The Five Dollar Mail Book 3: The Road Home

96: Sleeper

Cover painting by Angela Taratuta. Chapter artwork of Lieutenant Collins composed of found images by me. All graphics by me.

Book 1: The Green, Book 2: Lynch's Boys, Book 3: The Road Home, and the Riders & Kickers Anthology are available on Amazon under the name Regina Shelley. So if you hate waiting for chapter posts and/or want a more polished read, the finished product is available now.

1st Lieutenant Geoffrey Collins had absolutely no doubt in his mind that if Lynch and his scout, Peltier, had not ridden up ahead as they approached the Sioux village, the lot of them would likely be dead. The Sioux would have taken one look at the blue coats he and Scarcliff and the handful of men they'd brought along were wearing, and would have filled them with so many arrows that the porcupines would have felt inadequate at seeing their corpses. Or worse, Collins himself might have been recognized as having led the attack and instantly targeted.

Still, he wasn't entirely sure that riding up to the railroad base camp, where he was sure to find Hezekiah Stone, was any less dangerous to him. If Stone decided to turn over on him...if he decided to tell Scarcliff what was really going on...he might well find himself court-martialed...or worse...before he'd had a chance to carry out his plan.

He felt a bead of nervous sweat roll down his spine and flexed his shoulders, feeling his suddenly too-warm coat become tight and constricting. If Stone talks...and he may, if he thinks it will benefit him...it's going to be my word against his. If he's got the woman, though, he'll want to not make a fuss. He's not going to do anything to get himself shot out of hand.

A bird tittered in a nearby cottonwood, and the sound startled him, making him flinch. I'm too on edge, he thought, realizing he'd unconsciously reached for his sidearm. He glanced around the camp as they approached, relieved that he didn't see Stone.

A smaller man bent over a basin, peering into a tiny, cracked mirror as he shaved. At their approach, the man jerked upright, hastily toweling shaving soap from his face. He relaxed into a relieved slouch when he focused on their blue army coats, but Collins could see the startled confusion in his eyes as his eyes roved over the old man in the expensive suit, the two Sioux in native dress, the buckskin-clad squaw man, and the Crow scout in the point-blanket coat that accompanied them.

The man's half-shaven face was a mask of questions. His dark eyebrows hitched up over his high forehead, and he tossed his towel across a broken cottonwood branch.

Scarcliff nodded at him. "Union Pacific railroad?"

"Y...yes. Harlan Anders." Anders hastily pulled a flapping suspender over his shoulder and approached Scarcliff's horse. "What's going on?"

"Captain Alexander Scarcliff. We're looking for Hezekiah Stone."

Ander's brow furrowed into an anxious knot. "Oh. He's...he's not here." He roached a nervous hand through his hair. "I haven't seen him for a couple days. What's...I mean..." He looked over at Hanson and recognition washed over his face, "You're from His Horses' camp."

"Yeah," Hanson nodded. "I'm the one told him your offer was horseshit."

Scarcliff glanced over and caught Collin's gaze. "We need to talk to Stone about the raid on the Sioux village," he said.

"What?" Anders's face went instantly pale. "Raid? Are you...?" He dug his fingers into his eyes. "Oh, no. No, no..." He looked up, a stricken expression on his face. "What's he done? What's happened?"

"He lied to us," Collins said, seizing the opportunity to divert as much of the blame for this as possible without incriminating himself. I have to make Scarcliff believe this was all on Stone. Stone's not coming back here...he's out there with his men. Collin's shifted in his saddle, adjusting the brim of his hat against the glare of the sun. Probably going to be a lot of lead flying around when we do find them. Probably not all of us are going to make it back...

He licked his lips, trying to hear the conversation over the buzz of his own thoughts. Our good captain here, for instance, most definitely won't. Neither will Peltier. They both have to go. Damn it, when did this get so complicated?I'll probably have to take them all down. They know too much at this point.

It was supposed to be an easy enough thing. Wiping out a village of hostiles and staving off a supposedly imminent attack on the fort, especially while Scarcliff was off barking at shadows, would have made him look like a hero. And it would have made Scarcliff look like a fool. Collins leaving Scarcliff alone to deal with the attack on the homestead without reinforcements was supposed to get rid of the Captain, and leave Collins in charge of Bridger. Stone would have gotten his payment from the railroad for clearing the land, and no one would have been the wiser.

And now, Collins thought, gritting his teeth, now it's all ballsed up to hell. And if Stone turns over on me, it's all over.

There's going to be a lot of casualties today, he thought grimly, narrowing his eyes at the collection of enlisted men he'd specifically picked for this mission. I'm going to have to make sure of it.

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