William Johnstone - Bounty Hunter

Luke shook his head. “Nope. I read about it in an old newspaper I came across once.”

“You know how to read, eh?”

“My ma saw to that. And once I learned, I had a liking for it.”

That was true. As a boy and a young man, he had read every book and newspaper he could get his hands on. Unfortunately, in the part of the country where he’d grown up, reading material wasn’t all that common.

But some of the settlements had schools, and whenever he could, Luke would ride over to one of them, sneak in, and “borrow” whatever books he could find. He always took them back once he’d finished reading them, so he didn’t consider it stealing. He was just doing whatever he had to in order to feed his thirst for knowledge.

One of the few good things about the war was that churches across the South had donated Bibles for the troops, so Luke got the chance to read the Good Book from cover to cover, more than once.

Sometimes he came across other books, usually in abandoned houses. He’d nearly always had some sort of volume of prose or poetry tucked away in his gear, and he read them until they fell apart from exposure to the elements.

He didn’t have a book with him at the moment, but maybe once they got to Georgia he could scrounge up a few. He had read some plays by an Englishman named Shakespeare, and he had a hankering to read more.

“I don’t understand it,” Casey said. “I thought those Yankees were so all-fired anxious to have the slaves freed, and now you’re tellin’ me they turned down a chance to have that happen and went to war instead.”

“The politicians in Washington raised a big stink about slavery because they didn’t want folks up north thinking too much about the way we were starting to develop more industry here in the South. All those rich men who own factories up there didn’t like that. They didn’t like the contracts our businessmen were starting to make with businesses in England and other places in Europe, either.”

Luke grunted disdainfully, then went on. “The way they saw it, we weren’t supposed to do anything except grow the crops. They’d do everything else the country needed and rake in all the money. They stirred up a bunch of well-meaning people who had real doubts about slavery and got them to fight a war over it. But if you want the truth, all you have to do is look around. You don’t see any factories still standing in the South, do you?”

Casey frowned as if thinking about the question hurt his head. “It’s all about states’ rights. That’s what we’re fightin’ for.”

At this point, all we’re really fighting for is survival, Luke thought. But he said, “It’s true the North tried to trample on the rights of our sovereign states, but consider this . . . the Southern businessmen building those factories and making those contracts with the British wanted the money from those things as much as the Northern industrialists didn’t want them to have it.”

“So what you’re sayin’ is the politicians and the fellas with a lot of money on both sides have got us fightin’ each other because they want to keep rakin’ it in?”

Luke shrugged. “Draw your own conclusions, Casey. All I’m saying is the whole situation is a lot more complicated than what most folks think. One side yells about slavery and the other side yells about states’ rights, but like nearly everything else in life, most of it always comes back to money.”

Casey nodded slowly, as if the implications of what Luke had said were sinking into his brain. After a moment, he said, “You know what we need to do?”

“What’s that?”

“We need to get our own hands on some of that money the varmints are fightin’ over.”

Luke laughed softly. “Men like you and me don’t get rich, Casey. It’s just not in the cards. And I don’t really care. If this war was over tomorrow, I’d go back home and be mighty happy to do it. My family’s farm isn’t much, but if we have faith and work hard enough, it’ll take care of us.”

“There’s better ways to get rich. Easier ways.” And with that, Casey turned his head to stare hard at the wagons.

Luke stiffened as he saw where the man was looking. A harsh note came into his voice. “You can forget about that. That gold belongs to the Confederacy. Thinking otherwise is the same thing as committing treason.”

Casey shook his head and said hastily, “You’ve got me all wrong, Jensen. I’m not thinkin’ anything except I’ll be glad when our turn at guard duty is over so I can get me some more sleep.” He yawned, but Luke wasn’t sure if it was genuine. “It was a hard night, and I’m still tired.”

“It was a hard night,” Luke agreed, thinking about the encounter with the mob in Richmond and then the fight with the Yankee patrol at the bridge.

Casey grinned as he poked a fist against Luke’s upper arm.

“Your problem is you got too many thoughts in that head of yours. A man’s brain ain’t built to work that hard, Jensen. Me, all I think about is whiskey and women and killin’ Yankees, and that’s plenty.”

“I figure it’ll be a while before we get any whiskey or women,” Luke said, “but it wouldn’t surprise me if you get your fill of killing Yankees before this is all over.”

CHAPTER 6

After talking to Casey, Luke felt the need for some solitude. He took his rifle, climbed to the top of the bluff hanging over the wagons, and stretched out among the trees so he could gaze around the countryside.

Other than numerous columns of smoke rising in the distance marking the location of Richmond, he couldn’t see any signs of the war from where he lay. Here and there, the vegetation was starting to turn green with the approach of spring. A few birds winged through the blue sky.

It would have been a tranquil, beautiful scene if not for the never-ending rumble of artillery, which could be heard even so far from the capital city. The sound of the bombardment was a constant reminder of the ugliness lurking beneath the apparently peaceful surface.

He and his companions were putting that behind them, at least for the moment, Luke reminded himself. He was sure the war would catch up to them again, probably sooner rather than later, but he was going to enjoy the solitude while he could.

Weariness stole over him, begging him to close his eyes. He fought it off, knowing if he gave in to the temptation, he would fall asleep. The possibility of the Yankees sneaking up on the escort on his watch was unacceptable.

To help keep himself awake, he looked down at the brush where Ted Casey still hunkered. He caught a glimpse of the scout through the branches, but only because he knew where the man was. Luke thought it was very unlikely anybody else would spot Casey.

He recalled the way Casey had looked at the wagons while they were talking about getting rich. The memory brought a frown to Luke’s face.

As soon as President Davis had explained the details of the mission the night before, Luke had worried about entrusting the safety of so much gold to such a small group of men.

It made sense from a tactical standpoint. Nine men and two wagons could move a lot faster and attract a lot less attention than a company of soldiers.

But if some of those men turned out not to be trustworthy, it could lead to trouble. Luke knew he could trust Remy, Dale, and Edgar, and Colonel Lancaster was completely devoted to the Confederacy. The other four men were unknown quantities. In the long run, how would they react to the temptation of all that bullion?

Of course, they could be wondering the exact same thing about him and his friends, Luke reminded himself. Potter, Stratton, Richards, and Casey certainly hadn’t held back when it came to fighting the Yankees at the bridge. They had pitched right in, risking their lives for the cause . . . and also to save him and Remy.