presented itself. As the guns banged and crashed around him, he sneaked out of his hiding position. He mounted, then rode north for a couple hundred yards, out of the line of fire. He had no intention of getting shot accidentally when none of them had been able to shoot him by design.
From his new position, the thump and rattle of gunfire was much quieter, but still ongoing. Matt looked back toward the battle and could see the flashes of light from each gunshot.
The first thing he had to do was get down to the house unobserved and without risking a stray bullet, and that was easier said than done. As the shooting continued, Matt began to make a wide circle, staying at least a quarter of a mile from the big house until finally he was around behind it. Just as he got into position, the men recognized that they had been shooting at each other, and with curses and shouts, the firing finally stopped.
“How many have been hit?” someone shouted.
“Parker’s been kilt!”
“Damn!”
“Smitty is dead too.”
A further inventory turned up four killed and two wounded.
“Son of bitch, we done this to ourselves,” someone shouted in frustration. “You know damn well Jensen is out there somewhere laughin’ his ass off at us.”
“Where did he go?” one of those who had been out looking for Matt asked.
“Last time we seen him, he was just to the end of that ridge yonder, but I’ll bet you he ain’t there no more.”
“Then where is he?”
“You want my thinkin’? He left. He seen there was too many of us.”
“I wouldn’t take no bets on that,” another said. “I got me a strong feelin’ he’s still out there, just waitin’ to see more dumb things we can do.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
As the men were shouting at each other, Matt used the noise to cover any sound, and the darkness to cover any visual contact, as he moved through the shadows past the smokehouse where the aroma of the cured meat reminded him that he had eaten nothing but a few pieces of jerky all day. He saw an outside door that led to the cellar. He was sure it would be locked, but when he tried it, he discovered to his surprised satisfaction that he could lift it open.
Matt closed the door behind him, then went down the steep stairway, feeling his way step by step. He had never been in such dark before. He literally could not see his hand when he held it three inches in front of his face. When he reached the bottom, he held his arm out in front of him and began moving it back and forth, using it to feel his way across the dirt floor until he encountered a support post. He took out a match and struck it against the post. In the flare of the match, he saw a stack of candles on a shelf and he got to them, managing to light one just before his match went out.
Now, in the golden bubble of light, he could see, and he made a closer examination of the cellar. He saw several jars of canned food, tools, rope, a furnace, and a coal bin. And he saw a set of steps going up. He used the candle to get him over to the steps, then he blew it out.
Matt moved up the stairs, one at a time, treading softly on each one until he reached the top. This door, too, was unlocked, and Matt opened it. He found himself on a small landing, with four more steps going up in the opposite direction.
When he got to the top, there was a bit of ambient light coming from a room to the left, and improving his position to where he could look inside, he saw Teasdale, Morrison, and Reed together in the parlor. Morrison and Reed were both standing at the window, looking outside. Teasdale was sitting in a big leather armchair.
“I can’t believe the dumb bastards shot each other up like that,” Reed said.
“Why not? Stonewall Jackson was killed by his own men,” Morrison replied. “Things like that happen.”
“What do we do now?” Reed asked.
“If they don’t get so nervous that they start shootin’ each other again, we’ll just wait out the night. Right now, in the dark, he has the advantage. But when it gets light, he will be exposed, and it’ll be our turn again.”
“Where do you think he is now?” Reed asked.
“It doesn’t matter. We know that he isn’t here, and we know that his objective is Teasdale. Right now, we have the upper hand.” Morrison turned away from the window, stretched and yawned, then walked over toward a sofa.
“Where are you going? What are you doing?”
“I’m going to take a nap,” Morrison said. He looked up at the big grandfather clock. “It’s two o’clock. Wake me at four, then you can get a couple hours.”
Looking around, Matt saw that he was in a small anteroom that was just off the parlor. He decided that this must be Teasdale’s office. There was a closet at the back of the room, and when Matt opened it and checked inside, he was able to determine that it was wide enough that he could move into one end and be completely out of sight. He decided that if Morrison could take a nap, he could, too. He would sleep until morning.
Matt always did have an internal clock. He could tell himself what time he wanted to awaken and do so within two or three minutes of that time. He opened his eyes just before the clock chimed six. He could see a thin line of light coming under the closet door. Moving to the door, he stood there for a moment listening, then slowly and quietly opened it and stepped out into Teasdale’s office.
It was full daylight outside.
Matt retraced the steps to the parlor. Reed was asleep on the sofa, Teasdale was asleep in the big leather chair, and Morrison was looking through the window.
