Killer's Breed (Edge series Book 4)

by George G. Gilman

  Buildings ahead, captain."

  It was Corporal Douglas, riding immediately behind Hedges, who jerked the officer from his thoughts, drawing his attention to a small settlement in front of them. Hedges raised his hand to halt the patrol and narrowed his eyes as he examined what lay ahead. The purpose of the patrol, some two miles in advance of the main body of the troop, was to blaze a trail across the mountains, preferably in secrecy and therefore finding detours round habitations. They had several times swung wide of a direct path to avoid isolated farms and small villages, but the detours had all used up valuable time. As Hedges examined this new obstacle to their progress, he had to weigh the possible dangers it held against the certain delay in taking a longer route.

  "Hell Captain, we ain't seen a reb since we chased them off Rich Mountain," Forrest called from the end of the line.

  "And Virginia ain't seceded from the Union," Douglas put in. "Civilians won't give us no trouble."

  Hedges was well aware of these points and as Douglas completed his contribution, the captain nodded. "We go in slow and careful," he said, not taking his eyes off the large farmhouse, its barns and the surrounding huts of the field workers. "You keep your eyes open and your weapons at the ready. But I don't want no shooting unless we're attacked first."

  He didn't turn to see what reaction his instructions had drawn, but heeled his horse forward, down a narrow bridle path and on to the wide shelf upon which the farm was spread out. Trees, thinly placed, provided inadequate cover for a few yards, but then the path forded a shallow stream and cut a course between two fields of maize, taking them into wide open space.

  "Hey, Captain?" Just above a whisper.

  "Yeah, Forrest." Hedges didn't turn around.

  "Where's the people?"

  "You noticed that, too.

  Smart." Seward giggled: "Maybe they heard we was coming and took it on the lam."

  "Or maybe they're holed up and got us in their gun-sights," Scott suggested.

  "Happy guy." Bell.

  "It's past noon," Hedges muttered. "Eating time."

  Bell clicked his tongue against his teeth and rubbed sweat from his forehead. "I like that better."

  They had covered half the distance to the first building; a barn separated from the fields by a wire fence with a five-bar gate where the pathway intersected it. With workers in the fields and smoke rising from the big house chimney the farm would have appeared idyllic and innocent in the bright, early afternoon sunshine. The atmosphere of desertion which clung to it impregnated the very air with a sense of the ominous.

  At the gate Hedges leaned down to unfasten the latch and the scrape of metal was very loud, magnified by the silence. The gate did not creak as it swung wide; the oil on the hinges was still fresh enough to have a shine. The troopers filed through, into the deep shade of the barn. It was old but in a good state of repair, as were the other buildings spread around the big, well kept yard. The main house had a porch heavy with magnolia blossom. At the side was a neat kitchen garden.

  "Nice place," the spotty faced Haskins murmured, a little enviously.

  Hedges led the way around the blind side of the barn, then dismounted to peer out from the corner. His horse whinnied softly and an answering call came from within the barn.

  "Where there's horses, I figure there's people," Forrest said evenly.

  Hedges narrowed his eyes, scanning the front of the house, caught the slight movement of a lace curtain swinging back into place. "You figure right," he muttered and raised both hands to his face, cupping them around his mouth to shout.

  But at that moment, Haskins' skittish mare saw a rat dart from under the barn and streak out into the sunlit yard. The horse reared and bolted into the open, the sudden movement causing the youngster's finger to jerk against the trigger of his musket. The sound of the report seemed to continue for an excruciating length of time and although the ball-shot whined harmlessly into the air, the cause proved more catastrophic than the effect. As Haskins' horse bucked across the yard three more gunshots rang out. Windows sprayed shards of glass across the sweet-smelling porch and three bullets smashed into the young trooper's chest, killing him instantly and lifting him clear off the saddle. The sound of his body thudding against the hard ground was somehow more horrifying than anything which had gone before.

  "The sneaky shits!" Seward yelled and heeled his horse forward.

  Hedges turned to face the trooper and leapt high to snatch him out of the saddle as he passed. Seward came clear and smashed into the side of the barn as his horse ran clear and keeled over, blood spouting from body and head, wounds, The reports of the defenders' guns were still ringing in Hedges’ ears as he glared down at the winded Seward.

  "Frank, you see what he done to me?" Seward gasped.

  Forrest spat, "Yeah, he saved your worthless hide, lunkhead. And it weren't 'cause he loves you."

  Hedges stared hard and long into the shocked eyes of Seward. "I'll let you know when it's your turn to die, Seward," he said with quiet anger. "You want to commit suicide, you wait until I've got a replacement I can call on." He turned away and flattened himself against the side of the barn, raising his hands to his mouth again. "You in there, can you hear me?"

  In the ensuing silence he looked at the crumpled figure of Haskins still spilling blood into the rich earth. The pause lengthened and he could hear the tense breathing of the men behind him.

  Then: "What you want with us?" The speaker sounded old—but tough and determined.

  "Just to pass through. Us and some men coming up behind."

  "We don't want no part of the war."

  "So why'd you blast Haskins," Seward muttered as be picked himself up, rubbing a bruised shoulder.

  "So let us through."

  "Hold hard for a minute." Silence returned to the farm. Hedges removed his hat and drew a sleeve across his hairline. He had experienced hotter weather than this and not sweated so much.

  "Hey, soldier?"

  "Yeah?" he called.

  "Shooting that man and the horse was accidents. We thought you were attacking. We got women and property to protect." The troopers began to whisper.

  "Those things are past," Hedges answered through his hands. "How about a safe conduct for the rest of us."

  "We decided. You can go through."

  "Obliged," Hedges answered and drew back from the corner to mount his horse.

  "You trust 'em, Captain?" Douglas asked.

  Hedges grinned coldly. "No, but you got any better ideas? I'll go first. Wait until I'm behind that group of huts over there and then follow me—one at a time."

  Douglas nodded without enthusiasm and then looked nervously at the others before turning to follow Hedges' progress across the yard. The captain kept his horse down to a slow, even walk, deviating slightly from a direct line to swing around the carcass of Seward's horse and the sprawled body of the dead Haskins. He flicked an occasional glance towards the house and saw three broken windows, two on the lower floor and one above. Lace curtains, unmarked by the gun blasts, screened the insides of the rooms. He thought he heard—but could not be sure—the quiet sobs of a woman. His right ear itched but he suffered it, unwilling to make a move with his right hand, which was curled loosely around the stock and trigger guard of the Spencer. Sweat was sticky in his palms, armpits, behind his knees and at the small of his back. Fear rode with him and he was grateful he could still experience its power; a man without fear was a fool.

  "Hey, Captain?"

  Hedges cursed and almost reined his horse as he recognized Seward's whining tone.

  "I ain't got a horse, Captain."

  "So damn well walk," he heard Forrest hiss.

  In the house a woman gasped and a few moments later Hedges was among the field workers' huts. He screwed up his eyes tightly and steeled himself against the threat of trembling muscles. Then he turned his horse and dismounted to look back across the yard, in time to see Forrest urge his horse forward into the open. He cu
rsed softly when Bell came out only a yard behind him, followed by Douglas, then Scott, with Seward taking nervous steps at the rear. He cursed again, louder, and looked towards the broken windows as Forrest led the men around the dead horse and trooper. On his lone ride he had purposely taken a course which swung him wide away from the house. The men chose to veer in the opposite direction, angling towards the house. His angry eyes snapped back to the troopers and became mere glittering slits when he saw that each of the riders held their Colts low on their left, the blind side from the house. He opened his mouth to shout an order, but held back, realizing that any unexpected sound could signal the crack of gunfire.

  But it was Forrest who provided the signal, kicking free of his stirrups and going sideways in a dive from the saddle, bringing up the revolver and sending bullets flying into the already smashed window to the left of the doorway. The others left their horses in the same way, Bell aiming for the same window as Forrest while Douglas and Scott poured lead into the lower story window. Seward grabbed the Spencer from Scott's saddle boot and broke into a run, firing at the position of the upstairs marksman. Surprise and concentrated fire power got all five men on to the porch and flattened against the house front before the defenders could loose off a single shot. The horses bolted and gunsmoke drifted across the yard like morning mist. But the smell was wrong.

  "Hey, Captain," Forrest yelled.

  Hedges looked in his direction and saw the stained teeth shown in a satisfied grin.

  "We didn't trust 'em. This was our better idea."

  He suddenly came away from the wall, pivoted in front of the window and fanned the Colt to send four bullets smashing into the room. A scream sounded from inside and he covered his head with his hands and dived through what remained of the glass. Bell went after him in a like manner as, on the other side of the porch, Douglas and Scott poured lead into their window and then crashed through. Seward kicked open the door with the heel of his boot and ran inside, the Spencer held low, his hands working the action and squeezing the trigger with the dexterity of long practice. Gunfire, screams and curses issued from the house as Hedges snatched up his own rifle and broke across the yard on the-run, He saw a muzzle jabbed out from the upper floor window and snapped, off a shot as a bullet kicked up dust only inches from his flying feet. A man screamed, a rifle sailed out of the window and then a body slumped forward across the ledge, held poised for a moment before tipping forward and crashing down onto the roof of the porch. The jolt showered Hedges with magnolia blossom as he leapt up on to the porch and loped into the house.

  "Pretty," Forrest said as he and Bell emerged from a doorway on the left.

  Hedges pushed between them and into the room, the stench of burnt powder harsh in his nostrils. A man was sprawled in the center of an expensive carpet, his head and chest a mass of torn flesh soaked with blood. An elderly woman sat upright in a winged chair, not moving, even to breathe. Her eyes were open but unseeing. Blood trickled down in an inverted vee from a neat hole just above her white hairline.

  "Frank, I've got me something real good,"

  It was Seward, shouting from upstairs and as Hedges turned out of the room he saw Forrest and Bell heading up the elegant stairway at the end of the hall. A girl screamed and then made a choking sound as the crack of a harsh slap accompanied a curse from Seward. Hedges took time to glance into the room across the hall and saw Douglas and Scott raising bottles to their lips. Between them lay the crumpled form of a woman, the front of her dress turning from white to red. He was about to vent his anger upon the men but another scream from above, followed by raucous laughter, sent him hurrying up the stairway. He found them in a bedroom at the front of the house, the three men advancing on a pretty young girl of no more than sixteen who was backing into a comer, stark terror leaving her eyes blank but pulling her mouth wide as she continued to scream.

  "Hold it!" Hedges barked.

  The girl pressed her slender body into the angle of the corner, clawing at the walls with her hands as the three men spun to face the cold anger of their commander. Forrest replaced his look of lust with a cold grin.

  "You want first go, Captain," he asked quietly. "Might be messy. Looks like fresh meat to me."

  Hedges forced his tone to a low key. "She's no Arizona hicktown whore."

  "Right. Right, Captain," Forrest agreed, still grinning and nodding his head enthusiastically as the girl began to whimper and stare blankly at Hedges. "I ain't had nothing like this since I don't know when."

  "I'll kill any man who touches her," Hedges warned.

  "Spoils of war," Bell insisted. "If I don't get me some soon, I'll burst clean out of my pants," Seward shrieked.

  "Why, you ain't got enough to fill a Colt barrel," Bell said with a burst of laughter, ducking as Seward threw a punch at his head.

  "Ain't I just!" the younger man yelled, reaching under his tunic for his belt buckle.

  "Whatever you got; I'll blast it clean off soon as I see it," Hedges warned him.

  Seward jerked his hands away as Bell laughed. "You'd have to be a good shot, Captain."

  Hedges spat. "I'm good."

  "Enough to outgun three of us?" Forrest said in a menacing tone.

  Hedges flicked his attention to the big man and saw a Colt leveled at him. He looked at the other two and found them staring at Forrest with open-mouthed amazement, making no move to back the play.

  He grinned. "You're two guns short," he said, bringing up the Spencer.

  Forrest shook his head. "I can count, captain. And I got a better view than you;"

  Hedges' body swayed forward an inch as the muzzles of two guns were jabbed into the small of his back. "You aren't being smart," he said, glancing to left and right over his shoulders, into the glazed eyes of Douglas and Scott.

  "Man never is when he's got an ache between the legs, Captain," Forrest answered. "Only one way to cure that ache and we got the doc right here."

  The girl's body shuddered and she cried out.

  "Get his guns, Billy," Forrest ordered.

  Seward hesitated, then moved, being sure to keep out of the line of fire. "Gee, I'm sorry," he muttered as Hedges surrendered the Spencer and made no attempt to stop him removing the holstered Colt and the saber.

  Seward tossed the weapons into a comer and Douglas and Scott hustled Hedges into the room. Forrest licked his lips, spat and returned the Colt to its holster. He turned sideways, took two shuffling steps and then reached out a hand. His fingers curled over the neckline of the girl's dress and the harsh sound of the material ripping was almost as loud as her cry of alarm. Her body was pale and slender, with breasts only just beginning to develop.

  "Ain't a hell of a lot of woman," Forrest complained as he clasped a breast in one of his grimed hands and dug his nails into the flesh.

  Douglas and Scott had moved to the side of Hedges now and when the captain seemed about to take a step forward they lunged their Colts into his hips. Scott's gun hit dead center on his wound and he grimaced with pain.

  "She ain't goin' a get any bigger while we're waiting here, Frank," Bell pointed out, his eyes examining every minute detail of the girl's exposed body.

  "Please, you're hurting me." Her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper as she reached up to clasp Forrest's wrist. Forrest laughed.

  "Lot of people get hurt in a war," he told her. "That's why men like a few home comforts before they go and risk getting killed or crippled."

  "Yeah, that's right," Seward yelled" glancing at Hedges as if he considered Forrest had justified what was going to happen to the girl. "You ought to be happy to put out for us. We're fighting for you."

  Forrest suddenly lifted the girl and tossed her on to the bed. "You first, Billy," he snapped. "Never did like riding an animal that wasn't broke in."

  "Whiskey downstairs, Frank," Douglas said as Seward fumbled for his belt.

  "Get it, Rog," Forrest commanded.

  Bell held back and only went finally, and with reluctance,
after Seward had dropped his pants and underwear and thrown himself on to the unprotesting girl. She cried out once, as the thrusting male hardness seared into her and then she lay still, fingers digging into the bedcover and blank eyes staring at the ceiling while Seward grunted and sweated out his lust. Bell returned with an armful of bottles as Seward sighed and rolled clear of the girl's splayed body. At a nod from Forrest he set down the bottles on the floor and hurried to the bed, his face made ugly by the keenness of his excited anticipation as he tore at his restraining clothing. As Bell entered the girl Forrest crossed the room, picked up a bottle of whiskey and broke off the neck on the edge of a lowboy. He held the shattered bottle aloft and allowed the liquor to cascade down, catching some in his mouth.

  "Watch the Captain," Douglas demanded of Seward as it became obvious Bell was reaching his climax.

  Seward moved forward with reluctance, drawing his Colt and his expression showed something close to shame as he leveled it at Hedges. But Hedges paid no attention to him. He found himself fascinated by the look on the girl's features. Her lips had begun to move, mouthing silent words, he guessed in prayer. But there was no play in her green-gray eyes, which continued to be fastened on the ceiling above the creaking bed, as if she had induced a trance.

  Douglas flung himself between her legs, emptied his loins and made way for Scott while Bell took over the guard duty on Hedges. Finally, his cruel eyes glazed by the liquor, his lower jaw hung loose and low, Forrest stumbled over to the bed and stood, swaying as he glared down at the abused body and blank face.

  "Look at me, girl," he demanded as he fumbled to loosen his uniform. "I like my women to look at me so they can see what they're getting."

  The dull eyes continued to stare at the ceiling as the lips moved in their silent plea. Forrest lashed out. A hand, slapping her hard across the cheek, rocking her head to one side. She whimpered, but remained impassive.