The Unflinching Collection

Chapter 13

Outside one of the many tents, Simms managed to reunite with the two soldiers who first greeted him on his arrival into the camp. They appeared amused when he told them he was now working for the Federal Army.

“And you were drafted?” asked the smaller of the two.

“You could say that.” He put out his hand. “My name is Simms, I"m a law officer out of Chicago, Illinois.”

“Harvey Winterton,” said the smaller, “out of Missouri. This here is Felix Ableman, also out of Missouri.” The big, gruff soldier squeezed out a smile from between his heavy jowls. “What"s a law officer gonna do for us?”

Simms shrugged and glanced around the throng of serried tents, men of all shapes and sizes, cleaning weapons, singing songs, repairing uniforms. Most seemed cheerful enough, nothing like how it was back in the Mexican War, when he spent every day in a puddle of his own urine, wondering where the next bullet was coming from. “What are these boys gonna do?”

“Well, news is,” said Winterton, leaning forward, “not a whole lot.”

“I don"t get it.”

“This ain"t no war, it"s just the government flexing its muscles. It"s pissed that Brigham Young is asserting his independence, not towing the line, all that bull. Rumor has it none of us will ever get to fire our shiny new rifles, that all we"ll have to do is march west and them Mormons will simply give it all up.”

war“Let"s hope the rumors are true.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about it,” put in Ableman, his stare penetrating, as if he were waiting to notice the slightest flicker of a lie.

“Some,” said Simms, stretching his legs. “I fought in the Mexican War, got a medal.”

“A medal? Jesus,” said Winterton. “You mean, for bravery and such?”

Simms nodded. “It"s not something I tend to talk about.”

“And why is that?” Ableman said, his voice hard-edged, forever probing.

Simms held the man"s gaze. “Killing ain"t easy, friend. I learned pretty quick to close my mind to it. Since then, it"s stayed closed. War does that. Strips away your decency, makes you numb to the suffering you inflict.”

“But they were your enemies.”

“They were human beings.” Simms turned away, growing uncomfortable at the man"s words, his manner. “I"m here to do a job, a very simple job, and once it"s done your good Colonel is going to give me some men to help me locate the girl I"m after.” He chuckled, and swung his head around to face Ableman again. “Who knows, it might even be you.”

Ableman hawked and spat and they all watched the frothy blob disappear into the parched ground. “When this is over, I"m going back to my work in my hometown. I"m a carpenter, making doors, tables, carts.”

“A noble profession.”

“Better than being a killer.”

Simms nodded. “Can"t argue with you there. What about you?” He looked across at Winterton.

“Tailor. Well,” he grinned, “apprentice to a tailor, to be more accurate.”

“Seems to me you boys shouldn"t even be here.”

Winterton agreed, “We were visited by a recruiting party, set up on a stage in the town square, rattling drums, showing us the fancy uniforms. Told us we could ** for two years, make some money to send home to our families.”

“Told us we wouldn"t even have to fight, that there was no danger.” Ableman shook his great head. “That was the first lie they told.”

“The second was the one about the money.” Winterton scratched a pattern in the dust with the toe of his boot. “We ain"t barely been paid more than a few dollars. They keep telling us we"ll get all we"re due, but I reckon they hope we"ll get ourselves shot before they have to pay up.”

“Thought you said the rumor was there"d be no fighting?”

“Yes, that"s what people say. But two weeks ago, a group of around four men set off to deliver a message. They rode out on mules. Four days later, one of the mules came back. So, the Colonel, he gets right mad, starts saying "those damned Saints, they ain"t gonna play me for a tenderfoot", and he goes and orders another six men, one of whom was Sergeant Spencer, a real firecracker of a man, and they go off into the sunset.”

“Same message?”

“Yep,” said Ableman, “same result too. We ain"t ever heard a thing.”

“What do you reckon happened to them?”

Winterton shrugged. “They was either killed by the Mormons, or by savages. Either way, they"re dead.”

“And now you"re gonna tell us,” said Ableman, his voice a deep, resigned rumble, “that this "job" you"ve been offered by the Colonel is to deliver the same goddamned message. Am I right?”

“You are indeed, my friend. You are indeed.”

After a night under canvas, listening to the snores of Ableman, with the rocky ground digging into his back, and the heat radiating from the surrounding rocks, Simms managed hardly a wink of sleep and roused himself at dawn, feeling as if a herd of stampeding cattle had pummeled every bone in his body. He washed himself in an area set aside for morning ablutions, then took some breakfast, prepared by the field cook, who studied him, impressed. “My, mister, you"re up early.”

“Couldn"t sleep.” He took the proffered plate of thick ham slices and two eggs. “This looks good.”

“I hope so. Not many ever tell me if it is. Guess they would if it wasn"t!”

They both laughed and Simms turned, almost crashing into Lieutenant Calhoon chomping on a dead cigar. He appeared bedraggled and unshaven, shirt hanging out of his trousers, but his eyes were keen, sharp as flint. “You leave in less than a quarter of an hour, detective.”

“Good job I got first in line,” Simms said, nodding at his breakfast. “Might be the last decent meal I have for a time.”

“You can head out with those two city-dwellers you"ve fallen in with.”

“I"m not so sure that"s such a good idea. I prefer working on my own.”

“I don"t want to take the risk of you deciding to forget the message and continue on your own sweet way. Call it my guarantee.”

“Fair enough, but not them two. They"re too green. I want two good men. Men who know what they"re doing.”

Calhoon frowned. “You expecting trouble? Had yourself a premonition?”

“You"ve already sent two groups out, and neither has come back. They"re almost certainly dead, killed by Indians more than likely. Utes are mean, Lieutenant. They don"t take prisoners.”

“What do you know about Utes?”

“Enough. Came across them during the war, used some as scouts. They led us a merry dance, ran us straight into an ambush. Mexicans weren"t the only ones who wanted us dead.”

“But you survived.”

“I did. Not without some effort. If I"m going up against them again, I want men who can kill without flinching. Men who can fight, men who can survive. When I return, you can give me those two to help me check out that ranch you talked about. That"s their limit, I reckon.”

“You"re all heart, ain"t you detective?”

“No. I simply want someone guarding my back, is all.”

“Very well, I"ll assign you a couple of regulars.” He pulled out a timepiece from his waistcoat pocket, flipped open the lid and chewed the cigar. “You got ten minutes from now. Meet me by the command tent with all your belongings.” He snapped the lid shut. “And don"t be late.”

Simms made his farewells to his two bed-fellows and they stood silent and grim, watching him stroll away. They barely said a word to him, except for Ableman who shook his hand. “You take care out there, mister.”

Simms appreciated that. “Thanks. Don"t you get too bored sitting around here with nothing to do. When I get back, I might even buy you boys a drink.”

And now, standing waiting outside Colonel Johnston"s command tent, he itched to be off, back on the trail, to get this job done, then find Elisabeth Randall. And the two desperadoes who took her. Retribution was within reach.