Prairie Fire, Kansas by John Shirley & Ralph Compton

Author:John Shirley & Ralph Compton [Shirley, John & Compton, Ralph]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-11-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

It was dusk when Fisher got back to the camp. “How long we going to set around here, breathing them ashes?” Sweeney asked as Fisher tied his horse to a scrub oak. “Wind’s been blowing all them cinders off the prairie all the damn day.”

“That’s a real good question,” said Bettiger. He sat on a log, paring a thumbnail with a buck knife.

The camp was leaden with ashes, blown there in the aftermath of the fire. Black Creek was all murky with ash, living up to its name, and the restless men seated around the dead campfire looked like a parcel of Confederate soldiers, with the ashes graying them.

“We won’t stay here any longer,” Fisher said, coming to stand by the dead campfire. He took off his bowler and brushed ashes off it. “We head to Buffalo Junction soon’s we get our gear loaded. Except for Sweeney. He goes to Prairie Fire, makes some inquiries for us. In a few days, why, we hit that bank. And I finish my business there, too.”

“It’s not just your business,” said Diamond. “We get our share of Coe’s money.”

“Most assuredly,” Fisher said with all the conviction of a practiced liar.

“Buffalo Junction?” Smiley Briggs shook his shaggy red mane. “I don’t like it! That grasping cuss Feathers Martin—he’ll squeeze every last penny out of a man needin’ to hide out there.”

“That’s right,” said Gaines, tamping tobacco into a pipe. “He’ll do just that. Besides which, everyone knows half the wanted men in Kansas pass through that place. Be our luck to get there just when the US marshal brings in the Army. That’s what they’re doing some places! Cavalry instead of a posse!”

“We won’t stay too long,” said Fisher. “And what I’ve heard is Martin has men watching the roads. There’s half a dozen ways out before anyone can close in. Then he goes back to pretending it’s a country tavern!”

Gaines smacked his lips at that. “By God, he does have liquor, anyhow. Beer, too!”

“And beds!” Fisher pointed out.

“I’m ready for one,” Bettiger admitted. “Tired of sleeping rough.”

“When do I meet you there?” Sweeney asked, sitting up straight and stretching his arms.

“Soon’s you find out what I need to know,” said Fisher.

He commenced loading his few goods into his saddlebags. He knew he was only the nominal leader of these men. He had to keep them moving, doing, or they’d wander off on their own—maybe even pull a gun on him. Plain truth was, they mostly stuck with him this far only because they had no place else to go. They were all wanted, except for Sweeney—and maybe him, too, if you looked far enough afield. They had little money and few ideas. Fisher was filling the vacuum for now.

He was playing some of it by ear. Ideally, their numbers would be pruned down before the money was in hand for an easier split. He’d have to figure out how to do that. He thought Diamond was steady enough to be counted on to shoot Gaines and Briggs in the back if need be.

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