OverTime 03: Slipping (First 70 Chapters)

Chapter 34: Cavalry (Garrison)

Well wasn't he ten kinds of a fool? To think that he, a man past grown and with myriad responsibilities, could frolic the morning away with no consequences.

Jacob Garrison had learned young that there were always consequences.

He'd never figured those consequences would include him standin' in nothin' but his skivvies in front of a cavalry sergeant, a corporal, and ten lowly privates, all of them better mounted, better armed, and far better dressed than he.

He'd surely not expected the chill of panic that seized his bones on unexpectedly facing those bluecoats. For a moment, they revived old nightmares of firing squads and prison camps.

War's over, he reminded himself firmly. Been over some time.

But he would never trust soldiers, not in gray and definitely not in blue. Individual men, maybe. But not grouped up like this, convincing each other that their might and "sacrifice" gave them the right to anything and anyone.

"Looking for two deserters," called the sergeant, apparently too satisfied that Garrison had half-crossed to bother getting his boots wet by meeting him midstream. That was fine by Garrison. "You seen anyone suspicious?"

He wasn't a praying man. For all he believed in respecting God, he doubted God had time to listen to someone like him. But on the chance he was wrong, he prayed that they not see Elizabeth.

Anyone suspicious, in Wyoming Territory? "Throwin' a wide loop," Garrison pointed out.

One of the younger privates grinned at that, but his corporal glared him back to solemnity.

"Two men. Light haired. One's wiry, t'other's tall."

And both of 'em smarter than the rest of you. Garrison held his tongue, to keep them waiting to work up some juice in his dry mouth. Then he spat into the river, to show just how little he cared. "Nope."

He saw no reason to volunteer that he'd spotted their likely tracks, early that morning. Those two riders could have been anybody.

"These men stole horses and weapons when they left. They are fugitives from the government." The sergeant considered Garrison like he might examine a mangy cur. "There's a thirty dollar reward. All we expect from you is to do your patriotic duty--for once--and send word if you see them."

That was the government for you--paying out in reward most of what the deserters had taken. Garrison shook his head, more at their foolishness than as a refusal to help drag anyone back to the indentured servitude of their enlistment.

Since that seemed all the sergeant wanted to say, he turned and started back across the various channels of the Platte to the north bank.

He saw no trace of Elizabeth. That was worth near-to showing his ass to adversarial troops. Crossing one of the islands he stepped on a burr, but refused to alter his step. Almost there....

"Hey, Grey back!"

Garrison swallowed back the instinct to stiffen or slow at the dire insult--and his disgust that, in fewer than twenty words, he'd revealed his past.

"Who's the second horse for?" demanded the sergeant.

"Both mine!" It wasn't a lie. Everything his wife owned, he owned--and vice versa.

Thank God he'd seen to the animals' tack, while they bathed, and the bluecoats couldn't see the side saddle. Thank God....

Since he knew where Elizabeth had hidden, he could spot her now, half behind that bush, foolishly sitting up enough to watch him. He gestured, minutely, for her to get down.