The pad of his fingertip applied pressure to the slender trigger.
“Not now,” George said quietly. “Too many.”
Wolf blinked back his anger. Sweet revenge was so close he could almost taste its tantalizing and succulent flavor. Who could have thought the death of another could give a man such gratification? But something held his hand back.
He lowered the pistol. “Not now.”
It wasn’t some sense of honor. It wasn’t good enough to assassinate the man in the dark. No. No. That could never be good enough for Payne. Wolf wanted to watch the life leave his eyes, a blade through his belly. He wanted to savor his enemy’s demise. Drink in his pain. He wanted revenge, up-close and personal, and he would seize it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Night, May 9, 1864
South of Taylorsville, Virginia
Wolf and the sharpshooter slowly backtracked away from the fire like skulking thieves. They found the others almost a half-mile away waiting in the dark like wanted men.
They walked their horses, single file away from the camp until the sun began to creep on the horizon, and two roads stretched lazily before them.
“Hogan,” Wolf softly called down the dozing line of horsemen. They’d been at war long enough to know to capture whatever rest was available to them. Despite Flora’s discomfort—even her head bobbed up and down—she slept in the saddle.
The Irishman brought his horse near Wolf’s.
“They’re between us and our way east.”
“They are.”
“Which way do we go now?”
“This here route runs north to south.” Hogan sighed, eyeing the dusky dirt road. “North will take us to Stuart and Sheridan. Depends on who’s getting the jump on who, but if I were a betting man, which I am, I’d bet on Stuart. So north is still no good until they engage in battle. Then we can try to circle around to Sheridan’s lines.” He eyed the other way. “That leaves south, mile by mile closer to the enemy capital.”
“Do you know of a place where no one can find us? A place where we can hide until the armies meet?”
Hogan swatted a mosquito on his neck as he thought. “There’s an inn outside of Richmond. Sometimes we use it to meet with informants and the like. No one should come looking for us there.”
“That’s where we go then.”
“Closer to Richmond puts us at risk.”
Wolf shook his head. “We need to get away from the Red Shirts and off this road. It won’t be long. We only need enough time for Sheridan and Stuart to fight.”
“Red Shirts?” Hogan asked.
The horsemen perked up at the sound of the enemy’s name. “Aye, those are the men who follow us. Hampton’s Red Shirts.”
Roberts rubbed his eyes. “Wolf, those be the men from Gettysburg?”
“They are. Not all of them, but enough.”
“You’re not saying he’s with ‘em are ya?” Roberts asked. “The bad one?”
Wolf stared at his friend, comrade, and brother. He hadn’t told Roberts much. The physical pain of torture was excruciating enough for Wolf, but Roberts knew that the captain had done the deed with wicked efficiency.
“He’s here.”
“Dear God, he’s here. This changes the game.”
“Yes, it does. I’m going to kill him.”
Roberts nodded fiercely. A worried look took hold of him, but his words rang true. “I’ll help you. Least I can do.”
“Never doubted you.”
Hogan held up a hand. “Now, gentlemen. Wait a minute. We are here to keep Mrs. Stuart company until the battle’s done.” He lifted his eyebrows high. “Until Stuart’s demise, we aren’t to be riding off getting ourselves killed for some feud.”
Wolf considered the BMI agent. This man had no idea the trauma that had come at Payne’s miserable hands.
“I’m not sure you understand. We’re going to kill that man. You cannot stop me.”
The BMI agent’s head went back as he searched the heavens for any sliver of succor. “That wasn’t the deal. We are close, Wolf. So close to doing this thing right.”
“I didn’t say I’d break my word, but when we’re finished, I’m going after Payne.”
“What about your orders?” Hogan asked.
“Bugger your orders. I’m going to kill that man.”
Wilhelm came near, talking lowly to Wolf. “I want revenge on these men for what they’ve done, but we must stay focused. We’re in enemy territory. One misstep could bring about our ruin.”
Wolf met his eyes. “Sergeant, I already told you. When we’re done, I kill him.”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Wilhelm said, his mustache quivering with dissatisfaction.
“Sounds like quite the fellow to draw such a sour reaction from all you fine men. I’d like to see him myself,” Adams added. “Maybe I’ll kill him.”
“You will not, Private,” Wolf said.
Adams grinned at him. “Sounds like a challenge. Who can kill a man first? A game if you will. Care to place a wager?”
“Bah, he’s prolly a fucking coward,” Nelson said. “Hurt your feelings, did he?”
“He’s mine,” Wolf said.
Nelson nudged Adams. “The boy lieutenant looks so serious.”
“He does, don’t he? Must be quite the bastard,” Adams said, an impressed look on his face.
“Which is why he’s mine. When the time comes, you let me take him.”
Flora’s voice chimed in, higher pitched than the rest. “What makes you men think you have a chance? If my husband sent them, they will find you and will kill you.” She looked well-satisfied with herself.
All the men turned to stare at her.
“That’s if he doesn’t want to do it himself. He is an excellent horseman and well-versed in both saber and pistol. Better than you lot.”
Wolf’s men exchanged glances. A slow grin crawled over Nelson’s face. “With all due respect, ma’am, I’d rip your husband’s head off and shit down his throat. He’ll pity the day he meets us.”
Flora’s mouth dropped open. “How dare you speak to me that way!”
“Private,” Wolf said.
“You gonna tell me to be a more righteous man? You gonna tell me how to do my fucking job? Huh, Wolf?”
“I’m gonna tell you to shut the fuck up. Nobody talks to Flora but me. Uncle Shugart can pray for your soul later.”
The thick trooper ground his teeth, the muscles around his jaw flexing. “We’ll finish our words later, Wolfie.”
“Private,” Wilhelm said.
Nelson eyed the veteran German soldier.
“You’ll maintain order as long as I am alive.”
“Don’t tempt me, Dutchman,” Nelson said with an evil grin.
“I’m the only Dutch here,” Van Horn added.
Nelson turned toward him. “And I don’t like either of ya.”
Wolf’s eyes didn’t leave the hulking trooper. “Do we need to hash out who is in command here?”
Nelson’s eyes gleamed, and he flexed his hands into fists. His lip curled beneath his beard. “I ain’t got a quarrel.”
“That’s good,” Wolf said, reluctant to take his eyes off the dangerous man. He turned back to Hogan. “Take us to your inn.”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Hogan said. He maneuvered his horse to the front of the understrength platoon.
“Take us at a trot,” Wolf called after him. He stayed behind Nelson in the short column where he could react quicker if need be. He’d hate to have to put down one of their own, but that was the risk in bringing a man with fire in his veins.
He heeled his mount’s sides, and she increased her gait to a trot. The raiders rode into the morning light.
***
It was almost midday when they reached Hogan’s inn. It was a ramshackle structure with a slight lean to the left. Clearly, it had been abandoned at some point. Boards had been nailed over the windows. The front porch was missing planks. A hole gaped through the sec
ond-story roof, revealing gray weather-beaten wood. The place was so run-down Wolf thought it might not even stay upright in a harsh wind.
“This is the place?” Wolf asked.
“Locals call it Yellow Tavern,” Hogan replied.
“Ain’t much of it yellow,” Roberts said. Any semblance of color on the tavern had been bleached by the sun, wind, and rain as it had been left unattended by men.
“Used to be.”
“I was expecting something a bit more accommodating,” Wolf said.
“What better place to be than one nobody wants to go? Even now it’s our island in a sea of enemies. Stables are out back.”
The raiders stabled their horses, ensuring feed bags were secured. There was no way they wouldn’t need the animals well-rested after such a continuous ride or risk making them lame. Hogan led them along a dirt path overgrown with tall swaying grass and entered the tavern through a back door.
The door creaked on rusted hinges as it struggled to open. Inside were overturned tables, a few broken chairs, and a dust-caked bar. Cobwebs ran rampant over every corner and ceiling space available. The fireplace was dark, and the brick surrounding it chipped away. Stairs near the front entrance led to the second floor.
Hogan walked over behind the counter and pulled out an oil lantern. Removing a box of matches from his jacket, he lit the lantern, illuminating the ramshackle place.
The men uprighted tables and chairs, clearing areas.
“That collapsed room will make a good place to see any approaching riders,” Skinner said.
Wolf nodded the go-ahead and Skinner carefully navigated the stairs upward, trying to hold back his weight for fear of breaking through the steps.
“A fitting place for men of your character,” Flora said, eyeing the surroundings. She looked much too exhausted to be causing so much trouble for Wolf.
“Flora, remember our pact. You talk too much, you get the gag.”
Her mouth closed, and he smirked.
Dan offered her a chair at a table with a smile. She didn’t say anything but sat down with her arms draped over her belly, her wrists still tied.
“I’m not going to run. You can remove these,” Flora said.
Wolf judged her words, weighing her to see if she told the truth. He gestured at Dan with his chin. The big Polish trooper leaned low and unknotted her ropes, unraveling them.
She nodded her thanks to Dan, and he smiled sheepishly. “Thank you,” she said loudly.
“There’s dried goods underneath here,” Hogan said from across the room. “Tack and the like.”
The men checked their weapons and ammunition. They set up their bedrolls. Dan, Roberts, Adams, Pratt, and Nelson sat at a table playing cards. Adams shuffled like a master, flipping the cards along his fingers. Some men were about to lose whatever valuables they had.
Hogan joined Wolf at his table. “I am going to meet up with one of my informants.” He draped his brown coat over a chair and put a gray officer’s frock coat on. “Nobody get frisky when I return,” he said to the men around the room.
For the most part, they ignored him. The sharpshooter in the nest above would notify them of anything before he got close enough for them to riddle him with lead.
“Where are you going?”
Hogan smirked, running a hand through his curly hair. “Don’t you worry about where and who, Lieutenant. I will return before nightfall.” Hogan turned, and James rose to join him.
“No, James. I do this on my own.”
James gave a terse nod and sat back down, leaning his head on the wall.
Hogan exited and a gallop of hooves followed.
Wolf studied his men. Am I doing my men a disservice by not having a better idea of where I am? Am I doing enough to protect my men? Reconnaissance was critical in the field. Every engagement showed the truth of that principle of war. “Shugart.”
The elder abolitionist slowly stood as old men do and made his way to Wolf. “Young sir?” His words were said with no ill will, but none of them were really young anymore. Young in age perhaps, but war aged a man beyond his years.
Wolf gave him a faint smile. “I want you to scout the area. Get poor Pratt out of that game. I want to know who and what is around us. Most importantly, I want to know ways to retreat. We don’t know when we’ll have to run again.”
The tuft of hair atop Shugart’s head fluttered as the older man bobbed his head. He gave Wolf a warm smile. “It will be good for the boy to be separated from the vile influences of gambling.” He shuddered under the thought. “I, of course, will counsel him on the virtues of a sin-free life.”
“And you are the one to save him.”
“My work is never done. This will be a sober unit by the time the war is over. I can tell you that.”
Wolf couldn’t help but laugh. Despite the fact he laughed at Shugart, the old man grinned; he looked like a skeleton with his thin cheeks and ghostly cobweb-like beard.
Shugart’s jaw settled into a stubborn defiance. “I will never stop trying to save your souls.”
“We appreciate every prayer, Uncle.” Wolf clapped his hands together in mock prayer.
This made the old man grin. “And all my prayers are freely given.” He clasped Wolf’s upper arm fondly. “We will be back before dark with your report.”
“Thank you, Uncle.”
Shugart disrupted the men playing cards. Pratt’s brow was already creased. Only a single green dollar still sat in front of him. There was no way any of the other men at the table would ever let the young man win a hand. In fact, if he thought he was winning, he was losing. They were all just setting him up for a bigger fall.
“Come, Private Pratt, we have more scouting to do.”
Pratt rolled his eyes to the other men. “We only just started.”
Adams grinned at him. “Yeah, Uncle. Let him play a little longer.”
“He gets better every hand,” Nelson said. The brutish man eyed his hand over the top of his nose, his thick fingers engulfing the cards.
“Leave this poor lad from the corruption of your sinful vices. He still has a chance for redemption.”
“Better just leave that dollar, Pratt,” Adams said. Pratt snatched his last dollar and shoved it in his pocket. “I ain’t even got a chance to win my money back.”
“Yeah,” Adams said. “One more hand?”
Shugart glimpsed back at Wolf, and he shook his head no. “No, we must do this before dark.”
“I will go with them,” James said. His eyes were dark and serious. “It is not safe. The enemy is close.”
“You may join them.”
The troopers gathered their carbines and were joined by the native sharpshooter.
“Are you a churchgoing fellow, Private?” Shugart asked Pratt.
“Of course, raised Catholic.”
Shugart regarded the Indian with a bit of suspicion. “And you, James? Are you a Christian?”
“I’ve been baptized.”
“Very good, James.” Shugart turned to Pratt again. “And you’ve accepted Christ, Mr. Pratt?
Pratt nodded. “Well, as much as any other man. My parents put the water on me when I was a babe.” His voice trailed as the door closed behind them, and James gave Wolf a wide-eyed glare.
The man had elected to go; his fate was his own. And old Shugart would have him singing hymns by the time they returned.
Wolf settled in his chair across from Flora. He leaned his chair back into the wall. He put his boots on the table to stay semi-reclined. Flora studied him with tired eyes.
“Get some rest, ma’am,” he said.
“I will do as I please.”
Wolf gave her a short grin. He tipped his hat over his eyes and snoozed away the afternoon.
***
He awoke from his snooze to the schwing, schwing of metal over stone. Placing a finger on his hat, he pushed it upwards. Skinner sat on the floor in the corner sharpening a knife. Nearby, Wilhelm inspected and cleaned his Spe
ncer carbine with a rag.
The poker game had ended, and Adams licked his lips as he counted his money. Not surprising. The man had a knack for swindling others.
Flora’s head was dipped before him. A strand of hair was loose from her bun and dangling in front of her face. Dan and Bart tended a fire in the fireplace. Van Horn and Hale dozed on the floor like fallen soldiers on the battlefield.
Skinner looked up at Wilhelm. “Fight’s coming. Can’t hurt to be ready.”
Wilhelm grunted. “You and I share the same sentiment.”
“Sentiments? I ain’t sentiment one bit.”
Eyeing his weapon with pleasure of a craftsmen his favorite tool, Wilhelm smiled. “We are of the same mind, friend.”
Skinner grinned, scratching beneath his hat with his knife. “Yes, we are, my German friend.”
“Hogan’s coming back,” George called down from the upstairs observation nest.
Galloping hooves soon followed his words, and Wolf stood. He straightened his bad leg. It always seemed stiff, which complemented his hardened and scarred back. He put a hand on his lower back and forced it outward.
Hogan entered, closing the door behind him. He gave a small grin. “Appreciate the lack of bullets when I rode up.”
“You can thank George.”
“You have my thanks,” he called up the stairs.
“Almost shot you myself with that gray coat on but decided you didn’t ride well enough to be a Southerner,” George retorted.
“Saved by my lack of equestrian prowess.” Hogan gave the men a bow.
“What’s the news?” Wolf asked.
“Quite marvelous, in fact. Stuart has taken the bait. Over half his force is frantically searching for our dear lady over there. He’s near Taylorsville now, racing around like a mad man. Sheridan is taking his sweet time, marching straight for Richmond. Custer’s taken credit for burning Beaver Dam Station, and both are preparing for a fight.”
“This was all a way to get him to fight?” Flora said.
The men turned and looked at her.
“That is none of your concern,” Wolf said.
She lifted her chin. “Then may he never find me.”
“It’s too late,” Hogan said. “He’s already bitten the hook. Soon Sheridan will take him.”
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