A wind cleared away some more of the smoke, allowing Luke to see Carlo kneeling with his hands pressed against the top of his head in front of two other soldiers who had him at gunpoint. Luke looked around for more soldiers and only found a few scattered here and there. Judging by the looks on their faces, those uniformed men were almost as rattled as Luke had been not too long ago. They were standing their ground now, however, just as Luke was holding his.
Red was beside him as always, breathing hard and itching for a fight. Although Luke could only see his friend from the corner of his eye, he knew he was ready to throw himself through the gates of hell if it came down to that. As Red grew more agitated, Luke felt the calm that had taken hold of him sink its teeth in even deeper.
“You took a good run at me,” the man with the saber said, “but it’s all over. Drop your weapons or I’ll have you shot where you stand.”
Red spoke through gritted teeth. “Go to h—”
The venomous reply was cut short by a chopping blow to the back of his head from the butt of a rifle. Luke was knocked out a second later. The impact was so swift that he didn’t even feel a lick of pain.
Chapter 25
Whatever pain Luke had been spared before came rushing back to him along with a wave of cold that grabbed hold of him and yanked him suddenly up from the depths of unconsciousness. Not only did one side of his head feel as if it had been cracked open like an eggshell, but every breath pulled water into his lungs. Luke fell forward and hacked up as much as he could. The heavy slaps against his back helped him spit some water out, but didn’t help the sense of dizziness that had filled his head.
“There you go,” a man said from behind him. “Cough it up now.”
Luke drew another breath, which was free of water. Using his hands to clear his eyes, he quickly realized that he hadn’t been drowning. The water had been splashed on him from a bucket in the hands of a soldier standing directly in front of him. Before he could take in any more than that, Luke’s hands were pulled behind his back and bound with a length of rope.
The floor beneath him was dirt. The walls surrounding him were canvas. It came back to Luke in a rush. He was still in the camp.
There was light coming through the tent, so it was either just a bit later that same day or a whole new one. Red was tied to a support post. His head lolled forward and his body was being held up by the ropes.
“You haven’t been out for long,” the man behind him said as if listening to Luke’s racing thoughts. “You would’ve been out for quite a while if we hadn’t given you that bath. Took a few buckets of water to bring you around. That knock to the head must’ve been a good one.” He came around to stand in front of Luke. Although his pistol was holstered, the saber was still in his hand. With a snap of his wrist, he placed the blade to Red’s throat. “Thought I’d have a word with you before wasting any more water on him.”
The man looked taller than before, but that was only because Luke was forced to look up at him. In truth, the man was average height with a stocky build and a slight paunch. His face was rough from the pockmarks on one side and the coarse stubble on his chin. A thick mustache covered his upper lip and a smaller patch of whiskers was centered on his chin. He wore his hair slightly longer than what someone might expect on an officer and it fell just short of his shoulders in dark, unruly curls. His uniform was well kept and his boots freshly polished. He looked down at Luke with mild curiosity and said, “You’re not one of the boys I’ve seen riding with Mr. Procci before. Must be new.”
“He’s not one of my men,” Carlo said. Luke twisted around to find Carlo tied to another post.
“What about this one?” the man with the saber asked as he nudged Red’s chin with the tip of his blade. “You gonna tell me he isn’t one of yours either?”
“That’s right,” Carlo said.
“Then you won’t mind if I take care of him right now. I’m sure you know that many officers don’t bother sharpening their blades since they’re used while on horseback. With that much power behind it, an edge doesn’t make much difference. This one’s plenty sharp, though. I’m not like most officers, just like the man you take orders from, Procci.”
Luke watched until his head was clear enough for him to form words. “You. You’re Captain Granger.”
The man with the saber looked over at Luke and nodded. “That’s right. I suppose Mr. Procci told you all about me.”
“He told me some. I heard about you before I ever met him, though.”
“Did you, now?”
“From the man you sent to Maconville,” Luke said.
Granger squinted and scowled until he finally said, “Maconville! That’s right. I have some associates out that way. Last man I sent to Maconville never reported back.”
“His name was Scott. I killed him.”
Even though Granger still had his saber at Red’s throat, he no longer seemed interested in using it. “You expect me to believe you killed Emory Scott? How’d you manage that?”
“I was there when he killed my family.”
Granger narrowed his eyes as if to look all the way through Luke’s body. “You’re Kyle Sobell’s boy?”
Anytime up to a few weeks ago, Luke would have made a point to correct that statement by pointing out he was Kyle’s stepson. Now he merely nodded and felt a pang in his heart as he thought of all the times he’d refused such a simple concession when Kyle had been alive.
“Well, now,” Granger said. “Doesn’t that just beat all? Sorry about how things turned out between me and your old man. He didn’t exactly leave me much choice.”
“What did he do for you?” Luke asked.
“We worked together for a good number of years. He was one of the best trackers in the business. Could hunt a man through rain or shine, across land and water, night or day. Got his start handling explosives, though. Bet you didn’t know that, did you?”
Luke shook his head. All he really knew about Kyle’s profession was that it took him out of Maconville for long stretches of time and provided money for the family in drips and drabs. Other than that, he hadn’t really cared. Looking back on himself now, Luke felt like a spoiled, ignorant child.
Granger, on the other hand, wore a fondly wistful expression on his face. The tone in his voice made it sound as if he was looking back on sweet, rose-colored memories. “That man could do things with dynamite and black powder . . . even kerosene . . . that were damn close to magic. Had the makings of a real artist. Lost his taste for it when we robbed a train bound for Rock Island, Illinois. We were set to blow a bridge to hell and pick through the wreckage for enough gold to make us all rich men. Kyle decided he didn’t want a part of that kind of destruction and it was all I could do to get him to set a smaller charge that derailed the train just across the Iowa state line.” Granger shook his head. “I was just starting out in the army in those days. If I’d retired along with the rest of the boys back then, I suppose I wouldn’t be the officer I am today. Bet you never knew your pappy was so influential.”
“He wasn’t a killer,” Luke said. “That’s why he stopped working with explosives like you wanted him to.”
Granger’s smile was cold and reptilian. “Kyle was a killer all right. No question about that. He just didn’t want to kill so many at one time. Sorry to tarnish his memory, but you asked me what he did for me and I feel obliged to tell you. After helping us derail that train, he met a woman that convinced him to live a quieter life. I’m assuming that was your mama. When we needed someone tracked down or if there was a safe that needed blown or some small bit of demolition to be done, we’d send for Kyle. Toward the end, he wasn’t good for much more than being the hen to sit on a nest egg collected by me, him, Emory Scott, and a few others all them years ago. Turned out he couldn’t even do that very well.”
“He did his job,” Luke said. “The money was there and my ma
and I never knew about it.”
“That’s just the thing. The money wasn’t supposed to be there. It was supposed to be here. He was supposed to send it along and he didn’t. Since he’d gone soft on that wife of his, I thought he might have gotten stupid and decided to claim our nest egg for his own. So I sent Emory out there to get it with orders to make things right if there was one dollar missing or if anyone knew it was there.” Granger shrugged halfheartedly. “I’m certain Kyle was spending that money for years to pay for whatever dusty piece of land he and that wife of his settled on.”
Luke hated to hear Granger spit his words out as if the subject of his mother and stepfather were profane in and of themselves. It angered him even more to see the uniformed man start to laugh as he looked directly into his eyes.
“The funny thing is how you ended up,” Granger said. “Kyle retired because the woman who’d put him on such a short leash didn’t like him associating with such disreputable company. And here you are, riding with someone that makes me look like a saint by comparison!”
Granger was looking at Carlo now, stalking toward him and bringing his saber around to point it at the middle of Carlo’s chest. Carlo’s mouth was tightly shut and an intense fire burned in his eyes. He glared up at Granger as if nothing else on the face of the earth mattered to him anymore.
“Carlo may be an outlaw,” Luke said, “but at least he’s no traitor to his country. You’re a disgrace, Granger! You wear that uniform and you take part in robbing trains and killing innocent folks just to get your hands on a bag of money. You want your money so bad? It’s with my horse. Take what’s left of it and choke on it!”
“You’ve been waiting awhile to say those words to me, haven’t you, boy?” Granger snarled.
Luke nodded once. “Yes, sir, I have.”
“It’s been eating away at you, that’s plain to see. I already got my money . . . or what’s left of it. Smart move bringing it back to me. That’s why you woke up to a splash of water instead of a bullet through the eye.” Granger stepped away from Carlo so he could pick up a glass that had been sitting on a folding table. Rather than sheathe the saber, he laid it on the table and eased himself down onto a small round stool. “You ever hear of something called firing with your blinders on?”
“No.”
“It’s something I’ve heard sharpshooters say that means getting your sights set on one target and keeping them locked there no matter what.” Granger held out a hand, keeping it turned sideways and flat so he could look along the edge of his index finger as if he were sighting down the barrel of a rifle. His fingers were pointed directly at Luke when he said, “Usually it happens when a target is being particularly tricky. Moving around, ducking in and out of cover, that kind of thing. What happens is that the man behind the rifle gets so wrapped up in that one target that he misses everything else going on around him. Other targets pop up, more dangerous ones, even easier ones, and the man with the rifle doesn’t even know they’re there because his eyes are so set on that first man.”
As he was speaking, Granger moved his flattened hand around as if he were tracking a hopping jackrabbit. When he allowed his hand to come to a stop again, it was pointed directly at Carlo. “You truly think this man here is just an outlaw?” Granger asked.
“I don’t care what he is,” Luke replied. “He’s proven himself a couple of times. He proved himself by getting me this far. He also proved himself when he helped take care of them riders you sent to ambush us outside town.”
“Those riders I sent. Yes. And because you’re young and full of yourself, you assume that those riders were sent after you. I did send them, but you’ve seen what I’ve got to work with here. Even if you just saw whatever you could take in when you approached this camp today, you must see I have a limited supply of men. Why would I send one or two of them to deal with the likes of you? It is the arrogance of youth to believe I would send four!”
“So you sent them after Carlo,” Luke said.
“In a matter of speaking.” Clearly relishing the moment, Granger let it drag for another couple of seconds before he turned to Carlo and asked, “Do you want to tell him or shall I?”
Carlo’s head hung low and his eyes were partially shut. In some ways, he now seemed even less invested in the conversation than Red, who was still unconscious and slumped against his post.
“It’s no surprise that Procci doesn’t want to speak on the matter,” Granger said. “It’s in his best interest to keep his identity as well as that of his friends a closely guarded secret. After what he and the rest of those bloodthirsty animals did in Lawrence and Centralia, I’m surprised they’ve got the fortitude to remain in this state at all.”
“Lawrence and Centralia?” Luke asked.
“You know what happened in those places, don’t you? They were pillaged, the good people who lived there slaughtered like sheep by Quantrill and his murderous raiders. I may not be a prime example of a Union soldier, but at least I have a soul. Quantrill and his men are devils of the worst sort.”
Anyone who lived in Kansas and didn’t have their heads buried in an anthill knew about Quantrill. The Confederate raiders had burned a trail through that state in a way that brought the war sharply to the front porches of regular folks who were too far away to hear the cannon fire from battlefields where entire armies shed their blood. Like monsters who came in the night, Quantrill’s men were rarely spoken of as if mentioning their names would make the killers appear.
“I wager he didn’t mention any of this to you,” Granger said mockingly. “If you doubt me, why don’t you ask him now for yourself?” He then stepped aside to make sure Luke had a clear line of sight to the other prisoner.
Carlo sat with his hands bound behind him and his head hanging forward, which was how he’d been when Luke had first regained consciousness. There had always been suspicions about who Carlo was, which was no secret among the three men as they’d ridden the trail into Wichita. In many ways, what Granger said made perfect sense. As silence filled the tent, Luke decided against breaking it. A confrontation with Carlo was exactly what the smug army captain was hoping to witness. And so, Luke allowed his own head to droop quietly forward. In times when he’d been plagued by the trivial burdens of a child, Luke’s mother had advised him to either find a way to cut through his troubles or simply keep a level head and allow things to run their course. He felt a warmth spread through his heart when he was rewarded in a matter of seconds for his patience.
A horse galloped toward the tent, its hooves beating a thunderous rhythm against the dirt that could be felt as a tremor rippling beneath the ground. The animal’s pace was such that even Granger tensed in case he would need to jump aside before being trampled. The horse’s rider dismounted amid the rustle of leather and the jangle of spurs before a smaller set of steps hurried closer.
The man who burst into the tent wore Federal blues that were even more rumpled than those of the men who stood guard at the camp. His face was flushed and his eyes were so panicked that they barely seemed to notice anyone inside the tent other than Granger himself.
“They hit the billiard parlor!” the rider said amid a series of panting breaths.
Granger’s hand was still resting on his holstered Colt. “The Red Bison? My Red Bison?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Who hit it?”
“It was a contingent of Quantrill’s men. Maybe half a dozen of them or more.”
“You’re certain they’re Quantrill’s?” Granger asked.
The rider nodded. “Henderschott recognized one of them from the Centralia massacre. Busted in with guns blazing and shot three of our troops before anyone had a chance to bat an eye. They started shooting and never let up, not even when one of them put a torch to the place. You can see the smoke from here!”
Granger cursed loudly while storming past the soldier and out of the tent. He curs
ed again, even louder this time, when he was able to verify the rider’s story with his own eyes. When he came back inside, the captain threw open the tent’s flap with enough force to shake the entire canvas structure. “Assemble all of the men and ride out to meet those murderous savages!” he roared. “I want to send half of them around the eastern perimeter of town and the other half around the west. We’ll flank them on either side and cut them off from making an escape. You said there were only six of them?”
“Yes, sir, but there could have been more,” the rider admitted. “I had to get out of there awfully quick.”
“Who else is with you? Maybe he has more actionable intelligence.”
“There isn’t anyone with me, sir. I was the only one that made it out of there.”
That stopped Granger in his tracks. “What was that, soldier?”
The rider shook his head solemnly. “None of our men in that billiard hall made it out with me. I stayed as long as I could, but the place was burning down. Those Quantrill men . . . they filled that whole building full of holes. Anyone inside was cut down where they stood. Our men . . . even a few locals who were in there just to have a game—”
“Get a hold of yourself,” Granger snarled. Looking over to one of the uniformed men who’d captured Luke and Red, he said, “My orders still stand. Muster every man here and get them on a damn horse!”
“All due respect, Captain, but we don’t have enough men to flank anyone,” that soldier replied.
“Don’t question my strategy!”
The soldier looked confused and even glanced over to Luke as if waiting for him to say something to back him up. Finally the soldier said, “These three killed four men before we could get to them. That only leaves—”
“I can count!” Granger roared. “I know how many that leaves! You men,” he said while pointing to all but one of the soldiers within the tent, “come with me and I’ll show you how to deal with a bunch of murderous Rebs.” Looking to the one soldier that remained, he added, “You stay with these three. If even one of them makes a move you don’t like, shoot them all.” With that, Granger took the men he’d selected outside where they gathered up their horses.
Hard Ride to Wichita Page 24