Read Online The Loner: Inferno #12 by J.A. Johnstone - Free Book Online
Authors: J.A. Johnstone
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Harwood said. “They must not have been killed in the fighting. The Apaches have taken them prisoner ... the poor, doomed bastards.”
Chapter 8
An air of depressed foreboding hung over the wagon train camp that night. Nobody talked about it, but most of the adults knew that somewhere out there in the darkness, the freighters who had been with that Conestoga were probably screaming their lives away as they were tortured to death by their Apache captors.
The children were more subdued than usual, too. They had heard enough whispered comments from their parents to know what was going on.
The leadership of the wagon train held a subdued meeting next to Jessica’s wagon while they were eating supper. Dunlap had asked The Kid to join in, too.
“I just showed up yesterday,” he said, “and I’m only along for the ride. You don’t need me to help you make any decisions.”
“Ain’t any decisions to make,” Dunlap said. “We’re pushin’ on to Raincrow Valley, just like we always planned. But you’ve been around the frontier for a while, Kid. In spite of your age, you’re one of the most experienced men we’ve got. If you got any advice for us, I’m more than willin’ to listen.”
Dunlap obviously believed that inflated reputation The Kid had tried to develop about himself while he was searching for his wife’s killers. On the other hand, the past couple years in his life had been eventful, to say the least. He really had crammed a lot of experience into them.
The Kid and Farnum sat on a couple of kegs that had been taken from the wagon, while Jessica and Harwood sat together on the wagon tongue. Dunlap paced back and forth in front of them.
“Who ships goods by freight wagon anymore?” he asked. “Everybody uses the railroad now.”
“Not everybody,” Harwood said. “There are still a few freight outfits hanging on. Their rates are lower than the railroad’s, and if you’re shipping something that doesn’t have to be anywhere in a particular hurry, like hammers and nails ...”
They all knew what he meant. The four men had poked around enough in the ruins of the burned Conestoga to find lumps of partially melted hammerheads and nails. The handles of the hammers had been consumed in the blaze, but the metal heads remained, as did the nails they were intended to drive.
“I’ll bet the cavalry patrol caught up with that wagon, just like they did with us,” Dunlap said. “And that blasted Lieutenant Nicholson probably rode right on past it without even slowin’ down.”
Farnum nodded as he clamped his teeth strongly on the stem of his old briar. “Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. And now those poor fellas ...”
He didn’t have to finish that statement. They all knew what he meant.
“We have proof now that the Apaches are out here, over and above what Nicholson told us,” Harwood said quietly. “I’ve seen plenty of their depredations over in Arizona.”
The Kid said, “A gang of white outlaws could have burned that wagon.”
Harwood turned to look at him and nodded. “They could have, but why would outlaws bother with a freight wagon? It wouldn’t be carrying money or anything else they’d want. Besides, they would have just killed the teamsters and left the bodies there.” He shook his head. “No, this is Apache work. Setting the wagon on fire like that, carrying off prisoners ... I’ve seen it all before.”
“Scott’s right,” Dunlap said. “Question is, what do we do about it?”
“There were tracks around what was left of that Conestoga,” Farnum said. “I reckon I could follow ’em.”
“And do what?” Harwood asked.
“Might be able to help those prisoners.”
A bitter laugh came from Harwood. “They’re already dead, or if they’re not, they’re wishing they were. There’s nothing we can do for them, Milo. Our responsibility is here with this wagon train and these people.” He looked at Dunlap. “We’d better double the guards,
Chapter 8
An air of depressed foreboding hung over the wagon train camp that night. Nobody talked about it, but most of the adults knew that somewhere out there in the darkness, the freighters who had been with that Conestoga were probably screaming their lives away as they were tortured to death by their Apache captors.
The children were more subdued than usual, too. They had heard enough whispered comments from their parents to know what was going on.
The leadership of the wagon train held a subdued meeting next to Jessica’s wagon while they were eating supper. Dunlap had asked The Kid to join in, too.
“I just showed up yesterday,” he said, “and I’m only along for the ride. You don’t need me to help you make any decisions.”
“Ain’t any decisions to make,” Dunlap said. “We’re pushin’ on to Raincrow Valley, just like we always planned. But you’ve been around the frontier for a while, Kid. In spite of your age, you’re one of the most experienced men we’ve got. If you got any advice for us, I’m more than willin’ to listen.”
Dunlap obviously believed that inflated reputation The Kid had tried to develop about himself while he was searching for his wife’s killers. On the other hand, the past couple years in his life had been eventful, to say the least. He really had crammed a lot of experience into them.
The Kid and Farnum sat on a couple of kegs that had been taken from the wagon, while Jessica and Harwood sat together on the wagon tongue. Dunlap paced back and forth in front of them.
“Who ships goods by freight wagon anymore?” he asked. “Everybody uses the railroad now.”
“Not everybody,” Harwood said. “There are still a few freight outfits hanging on. Their rates are lower than the railroad’s, and if you’re shipping something that doesn’t have to be anywhere in a particular hurry, like hammers and nails ...”
They all knew what he meant. The four men had poked around enough in the ruins of the burned Conestoga to find lumps of partially melted hammerheads and nails. The handles of the hammers had been consumed in the blaze, but the metal heads remained, as did the nails they were intended to drive.
“I’ll bet the cavalry patrol caught up with that wagon, just like they did with us,” Dunlap said. “And that blasted Lieutenant Nicholson probably rode right on past it without even slowin’ down.”
Farnum nodded as he clamped his teeth strongly on the stem of his old briar. “Wouldn’t surprise me a bit. And now those poor fellas ...”
He didn’t have to finish that statement. They all knew what he meant.
“We have proof now that the Apaches are out here, over and above what Nicholson told us,” Harwood said quietly. “I’ve seen plenty of their depredations over in Arizona.”
The Kid said, “A gang of white outlaws could have burned that wagon.”
Harwood turned to look at him and nodded. “They could have, but why would outlaws bother with a freight wagon? It wouldn’t be carrying money or anything else they’d want. Besides, they would have just killed the teamsters and left the bodies there.” He shook his head. “No, this is Apache work. Setting the wagon on fire like that, carrying off prisoners ... I’ve seen it all before.”
“Scott’s right,” Dunlap said. “Question is, what do we do about it?”
“There were tracks around what was left of that Conestoga,” Farnum said. “I reckon I could follow ’em.”
“And do what?” Harwood asked.
“Might be able to help those prisoners.”
A bitter laugh came from Harwood. “They’re already dead, or if they’re not, they’re wishing they were. There’s nothing we can do for them, Milo. Our responsibility is here with this wagon train and these people.” He looked at Dunlap. “We’d better double the guards,
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