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

doesn’t matter what you say,” he snapped. “I know my men, and I have my orders, which are to locate and engage the hostiles. I won’t be distracted from that mission by a bunch of farmers.”
    Dunlap looked mad enough to start swinging again. The Kid put a warning hand on his shoulder.
    “Lieutenant, I think you’re making a mistake,” The Kid said. “I believe if your superiors were here, they would see how important it is to get this wagon train safely to Raincrow Valley.”
    Nicholson glared at him. “From what I understand, you’re nothing but a wandering gunman, Morgan. It’s presumptuous of you to claim you know more about what my superiors would want than I do. I’ll say it one last time. I have my orders . And we’re moving out with all due speed.”
    Nicholson turned and called to his noncom. “Sergeant Brennan, tell the men to mount up!”
    “Yes, sir!” Brennan replied. He had been standing not too far away, glaring at Dunlap and The Kid. Now he began stalking around the camp, getting the troopers on their horses and ready to ride.
    Nicholson nodded to the two civilians. “You’re dismissed.”
    The lieutenant’s contemptuous tone made Dunlap’s hands clench into fists.
    “Come on,” The Kid told the older man. “We’re wasting our time here.”
    “Yeah, I reckon it was a waste of time tryin’ to talk sense into somebody with his head so far up his rear end that he can’t hear nothin’.”
    The Kid chuckled at the angry look that flashed across Nicholson’s face as the lieutenant glanced back. Nicholson’s spine was stiff and the back of his neck turned a deep red as he walked away.
    When The Kid and Dunlap returned to the wagon train, Scott Harwood and Milo Farnum were waiting for them.
    “Talking to the lieutenant didn’t do any good, did it?” Harwood asked.
    “Nope,” Dunlap replied. “I didn’t figure it would, but I had to try.” He took off his hat and scratched his head. “Oh, well, we made it this far without any real trouble. Maybe we can make it a mite farther.”
    “We’ll both be on the scout all day,” Farnum said. “If there’s any Injuns waitin’ for us, Horace, Scott and me will find ’em.”
    Dunlap nodded, but The Kid saw the doubt in the wagonmaster’s eyes. The Apaches were so good at hiding, sometimes when they attacked it seemed like they came up from the very ground itself, like worms rising from the earth after a hard rain.
    Some of the immigrants were hitching up their teams and getting ready to roll the wagons. All The Kid had to do was saddle his dun, so he took the time to enjoy the breakfast the woman had put aside for him.
    “What’s your name, ma’am?” he asked.
    “I’m Mrs. Price. Violet Price.” She was about forty, a pleasant-looking woman with short brown hair.
    The Kid still hadn’t seen Jessica that morning. But as he approached her wagon a few minutes later, she emerged from the canvas-covered bed and dropped to the ground.
    “Good morning,” he said. “Do you need a hand getting your team hitched?”
    Jessica didn’t hesitate. She shook her head. “No, I’ve been hitching them up every morning for weeks. I think I can manage.”
    “I’m sure you can. Just thought it might be easier with a little help.”
    “How many teams of oxen have you handled, Mr. Morgan?”
    “Well ... none, really,” The Kid admitted.
    “That’s what I thought. If you really want to help, you can stay out of my way.”
    “Seems to me like your fiancé might be over here giving you a hand.”
    “Scott has more important things to do,” Jessica snapped. “Like making sure there aren’t any Apaches waiting for us around the next bend in the trail.”
    The Kid supposed that was true. He had seen Harwood ride out a few minutes earlier, along with Milo Farnum.
    “It’s a dangerous job, too,” Jessica went on. “Out there in front of the wagons by himself, he’s liable to be attacked if he runs into any savages.”
    That was true,