He sent the man that killed my family. If I don't at least take a shot at him, I won't be able to live with myself.”

“Figured you'd say as much,” Red sighed. “I'm not too worried about Carlo comin' back myself. He didn't have to come with us in the first place. Seeing how he can handle a gun, if he wanted to take his money and be on his way he could have done it at any time.”

“If he was of a mind to do that,” Luke added, “he could have taken all the money and been on his way.”

“I wouldn't go that far. I been watching that money pretty close.”

“I have too, but that doesn't change the facts. That's the reason why I showed him all the cash in the first place.”

Red looked over at his friend while starting to laugh. Seeing the expression on Luke's face, however, erased the burgeoning grin. “You're not kidding, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You put all that money in front of him just to see if he'd take it?”

Luke nodded. “If he's any sort of gunfighter, we wouldn't be able to stop him anyway. Best to know what his intentions are before we get too far along. If I make it easy for him, he'd take it and have no reason to turn on us directly.”

Testing the meat that he was cooking for tenderness, Red put enough muscle behind the stick in his hand to skewer the skinned rabbit nearly clean through. “I ain't afraid of him.”

“It's not about being afraid or not. It's about knowing whether we can trust someone.”

“But that's our money! What would have happened if he stole it?”

“That's not our money,” Luke said vehemently. “It's what Scott was after and it's what Granger wants. It's why my ma is in a hole six feet under instead of . . .” Luke couldn't find the strength to finish that sentence. When he opened his eyes again, they were too cold for tears to come anywhere near them. “I'd toss that money onto this fire if we needed it to stay warm.”

“Well, there's plenty of wood around here, so get that notion out of your head,” Red protested. “If you're so fired up to be rid of that sack of money, I'd be more than happy to—” Suddenly his head perked up and he snapped his eyes to the south. “Did you hear that?”

Luke's head had come up as well, but he wasn't just looking in the direction Red was concerned about. Something had broken a twig or rustled through a bush over there. “Someone's coming,” Luke whispered. “Sounds like one but could be more.”

“Could be Carlo.”

“Or,” Carlo said as he approached the camp, “it could be a whole mess of gunmen surrounding your camp. Didn't I tell you to keep the fire small?”

“I rustled up some rabbits,” Red announced. “Can't exactly cook 'em over a candle flame.”

Carlo could barely be seen until he got close enough for the light from the fire to find the outline of his head and shoulders. He walked slowly with Old Man's reins in his hands. Despite the step or two that had announced their presence, the horse was doing a fairly good job of walking lightly. “It's a good thing I came along on this ride,” Carlo said. “You two are so reckless that it would only be a matter of time before you got yourselves shot if you were on your own.”

“Where did you get off to?” Luke asked.

“Scouting. Just like I told you.”

“You were supposed to be back before dark.”

“Did a bit of asking around in town,” Carlo said as he tied his horse to a tree where the other two animals were tethered. “Seems that Captain Granger isn't exactly hiding. His men set up a camp a mile or two northwest of town. Had a look at it, but needed to be careful. There's patrols on the perimeter and guards posted on high ground.”

“Sounds like a fort,” Red said.

“Apart from the lack of walls and a barracks, it could be,” Carlo told him.

“How many men are with him?” Luke asked.

Taking a seat by the fire, Carlo removed his riding gloves and held his hands close enough to soak up some of the warmth from the crackling flames. “Less than a dozen. Could be less than ten, but they're soldiers. Fighting men. Not to be taken lightly. That's why I needed to wait until sundown before I could sneak away without being seen. Is that rabbit? I'm starving.”

“Fire don't look too big now, does it?” Red scoffed.

“Anyone looking for it would've seen it by now,” Carlo replied. “Damage is done, so I might as well have something to eat. We have any of them taters left?”

“I want to go back with you,” Luke announced.

Both of the other two stopped what they were doing so they could take a good look at him. Carlo was the one to ask, “You mean back to Wendt Cross or Maconville?”

“Back to Granger's camp.”

Slumping his shoulders in disappointment, Red took one of the rabbits off the fire so he could start cutting meat from bone.

“That was the plan,” Carlo said. “I'll be taking both of you back there tomorrow to get a look for yourselves.”

“No. I mean tonight. I want to go there tonight.”

“Riding in the dark is never a good idea,” Carlo said. “Anyone knows that.”

“You made it back just fine,” Luke pointed out.

“That's because I took my sweet time. Also, I've done enough riding at night to keep from breaking my neck out there. Dragging someone else along makes it a whole lot tougher.”

“Is it close enough to walk?”

Carlo let out a prolonged sigh. Staring at the fire, he said, “I just got here. I'm hungry. I'm cold. We're all tired.”

“You said yourself that going at night makes it easier to slip past them soldiers.”

“Right. So we can go back tomorrow night.”

“I didn't come all this way to dawdle about,” Luke said. “We're less than a mile away from Wichita, so I know we could walk into town from here. You said that camp was only about another mile and a half more from there, right?”

“Yeah,” Carlo groaned.

“Then what's the problem? We walk.”

“It's been a hard ride just getting this far,” Carlo said. “You want to throw all that away at the last second because you got impatient?” After staring at the younger man for a few seconds, Carlo asked, “I didn't even make a dent, did I?”

“No.”

“How about meeting me halfway? Let's eat these here rabbits and sleep for a spell and then we can take our walk. It'll be mighty late, but that only means the sentries will probably be about ready to drift off also. How's that sound?”

“I suppose that'd work.”

They spent the next hour or so fixing the meal, eating it, and cleaning up afterward. Once that was done and the fire was brought down to something that was just big enough to provide a hint of warmth, Carlo spread out his bedroll and lay down. He was snoring loudly within seconds after his head hit the ground and Red was dead to the world soon after. Luke sat quietly and continued familiarizing himself with the guns he'd taken from Scott. His eyes were sharper than they'd been since he'd left Maconville.

•   •   •

“Get up,” Luke said while nudging Carlo's shoulder.

Carlo lifted his head and peeled his eyes open. “I was hoping you'd forget about taking that walk of yours.”

“I didn't. Let's go.”

“You're a bossy kid—you know that?”

“Just keeping us on schedule,” Luke replied.

“What time is it?” Even though Luke didn't attempt to answer him, Carlo said, “Never mind. It feels late and that's all that matters. Knowing the hour won't make me want to start walking anyhow.”

So far, Red hadn't moved. On his way past him, Luke gave him a kick that was just hard enough to rattle him out of whatever dream he'd been having. “We're going to that camp,” Luke said.

“Huh?”

“Me and Carlo are walking to that camp.”

“Yeah,” Red said without fully opening his eyes. “Don't get shot.”

“We won't. Watch the horses and make sure nobody comes around looking for us.”

“Yeah.” Even before the other two had gotten more than twenty paces away, Red was out cold once again.

Luke and Carlo started off slow. The first couple of minutes were spent picking their way across flatland on the outskirts of Wichita. Once their eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, they were able to see a dim outline of the town itself. Carlo was right when he'd said it felt late. There was a stillness in the air that only came after a certain hour had passed. Luke didn't bother checking the time. All he had to do was look up at the inky black sky and pull in a lungful of the bitingly cold air to know why folks called this the dead of night.

Now that they had something to set their eyes on, the two of them picked up their pace. Luke pointed himself toward the middle of town, but Carlo tapped his arm and pointed toward the northwestern edge. “No need to go all the way into town,” Carlo said. “We can get close enough for you to see what you need to see. This ground is so flat we can see for miles in just about any direction so long as nothing is too tall to get in our way.”

“No need to worry about that,” Luke said. “I grew up in Kansas. Ground's so flat you can roll a ball from one end of the state to the other.”

“I've seen just enough of it to know you're right about that. See those trees over there?”

Luke had to squint, but eventually he could make out the shapes of bare branches reaching to the sky like skeletal fingers trying to scratch the top of the world. “I see them.”

“That's about as far as I got before I started running into those sentries I told you about. We get there and we should be able to get a look at that camp. We should stay quiet from here on out. Keep your steps light and your eyes open. I'll signal to you if we need to lie low.”

“Were those guards on horseback?”

“The ones I saw were,” Carlo replied. “But that doesn't mean there can't be more out here. Just do as I say and stick close to me.” With that, Carlo moved toward those trees at a slow run.

They kept going for a good, long while. Luke wasn't able to keep track of how long exactly, but by the time they got close enough to hear the wind whistling through the branches of those trees, his lungs were burning and his legs were aching. Carlo's pace never faltered and his breath was as steady as if it came from a set of steadily pumped bellows creating the occasional bit of steam from his mouth.

From a distance, there seemed to be more trees than there actually were. Now that he was closer, Luke could see there were barely a handful of them sprouting from the flat ground, but they were spread out enough to represent a much larger area. He and Carlo hunched over and wound between the trees as their feet crunched upon a blanket of dead leaves.

Every step they took was announced by a loud rustle.

Every breath expelled from his lungs made Luke think he was marking his presence to anyone looking in his general direction from any number of vantage points.

No matter how intently he paid attention to his surroundings or the noises he made, Luke still didn't see the mounted guard until Carlo motioned for them to stop and pointed him out.

“Don't move a muscle,” Carlo said in a voice that could barely be heard above the howl of a passing wind.

“He'll see us,” Luke insisted. After being stopped in midstride, he was hunched slightly but not nearly low enough for his liking.

Sensing Luke's urgency to drop to the ground, Carlo hissed, “Stay right where you are. Even if he can see us, it's too dark for him to think we're anything other than more trees. If you move like a man, he'll know that's what you are.”

Every one of Luke's muscles tensed. His stooped back was alight with fiery pain shooting up and down his spine. Now that he'd stopped moving, the heat his body had generated on the long walk from camp quickly bled off and allowed the autumn night's icy fingers to wrap around him.

As he stood there, rock still and trying not to breathe too hard, Luke was able to see the sentry clearer and clearer. His eyes remained focused upon the mounted guard and were able to pick out more details with every second that passed. The man had a rifle in his hand. Its stock was propped against his hip so the barrel was pointed up and away from his head. As his horse moved slowly along, the rider turned his head from side to side as if looking specifically for two intruders approaching Granger's camp.