1864
Most of Luke’s days were spent either with Red or on his own. As the war spread throughout the entire country, everything else seemed to become smaller. Fighting was all anyone could talk about and death had become all too familiar for young and old alike. If a family member hadn’t been scarred or killed by enemy fire, someone had a friend or acquaintance that had been touched by the terrible hand of conflict. Having left school behind earlier that year, Luke tended to his own studies by reading books or honing the skills he thought he would need. With the world in its current state, one of those skills involved a friend that had grown closer to him in recent months.
The Colt Navy revolver had been disassembled, cleaned, reassembled, polished, taken apart again, and repaired as best Luke could manage. There was only so much he could do for the old pistol, but the weapon was firing better than it had at the start. Either that, or all of his practice with the gun had done him a lot of good. He could hit more targets than he missed. When bullets had gotten too expensive to buy, he’d begged the town’s blacksmith to teach him how to press his own using supplies paid for with the sweat of his brow.
John Vassilly was a stout man with a bald head and thick, burly arms. As he’d been a blacksmith for over half his life, nearly every bit of exposed skin was scarred from heat, bruised from his hammer, or callused by thick layers of petrified skin. Not one given to smiling, John showed the same expression for every occasion. He knew Luke well enough to give the young man a crooked smirk when he did a good job and a slap on the back when he was particularly proud of his unofficial apprentice.
“You about to head on home?” John asked
The autumn sun was still lingering in the sky, but it was well past the time when customers would be accepted into the little shop attached to an old barn that had been converted into John’s workspace. Luke sat in a corner where he toiled at learning the blacksmith’s trade and tried his hand at a few of the smaller jobs that came into the shop. He even had a small square window within inches of his head, which he now looked out to see nothing more than an empty street.
“I can stay,” Luke replied.
“I’ll need you to go. Gotta lock up for the night.”
“I can do that.”
“You’ve been here long enough, boy. You need to get on home so your mama don’t fret about where you are or what you’re doing.”
Luke rolled his eyes and set down the set of tongs he’d been repairing. “Did she tell you to keep an eye on me?”
“As long as you’re in my shop, I’m keeping an eye on you. Don’t forget that,” John said sternly. In a somewhat softer tone, he added, “But yeah. Your ma did come around and ask that I don’t keep you for so long. She said something about you needing to get home to read more.”
Ever since Luke had put his schooling days behind him, his mother had been yapping at him to dive back in. She wanted him to go away to some fancy university school she’d heard about in Illinois. He didn’t know how she’d gotten the money for him to go and it didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to leave her in Maconville.
“Go on, now,” John said as he picked Luke up by the collar as if he were lifting a cat by the scruff of its neck. “I told you to git and so you’ll git. Give my best to your ma and pa.”
“He’s not my pa,” Luke said.
Even if John didn’t know everything that went on in the Croft home, he had eyes in his head that told him plenty while looking at the young man in front of him. “Kyle seems like a good enough sort.”
“That’s what everyone says.”
“Well,” the blacksmith said as he gathered up the things he needed to take home, “isn’t it the truth?”
Luke shrugged and stood up. “If I gotta go, I gotta go.” The Colt lay in its regular spot on an empty crate he used for a table. He picked it up and tucked it under his belt.
“What about that friend of yours?” John asked while trying not to stare at the weapon that was never out of Luke’s sight. “How’s Red doing these days?”
“He’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Vassilly.”
Stepping aside to let Luke pass, John gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Bright and early. Maybe we can get Barry Hogan’s team shoed ahead of schedule.”
“Sounds good.” Luke didn’t look back as he left the blacksmith’s shop. He did, however, pause for a few moments before turning in the direction he needed to go if he meant to head home. Despite having reached the height of a man some time ago, Luke shrank a bit as he started walking the familiar path that would lead to his front door.
The house at the end of that path was the only one Luke had known his entire life. He’d been born in Missouri but was brought to Kansas when he was still an infant by his mother and father. His birth father had died some years ago, and memories of him faded more and more no matter how hard Luke tried to hang on to them. For better or not, he’d learned, everything faded.
As usual, the Croft house was quiet. And, as usual, that silence was shattered the moment Luke walked in through the front door.
“Where have you been?” his mother asked. She was a short woman with dark blond hair and a crooked nose. She always smelled of freshly baked bread, and it had been years since the hint of worry had left the corners of her eyes. She rushed forward to place her hands on his arms to hold him steady as she looked him over.
“I’m not hurt, Ma,” Luke said.
“I know. I just missed you. I hardly ever see you anymore.”
“He’s working, Virginia!” said the man who stomped out of the kitchen with a fresh layer of chicken grease on his face. “Leave him be.”
“He’s my son,” she said proudly. “I won’t leave him anywhere.”
“How much did you bring home today, son?”
Wincing at being called that, Luke couldn’t help thinking of his real father. The man who bore the kind face from his fading memories had died of a fever. It was a quiet, forgettable death compared to the gruesome sacrifices being made during the brutal days of war. The passing of one good man seemed even less significant since nobody mentioned his name any longer. Ever since Luke’s mother had met Kyle Sobell, it was as though the man that had brought Luke into this world had been erased altogether.
“I asked you a question,” Kyle said. “How much did you bring home?”
“Nothing,” Luke told him. “I’m still working on a few things.”
“What kind of job is that?”
“It’s an apprenticeship,” Luke’s mother said. “He’s learning a trade and John Vassilly is a fine teacher.”
“If he was learning a trade, he’d be bringing home some pay or otherwise finding a way to help us make ends meet,” Kyle groused. “At least that way he’d be of some use around here.”
“Don’t talk to him like that.” Before she was finished speaking those words, the back of Kyle’s hand was on its way to meet her cheek. It was a light slap compared to the others that had been given to her over the years, but it rang out like a thunderclap in Luke’s ears.
“Don’t do that!” Luke said.
Kyle barely acknowledged him with half a glance. “Just get out of my sight,” he said to the young man.
Luke stood up straight. “I won’t go anywhere. You will.”
Slowly, Kyle turned to face him. His eyes angled downward as a wicked smile eased onto his face. “Oh, you’re the big man now, are you? What are you gonna do, big man? Draw that pistol and shoot me down?”
Luke hadn’t even realized his hand had drifted toward the Colt. Looking down, he saw his fingers were less than an inch from touching the weapon’s grip. “Just . . . stop hitting her.”
“Or what?”
Rushing forward to grab Kyle with both hands, Virginia pleaded, “Leave him alone! He’s just upset, is all. Things are hard for Luke. He’s always been alone.”
“That’s because he’s a freak with dead eyes,” Kyle said. “Ain’t that right, boy? You look like some kind of ghoul. Maybe you should be an undertaker. Go learn a trade that suits you better.”
Dead eyes.
That had always been a peculiar little insult that Kyle had thrown at Luke ever since the three of them had gone to pose for a family photograph six Christmases ago. Luke had blinked at the wrong time and the resulting photograph showed only empty white spaces where his eyes should have been. Of course, that space was a reflection off his eyelids, but Kyle picked up on the fact that it looked more like a ghost’s eyes. Whenever Luke kept to himself or seemed particularly withdrawn, Kyle brought up his dead eyes. Since those sorts of instances were frequent, Luke had learned to let the insults roll off his back. The same could not be said about his mother.
“Don’t call him that!” she said. “It’s a terrible thing to say.”
“He knows I’m only fooling about,” Kyle said through a smile. “Besides, I thought you always liked my jokes.”
“That was back when you were amusing,” she replied. “Now you’re just cruel.”
“Am I? At least I’m not the one that’s about to draw a gun on the man who’s put a roof over his head all these years.”
Kyle was right. Luke’s hand was still within easy reach of the Colt. His mother waved that off without a second thought. “He’s just scared,” she said. “He won’t hurt anyone.”
“Scared as a church mouse,” Kyle grunted. “He should’ve outgrown that a long time ago. Guess it ain’t his lot in life to be a real man.”
If he hadn’t already heard those things from Kyle as well as so many others over the years, Luke would have been angered by such words. Instead he saw them for what they were: the feeble rants of an ignorant man.
When Luke’s mother drew herself up to defend him, he rubbed her back and said, “It’s all right.”
“No. It’s not,” she said defiantly. Before she could get another word out, a heavy set of knuckles pounded against the front door.
Virginia looked toward the door as if she’d been caught in a sin and Kyle strode over to answer it while shaking his head in silent disgust at the rest of his adopted family. He opened the door to reveal a tall man wearing a rumpled waistcoat over a dusty white cotton shirt. A wide-brimmed hat sat atop his head, casting a shadow that was almost dark enough to obscure his entire face.
“Did I come at a bad time?” the man asked.
“No, Scotty,” Kyle replied. “Come on inside and make yourself at home. We was just having a discussion.”
Emory Scott was lean and had sunken features. He wore a double rig around his waist carrying two finely polished pistols that looked to have cost him a pretty penny. After removing his hat, he gazed at Luke’s mother for just a bit too long. “Evening, Ginny.”
She averted her eyes and patted her son’s arm while making her way to the bedroom. Without a word to anyone, she shut herself inside.
“She’s a quiet one, huh?” Scott said.
Kyle grunted and crossed the room to grab a bottle of whiskey from the top shelf in the kitchen.
The tall man looked over at Luke and then to Kyle. Luke’s stepfather grunted once and said, “Don’t pay him no mind. He’s about as useful as teats on a bull. What brings you around to this neck of the woods? More work from the captain?”
“Do you always discuss business with others around?” Scott asked.
“What does it matter? This is my home, ain’t it?”
“Yes, but it’s not everyone’s business.”
“I didn’t say nothing about the move to Wichita, if that’s what you mean.” When Scott let out an irritated sigh, Kyle added, “Not that it matters anyhow. I can trust them.”
“Maybe we should do this some other time,” Scott said.
Carrying the bottle and two glasses over to a table in the front room, Kyle said, “Nonsense! You came all this way. Have a drink at least.”
Reluctantly Scott accepted the glass that was handed to him and held it out to be filled.
“Now,” Kyle said. “Have you got another job for me?”
“I do . . . if you have something for me.”
“You know I do,” Kyle said through another smirk. Angling his head toward the bedroom, he shouted, “Virginia! Bring that valise out here! The one under the bed.”
Scott’s eyes narrowed and his face darkened in a way that made Luke feel like an intruder in his own home. The lean gunman remained quiet until Luke’s mother emerged from the bedroom carrying a leather bag that had been under her bed longer than most of the dust that had collected down there. Although he’d always known it was under his mother’s bed, he’d never been inclined to open that bag. The fact that this stranger wanted to do just that struck him as very peculiar indeed.
“Hurry up and get over here with that,” Kyle demanded.
Scott watched her without the salaciousness that had been in his eyes when he’d first arrived. Now he studied her the way a hawk studied mice scurrying around on a desert floor.
As soon as he got the bag in his hands, Kyle opened it. “Here you go,” he said while reaching inside.
Scott moved forward to block Luke’s view of the bag’s contents. Grabbing the bag in one hand, he pulled it away from Kyle and took a look inside for himself. “What in the hell is wrong with you?” he snarled. “You keep this here where everyone in this house can know about it?”
“They’re my family,” Kyle said. “I already told you. They ain’t about to—”
“There’s no telling what they might do,” Scott cut in. “The fact of the matter was that you were told to keep this safe.”
“It is safe!”
“Safe from the law as well as safe from prying eyes, you blasted fool.”
Kyle shook his head and opened his mouth without saying anything. As much as Luke liked to see his stepfather at a loss for words, he couldn’t help feeling an even greater desire to get out of that house. If not for the fact that his mother was on the other side of the room, he might have done that very thing.
“They don’t know everything,” Kyle insisted. “But they live under the same roof as me. They’re bound to know something. All that matters to you or anyone else is that they’re no danger to anyone.”
“You willing to stake your life on it?” Scott asked.
Without hesitation, Kyle said, “Yeah. If you hadn’t stormed in here the way you did, they wouldn’t know much of anything at all.”
“Stormed in here?” Scott asked with a humorless laugh. “You were told to expect me.”
Virginia eased her way across the room toward her son. “We can just leave you men be,” she said. “No need for all of this fuss on our account.”
Stopping her with a sharp glare, Scott asked, “What do you know about what your husband does for a living?”
“I know he’s gone for weeks at a time every now and then,” she said. “I also know he provides what we need. The rest is none of my concern.”
Scott nodded and shifted his gaze to Luke. “What about you?”
Unable to meet the man’s predatory stare, Luke replied, “I don’t care what he does. I prefer it when he’s away.”
“Doesn’t sound like a lot of loyalty to me, Kyle,” Scott mused. “You call this a family?”
“Ain’t nobody’s perfect,” Kyle said.
As Scott’s hand drifted toward his holster, he said, “Even so, what did Granger say about how we’re to conduct ourselves between jobs?”
“Like we was nothin’ more than ordinary folks . . . which is just what I’ve done.”
“Ordinary folks don’t have this kind of thing stashed under their bed,” Scott said as he held the valise so it fell open enough for Luke to get a look at the bundles of money inside. His heart skipped a beat and his breath caught in his throat as his mother’s hand tightened around his arm. She pulled him toward the door, but Luke’s feet were rooted to the spot.
“Damn it,” Kyle sighed. “They never knew that bag was under there and they surely didn’t know what was inside!”
“Your woman knew the bag was there,” Scott said in a voice that sent chills beneath Luke’s skin. “She’s the one who fetched it for us. Did you think I forgot about that so soon?” His eyes narrowed and his hand came to a rest upon one of his holstered pistols. “Is that the problem here? You think I’m stupid?”
A silence fell upon the entire house that was so complete, Luke couldn’t even hear any noise from the world beyond its walls. He stood there with his mother hanging on his arm, waiting for Kyle to turn the situation around, praying that he wasn’t making a mistake in choosing this moment to put the first lick of trust in the man.
Holding both hands out, Kyle spoke in a voice that was so soft it could barely be heard. “You know that ain’t true. You’re just making a big thing out of this.”
“Am I?” Scott asked.
“Yes. I swear on everything that’s holy . . . you are. Everything that’s supposed to be in that bag is there. Take it. Send my regards to our mutual friend and come see me when there’s another job to do.”
“Maybe you’ve outlived your usefulness.”
“And maybe you’re wound too tight today.” Putting on a shaky grin, Kyle added, “Or maybe you’ve had a nip of whiskey with your supper? Lord knows you wouldn’t be the only one to indulge that way. Tends to make a man cross, though.”
Scott moved his hand away from his holster. “Maybe you’re right. I could have been making too much of this.”
“That’s right,” Kyle sighed. “We’ve worked together long enough to know where each other stands.”
“Perhaps you did pick some good folks as a family.”
“I sure did.”
And as quickly as Scott’s relaxed demeanor had come, it was gone. “The matter still stands that this here woman knew more than she should have and now so does the boy.”
Kyle gritted his teeth and said, “If that’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours! Everything was fine before now.”
“Maybe it was my fault to put you on the spot,” Scott admitted. “But we’re in something of a bind here. It’s got to be set straight. You want to do it or should I?”
Shaking his head, Kyle said, “You’re mistaken. Nothing needs to be set straight.”
Luke’s pulse sped up and he suddenly regained control of his legs. When he tried to get his mother moving with a gentle tug on her arm, he found she was now the one frozen in fear. He tugged a bit harder, which was enough to snap her out of the spell that had come over her.
“This ain’t the first time you’ve put us all at risk,” Scott said. “But I can tell you it’ll be the last.”
“Don’t do this!” Kyle yelled.
“Too late,” the stranger said. “It’s already done.”
When Scott drew a pistol from his holster, it was in a motion so fast that Luke barely saw it. The thunder that followed would follow him for the rest of his life.