Lancaster’s eyes were starting to glaze over.
“Well, he’s sure enough dead now,” Potter drawled, “and like I said, we’re on our own. Question is, what are we gonna do?”
“Go check those Yankees and make sure they’re all dead,” Luke said as he reached over to close Lancaster’s eyes. “Remy, patch up Dale’s shoulder.”
“
“Then we’ll get moving,” Luke went on. “We can’t afford to wait around. Three of those troopers got away. They’ll go tell other Yankees what happened. We need to get off the trail and find a place to hole up for a while.”
He glanced up. No one except Remy, who was tearing pieces off his shirt to bind up the wound in Dale’s shoulder, had moved to do what he said. “Blast it, get moving.”
“Hold on just a minute, Jensen,” Potter said. “I don’t recall anybody puttin’ you in charge.”
“Somebody’s got to take over,” Luke said. “Or would you rather stand around and argue about it until a whole company of Yankee cavalry shows up?”
Potter thought it over for a couple seconds, then shrugged.
“All right, we’ll do what you say . . . for now. But this ain’t settled.”
Luke didn’t expect it to be, but for the moment he would take what he could get. He said to Edgar, “Let’s put the colonel’s body in one of the wagons.”
“Why not leave him where he lays?” Stratton suggested.
“Because I want to search him later and see if he’s got any written orders or a map on him.”
That answer satisfied the others, and they went about their business. All the fallen Yankees were dead except for a couple, and Casey didn’t waste any time slitting their throats. Luke and Edgar carried Lancaster’s body over to the second wagon and placed it alongside the crates containing the gold bullion. By that time, the crude job Remy had done of bandaging Dale’s wound had stopped the bleeding.
“Somebody tie the colonel’s horse behind the second wagon,” Luke said. “We’ll take it with us.”
That done, they followed the trail for another half mile until Luke spotted a narrow path leading off into a thick stretch of woods. He was driving the lead wagon since Dale couldn’t handle the team with a wounded arm and drove between the trees, calling back to Remy, “Once we’re all off the trail, get a branch and wipe away our tracks as far back as you can.”
Remy waved a hand in acknowledgment of the order.
The path was little more than a game trail. Trees and brush crowded in on the wagons from both sides. Branches clawed at the men. Several times the wagons’ sideboards scraped against tree trunks, and Luke worried they would get stuck. Finally, they broke out into a small clearing. It was big enough to turn the wagons around and go back out the way they had come in, but it would be a challenge.
When Remy rode in a few minutes later, he said, “Not only did I wipe away our tracks, but I pulled some brush in front of the opening as well. If any Yankees ride by, they may not even notice a gap big enough for the wagons.”
Luke nodded his approval. “That was good thinking. Let’s get the colonel out of the wagon so I can check his pockets.”
“Robbin’ the dead?” Potter asked mockingly.
“Checking for a map or orders, like I said before.”
“You go right ahead. I ain’t fond of handlin’ dead men.”
Neither was Luke, but he made himself do it. He searched all Lancaster’s pockets but didn’t find anything except a couple bloodstained letters from the colonel’s wife. He didn’t read them, tucking them back into Lancaster’s pocket. He didn’t have any right to intrude on the colonel’s private life.
Since that search came up empty, Luke opened Lancaster’s saddlebags next. He was luckier there, finding a leather dispatch case with a folded map inside. As the others gathered around, he spread the map on the ground and studied it. After a second, his finger poked a spot that had been circled. “Copperhead Mountain, That must be where we’re going. There’s probably a settlement nearby where the government’s going to set up.” He straightened as he folded the map. “That’s where we’re going, anyway.”
Wiley Potter’s voice was flat and hard as he said, “I’m not so sure you’re right about that, Jensen.”
CHAPTER 10
Luke stiffened. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised by what Potter said or the thinly veiled threat in the words. “What are you talking about?”
“All you’ve got is a map,” Potter said. “You don’t know that this Copperhead Mountain place is where we’re supposed to go.”
“It’s the only thing in the colonel’s belongings that has a destination marked. I think we all know that’s what it means.”
“Maybe,” Stratton said. “But we don’t have to go there, now do we?”
“Lancaster’s dead,” Richards added. “The mission’s over.”
Luke shook his head.“What makes you think that? Just because we’ve lost our commanding officer, doesn’t mean we don’t still have our orders.”
“Orders from who? Jeff Davis?” Potter laughed. “The president of a country that may not even exist by now? Hell, Richmond could have fallen the day after we left, for all we know!”
Edgar said, “Even if Richmond fell, the war’s still going on. General Lee hasn’t surrendered. The way those Yankees keep attacking us proves that.”
“Edgar’s right,” Remy said. “Our responsibility still lies with the Confederacy.”
Casey finally put into words what was uppermost in all their minds. He pointed at the wagons and exclaimed, “But there’s all that gold just sittin’ there!”
It had happened even faster than Luke thought it would. The temptation of that fortune in gold bullion had been there all along, of course. Lancaster’s presence and the men’s habit of taking orders had held it in check.
But Lancaster was gone, and all Potter, Stratton, Richards, and Casey could think of was how they could be rich men. All they had to do was forget about delivering the gold to Copperhead Mountain, take the wagons, and strike out on their own. If they headed west, they might be able to leave the war behind them. There had been battles between Union and Confederate forces out on the frontier, but not many.
Luke glanced right and left. Remy, Dale, and Edgar stood with him, as he had known they would. They faced the other four men across a short distance. No guns were drawn—yet—but everyone was tense and ready for trouble.
It might not be possible to reason with the others. That much gold had a way of making a man’s brain not work as well as it usually did. But Luke was going to try. “Look, you know we’re not going to let you take those wagons. That gold belongs to the Confederacy. If we do anything with it except deliver it where we’re supposed to, we’ll be thieves . . . and traitors.”
Potter let out a contemptuous snort. “How can you betray a country that don’t exist anymore?” he demanded.
“You don’t know that.”
“Hell, Jensen, you’ve got eyes! There’s no way Richmond was able to hold out. The streets are probably full of Yankees by now. And if Lee
Luke suspected Potter was right about that. General Robert E. Lee cared too much about his soldiers to let them be slaughtered to the last man in a futile cause.
But that still didn’t change anything. They had their orders.
“Forget it, Potter. From the looks of that map, we’re not far from Copperhead Mountain. We can be there in another couple days. And that’s where we’re going with that gold.”
“That’s your final word?” Potter asked. Next to him, Casey nervously licked his lips, anxious to grab for his gun. So were Richards and Stratton.
From what Luke had seen of those men, they were probably faster on the draw than Dale and Edgar. He and
