Chapter 18
Hundreds of marching feet, the Federal soldiers heading to Washington, had broken up the dirt road outside the city. Jack and Ezra had to stay on the side of the road to allow the lines of men and wagons to pass the other way. It was slow going at first, but their horses managed to keep a consistent pace trudging along the muddy track. The sky was still gray and threatened rain as the afternoon drew on. The inexperienced soldiers were smiling and laughing, their faces excited with the prospect of going to war. Jack shook his head at seeing these young recruits, who still believed in the romance and glory of battle. He remembered his own the excitement that he had felt when he was just a young soldier making his way out West in a long column of wagons. Hastily trained, they had been thrown in to police the Plains Indians. After his first battle, the glory of battle seemed more like a passing illusion than ever before. War was a hard and bloody job that broke a man in more ways than the politicians ever imagined.
Ezra broke Jack’s train of thought. "I think it’s going to rain,” he said while looking up speculatively. “If it does, it’s just going to slow us down even more.”
Jack looked up at the coming gray clouds. “This may be slow going, but Davis isn’t going to have it any easier.”
“I don’t know, it seems like we’re on a fool’s errand. How can we be sure he’s really going to Harper’s Ferry? That Edmonds woman could have lied to us. Davis could have just as easily struck straight south,” Ezra pointed in that direction, “And been into Virginia right away. Money, that's the way I would have taken if I wanted to get away from Washington – it’s the quickest route.”
“So would I,” the detective nodded. “But he’s in a difficult position. He has the plans but it would be easy enough for the Rebels to just take the papers without paying the amount he requested. That’s one of the reasons why he remained in the city even as the search for Lawrence intensified. By remaining within the safety of Washington, Davis was protected by the very government he was trying to sell out. Since he can no longer provide information to the Rebels, they have no reason to upkeep any bargains. He’s in a tight spot now.”
They rode in silence. As the afternoon hours waned, the number of soldiers on the road had begun to shrink. The troops were now pulling the wagons off into the surrounding farm fields, as yet unplanted, and making camp. A burly sergeant driving a loaded wagon going the other way waved them over as they were passing. They slowed down to talk to him. His face was wet from the light mist of rain that had begun to fall. The wagon stopped and the sergeant wiped his face with a grin.
Jack saluted.
“You two headed to Harper’s Ferry?” the sergeant asked.
“We are at that,” Jack replied.
The sergeant grunted. “Be careful. There are some bushwhackers in the area. We had a couple of potshots taken at us a few miles back down the road. We fired at them and scared them away, but you never know if they will come back.”
Jack answered, “My friend and I are in a hurry. We have to get going, but I appreciate the warning.”
“It’s no skin off my back, but you’ll be safer if you spend the night in camp with us.” He was still grinning as he jerked his head at the encampment behind them.
“Thanks for the offer, but we must move along.” Jack flicked his reins, and Ezra followed.
“I tried to warn you.” The sergeant shrugged his shoulders and watched as they kept going. “Just keep your heads down, you two,” he shouted at their retreating backs.
Jack gave him a wave back. They continued on and soon had the road to themselves. The troops had all cleared off and white tents dotted the area like triangular clouds in the dingy mud-soaked fields.
They continued on the road for a while longer until the sky darkened with the coming night.
“Let’s give the horses a rest,” Jack said, his voice raspy since he was tired from riding all day and trying to keep his injured arm immobilized. The pain wasn’t bad, but a sudden jolt would cause it to suddenly flare up, especially as his horse began to stumble with weariness.
“I could do with a rest myself,” Ezra agreed, his voice haggard.
Jack studied the road ahead of them. “Over there looks like a good place.” He pointed to an empty farm field where a single oak tree provided some cover from the rain.
They dismounted and led the tired horses under the tree. As they pulled the saddles off, the rain then began to come down in heavy, driving sheets. The horses began to feed on the grass. Jack poured part of his canteen for them into an iron skittle. He then sat down with his back to the tree and watched them eat and drink.
Ezra pulled some jerked meat and cheese from his saddlebag. “I’m not sure if we should eat these now or wait ‘til the morning. I’ve got half a loaf of bread and a knife; let’s eat it cold so we won’t spend the night hungry.”
The two of them set to work and quickly finished the food, a little less weary than before.
“Ezra, why don’t you shut your eyes for an hour or two? I can take the first watch here.”
The black man took a swallow from his own canteen, smiled thinly and said, “I’m not that tired, but I think a rest would do me good.”
“Alright,” Jack said. He looked nervously at his friend, not sure whether to ask what he was about to say. “Tell me, what do you really think of Faith Hanson?” he finally said in an off-handed manner. He really didn’t feel comfortable talking about her, but had some contradictory thoughts on his mind that he wanted to sort through. His partner was always fair, though mischievous with his answers.
“What do you mean?” Ezra asked innocently. “Are you asking my opinion of her as a client or as a person?” He continued looking up at the dark cloudy sky through the spring boughs of the tree, listening to the rain falling around them.
“Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to ask,” Jack replied uncertainly. His hands pulled at the cuffs of his coat. “I’m not sure what I think about her. She’s so young, and I don’t remember what it’s like to be that age anymore. Why should she pay me any attention? We’re clearly from two different worlds. We can never truly be happy together.”
“If you want my opinion, you should take a chance with her. She may be younger, but she still seems more than interested in you. She may even have set her cap at you. Women like her want someone older who is experienced in the ways of the world. They are more interested in security and happiness than some fancy, youthful romance. She clearly spurned that villain Davis, so she must have more sense than you think.”
Jack nodded and pulled his pouch of tobacco out. He rolled himself a cigarette and offered it to Ezra. His partner shook his head sleepily. Jack shrugged his shoulders and lit the cigarette, shielding his match from the mist of rain that came down through the branches above. He blew the match out before tossing it in the grass. “Yes, she does seem interested in me. But I can’t shake the idea that she is using me somehow. She wants out of that house so bad, she seems willing to do just about anything.”
Ezra’s voice was now quiet and his eyes were shut. “She’s just lonely, Jack.”
“Someone could take advantage of the situation if one was so inclined.” He took another drag from his cigarette and made a face. The tobacco tasted dry and stale, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “Well, I just can’t help but feeling like I’m being taking advantage of. It’s as if she was looking for a horse headed out of town. It doesn’t have to be a good horse, just one she can ride on.” He stubbed the cigarette out in the ground, smiling ruefully. “Well, never mind my problems. Why don’t you try to get some sleep now? I’ll sit here and watch the horses. I’ll make sure they don’t bolt if we get some thunder.” Not hearing a response, he looked over at his friend, who was already fast asleep. Jack smiled to himself and continued to watch the rainy sky.
After an hour, he woke Ezra and then took a short rest himself. Afterward, they sadd
led up the horses and rode through what remained of the night at a hard pace. They kept the conversation to a minimum while the horses trotted uncertainly through the mud-soaked road. The rain continued to fall heavily as the hours passed on the deserted track. Only the fading ruts of the army wagons and muddy imprints of the marching soldiers could be seen. They rode on into the early morning, their riding coats pulled around them to keep out the continuing sheets of rain.
“This is some bad traveling weather,” Ezra grumbled.
“Remember, it can’t be any better for Davis. I bet you they are holed up somewhere waiting for it to pass.”
“They are somewhere nice and warm, with a cup of hot coffee in their hands.”
Even in his gloomy mood, the detective still managed to give a short laugh at the complaining. “Don’t you worry, my old friend, that rain will give us the chance to make up some time on them. It will keep those bushwhackers away too.”
“Jack, at this point I’m getting worried about the horses,” Ezra said plainly. “They are going to be too tired to be any good to us. If someone springs an ambush on us, the horses won’t last a minute if we have to make a run for it.”
Jack knew that his partner had a point. They best let the horses rest again before they were pushed too hard. “We’ll stop up ahead and let them feed some more,” he agreed.
The rain was beginning to diminish. On the left side of the road was a grove of pine trees. That would provide some cover from the rain, so they stopped and pulled themselves off the wet backs of their mounts. Jack reached deep into his overcoat pocket and pulled out two dry cigarettes. They lit them and sat down in the damp underbrush and listened to the patter of the slackening rain. In the meanwhile, the horses ate the small amount of grain that was put in front of them.
“It’s nice to get out of Washington,” Ezra finally said. “It has been a long time since we've been able to leave that place.”
“Yes, it has been too long. We should take the time and do some hunting more often. Too bad it’s hard to make any kind of money out in the country, unless we become farmers on a big spread.”
Ezra snorted and said, “I have a hard time imagining you behind a plow.”
He frowned, remembering his own childhood on the farm. “You know, Ezra, that’s what my father expected from me. He worked the soil year after year and got so little in return. That’s when I decided to leave home and join the Army.”
“I never knew that,” his partner said with interest.
“Yeah, I was sad to leave the old man behind, but I wasn’t going to throw my life away digging in the dirt. It just seemed pointless trying to growing crops and praying for rain. There’s no money in it.”
Ezra took one more drag from his cigarette before carefully putting it out in the pine needles. “I don’t know,” he said. “There are worse things a man can do. You won’t become rich being a farmer, but at least it is honest work.”
“You mean unlike the work we do?” Jack asked, throwing his cigarette stub far into the wet grass beyond.
The black man laughed again. “We aren’t that dishonest, but we have to deal with people who are. Someone has to solve the little mysteries that people come across in life. If something has been lost or if they are going to lose someone – at least they will know the truth. Is there anything wrong with helping people find the truth?”
Jack shrugged and lit another cigarette, the flame of the match lighting up his face. A shout in the distance suddenly went up and several horses started galloping towards them. “Looks like we have some company coming!” he shouted as he stood up. He threw his just-lit cigarette into the dirt and ground it into the soil. “We had better get ready!”
Ezra nodded and grabbed the bridles of their horses. He then pulled them deeper into the pine trees. Jack followed, taking their carbines from the saddle scabbards.
A nearby voice shouted, “Hold up, men.” The group of horses began to slow down as the party approached the tree line. “Where did you see that light, Pickens?”
“I swear it was right over here, Mister Stevenson.” a thin, reedy voice answered.
Jack and Ezra froze. Stevenson was here, so perhaps Davis was nearby. Jack quietly handed a carbine over to his partner, who gently cocked the hammer. The rain continued to come down, masking their sound within the confines of the pine trees.
“Pull the horses back further into the trees,” Jack whispered, “I don’t want my mare to catch a bullet if some shooting starts.”
Ezra nodded; the movement was almost imperceptible in the gloom. He then took both of the horses by their bridles and began to quietly move them further back into the dense pines..
The men were talking with the voice of Stevenson rising above the fray. “Get that lantern out and let’s take a look,” he ordered. “Pickens here may have really seen something.”
Jack watched through the boughs as a thin man pulled himself off his horse. Several of the men followed suit with pistols drawn. The thin man then took out a lantern from his bag and tried to light it. His matches appeared to be wet and it took several attempts to start the wick.
“Hurry up, Joseph,” one of the men could be heard muttering impatiently.
“Don’t rush me, I’ve got it lit now,” he replied. The lantern door was then opened, and the weak light of the lamp began to roam over the pine tree undergrowth.
In the dim light, Jack could now see that the men were dirty, unkempt and dressed in rough work clothes. They were carrying an assortment of weapons and looked scared. He was amazed by their amateurish approach. What men would stand out in the open with a lantern? Perhaps it was time to teach them a little lesson. Jack took careful aim with his Colt repeating rifle and fired a single shot into the lantern.
Chaos ensued as the lamp shattered, splashing burning oil across the carrier and splattering the ground. The man named Joseph screamed as his flesh began to burn.
Jack fired two more shots, downing another of the ruffians.
The rest of the men scattered away from the pine trees, some leaping up onto their saddles and riding away. The tall figure of Stevenson could be seen riding his horse at the head of the group.
Jack took a shot at him, but missed.
The burning man was still screaming with pain as he attempted to smother the oil with his hands.
Out of pity, Jack took another shot. The man slumped over, quiet at last.
Ezra came back and crouched down next to his friend. “How many did you see?” he asked in a whisper.
“I think there are a dozen of them. That was Stevenson on the black horse alright. I didn’t see Davis, but I’d guess he sent him with that gang of ruffians to get us.”
“They must have known that we would be here on this road, trying to catch up to them.”
“I guess so,” Jack replied. “I scared ‘em off for now, but they will be back. We had better reload and get ready for them.”
“We could probably make a run for it,” Ezra said. “No reason why we should try to take on a dozen men.”
“I don’t want to try to outrun them. We don’t know how well rested their horses are compared to ours. We are in no condition for a long chase.”
“That’s true. What kind of guns were they carrying?”
“Mostly muskets, but you never know.” Jack reloaded the Colt rifle cylinders by feel with fresh gunpowder and shot. Normally he would have covered the back of the cylinders with wax to minimize the chance of burning gunpowder igniting a neighboring cylinder, but it was too much of a risk right now. This was a known flaw with the Colt rifle, and a few impatient men had lost a hand when all of the cylinders had accidentally ignited at once.
“I’ve tied up the horses nice and tight. I’ll go on and take the right side,” Ezra whispered.
“Good,” he replied, “Keep your head down until they come back. I’ll take the other side. Wait until they get real close
and mark your target carefully. We only have five rounds each. Save your pistol until they're on top of us. Also make sure not to fire in between us unless you have a clear shot.”
“I know, I know,” he replied sulkily. “I’ve been shooting long enough; you don’t have to remind me.”
“I just don’t want to you to shoot me by accident."
Ezra grinned nervously. “It’ll take more than a bullet to kill someone as ornery as you.” He then pulled his hat tighter over his head and slowly crawled his way to the right side of the trees.
Jack made his way over to the left side and rested on his stomach, facing out towards the road. The rain had stopped and the clouds parted, allowing patches of moonlight to shine through. From there, he watched the dark muddy road as lightning flashed in the distance. The two corpses of the men he had killed were dark shapeless forms in the grass. He waited quietly, wishing for a stiff drink to calm his nerves. It was times like this that most men were scared. For Jack, fear brought a type of rare clarity. The fear never gets any less, but you could keep your nerves still - if you had enough experience with it. He knew that those ruffians were very afraid. But they wanted to strike back and try to prove their bravery. He imagined the men would be overconfident because Jack and Ezra were outnumbered. They would try to hit them hard instead of taking the safe route of encircling the pines. They would be better off being patient and waiting for them to make their move.
After just a few minutes, his prediction came true. Across the road, he could see a line of nine or ten men walking towards the trees. They walked slowly with their guns at the ready. Behind them a tall figure on horseback goaded them on.
The voice of Stevenson could be heard. “C’mon you men, move on forward. We can get that bastard who shot Joseph and Stu. If you see anyone move, shoot them!”
The men were ignoring his entreaties and were making their way ever so cautiously. They came towards the pines in a loose arc, hoping to outflank anyone inside.
Through the camouflage of the weeds, Jack looked down his barrels and set his sights on the man holding the side of the line closest to him. He tracked this target and slowly squeezed the trigger until the gun fired. The flash from the barrel was momentarily blinding. The man fell backwards, his breath rattling in great gasps. The others fell to the ground, trying to find the source of the shot. Jack rolled a few feet away from his original position. Ezra then fired from his position.
Another man on slumped down on the ground, yelling in pain as the bullet passed through his chest. The rest of the men froze in panic.
“Charge them!” Stevenson yelled from his horse. The men at first looked as though they were about to break away, but with their leader’s urging, they ran madly towards the line of trees. They shouted, cursing loudly, as they raised their pistols and blindly fired into the pines. Jack and Ezra fired several more times into the line of men, the shots covered by the sound of returning fire. Two more men fell in their tracks but the remaining group made it into the woods.
Before the detective could get a clear shot, the horse crashed into the pines. Stevenson dismounted and drew out his two pistols, following his men into the undergrowth. “Keep together,” he ordered. “If you see anything move, shoot it down.”
“I found their horses,” a man exclaimed. “It looks like there are only two of them in here.”
Stevenson answered back, “Be careful, but just don’t let them escape.”
By this time, Jack had abandoned his empty rifle and pulled out the Starr pistol. He pulled himself up on his elbows and watched as the men moved through the gloom, looking for a target. Two men were coming towards him, their guns held out low. Jack waited quietly and let them pass. They walked within a few feet of him, but missed seeing his prone body in the underbrush.
Jack turned on his back and fired two times, dropping both men with two well-placed shots in the back. As if in response, he could hear the sound of Ezra’s pistol in the distance. The remaining men fired wildly into the bushes.
“They’re between us!” one man shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”
“Hold up!” Stevenson yelled. It was too late. The men had already seen their comrades cut down by unknown fire, and they fled without listening, happy to escape with their very lives. Now only Stevenson remained behind.
“Come on out, you bastard,” Stevenson said, looking desperately at the underbrush around him. “Or are you afraid of me, Blackwood?”
Jack stood up quietly, only ten yards or so away from the big man. The detective’s Starr was ready in his hand. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said.
Stevenson spun quickly around and fired two shots towards Jack. In his haste, his aim was off and the wild bullets struck a nearby pine tree.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Jack said. He fired once, the lead ball hitting the man in the chest.
Stevenson fought to keep his footing and failed. He then slumped to his knees, grunting in pain as he went down.
Jack cautiously moved towards him with his partner approaching Stevenson from behind. “You should know better than to take an old Army scout in the woods,” the detective said. His voice was low and steady, but filled with anger.
Stevenson tried to raise his gun to fire again, but the gun seemed too heavy in his hands. It fell to the ground. He looked up at the detective with hate. “Damn you,” he said. “At least Davis will still get away from you. I’m sure of that.” He then fell forward, his arms clutched around his chest as if to stop his lifeblood from escaping into the dirt.
“We’ll see,” he said to the dead man. “The game isn’t over until the last turn.”
Ezra came to stand next to him as they both looked down at the dead man. “Well, that’s one of them, Jack. You know, revenge is always more sour than you can imagine,” he said quietly.
Jack’s face was set, his mouth in a grim line. He looked at his pistol and stuck it back into his holster. “Let’s get the horses.”
Ezra nodded in silence and began making his way back to the horses. Jack paused for a moment before following him. He looked at the corpses littering the field and shook his head at the pointlessness of it all.