IT TOOK THEM THREE MORE DAYS to reach Fort Jeb Stuart, but Lu didn’t mind. The prairie was green, the mountains purple and white, and he enjoyed the company of his traveling companions a little more with every passing day. He’d even managed to hit one of the targets Henry set for him. Sadie turned out to be a far better shot, but that was an irritation he’d soon got over. In fact, the only downside to travel, so far as Lu could see, was the food. They had run out of everything but beans and buffalo, neither of which he particularly liked. He ate both, of course, huge plates-full every time they stopped. But he dreamed of a bit of spicy beef over noodles, the kind his mother made, with garlic and brown sauce, and a hot cup of tea.
Finally, late one afternoon, when their camp had been set up and the beans were boiling over the fire, they saw something twinkling, far away in the foothills.
“That’ll be Jeb Stuart,” Jack said. “We’ll reach it tomorrow.”
They were all very excited. MacLemore said he planned to get a shave and a haircut, eat a beefsteak, and spend a lazy evening in a saloon, enjoying what he called “civilized drink.” Chino and Henry were more interested in gambling, though Chino thought he might also buy a bottle of whiskey or a plug of chewing tobacco. Sadie fancied a long soak in a hot tub and a night in a soft bed. Lu thought all of those things sounded fine, but was more excited to see the town. He wondered if there’d be any real live mountain men, or maybe even a gunfight.
Lu woke up that night with an icy chill creeping up and down his spine. At first he blamed it on nerves. Just excited to get into Fort Jeb Stuart, he thought. But the chill refused to subside. The strangest part was that this was the most humid night they’d spent on the prairie yet. Lu scratched the back of his neck and found his hair sopping wet. No one else seemed to be suffering. Henry was fast asleep, his rifle tucked under one arm. MacLemore was rolled up in his blanket, snoring loudly. Sadie groaned and rolled onto her side, but gave no sign of waking.
At last, the creeping feeling got so bad that Lu decided to get up. Maybe if he took a short walk he’d be able to go back to sleep. Without even thinking, Lu started down the trail toward the mountains. Ahead of him, the lights of Fort Jeb Stuart burned as bright as ever.
After a half-mile or so, Lu noticed someone standing in the road ahead. It was Jack. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the mountains. The gunfighter turned as Lu approached, squinted down at the boy for a moment, and then blew out a cloud of white smoke.
“Am I bothering you?” Lu asked him.
“What are you doing up?”
“I had a chill.” Lu stood next to Jack, crossing his arms in imitation of the older man. “What are you looking at?”
Jack pointed at Stuart’s Peak. “Watch,” he said.
Lu began to feel the same chill running up his spine, only stronger. He was about to say as much when he saw five glistening points of light fly up over the snows on top of the mountain.
They were on fire, whatever they were, and moving fast. Sparks bounded off to either side as they raced down the slope, building speed. As they neared the tree-line, Lu winced. He half-expected to see the whole range blaze up like a bonfire.
As the points of light drew closer Lu imagined he could hear a gang of cowboys cursing their horses. He couldn’t tell whether the sounds were coming from up on the mountain or from inside his own mind. He was about to ask Jack when, all at once, the flaming specks turned sharply and went racing across the foothills.
They blasted along until they came to a gully, and then turned and cut back up and over the ridge. When they’d reached the top, and had no more mountain to climb, they shot skyward, scaling a puff of darkened cloud.
And then, just as instantly as they’d appeared, the dots of light were gone.
Lu sighed as the chill in his back receded. “Was it lightning?” he asked hopefully. “Or shooting stars?”
“Wish it were,” Jack said. “Those were ghost-riders.”
“What?”
“Demons. Servants of darkness. Only the innocent and the damned can see them.”
“What do they do?”
“Mostly they search for sinners. Locate weak souls for their masters.”
“And then what? What do they do to them?”
“Well, ghost-riders can take human form if they’re particularly riled. But that’s unusual. For the most part they don’t do anything. They watch and listen. That’s it.”
“They must have a lot to watch for.”
“Territories are full of sinners,” Jack agreed. “Fort Jeb Stuart included.”
They stood a while longer, Lu wondering all the time if the ghost-riders would reappear.
“Do you think they might’ve been looking for us?” he asked finally.
Jack shrugged. “Never can tell who or what the ghost-riders might take up with. Could be they’re working for MacLemore’s Yankee bandit. I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Another shiver ran up Lu’s spine. He looked down at his boots, hoping Jack hadn’t noticed. “Can I ask you something else?” Lu asked.
“Shoot.”
“Do you know who the bandits are? The ones that stole MacLemore’s gold, I mean.” He waited, but Jack just stared at him. “I wondered, because I heard you talking with Grandfather and—”
“Better not to talk about that just yet,” Jack said. He pointed at the mountains. “Evil’s always listening. Remember that. It’s their ears that are the real problem, much more than their eyes. Say the wrong name and the ghost-riders will find you. Especially at night.”
“So you do think they’re working for the Yankee.”
Just then, from behind them they heard the approach of footsteps. It was Sadie. Her eyes were still mostly closed and her hair was sweaty. She looked at Jack and Lu, and yawned. “Did y’all feel it too?” she asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed there could be such a cold wind on such a hot night.”
They rolled into Fort Jeb Stuart not long after mid-day. MacLemore went to the barber, Sadie to the hotel, and Chino and Henry to the saloon. The hotel and saloon were actually the same building, Lu observed, though with separate entrances. Jack tied both of his horses to a post and then climbed onto the wagon. He was about to drive off when he noticed Lu, still sitting astride MacLemore’s horse.
“What about you?” Jack asked him
Lu had no plans. This town wasn’t as exciting as he’d hoped. It was only two blocks long and sparsely populated. A few ladies stood on a balcony over the saloon/hotel, brushing their hair and waving at the odd passerby—one even waved at Lu—but he wasn’t particularly interested in them. A dry-goods store was open across the street, and it had jars of hard candy in the window, but Lu had no money and didn’t much like sweets anyhow. His mother stocked all sorts of candies in their store back home. Being able to eat it anytime he liked, candy just didn’t seem like a treat.
“Well, come along with me then,” Jack said.
Lu followed Jack and the wagon out past the edge of town, finally reining to a stop in front of a pair of log cabins with iron bars over the windows. An American flag had been run up a pole between the two buildings. It hung lifeless in the stifling midday air.
“This must be the fort,” Lu thought, as Jack leapt down off the wagon and strode into the smaller of the two cabins. He emerged a few minutes later with a cavalry officer.
The officer had a felt hat perched rakishly atop his head and long golden curls that cascaded over his shoulders. Lu had never seen so much hair on a man before. Jack led the officer to the back of the wagon and yanked down the drop-gate.
“There’s the Hotchkiss,” he said, pointing at the crate they’d hauled all the way across the plains. “You’ll need help to unload it. The damn thing’s heavy.”
The officer strode to the door of the other cabin and shouted for help. Six soldiers filed out. Not one so much as glanced at Lu, but they all took a hearty interest in Jack.
The soldiers climbed into the wagon, pushing aside tools and lumber, and then shoved the big crate back toward the drop-gate. Grunting, they lifted it out of the wagon and set it on the ground. The long-haired officer used a claw hammer to pry off the lid.
Lu crowded in amongst the soldiers, as interested as they were in what the crate might contain. He was surprised to see the barrel of a cannon, packed in amidst a sea of balled-up paper and wood shavings.
“Looks like it’s in fair shape,” the officer said. “Those heathens will be damn sorry to see this coming at them.”
The soldiers lifted the cannon barrel out of the crate and carried it to a shed behind the fort. Then they broke the crate into kindling and piled it in a bin beside the barracks door. The packing material they left lying in the yard.
Meanwhile, their officer had moved to the head of the wagon and was inspecting the horses, beginning with their hooves.
“Dragged this heap all the way from St. Frances, did they?” he asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, but moved on to inspect their front legs and teeth. “They look strong enough. We’ll buy them.”
“I’d just as soon trade for a mule team,” Jack said. “Save me a stop.”
The officer thought the proposition over. “How many mules?”
Judging by his smirk, the officer clearly thought he was getting the better of the deal. “You want them hooked to the wagon?” he asked.
Jack nodded.
“Fine. They’ll be ready tomorrow morning, along with your cargo.”
“Good enough.” Jack beckoned to Lu. They untied Cody from the post where Lu had left him, and started back toward town.
They’d only gone a few steps when the officer called out. “Just one other thing,” he said. “Were you ever in the army?” He was looking at Jack’s coat. Lu was so used to seeing the gunfighter in it that he hardly noticed it anymore.
“I was,” Jack replied. “During the war.”
“You wear stars. Were you a General?”
Jack shook his head. “The General gave me this coat a few years back.”
“And which General was that?”
“The General,” Jack said. Then he turned and stalked away.
The cavalry officer stared after him, a look of profound disbelief etched over his face. Lu hadn’t the foggiest idea which General Jack was referring to, and didn’t have the guts to ask. Jack considered such things as the identities of Generals to be common knowledge. Lu would’ve been ashamed to admit he didn’t know about something so simple.
Back in town they went first into the dry-goods store, where Jack bought provisions, and then to the hotel. Sadie was sitting in an armchair in the lobby. She told them that there was only one bathtub in the whole town, and it was being used by a gambler from back east. She also said that the gambler had invited her to share, but that she’d refused. Lu didn’t really believe that, but he blushed all the same.
As usual, Jack paid not the slightest attention to Lu or Sadie. Casual conversation simply didn’t interest him. He went right up to the front desk and asked the proprietor if there were any letters for him.
“As a matter of fact, there is one,” the hotel-keeper said. He was an apish man, with a round belly and waxed mustache. He took an envelope from a drawer and handed it to Jack. “Came three weeks ago. I’d have thrown it away by now if it’d been addressed to anyone else.”
Jack tore the envelope open and read the note inside. Lu couldn’t tell from looking at him whether it contained good news or bad. Jack had a sort of permanent bad-news expression, which got worse once in a while, but never seemed to get any better.
“Jeb in town?” he asked.
The hotel-keeper nodded. “I expect he’s looking for you.”
Jack signaled to Lu. “Come with me,” he said. “Jeb will want to meet you.”
They walked to the end of the block, turning right on the only cross-street in town. At the end of that road stood a rough house, half sunk in the earth, with mud and wattle walls and a plank roof. They were only about half-way to it when the front door swung open, and out stepped the largest man Lu had ever seen.
He had arms like a grizzly bear and a beard to match. His clothes were well-worn buckskin, decorated with claws, teeth, and bits of bone. Atop the man’s head was what looked to be the rear two-thirds of a beaver, its flat tail hanging down to brush the man’s enormous shoulders. He mounted the steps leading up from his front door and crossed his arms.
“Jack Straw,” he growled. “Glad you finally saw fit to drop by. You’ve only seen everybody else in the whole dern town.”
“How are you, Jeb?” Jack asked.
“Mean as a snake.” Jeb peered down at Lu. “And who in blazes is this?”
“Tzu-Lu,” Jack said. “He’s K’ung’s grandson.”
“Well now, that changes everythin’.” Jeb took Lu’s hand and gave it a hearty shake, nearly dislocating his shoulder. “How is your granddad?”
“He’s fine, sir,” Lu squeaked.
“Sir?” Jeb laughed. “That’s a new one on me. What’d old K’ung used to say?” He paused to think. “‘To learn, and at due time to repeat what you have learned, is that not a pleasure? Like an old friend come from a long journey.’ Your Granddad still say that?”
“Whenever I complain about my schoolwork,” Lu said.
Jeb roared with laughter. “K’ung used to say I was the most un-teachable, uncultured lout he’d ever met. I guess we’ve got somethin’ in common.”
They followed Jeb into his house. Judging by the outside, Lu had expected it to be tiny, barely even a shack. He was surprised to see that it was not only large, but clean and well lit. And it wasn’t just a house—it was a trading post, as well. In one corner, piled floor to ceiling, were skins taken from just about every animal that walked, loped, scurried or swam through that part of the world. Jeb also had traps of all sizes, including a set of steel jaws large enough to pinch a full-grown man in two. Along the walls were shelves stacked high with boxes of ammunition, saddles and tack for a dozen horses, and replacement parts for rifles of every make or description.
“Look here, Janey!” Jeb called as he stomped inside. “Jack Straw’s come for a visit. And he’s brought a youngster.”
Jeb led his visitors to the back of the house and into a comfortable sitting area. There were two chairs to one side and a bed on the other. Jack and Lu took the chairs while Jeb plopped himself down on the bed, its wood frame groaning under his considerable weight. An Indian woman in a blue gingham dress came bustling through a door in the back. She was carrying a pitcher of beer and four glasses.
While she poured, Jeb kicked off his boots and flung his hat on a table in the corner, revealing a head as bald as an egg. “Now then,” he said. “What can we do for you?”
“Look at this.” Jack tried to hand him the letter, but Jeb waved it off.
“Can’t read a lick,” he said. “Never cared to learn.”
“It’s from Pap Singleton.”
“Is that right? How is old Pap?”
“He’s been having some trouble.”
“Is that big trouble, or just the ordinary kind?”
“Hard to say. He wants me to come down and take a look.”
“Well, I guess you’d best get to it then. Pap ain’t one to cry wolf.”
Lu sipped his beer. He found the conversation difficult to follow. Lu had no idea who Pap Singleton might be, or what sort of trouble he might be having. Nor could he see what any of this might have to do with their mission.
“It’s a long trip though,” Jeb muttered. “Too bad Bill ain’t around. That border was his area, warn’t it?”
Jack nodded.
“So what’s your plan?”
“I’ll head down there as soon as I can. But first I’ve got to deliver a gang of treasure hunters through the Hell Mouth.” He motioned toward Lu. “That’s where he’s going.”
“The Hell Mouth? That’ll shorten your ride considerably, if you make it. Haven’t been that way in years myself.” Jeb shook his head. “It’s grown dangerous. If you want to know about pathways through, you’ll have to find Joseph.”
“I figured as much,” Jack said. He turned to Jeb’s wife. “Janey, do you have any idea where he is?”
“It’s summer, so I expect he’s up in his pastures.” It was the first time she’d spoken, and Lu was surprised. He’d read a good many stories about Indians, and considered himself well educated in the halting, studied manner of their speech, especially when talking to a white man. But Janey had no trace of accent. None whatever. If he hadn’t been looking right at her, Lu might have thought she was from St. Frances, or even further east.
“Can I find him?” Jack asked her.
“If he wants you to,” Janey said. “My guess is that he’ll want to see you.”
“I know he will. I brought a wagon this trip.”
Janey’s eyebrows raised. Though she didn’t ask what might be in the wagon, Lu got the distinct impression that she knew only all too well. He was beginning to get the feeling that everyone in the world knew more about their adventure than he did.
They talked a great deal more, about the Hell Mouth, MacLemore and his Yankee problem, and various people they’d known over the years. Lu didn’t have much to contribute, but he listened contentedly. By the time they’d finished, the sun was sinking into the mountains, bathing the snows atop Stuart’s Peak in orange light.
“Wait just one minute,” Janey said, as they were about to step out the front door. She disappeared into her kitchen, emerging with a small bundle wrapped in cheese-cloth.
“This is for you,” she said, handing it to Lu. “It’s cake, for after dinner. Give some to that girl you’re riding with. But don’t let Chino see. He’s got a sweet tooth.”
“And tell Henry and Chino that we expect to see them both before you set out,” Jeb added. He shook Lu’s hand again, so hard it rattled his teeth.
“We’ll bring the wagon by at first light,” Jack promised. “I’ll need supplies.”
“Anything special?” Janey asked.
“The usual.”
Jeb laughed. “Same old Jack.”
As they walked back through town, Lu thought over the conversation he’d just sat through. “Who is Pap Singleton?” he asked Jack.
“Pap? He’s a friend of mine. A former slave, as a matter fact. He started a little town down along the border. It’s a kind of sanctuary. A place where freedmen can live without interference from whites. … He also keeps an eye on the border.”
“What sort of trouble is he having?” Lu asked.
Jack glared at him. “Is that something you need to know? Or you just nosy?”
Lu shook his head. “Just asking.”
They were passing the hotel when Lu thought of another question. “Who’s Joseph?”
“Janey’s brother,” Jack replied.
“And he knows how to get through the Hell Mouth?”
“Maybe.” Jack grinned. “I guess we’ll find that out soon enough.”
They found the other four members of their party already in the saloon. MacLemore sat beside the piano player—a blonde lady Lu had seen on the balcony earlier—singing Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair. Judging by the timbre of his voice, Lu guessed he’d already had a few civilized drinks too many. Sadie sat at a nearby table. Her hair was damp and hung to her shoulders. A half-empty glass of beer sat in front of her. Henry and Chino were farther back, playing cards with two other men. Henry had a good-size pile of chips at his elbow. Chino was down to a dollar or two.
Lu took a seat opposite Sadie. “Janey Stuart sent this for us,” he said, setting the cake down on the table.
Sadie peered under the cheese-cloth and grinned. She pinched off a bit of the yellow cake and dropped it on her tongue. “It’s good.” She held the rest out to Lu, who also took a pinch.
Jack asked the bartender about supper and was told that he’d have to go next door, but that the hotel would bring over their food as soon as it was hot. While he was gone, MacLemore and the piano player started in on a rousing rendition of Dixie. They were so boisterous that a few of the other saloon ladies came downstairs to see what the racket was all about. Most stayed to join in the singing.
O, I wish I was in the land of cotton
Old times there are not forgotten
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie land!
In Dixie land where I was born in
Early on one frosty mornin’
Look away! Look away!
Look away! Dixie land!
O, I wish I were in Dixie. Away! Away!
In Dixie land I’ll make my stand
To live and die in Dixie
Away! Away! Away down south in Dixie!
That was as much as anyone else knew of the song, so MacLemore had to continue on alone, singing ever louder to take up the slack.
Lu was surprised at the words that followed, and judging by the looks on the upstairs ladies’ faces, he wasn’t the only one. What MacLemore sang was unlike any portion of Dixie Lu had ever heard. Its tone was no longer gay and airy. In fact, it was downright dark. Whoever wrote these words had done so clearly intending to shame the Union, if not to pose an outright threat. The only one who seemed oblivious to this fact was MacLemore himself.
By this time, Lu had begun to seriously question the wisdom of allowing this song to continue. He couldn’t help thinking of that long-haired cavalry officer and all his soldiers, stationed just a short walk down the road. Lu guessed they wouldn’t like this song one bit. Northern soldiers, especially those stationed in the Territories, were known far and wide for their intolerance of rebel sympathizers. The war might be over, but it hadn’t been forgotten. Not by anybody.
Lu glanced at Sadie. She seemed to be thinking the same thing. Casually, as though nothing were wrong, she stepped toward her father. But she wasn’t in time to prevent the next two verses.
Fear no danger! Shun no labor!
Lift up rifle, pike and saber!
To arms! To arms!
To arms, Dixie land!
For faith betrayed and pledges broken!
Wrongs inflicted, insults spoken!
To arms! To arms!
To arms, Dixie land!
At last, Sadie convinced the piano player to quit tinkling the keys. MacLemore looked as though he might continue singing, music or no, but then he too fell silent.
Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Just as Sadie regained her seat, the bat-wing doors swung wide and a trio of soldiers sauntered in. They were young—younger even than the soldiers Lu had seen that afternoon—and full of newfound manhood. The army-issue rifles they carried were polished and oiled ‘til they shone like blue lightning. Their mustaches and sideburns were trimmed with an attention to detail suggesting a newfound love of the barber’s arts.
“We heard music,” the first one through the door said. His mustache was waxed and twisted up at either end. He seemed to be their leader. “Ain’t that right, Will?”
The man to his left nodded. “Heard somethin’ all right.”
“You hear it too, Jim?”
“Sounded like a dern Reb anthem to me.”
“That’s just what I thought, though I could scarce believe my ears.”
“We was just havin’ a sing, Tom,” the piano player explained. “Nobody meant no harm. Honest they didn’t.” But the soldiers took no notice of her explanation.
“I’ll tell you boys,” Tom said, further twisting up the ends of his mustache as he talked, “this town gets sorrier ever’ day. But I’ll be darned if I thought I’d ever come into our saloon and see this. Near as I can tell we got a drunken Reb at the piano, a coon playin’ cards with a Mexican, and a Chinese sitting right out front, beer and cake on his table just as though he was a white man. That’s one too many for me. Hells bells, I start to wonder if my horse didn’t kick me and I’m dreamin’. What say boys? Have I gone plumb out of my mind?”
“Could be,” said a voice from outside.
Startled, all three soldiers spun around. Jack Straw glared at them over the top of the swinging doors.
“And just what do you want?” the soldier on the left asked. His voice quavered. He brought his gun up, covering his chest with the stock.
“Thought I’d wet my whistle,” Jack said, “but you three have the door blocked.”
He elbowed his way into the saloon. Lu could feel the tension rise with every step the gunfighter took.
“No beefsteaks,” Jack said, taking the chair next to Sadie’s. “I told the cook we’d et nothing but beans since before any of us could remember, so we’d take anything else she might like to heat up.”
The soldiers watched, fires blazing in their eyes, as Jack discussed supper, ignoring their very existence. At last, Tom spoke up. “You bring him in here?” he asked, gesturing at Lu with his rifle.
Jack glanced over, as though surprised to see the same trio of soldiers still standing in front of the door. “Who? Him?” He pointed across the table at Lu, who wanted nothing so much as to sink through the floor and out of sight. “I guess he brought himself. This is still a free country, isn’t it?”
That last comment must have puzzled the soldiers somewhat. They looked at each other. Not even Tom seemed able to think of anything to say.
“Tell you what, why don’t you boys have a drink?” Jack suggested. “It’s clear you’ve had a rough day. Take the edge off.”
“We don’t drink with no Rebs,” Tom grunted. “Coons neither.”
“Suit yourselves.” Jack waved to the bartender, who immediately began pouring him a beer.
The soldiers glared. Not one of the three moved from his post beside the door.
“Seems to me that if you’re dead set against having a drink with the folks that are in the saloon, you’d best run along,” Jack said.
Still, none of the three moved.
“Now look,” Jack said, “I’ve asked nicely—” As he spoke, a pistol appeared in his hand. Lu didn’t see him draw it. In fact, he didn’t draw it—Jack stuck out his hand and the revolver snapped out of thin air. It happened so fast the soldiers didn’t even have time to flinch. “I don’t want to have to start shouting,” Jack finished.
The whole saloon seemed to hold its breath.
“Cheese it,” Tom said at last. “This ain’t much of a party anyhow. ‘Sides, we’ll have us a real good rip next week, after we’ve finished off them Green Woods Injuns. C’mon boys.”
They shoved their way back through the bat-wing doors.
Soon as they were gone, Jack holstered his pistol.
“Lucky you came back when you did,” Lu sighed.
“Yep. Much more lip and Chino would’ve shot those boys.”
Lu looked toward the back of the room. Henry was shuffling cards, peaceful as ever. Chino, on the other hand, sat with his arms crossed, staring at the still swinging doors. The expression on his face was pure scorn.
“Let’s have some music,” Jack called to the piano player. “But keep off the war songs. Just a nice peaceful tune.”
“Make a request?”
“Can you play My Old Kentucky Home?”
The piano player could, and did. MacLemore joined in on the second verse.
The next morning, Lu stepped out of the hotel to find Chino sitting high on the wagon seat, just as he had for so many weeks. The only difference was that now, instead of two enormous horses he had a team of six mules to pull it.
“What’s in the back?” Lu asked.
“Take a look.” Chino’s smile stretched from ear to ear.
Lu walked around to the tail-gate and peered over. The entire bed was covered, wall to wall and front to back, with rifles. Lu guessed there were at least a hundred of them, maybe more. There were also the same old tools, lumber, and even the laundry bag with Lu’s fresh clothes, still untouched. But all of that sat atop a sea of weaponry.
“Where’d they come from?” Lu asked.
“Soldiers got new guns, so they traded these to Jack.”
“Do they work?”
“Of course they work.”
“What’ll we do with them all?”
“Do? Why, we’ll trade ’em. What else?”
Lu wondered to whom they could possibly trade a wagonload of old rifles between here and the Hell Mouth, and for what. But before he had a chance to ask, Chino gave his reins a flip and the mules began dragging the wagon down the road. “Follow me up to Jeb’s,” he said. “We got more to load yet.”
Janey was standing on the front steps when they arrived. “Here are your cartridges,” she said, pointing to a dozen or more boxes stacked in front of the door.
Chino picked up as many as he could carry. Lu did the same. He was surprised at how much a carton of bullets weighed.
They’d deposited the first load in the wagon, and were just about to go back for a second, when Jeb emerged from the cabin. He had two wooden apple boxes, one under each arm.
“Guess these are yours, Lu,” Jeb said, handing him one of the boxes. It was heavy for its size, but not nearly as heavy as the cartons of rifle-shells. “Don’t worry, this here’s prime material,” Jeb assured him. “You’ve got my word on that.” They set both boxes carefully inside the wagon.
“Thanks,” Lu said. Standing up inside each box were four tin cans. There was also a bundle of greasy string. Lu hadn’t the foggiest idea what it was.
While he was looking at the boxes, Lu noticed something else, glinting from beneath the pile of dull gray rifle barrels. Digging it out, he discovered a pistol. It was very much like the ones Jack wore, only made of brass instead of steel. Lu dug down again and came up with a holster. The leather was partially rotted away, but more than enough remained to hold the gun.
He was still admiring his find when Henry rode up.
“It’s a counterfeit,” Henry explained. “A copy of a Union sidearm. Navy style. Confederates made them during the war. I’ve heard some were fairly decent guns.”
Lu buckled the holster around his waist.
Jack arrived with the MacLemores a few minutes later. Mr. MacLemore looked as though he’d been sick during the night, and planned to remain sick throughout the day. Sadie had changed into a clean shirt and bonnet.
“What did you find?” Jack asked, pointing at Lu’s gun.
“It was under the rifles.” Lu drew the revolver and held it up for Jack to see. “Can I keep it?”
“Can’t see why not. Just don’t fire it until Henry’s had a chance to look it over. A gun like that could be dangerous.”
“I won’t,” Lu promised. “Heck, I don’t even have any bullets.”
Sadie laughed.