“I agree,” said Hunter, glancing down at Scarlett. “What would you like to do ma’am?”
“I promised Mr. Evans we’d recruit fighting men to help with the cause,” she said. “How long do you think that would take?”
“Two or three days,” replied Hunter.
“Would you be so kind as to see to the details?”
“Of course ma’am,” said Hunter. “I could also head over to Dayton and spread word about Damien’s demise. I’m sure there’s some men there who’d like to join the fight.”
“That would save me the trip,” said Shiloh. “I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” replied Hunter. “It was nice to meet you,” he added, extending his hand.
“You too,” agreed Shiloh, shaking the cowboy’s hand firmly.
“He likes you,” whispered Scarlett, as Hunter walked away.
“He’s a good man,” observed Shiloh.
“The best,” agreed Scarlett. “He stood by me when no one else would.”
“Good,” said Shiloh, “keep him close. He’s the type of man you want in your corner when push comes to shove.”
“Would you like to stay for dinner,” offered Scarlett, surprised by how badly she wanted him to say yes.
“I’d best get going,” he said, “but thanks for the offer.” He glanced down and noticed her eyes were full of sorrow. “Maybe another time,” he added, quickly. “There’s still a lot of preparations to be made.”
“Of course,” agreed Scarlett, trying to conceal her disappointment. “It’s an open invitation.”
“Thank you,” he said, feeling strange and awkward.
“No, thank you! If you hadn’t been here, God only knows what would’ve happened.”
“I’m sure Hunter and your men would have handled it just fine.”
“Still, I’m glad you were here. When will I see you again?” She asked, trying not to seem anxious.
“I’m not sure,” admitted Shiloh, not knowing what the days ahead would hold. “Maybe when this war is over we can have that dinner,” he suggested.
“When the war is over,” repeated Scarlett, as if insulted by the proposition. “That’s far too long Mr. Evans!”
“Well then, maybe after this battle,” he said, smiling. Her spunk reminded him of Sheila.
“I’m holding you to it,” she declared, folding her arms in front of her.
“Alright,” he agreed, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Well, I’d best get going. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Shiloh,” she said, softly.
“Goodbye, Scarlett,” he replied, before turning and leaving the brothel. It wasn’t until he was sitting in his truck, that he noticed his hands were trembling.
Cell-Block Murder
World War III – Day Twenty-One
Clearview, Nevada
Shiloh parked his truck in front of the jailhouse and walked inside, hoping to find Ian. He was disappointed when he found Rollin Hicks, lounging behind the Sheriff’s desk and reading a magazine.
“What do you want?” Rollin hissed, glancing up from the magazine.
“Where’s Ian?” Asked Shiloh, stamping snow from his boots.
“How should I know,” spat Rollin. “I’m not his keeper.”
“What about Mason and Cleo?”
“No idea,” mumbled Rollin, as though the conversation bored him.
“Has Lt. Sawyer and his group returned yet?”
“Nope,” said Rollin, turning the page.
“That’s weird,” said Shiloh, speaking to himself more than anything. “They should’ve been back by now.”
Rollin grunted, as if ignoring Shiloh.
“When’s the last time you checked on the prisoners?”
“They’re fine,” replied Rollin, pouring a shot of vodka. He’d started drinking after hearing of Sheriff Garrett’s murder and hadn’t stopped since. The Sheriff wasn’t his favorite cousin, but he was family none the less and had gotten Rollin out of more trouble than he cared to remember.
“You’ve had enough,” said Shiloh, grabbing the bottle of vodka and replacing the cap.
“Hey!” Slurred Rollin, reaching for the bottle, but caught off balance. His chair tipped backward and he crashed to the floor, with a thud. He sprang to his feet and glared at Shiloh, his face flushed. “You did that on purpose!”
“You’re drunk,” observed Shiloh. “Who put you on guard duty?”
“None of your business!” Shouted Rollin, bending down to pick up the chair. “Don’t judge me! You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone who’s…” His voice trailed off, when he realized the absurdity of the statement he was about to make.
Of course Shiloh knew what it felt like to lose someone. He’d lost his family in a car accident several months ago. Driving while drunk, Rollin had hit them head on, killing them instantly.
“I’m so sorry,” he cried, dropping into the chair, while covering his face in shame. “I killed your wife and children. I know I did and I’m sorry. If I could trade places with them I would. I hate myself!” He dropped his head to the desk, covering it with his arms and sobbed uncontrollably.
Shiloh looked down at Rollin with mixed emotions. The man had caused so much hurt, he wanted to reach out and crush him. Yet at the same time, he felt sympathy for him.
Shiloh took a deep breath, before resting his hand on Rollin’s head. “I forgive you.”
Rollin looked up, his eyes full of tears. “What? You forgive me? How could you? I’ve destroyed your life and everything you hold dear.”
“Not everything,” replied Shiloh.
“What could you possibly have left,” stammered Rollin.
“I’ll always have God,” said Shiloh, smiling down at the broken man.
“You really believe in all that crap Rupert says about God and salvation?”
“I do,” said Shiloh, “and it’s brought me peace. It’s given me the strength to forgive you.”
“I don’t know how you can,” cried Rollin. “I can’t even forgive myself.”
“Give it to God,” suggested Shiloh. “I know it seems silly, but try. You’ll be surprised how good you feel, when you let Him in. There’s nothing else like it.”
Shiloh heard a loud scuffle, followed by a grunt, coming from the cell room. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah,” said Rollin, drying his eyes.
Shiloh opened the door to the inner room and found Cheng lying face down, gripping Rupert’s bible in his hand. His cellmate was sitting on his cot, acting oblivious to the body a few feet away.
“Quick! Go get the doc!” Shiloh shouted, over his shoulder.
Rollin jumped from his chair and ran for the door.
Shiloh quickly opened the cell door and pulled Cheng’s body out, keeping a watchful eye on the other inmates. He bent down next to the Chinese prisoner and felt for a pulse. There was no blood or sign of a struggle, yet the man was obviously dead.
“How is he?” Asked Dr. July, hurrying into the room.
“He’s dead,” replied Shiloh, standing up and looking at the other prisoners. “What happened?” He demanded, glaring from one to the other. The Russian Lieutenant, who’d been interrogated by Mason and Cleo, lay unconscious on his cot and the two Chinese prisoners made no response, simply staring back at him indifferently.
The doctor dropped to his knees beside Cheng and examined his body. “He’s been strangled,” he observed, pointing to marks on the man’s throat.
The door swung open and Mason and Cleo stormed in. “What happened?” Demanded Mason, while Cleo checked to see if the Russian Lieutenant was still breathing.
“One of the prisoners was killed by another,” explained Shiloh.
The two Chinese prisoners began whispering softly to one another.
“What are they saying?” Asked Shiloh, glancing from Mason to Cleo.
“They killed him for accepting and reading the Bible,” explained Mason, pointing to Rupert’s bible on the floor.
“What happened?” Asked Rupert, shoving his way into the room.
“Cheng’s been murdered,” replied Shiloh.
“What? Who killed him?” Rupert glared from one prisoner to the next.
“They were both involved,” said Mason, watching the prisoners and listening to their whispers. “That one held him against the bars,” he explained, nodding at the prisoner who’d shared a cell with Cheng, “while the other one strangled him from behind. He used his shoe lace,” he added, pointing at the prisoner’s unlaced boot.
“But why?” Asked Rupert, shaking his head.
“They resented him for reading the Bible,” explained Mason. “In their country, Christians are persecuted and considered an enemy of the State.”
“We should bury him,” said Rupert, bending down next to Cheng’s body and resting his hand on the dead man’s shoulder. Bowing his head, he prayed in silence, asking God to welcome Cheng into the Kingdom of Heaven. When he was finished, he stood and wiped several tears from his cheek. “I only hope he found Christ in time,” he whispered, staring down at Cheng’s lifeless body.
“Don’t worry,” said Shiloh, softly. “You did what you could, with what time you had. The rest is in God’s hands.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” hissed Luke Slater, standing in the doorway, his arm carried in a sling from when Shiloh broke it. “He’s not even one of us. By all rights we should’ve executed him when he was captured. I mean seriously, he’s only a…”
Luke didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, before Rupert punched him in the mouth. Blood spewed from the Deputy Mayor’s smashed lips, as he fell backward to the floor. He sat there for a moment, shaking his head and holding his jaw with his good hand, before glaring up at Rupert.
“What in the hell was that for?” He asked, scowling at the Librarian, turned Preacher.
“For disrespecting the dead,” grumbled Rupert, his hands clenched in fists of rage.
Rollin reached down and offered Luke his hand, only to have it brushed away.
“You didn’t have to hit me,” complained Luke, climbing to his feet and steadying himself against the wall.
“Oh, I think I did,” replied Rupert, angrily.
“Are you okay?” Shiloh asked, his hand resting on Rupert’s shoulder.
“Him,” hissed Luke, “what about me? I’m the one who got punched.”
“Yeah, but you deserved it,” said Shiloh. “And you’ve got a mean right hook, for a preacher that is,” he added, smiling at Rupert.
Rupert didn’t respond, but simply stared down at Cheng’s lifeless body, wishing he’d spent more time with the man.
“When did you get back?” Mason asked, looking at Shiloh.
“A few minutes ago.”
“And Rupert?”
“He just arrived,” said Shiloh. “Have any of the others returned?”
“Mayor Sullivan and Ian are both back,” replied Mason, “but Casey hasn’t returned yet.”
“What about Lt. Sawyer and his group?”
“Nothing,” replied Mason. “They should’ve been back hours ago.”
“We should send out a search party,” said Shiloh, trying to decide the best place to begin looking.
“After we bury Cheng,” insisted Rupert.
“Of course,” agreed Shiloh, glancing at Rollin and nodding. “Let’s get some shovels.”
Rollin stepped forward and lifted Cheng’s body onto his shoulder. He turned and left the jailhouse, headed for the Clearview Cemetery.
“What about them?” Asked Cleo, pointing at the two Chinese prisoners.
“Bring them,” suggested Mason. “The ground is going to be frozen. Let the men who did the killing, do the digging.”
Cleo opened the prisoner’s cells and ushered them outside, into the cold. She marched them down Main Street toward the cemetery, with Shiloh, Mason and Rupert following behind.
“I probably shouldn’t have hit him,” said Rupert, rubbing his hand. “It wasn’t what Jesus would have done.”
“Maybe not,” agreed Shiloh, “but I think he deserved it. I wouldn’t worry about it. At least you didn’t break his arm,” he added, smiling.
As the small group marched down Main Street, one-by-one, people emerged from their homes and joined them. What started as a handful, grew to a dozen and by the time they’d reached the cemetery, the funeral parade had swelled to hundreds.
Rupert read several passages from the Bible, as the sun set behind him. The townsfolk huddled together for warmth, their heads bowed in mourning. When he was finished, the people quickly dispersed and headed home, leaving a small group to bury Cheng’s body.
“Start digging,” ordered Cleo, her rifle pointed at the Chinese prisoner’s.
Mason and Shiloh stood off to the side, watching in silence.
The prisoners didn’t need to speak English to understand what was expected. Neither man wanted to upset the Australian woman, or her tall, dark friend, who’d spent the entire night torturing the Russian Lieutenant in the cell next to them. They immediately bent down and grabbed the shovels lying at their feet and began chipping away at the frozen ground.
“Did you learn anything from the Russian Lieutenant?” Asked Shiloh, as the prisoners continued to dig.
“Not much,” said Mason, “a name.”
“Whose name?”
“The name of his superior,” he explained. “The man who ordered the kidnapping.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Capture the man and interrogate him,” replied Mason, cool as a cumber, “and so on and so forth, until we find Lex.”
“Where is this man?”
“The prisoner doesn’t know, but he was on the same plane as Lex.”
“I see,” said Shiloh, “and does he know where the plane was headed?”
“West,” mumbled Mason, “that’s all we have to go on.”
“Wow, that’s not much.”
“It’s enough. I’ve done more with less.”
“You’re really intend to find him, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Cleo’s lucky to have a friend like you,” observed Shiloh.
“Hmm,” grunted Mason. “If it wasn’t for me, Lex wouldn’t have been taken.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m the one they’re after,” he whispered, so the prisoners couldn’t hear.
“I was wondering about that,” confessed Shiloh.
When the hole was dug, the prisoners lowered Cheng’s body into the grave and filled it with dirt. The small group was returning to the jailhouse, when they saw Lt. Sawyer and his men staggering down Main Street, with a canon in tow.
“I guess we can cancel the search party,” replied Mason.
“Yeah,” agreed Shiloh. “Someone’s hurt,” he added, noticing a makeshift stretcher. “I’ll get the doc!” He turned and ran for the library.
“How did it go?” Mason asked, greeting the group in the middle of the street, while Cleo returned the prisoners to their cells.
“Not bad,” said Lt. Sawyer, “we caused two avalanches, blocking both Spooner Summit and Kingsbury Grade. The enemy won’t be coming from those directions anytime soon.”
“Not to mention we destroyed an entire battalion with one of the avalanches, as they were headed through the pass,” added Sgt. Morgan.
“Good,” replied Mason. “What happened to him?” He asked, looking down at Cole’s, unconscious body.
“He got hit with shrapnel from a grenade,” explained Corp. Thatcher. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“He saved my life,” added Billy, resting his hand on Cole’s chest.
“And you?” Mason asked, noticing the blood on Sampson’s shoulder.
“Walked into a damn ambush,” admitted the old man. “I’ll be alright.”
“Shiloh went for the doctor,” said Mason. “What’s this?”
“This here is the newest addition to my collection,�
� said Sampson, proudly resting his hand on the cannon.
“I’m coming!” Yelled Dr. July, running down Main Street, with Shiloh, Ian and Jessie, following close behind. The doctor glanced at Sampson’s shoulder and dropped to his knees beside Cole, immediately going to work. “Flesh wound,” he said, pointing at Sampson’s shoulder.
Jessie nodded and began cleaning the old man’s shoulder, before wrapping it in a bandage.
“What happened?” Asked Mayor Sullivan, joining the small group.
Lt. Sawyer repeated his report, before asking, “Were you able to recruit more men?”
“Aye lad,” said Mayor Sullivan, “they’ll be here the day after tomorrow.”
“Same with me,” added Ian.
“Yerington has also committed forces,” replied Rupert, bending down over Cole, with his Bible in hand.
“And the Mayor of Mound House promised approximately seven hundred men,” added Shiloh, his thoughts drifting to Scarlett.
“Casey still hasn’t returned from Virginia City,” observed Ian, “but he’s the last to check in.”
“Well then,” bellowed the Mayor, “it sounds like it’s been a relatively, successful day. I think we should celebrate.” He turned and patted Ian on the back. “Have you and Jessie set a date?”
Ian glanced at Jessie and blushed. “Not yet,” he admitted.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Ian swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Why not?” Asked the Mayor. “We’ve got everything you’d need. The enemy has been delayed, help is on the way and the town could sure use a distraction. The timing couldn’t be more perfect!”
“But I don’t have a dress,” complained Jessie, her mind racing with thoughts of everything that needed to be done.
“Well then that is something we shall have to remedy,” said Mayor Sullivan, a grin spreading across his face. “What do you say?” He asked, glancing from the Bride to the Groom.
Ian looked at Jessie and smiled, shrugging his shoulders.
“It’s alright with me,” she said, returning his smile.
“Wonderful! Then it’s settled,” said the Mayor. “We’re having a wedding tomorrow and the whole town is invited. I’ll go spread the word and give the two of you time to get ready.”
World War III Page 51