When clouds covered the moon and stars, she stood outside whispering. “Matt, forgive me for being selfish to wish and pray for you to come home. I know you’re in danger. I feel it.” She pressed a fisted hand to her chest. “Please be safe. Please come back to me. I need you, too.”
From off in the bayou came the sad, lonely call of a loon to echo her silent cry.
“Lake of the Pines. Little more’n an hour ahead.”
Albie’s words stopped the men more than his physical presence. They all dismounted, crowded around him, anxious to hear what he’d found out.
“If we’re this close, set a watch.”
Law’s order brought forth half-hearted protests. No one wanted to miss what Albie would tell.
“Aaron an’ me will go.”
Matt hadn’t recognized the bearded young men without their blanket ponchos as the Owens brothers. He was grateful they moved out into the pines. He was anxious, too.
In the heavy pine-scented air and fading light, Albie hunkered down. He cleared a space to draw his map.
“This here’s an old farmhouse. Backed to the south of the lake. They ain’t got ’em a log stockade. Got one of brush where they’s holdin’ the men. Horses are corralled closer to the lake. Pole fence. Over here there’s some sheds. Couldn’t get closer to see what’s in ’em. Got close to sixty head of mixed stock. Mules, horses an’ oxen. Look to be in good shape. Some wagons, too. Six all told. Men? Maybe forty. Damn hard to count. Got a bonfire goin’ ’bout thirty feet from the house. They’s drinkin’. Women in the house. Heard ’em. Didn’t see any, ’fore you ask.”
“Weapons?” Matt asked.
“Pistols. A few rifles. Got plenty of old muskets.”
“How’s the land, Albie?” Law’s eyes were intent on the map.
“Front an’ right clear of trees. Maybe two hundred feet or so. But see here where the corrals are? Trees all scattered, then crowd toward the lake.”
“Three groups.”
“What’s that, Matt?”
He hunkered down beside Albie, pointing with the tip of his bowie knife. “Need us for the horses. Some to get the men. The largest group should go around and come up through these trees. There’s the sheds and wagons for cover. They’ll have cleared land, the fire, and anyone coming from the farmhouse. Two men can go in the back to get the women out.”
“We shootin’ to kill, Law?” one man asked.
“Yes. Hell, yes. This is a plague to wipe out.”
“Timing is all,” Will pointed out. “We can’t make our move ’til you men are in place. Not to start shooting, mind you, but to give us comforting cover.”
A few men laughed. They had been in fights with Will. But a quiet-voiced argument ensued over attacking after full dark, or waiting for daybreak. Both sides had valid points favoring their view.
“We have surprise on our side to go tonight,” Matt said. “Why chance more men joining them? Two to one odds sounds about right to me. What if some leave? They could see us and sound an alarm. And I wouldn’t want a woman of mine in their hands one minute more.”
That decided the matter. Law would lead the largest group. Tarney, the Owens brothers and two others would go free the men.
Matt and Will checked their guns, as did other men before they mounted. Albie stood patiently waiting.
“Owl or loon?” Law asked.
“Owl,” Will promptly answered. “Can’t make the call of a loon.”
“Owl, it is. Good luck. Good shooting to all.”
They split up and rode into the night.
Within half an hour, Albie whispered for them to slow and walk their horses.
Matt sensed the change in the density of the pines. Someone had done a sight of cutting of the lower branches, removing the brush and thinning the trees. Off ahead he could see the faint glow of the fire.
By mutual agreement they left their horses and followed Albie on foot. Closer still and the sounds of a fiddle rose and fell.
At Matt’s side, Will whispered, “Feeling mighty secure. You spot any guards?”
“No. Albie?”
“Nary a one.”
Matt motioned the other five men forward. “Give us a count of fifty. Then go.”
From tree to tree they ran, stopping, looking, and with the way clear, circling around until they heard the frogs croaking by the lake, and horses milling. The corral was close. With a thick layer of clouds obscuring the moon there was little to see.
Matt glanced briefly toward his left where the bonfire shone like a beacon to reveal men sitting or standing. The fiddle still played over the sounds of shouts and drunken laughter egging on a few dancing couples. He looked no more. He couldn’t wipe from his mind the image of his Laine being held by these men. Or worse, young Rachel.
He probed the darkness ahead, searching for the shine of metal on a belt buckle or weapon.
Screams rent the night.
The three men turned toward the fire with rifles up and ready to shoot. Tension sprang like a live thing between them.
“No,” Matt said softly, knowing that a whisper would carry farther. “We stick to the plan.” It was a cold, hard decision. In his mind it was Laine screaming. It stuck in his craw to make the choice. But no one disagreed.
When they stopped again, they were opposite the corral. They dropped to the ground, leaving their sparse cover just as an owl hoot came from their left. Cradling their guns across their arms, they started crawling.
Matt strained to listen. He couldn’t’ hear more than a whisper of cloth rubbing the ground. These were good men with him. Albie rose first. He went along, rubbing noses and necks as curious horses put their heads over the top bar.
Matt and Will started to take the poles out of their slots. A sound made them freeze.
Not ten feet away a man stood relieving himself.
Will pulled a long, pointed pigsticker from a sheath at his back. With a brief touch to Matt’s shoulder, he blended with the dark.
Matt held his breath. Strain as he might, he couldn’t hear anything.
Will suddenly reappeared. He went to the fence. They took down another pole. Albie stood near. Matt vaulted the last pole, grabbed hold of a horse’s mane and mounted bareback.
He spoke softly to the animals as the last pole came free. Matt led the way as Will and Albie encouraged the animals to follow. He headed toward the brush corral just as another hoot sounded. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he saw outlines of mounted men. But he knew their luck had held. Now it was a matter of minutes to get the men free.
The questing sound of an owl floated in the air.
“The others are ready,” Matt said.
Will also rode bareback. He walked his horse forward. “Guards?”
“Ain’t none gonna sound no alarm.”
They began tearing the brush free from the side away from the fire. They had help from the other side. Harsh whispers and reassuring ones rose and fell. As the men came out they were helped to mount by twos.
“Jus’ hang on,” Tarney ordered.
There were muffled coughs, gasps of thanks and pleas to be given a gun.
Matt thought it was Tarney that led whoever was mounted back toward the first corral and then into the woods.
When shooting broke out seconds later, it wasn’t sporadic, but came in volleys. Law’s army experience again. Matt was torn. He wanted to join the fighting, but his job was to see these men and animals safely away.
It was too much to hope they’d get off free. Bullets began peppering around them.
“Go. Go,” Matt ordered as he and Will moved as one to return fire. When his carbine was empty, he used his Colt, moving forward to the steady cadence of Will’s guns.
Matt reloaded his carbine. He started shooting as Will’s guns fell silent. He wanted Blueboy’s steady presence beneath him. Although he controlled the horse with his knees, the steady barrage of fire sent the
horse sideling, throwing off his aim.
When Will began shooting again, Matt abandoned the horse. As he moved toward the shadowy figures laying on the ground, some moaning, calling for help, others still in death, he saw the ragged skirmish line come from behind the sheds and wagons. Closer to the bonfire now, he saw the gleam of rifle barrels pointed at him. He called out to identify himself and Will.
Law loomed from the dark. “Wounded? Killed?”
“None,” Will reported, joining them.
From the pines on their left there were a few shots. Only to be expected that some would run rather than fight.
Once more, Matt reloaded his weapons. He saw Will reloading three handguns. One went into his belt at his back, one in his holster, and like Matt, one he held ready.
“What happened to your rifle, Will?”
“I favored a man come begging the chance to shoot.”
Law fired orders to hitch the mules and oxen to the wagons when harnesses were recovered from one of the sheds. There were quilts and blankets but no other bedding to cushion the rough board bottoms for the wounded. Men ran to cut the soft tips of the pines as underbedding.
Matt stared in dismay as the fourth wagon pulled up. There were too many unable to ride. Too little food to distribute among them. But there was plenty of loot stolen from these folks and others. Men worked to saddle horses and collect weapons. The women were the worst. Some stood about dazed, others crying or calling out for loved ones.
“Law? There’s too many.”
“I know. I had no idea. I don’t even know where they all come from. I can’t leave them. We’ll send two wagons to Shreveport.” He then detailed four men to accompany them. They also took two mounts apiece.
One young girl started crying for her mother. Other women gathered around her to give comfort.
A long woman limped her way toward them. “Law, it that really you?”
“Mary! Where’s Wade?”
“My man’s dead.” She clenched the tattered remains of her skirt. “They wouldn’t let me tend him. No matter how I begged they wouldn’t let me see him at all.” She looked around. “Where’s my Billy?”
“Safe, Mary.” Law took hold of her hand. “He made his way to Laine’s. Matt here, he saw him. Spoke with him. Oh, Mary, I am truly so sorry …”
“Hush up. Don’t you say one word. I’ve no tears left to cry for him. I just want to see my boy.”
“And you will.”
“When, Law? I need … I need to be with him.”
“Soon, Mary. I promise you it will be soon.” He patted the hand he held, distressed by her lack of emotion. But then he recalled soldiers after battle who had reacted the same way.
“Ma’am,” Matt said. “Your son Billy’s a fine, brave boy. The information he gave helped us plan this rescue. And you, ma’am, you did a brave thing to get him free.”
“Brave? I couldn’t save my Wade.”
Matt stared helplessly at Law.
“They paid for what they did to you, and to these others, Mary.”
“But it won’t bring my Wade back.”
“He was a good man. Come with me. I’ll find a place in the wagon with the other women.”
Matt watched them go. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You had a good plan to get them away, Matt. There’s just too many who need care. I can’t figure where all they’ve come from.”
“Will, it can still work. Send all the wagons east. We’ll run whatever stock’s left behind to wipe out the wagon tracks. Then men could take a few horses and run some other trails. Mostly south of here or west to Fort Worth.”
“Instead of hiding the tracks we’ll have many for them to follow. I like it. Law will, too.”
“Where is he?”
Matt was turned by a shout from Caleb. He was riding toward them, leading their horses.
“Albie sent me to fetch ’em.” He looked around as each man took charge of his own horse. “What’s gonna happen to ’em?”
Neither man answered.
Matt knew what he would do. It wasn’t a fine southern gentleman’s solution, so he fussed unnecessarily with Blueboy. He jammed his carbine in the saddle scabbard, impatient now to get moving. Death hung in the air. He hated breathing the stench and hearing the moans and cries of the wounded.
He wanted the clean scent of Laine. He wanted to hold her, swear nothing like this would ever happen to her. He needed to hold her, kiss her senseless and hear her breathless cry of passion. He needed her like a clean breath of air, and he gave up trying to find all the reasons why, and none of why they were wrong.
He had mounted when Law, accompanied by the Owens brothers, came riding toward them. One of the boys had a rough bandage wrapping his upper arm.
“Aaron here ducked left when he should have dodged right.”
“Robert, if this skin graze is all I come away with, I did a good night’s work.”
“We ready to leave?” Matt couldn’t hide his impatience, nor could he ignore the return of a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He didn’t know if Law heard him. He and Will were having a low-voiced conversation. Finally Law nodded and Will rode to the three remaining wagons and their waiting escorts.
“Will’s going to take them to Shreveport. I’ll be riding with you, Matt. The boys will, too.”
“I’m going to Laine’s. I need to know they’re safe.”
“I know the feeling. But I need to get Billy. Mary is in a bad way. I wish I could bring her home to my lady Daphane. They grew up neighbors. If things don’t get settled soon, I’ll never be able to marry that girl.”
“What about their wounded?” Robert asked.
In the few moments before Law answered, Matt had a glimpse of the fury he kept carefully leashed. It was in Law’s eyes, his rigid jaw, the hard edge of his voice when he spoke.
“The good Lord said an eye for an eye and if offends thee, pluck it out. That we should do unto others as they do unto us. Let them reap what they’ve sown. Leave them. Leave them as they left Wade and the others. Let their damned reconstruction friends bear the burden of caring for them. Or killing them. I don’t care.”
He rode off with the Owens brothers on either side.
Matt looked back once before he followed.
The last of the wagons was almost to the trees.
Minutes later, they ran straight into an ambush.
Chapter Eleven
The four men had barely entered the pines when bullets started flying.
Matt angled to the right. He looped his reins around the saddle horn, controlling the horse with his knees. Firing, he emptied his Colt in minutes. For all that the brush and lower branches had been cleared, he still had a hard time finding the enemy. There was no time to reload. Holstering the handgun, he drew the carbine. Sighting muzzle flashes, he started shooting now, nearly behind the ambushing men.
He heard Law and the Owens’ brothers firing and realized the added danger of being in their line of fire.
A little deeper into the trees he slowed Blueboy to a fast walk. He heard horses ahead, the maddened whinnying of terrified animals as the volume of shots grew.
Over the sounds he suddenly heard a man cursing.
One man.
Matt’s realization and finding himself nearly on top of him came simultaneously.
The man spun around and fired in the same moment Matt did. The bullet burn across Matt’s shoulder threw off his aim. He fired again. His carbine clicked on an empty chamber.
Grabbing the hot barrel, Matt swung the carbine like a club, riding down on the man.
He stood his ground, firing and missing. The next bullet didn’t miss.
Neither did Matt.
The man fell at his blow. He didn’t move.
Hit in his side, Matt reeled in the saddle. Blueboy, reacting to the pressure of Matt’s knees, remained still. Matt used his bowie to cut off his shirtsle
eves. He made a rough pad, pulled his shirt free of his pants, and lifted it to press the cloth tight. He knew he was losing blood. He shook his head to ward off the light-headedness assaulting him. Trying to keep his left elbow pressed against his side, he fought the involuntary shaking as he struggled to reload his guns.
Firing still resounded in front of him. The others must be pinned down.
He glanced quickly at the horses tied by their reins to a rope strung between two trees. Without the damn fool cursing them, waving his arm and gun around, the animals were slowly quieting. He could do nothing about them but set them free.
He gave brief thought to the energy needed to slice through the reins and scatter the horses.
Matt turned Blueboy and went searching for enemies.
The thick pine needle ground cover kept their coming silent until he started shooting and left dead behind. For every one of them was one less threat to fight another day.
With his vision blurring, Matt looked around for someone to shoot. The sudden silence was deafening.
“Law,” he called out in a hoarse voice.
“Like an avenging angel he smite my enemies down,” Aaron said, riding forward.
“Hush, boy. I might need Bible quotes soon enough.” Matt swayed and barely stopped himself from falling. “I’ve been shot.”
“Robert! Law! He’s hurt.” Aaron supported him until the others came to join them.
“Bring him back to the fire. I’ll need light and hot water,” Robert ordered.
Matt shook his head. “No. Can’t waste time.”
He fumbled in his saddlebag until he pulled free a roll of rawhide strings. Pain lanced through him as each move tore his wound open. He could feel blood seeping to soak his pants.
Aaron figured out what he was trying to do. He yanked a string free and used it to tie Matt’s hands to the saddle horn.
“Matt, are you sure?”
“I’ll hang on. Been worse. Get … get shed of this place.”
The Homecoming Page 8