Chapter thirty-nine
Critical Priority
Fort Desperado, two days later
Colt checked the aviary at first light, before even choking down the mess hall’s excuse for coffee. Still no answer from Fort Resolute. From atop the palisade, nothing had changed. He could spot the ribbon of river to the south with nothing—no one—of interest on the far bank. Just sand, scrub, and a few cacti.
He enjoyed this time of day, when most of the garrison was still asleep and the cool air invigorated his skin. Sunrise over the desert revealed a fresh beauty each morning with its constantly changing colors, never the same twice. Then the rank smell of the outhouse drifted up.Have to assign someone to clean it again. He rubbed the back of his aching neck. Must have slept wrong and gotten a crick in it … or maybe he was still worrying about the strange sighting three days ago.
“Here you are,” said Private Andrew Mendez. His head appeared over the ladder with a relieved smile before he climbed the rest of the way up. The kid had been working out as Colt’s aide. As a bonus, the older, tougher men had stopped picking on him.
“Yes, here I am,” Colt replied with more irritation than he intended. “What do you need?”
“Oh, I don’t need anything,” Andrew answered. He walked over to the pigeon pens with a jug of water. “This is my job. I was worried when I didn’t see you outside the mess where you usually are before roll call.” He rubbed a hand down his shirt, shifting from foot to foot, and forced an unconvincing smile. “Glad nobody jumped you, is all.”
Colt propped a hand on his hip and cocked his head at Andrew. “Is somebody planning to jump me?”
“N-no, sir,” he stammered. “Not that I know of, anyway. You never know.”
That was probably true. Yet since the strange caravan sighting, even the hardest criminals-turned-soldiers seemed eager to get on Colt’s good side.
Colt stepped back and swept an arm toward the birds. “Well, don’t let me stand in your way.”
“Right.”
While Andrew fed and watered the pigeons, Colt searched the sky to the north. A large hawk swooped down and rose again with a rabbit in its talons.Maybe my message didn’t get through, he thought,or their reply.Messenger pigeons were fast, but always at risk from birds of prey.
“I’m expecting a message from Fort Resolute,” he told Andrew. “Keep an eye out. It’s very important.”
“Yes, sir, Captain Irons.” He peered questioningly at Colt. “Where will you be?”
“I’m going out with the morning patrol today,” he said. “I want another look at those strangers we saw. Maybe we’ll ride all the way east to the crossing spot—see if there are any wheel tracks or footprints.”
“Isn’t it Sergeant Slater’s patrol this morning?” the private asked.
“I believe so. Check in with Lieutenant Crane to see if he needs anything while I’m gone.”
“Oh.” Andrew’s shoulders drooped, his chin nearly clunking against his narrow chest. “You aren’t taking me with you.”
Colt patted his shoulder. “I need you here to make sure none of the ruffians give Lieutenant Crane trouble. Got it?” He pulled his lips into a half grin.
Andrew straightened with purpose. “Yes, sir. You can count on me.”
“Good.” Colt looked the private in the eyes, smiling at the lad’s renewed sense of importance. “I’ll be back.”
He headed downstairs, drank the wretched coffee, ate the pork and biscuits, and collected his pony to meet Sergeant Slater and the early patrol near the gate.
“Captain Irons?” Slater questioned. The big man, a cigar stub clenched between his teeth and a nonissued red bandana around his scruffy neck, returned a confused look.
“This is still your patrol, Sergeant,” Colt said reassuringly. “I’m just coming along. And if we don’t see them where they were last time, I want to keep going to the crossing—just to be sure.”
“Yes, sir.” Slater turned his black quarter horse toward the gate. “Open ‘er up,” he called to the soldiers on duty. Colt brought up the rear.
The gate creaked open, spilling pale morning light across the sand. A dry wind whispered through the scrub outside the fort. The riders loped away, leaving a thin trail of dust in their wake.
A couple of hours later, the patrol stopped at the canyon rim beyond the butte, in the same spot as before. Colt waited, watched, and listened. He raised his spyglass and scanned the eastern and southern horizons. He saw nothing, heard nothing. Still, an unsettling feeling washed over him, like waking from a dream he couldn’t quite remember.
“There’s nothin’ here,” Slater said. “Must have been a band of wanderers who went back wherever they came from.”