Fight for Glory (My Wounded Soldier #1)

by Diane Munier

  Michael offered me his flask and I took it like wine to a sinner, I did. But it didn’t taste good going in. Nothing could fix this but what would fix it.

  If I had to face them with another dead son, they’d follow after. I’d be putting my family in the earth. Jimmy was wrong. I would have no one.

  I pulled that bandana just enough out of my pocket that I could see it there anytime, that I could touch it if need be. I would bring us back together, all of us. And God help the man…God help him for I would wreak retribution.

  But I shoved that bit of cloth away then. Best to lay that side of myself on the by and by until this was over. I knew who I had to be now. Oh, I knew him.

  Tom Tanner

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lord how we rode, dust and leather, squeak of saddle, hee-yah, and whoa-there. Flies buzzing, trying to bite, weeds whacking us in the face where the trail closed in, cause they picked the old trails, the scant ones like William’s pa would have used, coming from the north in sorrow.

  Back in them days, too many children coming, six beyond William. She wanted the south, and he liked to roam, so when they left, William stayed behind.

  First with Jimmy. One more there and nobody cared. Ma Leidner was dead from birthing. His pa lived in the bottle, crawled in and died there is all. Then the children scattered.

  The year he was fourteen, Jimmy moved in to winter with that widow-woman. Ma nearly had a fit, went to get him, but he wouldn’t come, wouldn’t leave her until Garrett pulled him out.

  William and me were closer than brothers by then. I moved in the barn so he could breathe, be away from the smells, slip away in the night if it took him. Out he’d go, to that tree his pa had lived in before his ma Sally wanted more. We run dogs all night in the summer on these trails, and I could see trace better than most, but not like him. Nobody like him cause he saw things silver if they were different. It couldn’t be learned.

  Now I watched William’s hat, full crown, wide brim, and the dark hair beneath, couldn’t make its mind what it was.

  My body took to the saddle again, knowing the way of it here, though I had not been riding as hard as them for some months. We rode in the heat, picked our ways and drank water and something stronger, ate coosh, but we did not stop. I kept my eyes on William as if he was the cure for all the troubles in this old world.

  Jimmy’s eyes turned black from where I busted that nose, that profile he loved so much. Oh Lord if there was love in my heart, then let this come to a goodly end. For the fire my Addie had lit in me was spreading it seemed, like a rash.

  It was dangerous to care so much. In battle, I had to be fierce, that was the thing. When I went to war, it was not Lincoln’s call I thought about, it was not ending slavery, or even the broken Union, it was these boys and Garrett. That was why I fought like a son of a bitch. And my own hide. That, too. I got mad and I wanted to live.

  But when I went home, I wasn’t afraid of the regular thing. I knew on the one hand, farming wasn’t enough. On the other, it was more than I could handle. Now there was the problem.

  While all this rolled in my head, William stopped then. He’d seen something. I waited, but my mind was screaming for us to come upon them at long last. If Gaylin was dead here, I would try to be strong. What we had in our favor was this pressing on them to keep moving. But that meant they’d just take my brother deeper in, until they maybe got beyond us, if a body could. We’d be hard to shake now. We’d keep coming.

  Up ahead William watched. He was looking for something different. He didn’t know how it might show, so we had to be still while he figured it.

  After a few minutes, he held up his hand, waved to the side. We dismounted. I broke away and tied my horse, as did they. We gathered then, and he led us in advance. Yonder was a small clearing, and something was on the ground.

  In the brush, his shirt red with blood, so crumpled it was hard to tell it, was a man brought down like some animal.

  We wouldn’t approach it straight. I touched Jimmy’s arm, and went circled right. I met Michael halfway and we went in then, from behind. We met Jimmy and William approaching from the other direction and so we had set a clear perimeter.

  William knelt and rolled him over. Not Gaylin. I could breathe then. I looked hard to make sure for often you could be fooled right off, telling yourself it couldn’t be…and then it was. But this was not him, not even close. Older man, well-fed and clothed, shot in the neck. Had I not been so het up, I’d of noticed how familiar.

  “This here’s Doc Tusaint,” Jimmy said. And it surely was. We stared at one another. He was homefolk. This was no good. They’d taken more than one. They were killing them.

  “Stay hopeful,” Jimmy told me.

  We looked for a marker. Jimmy and Michael pulled him near by the boots. Mayhap we’d come for him after. If we lived.

  Back in the saddle now. Tusaint’s body told us exactly how near we were to them. The gap was closing. These were the same had robbed the train. These were the same touched Allie and Lenora.

  “What we got,” William said, “four mounts, one rider apiece now. Horses barefoot but for the one who was shod and belonged to Doc. He carried two ‘fore this,” he motioned to Tusaint, “one of them who was small doubled up. Gaylin rides head down. Back a ways, spilled his innards, smelled of drink. He’s alive.”

  My heart leaped in gratitude. He was alive and we pressed on.

  Come on a time near sunset we watered the horses and let them graze while we took a few minutes and though I closed my eyes, I resented this. They could kill him right now, and I’d never forgive myself this respite, but Jimmy said rest, and I saw some sense for without horses we were sunk, and we’d had little sleep so there must be reason.

  We crossed our first hill soon after we’d rested. Here and there were farms. We came on the first one then. Met the man in the field and he climbed off his wagon. He’d been eating some bread and beans. He tried to ask Jimmy more questions about things, who we were, where we hailed from. He’d heard of coloreds being deputies, but never seen one before. Was he always free?

  William looked off, like he couldn’t get on that trail fast enough, but this one here might of seen something, nosey as he was. There had been riders, but they kept to themselves. Bringing in a dead one, looked like, him over the saddle. Wondered why they couldn’t cover that body, at least. Glad his womenfolk were in the house for they’d lost a son at Franklin.

  William had been right. Our hope was strong now. Dead or alive, Gaylin was with them.

  From hill to trail and back to hill, we followed in their tracks, we kept on it. So it went for three days of hard riding. We stopped just long enough to feel the earth stand still, then we were on it again. If horses were powered by steam we never would have stopped, but that was the way of it. Had we seen others as worthy as the ones we rode, mayhap we’d of forced a change at gunpoint, but we favored our own.

  Jimmy speculated on what the railroad might pay by man for those had the pluck to rob the train. It was all taking cattle to market, for him, least that’s how he tried to turn it to keep us from worry over Gaylin.

  There would be no help. Local lawmen would resent us if they did exist, so it would be tricky how we’d bring them in. But that was the smaller problem now when they held my brother.

  I had stopped thinking about Addie. No particulars, though I would be assailed by the most heart-stopping images now and again. They seemed to come out of nowhere and slam into me, and I would feel the distance. It seemed like months instead of days since I had the liberty to set my eyes on her. I did not know when she would leave with Cousin. He had been my nemesis, not Monroe, and now what a shift. I did not regret him, for I did not know my fate. And he would see to her, but even now the notion made me grind my teeth.

  On that fourth day, we had lost them since they had gone through a town smelled no better than my own shit. Jimmy had no wish to follow, except alone. He did not want to pick up the curiosity of the loc
al folk, though a dog they did not know would make them such. He went through appearing to be a man on his own and we veered wide, staying unseen. It was in that town he saw the first sign, “If you enter here and you’re the law, your day of reckoning has come.”

  We had officially entered Monroe’s country. Somewhere in me I lost my dread, and I was not tired. Somewhere in me, I was a soldier again.

  William picked up their trail some miles out from that berg that did not welcome the likes of us. We trailed them to a place that was a hard ride into the southernmost part of our state. We went deep in, trying to stay out of the way. When we were spotted, they watched us, and though we waited for ambush, we were not harmed, but wherever he was, he was warned, no doubt, that Monroe I meant to say.

  Day five, after several interviews at gunpoint with sundry characters who lived near, we found ourselves at a rundown cabin, trash all over the yard. They were in there, a big red-haired one leading the horses round the back to a lean-to. One was Tusaint’s mount, that gray and brown he’d been so proud to own.

  William was far back, securing our horses. Michael was to the north walking the line, Jimmy and me were together on the south, facing the front of this place. William would walk the west outlay and see. We figured the three, then four more in the house, more around it mayhap, the big old boy peeing in the yard. We watched him now. “Healthy stream,” Jimmy whispered, and I would of snickered but for the yelling broke out from in the house and then a gunshot bringing it back to silence.

  I wanted to storm it and get it over with, but Jimmy would never settle for a direct charge that would likely get us killed, so I calmed myself down. He grabbed my arm and said, “That’s about the loot. That’s all.”

  Red hair was shaking off now. The gunshot hadn’t even made him fart.

  If William came upon any, he’d take them, same with Michael. No prisoners now, just lessening the odds. Do it quick and quiet. That big one threw himself down on the porch, a shotgun beside him.

  We waited a bit, cause the sun was slowly dipping. Jimmy tapped me and showed me what he’d do. He’d move away then, make his way in closer with all the trash for cover.

  I’d seen him like this, sneaking around and so good at it. I stood slow and backed up a little.

  I was ambushed then. He came from behind, hand gripped my shoulder. I kicked back into his knee and heard him grunt. When I turned, he stumbled. But he lunged now and I grabbed that arm that had the knife. I used my body to twist that arm, and brought my elbow full force down on his. His arm snapped. I wrapped my leg around his and brought him down to the ground before he could yell. I drove his knife into his neck with my weight behind it. Other than the choking sounds, it grew still.

  I ran to take a look. That red one on the porch had barely moved. But Jimmy was making goodly progress in the yard. He crouched behind a trough made out of a log. He had a revolver in his hand.

  I hurried back to the one who was dead, got his knife and cleaned it on his shirt. Well it felt so good to kill him. I was gleeful for a minute and felt like I could lick the whole gang.

  But another came from the bushes then, thinking I was his pard likely. And having that knife in my hand was a God-send. As I stood, I brought it up into his heart. I twisted it in and held it there for several long beats. His head opened up before me in his disbelief, eyes and mouth wide, but I held on.

  I dropped that dead man. He fell near the other. A pile of them was like Christmas to me. I waited for more, but it was quiet and nothing moving. So that was two. I was breathing.

  Jimmy was halfway across the yard by now. I’d have to catch up. He couldn’t face them in the house by himself. We were working a circle of defense, me and the boys. I didn’t know how they fared, but hoping for the best is what we did in these times.

  I walked my line then, slow and quiet, and I encountered no other. But one came running, charging through brush, heedless there were more of us than the one chasing him.

  That boy had big news for the house. I caught him by surprise. He ran into the butt of my Enfield across his nose and lip and he went down. Hard enough hit there could kill a man, but most times it just stunned them good. You could finish them off before they knew. I cut his throat.

  Adding to the ghosts I was, just hoping we got them all and they didn’t have a bead now on Jimmy. If they found him so close he was a dead man.

  Michael came busting through and saw I’d bagged this one he’d been chasing. I held up three fingers.

  He nodded and held up one.

  So that be four. I pointed William’s way.

  He shook his head. We went to the lookout, and I elbowed him then. He’d keep watch here, keep cleaning the line. No telling where it would break out first. He heard it break he’d come running. So would William. Our back-up.

  There’d been that shot fired from in the house. I had to get close up now. I had to piss, but it didn’t matter. Soon I’d be shitting my pants. Thank God I had fat from Ma’s table. I had not ate something good since leaving home.

  This place was a junkyard. Hominy block looked like an abandoned rotting tower, quern turned over beside it. Harrow and plow rotting in a pile, and more than one wagon used for shooting practice. Hay still piled on one, whole thing rotting gray. A grain cradle stuck in the earth with two pair a socks drying upon it, they so rotted now might as well been left on another season. So I crawled through this sad story, and Red never moved. Window though, so dirty, like a scabby eye on me could hide the dragon for sure.

  When I reached Jimmy, some time had gone by and all seemed quiet. Mayhap they slept after the hard ride. Gunshot out back, William’s way I feared. Jimmy’s hand on me, holding me steady. Michael was out there, he’d go.

  But the door opened and out they poured. Six of them, shouting, guns. We made ourselves small, barely breathing other side of the wagon. He lifted and shot two as I did the same. I repeated and another dropped. That big red came charging, firing wild, and Jimmy dropped him. Then Michael was there and took the other.

  Too easy. We stormed to the door and Jimmy stood before it, lifted his leg to kick it in and a shotgun blasted through. Jimmy went down, head off the porch.

  “God Almighty,” he said in surprise. “Am I gutshot Tom? Am I gutshot?”

  I went in that door and rolled to my belly. From in that dark room he shot high and hit the wall over my head, splinter and dust. I saw it all as I kept going, crashing into a bed in a backroom. Michael was still out the door on the porch. “Hold it there,” I called to him.

  In that front room, that killer was on a bed, bone sticking white out of his leg, stinking like powder and death. Gaylin sat on the floor, bound, knees against his chest, mouth tied. I said, it can’t be him. But it was. I had to swallow it down. Jimmy hit, William quiet, brother tied.

  “You in there,” I called from the room, “put that gun down.”

  “What you come here for?” he said. “I got money for you boys. Who the hell are ye?”

  I reckoned he was out of his mind for that wound was old. “You shot a lawman out there. Michael,” I called, “he breathing?” I meant Jimmy.

  “Breathing,” Michael called.

  “See to him,” I yelled, voice like the punisher Jimmy said I was.

  I would take this one in here. Yes.

  “Put it down old-timer,” I called.

  “You the law then? You Sonny? I was gonna cut you in. I hurt this leg, that’s all.”

  “Put that shotgun on the floor and we’ll fix that leg. We got a doctor,” I said.

  “Can’t do nothin’ for it. Got to come off, but they shot the healer. They brung me this one…but he’s no good.”

  I rolled in then. Like I thought, he’d fixed that gun against the side of Gaylin’s head.

  “Put it down,” I said rising to my feet, my Enfield trained on him.

  “You a good man?” he asked me, his body so bloated and sick, that green leg propped in front already in the grave and him watching i
t.

  I fired my Enfield and shot him in the chest. The shot-gun fell heavy on the floor. Gaylin whimpered and cringed from it. Monroe, if that’s who this was, was done fighting.

  I neared the bed. He still lived. He looked at me while his chest heaved beneath that foul stained blouse, that foul stained skin.

  I grabbed that bone, in all that gory sick, that slick shit, and I yanked hard on it. He cried out. Then I shoved my Enfield in his mouth, flecks of teeth flying and on his bloody lips, I rammed that rifle in, leaned my weight upon it as he choked and gagged. “I am not a good man,” I said, my finger foul on the trigger.

  I shot him through. The bed broke down.

  Gaylin was sobbing. I shouldn’t a done it. They might say it’s not him with the back of his head gone and the front no more’n a pumpkin gone rotten. I should of stabbed him in the heart. But I was tired.

  I wiped my hands on him, then I rushed out to Jimmy. He laid in the yard, as much blood on him as me, but this was his, and mine came from others.

  “Find William,” I told Michael. He looked pale as Jimmy, but he nodded and ran for the back line. “Careful there ain’t more,” I called, cause they could come now, pour out of the trees for all we knew. If there was money, they’d be coming, and us down…I couldn’t think by how many.

  “If it’s the gut…don’t dally,” Jimmy said, a blue tinge in his face.

  I was careful not to disturb the shirt he wore. The bullet went in on the lower side. I lifted him and looked behind. “Clean through,” says I like that’s the happiest thing. Nothing like Garrett.

  But there is no such thing as a wound like this being good. Ball drags through a man it takes what’s in its path and that can stay in and cause the trouble, that’s if he ain’t ripped beyond hope in there and bleeding where you can’t see. Lord, God, I am put here again.

  They surely had whiskey. I knew William was out. That was fool-hardy. I laid Jimmy flat. “Gotta stop this blood. Stay put,” said I, and he laughed a little.