Bandit's Embrace by Georgina Gentry

Author:Georgina Gentry [Gentry, Georgina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781420138245
Amazon: B00KTIGOQW
Barnesnoble: B00KTIGOQW
Goodreads: 2460691
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 1989-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

Colonel Mackenzie looked up from the dispatch Sergeant Murphy had just handed him. “God damn them,” he said. “God damn them to hell!” He threw the dispatch on his desk, paced his office.

“Crossed the border again, did they, sir?”

“Oh, don’t act so ignorant, Mike.” He knew Murphy would have read the dispatches on his way across the parade grounds. “A camp of poor Czech cedar choppers. Patrol saw the smoke and investigated. By then, those damned Kickapoo, Mescalero, and Lipan were headed back across the river to the safety of Mexico.”

The beefy Irishman tipped his cap back. “Do you suppose, sir, we’re ever gonna get permission to go after them bloodthirsty redskins?”

Mackenzie didn’t answer. He just tapped his deformed right hand against his desk nervously. Sheridan and the secretary of war were due at the fort sometime that day. Whatever it was that brought such highly placed men to this isolated country, it had to be important. “Don’t even think it,” he snapped. “To cross that border might bring on another war with Mexico.”

Murphy sighed. “Beggin’ yore pardon, sir, if we could do it, it sure would suddenly make Union troops popular with the Texans. Them greedy merchants over at Remolino is makin’ a fortune dealing in Lone Star beef and horses.”

“We all know that, Sergeant.” Mackenzie felt more irritable than usual today. His old war wounds were aching again.

The red-faced Irishman smiled agreeably. Mackenzie knew his troops would follow him into hell. He wasn’t having trouble with jealousy and bickering as the hotheaded Custer was further north.

“Sir,” Murphy said, “it must be very, very important for those two to be comin’ to this godforsaken spot.”

“That’s not for us to speculate on.” Mackenzie frowned, and was immediately sorry for his irascibility. “We just do our duty, Sergeant.”

There was a sharp rap at the door. Mackenzie turned. “Come in.”

They both snapped to attention as General “Little Phil” Sheridan, President Grant’s man, entered along with the Secretary of War.

“At ease,” Sheridan said. He was a short, stumpy man with long arms and a head too large for his body. “Good to see you, Ranald!”

They shook hands, and Mackenzie nodded toward the sergeant. “Dismissed!”

Murphy saluted sharply, left the office.

Then Sheridan put the briefcase he carried on the desk, and introduced the Secretary of War. The three men stood listening to Murphy’s footsteps echoing down the hall.

Sheridan pulled at his mustache, studying Mackenzie. “Aren’t you going to offer two tired, dusty men a drink?”

“Certainly.” Mackenzie went to his desk, poured, handed each man a glass. “I suppose this isn’t a social visit?”

The whiskey tasted fiery and at once lukewarm in the humid weather. He waited.

Sheridan sipped his drink. For a long moment, he said nothing and the sound of soldiers drilling drifted through the window. “Colonel, have you guessed why we’re here?”

Mackenzie’s heart beat faster. Hardly daring to hope, he looked at the rotund Secretary of War, who drank his whiskey and fiddled with the gold chain across his vest. Obviously the man was going to leave the responsibility to the military.

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