The Loner: Inferno #12 by J.A. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

ride.”
    “Yeah.”
    “I’m gonna go over there and ask that lieutenant one more time if he’ll go with us to Raincrow Valley. I don’t expect it’ll do any good, but I got to try. You want to come with me, Kid?”
    “I don’t see what good having me along will do.” The Kid frowned.
    “You’re a famous hombre. Lieutenant Nicholson might come closer to listenin’ to you.”
    “I think you’re way wrong there, but I’ll go with you. For moral support, if nothing else.”
    The Kid told the woman at the campfire that he would be back in a few minutes for his flapjacks and bacon, then, carrying the coffee cup, he walked over to the cavalry camp with Dunlap.
    A couple of troopers got in their way, carbines slanted across their chests. “Hold it right there, sir,” one said to Dunlap. “Please state your business.”
    “I want to talk to your lieutenant,” Dunlap said.
    “I’ll see if he’s available,” the soldier said.
    Dunlap scowled and pointed at Nicholson, who stood about ten feet away watching some of the men saddle their horses. “He’s standin’ right there.” The wagonmaster sounded like a man trying not to reveal his irritation.
    “I’ll see if he’s available,” the trooper repeated. He turned on a heel and walked over to Nicholson, where he saluted, then spoke to the officer in a low voice.
    The Kid had never been in the army, so he was no expert on military discipline. It seemed to him Nicholson was being a little too strict, especially considering they were out in the middle of nowhere.
    But maybe that was what it took to maintain order among his men, The Kid mused. The troopers hadn’t seemed too well-disciplined the night before when they’d been brawling with the immigrants.
    Nicholson nodded to the soldier who’d been talking to him. The trooper came back over to The Kid and Dunlap. “You can speak to the lieutenant now.”
    “Much obliged,” Dunlap said in a dry tone, making it clear how ridiculous he thought the whole thing was. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and walked over to Nicholson.
    “What can I do for you, Mr. Dunlap?” the lieutenant asked.
    “Well, you can go with us to Raincrow Valley and make sure the Apaches don’t scalp all those good folks in the wagon train.”
    Nicholson shook his head. “I’ve already told you I can’t do that.”
    “Just how big is that war party you’re chasin’, anyway?”
    “It’s been reported to have as many as a hundred warriors in it.”
    “Good Lord!” Dunlap exclaimed. “How many men have you got in your patrol?”
    “Thirty,” Nicholson answered without hesitation.
    “Then if you do find them Indians, you’ll be outnumbered more than three to one.”
    “That’s true,” the lieutenant admitted. “But I’m counting on the fact that a well-trained and well-equipped member of the United States Cavalry is the fighting equivalent of several dirty, illiterate savages.”
    It was all The Kid could do not to ask Nicholson just how big a damned fool he really was. Instead he asked, “What sort of rifles do your men carry, Lieutenant?”
    “What?” Nicholson appeared to be taken by surprise by the question. “They’re Springfields, of course.”
    “Single shot weapons?”
    “Of course.”
    “Most of the Apaches have Winchester repeaters that they’ve either stolen in raids or traded for with white and Mexican gunrunners.” The Kid had been told as much by Frank Morgan. “Those rifles can fire off fifteen rounds in the same time it would take your men to get off three or four shots, reloading between each round. But you think one of your men is really a match for three or four of them?”
    “The hostiles are undisciplined—”
    “Why don’t you ask my head scout, Scott Harwood about that? Scott served with General Crook over in Arizona while Crook was tryin’ to chase down Cochise and Geronimo. He can tell you just how undisciplined those Apaches are.”
    Nicholson’s face flushed with anger. “It