Chapter 39 Critical Priority
Chapter thirty-nine
Critical Priority
Fort Desperado, two days later
Colt checked the aviary at first light, before even choking down the mess hall’s excuse for coffee.
Still no answer from Fort Resolute. From atop the palisade, nothing had changed.
He could spot the ribbon of river to the south with nothing—no one—of interest on the far bank. Just sand, scrub, and a few cacti.
He enjoyed this time of day, when most of the garrison was still asleep and the cool air invigorated his skin.
Sunrise over the desert revealed a fresh beauty each morning with its constantly changing colors, never the same twice.
Then the rank smell of the outhouse drifted up.
Have to assign someone to clean it again.
He rubbed the back of his aching neck. Must have slept wrong and gotten a crick in it …
or maybe he was still worrying about the strange sighting three days ago.
“Here you are,” said Private Andrew Mendez. His head appeared over the ladder with a relieved smile before he climbed the rest of the way up. The kid had been working out as Colt’s aide. As a bonus, the older, tougher men had stopped picking on him.
“Yes, here I am,” Colt replied with more irritation than he intended. “What do you need?”
“Oh, I don’t need anything,” Andrew answered.
He walked over to the pigeon pens with a jug of water.
“This is my job. I was worried when I didn’t see you outside the mess where you usually are before roll call.
” He rubbed a hand down his shirt, shifting from foot to foot, and forced an unconvincing smile. “Glad nobody jumped you, is all.”
Colt propped a hand on his hip and cocked his head at Andrew. “Is somebody planning to jump me?”
“N-no, sir,” he stammered. “Not that I know of, anyway. You never know.”
That was probably true. Yet since the strange caravan sighting, even the hardest criminals-turned-soldiers seemed eager to get on Colt’s good side.
Colt stepped back and swept an arm toward the birds. “Well, don’t let me stand in your way.”
“Right.”
While Andrew fed and watered the pigeons, Colt searched the sky to the north. A large hawk swooped down and rose again with a rabbit in its talons. Maybe my message didn’t get through, he thought, or their reply. Messenger pigeons were fast, but always at risk from birds of prey.
“I’m expecting a message from Fort Resolute,” he told Andrew. “Keep an eye out. It’s very important.”
“Yes, sir, Captain Irons.” He peered questioningly at Colt. “Where will you be?”
“I’m going out with the morning patrol today,” he said. “I want another look at those strangers we saw. Maybe we’ll ride all the way east to the crossing spot—see if there are any wheel tracks or footprints.”
“Isn’t it Sergeant Slater’s patrol this morning?” the private asked.
“I believe so. Check in with Lieutenant Crane to see if he needs anything while I’m gone.”
“Oh.” Andrew’s shoulders drooped, his chin nearly clunking against his narrow chest. “You aren’t taking me with you.”
Colt patted his shoulder. “I need you here to make sure none of the ruffians give Lieutenant Crane trouble. Got it?” He pulled his lips into a half grin.
Andrew straightened with purpose. “Yes, sir. You can count on me.”
“Good.” Colt looked the private in the eyes, smiling at the lad’s renewed sense of importance. “I’ll be back.”
He headed downstairs, drank the wretched coffee, ate the pork and biscuits, and collected his pony to meet Sergeant Slater and the early patrol near the gate.
“Captain Irons?” Slater questioned. The big man, a cigar stub clenched between his teeth and a nonissued red bandana around his scruffy neck, returned a confused look.
“This is still your patrol, Sergeant,” Colt said reassuringly. “I’m just coming along. And if we don’t see them where they were last time, I want to keep going to the crossing—just to be sure.”
“Yes, sir.” Slater turned his black quarter horse toward the gate. “Open ‘er up,” he called to the soldiers on duty. Colt brought up the rear.
The gate creaked open, spilling pale morning light across the sand. A dry wind whispered through the scrub outside the fort. The riders loped away, leaving a thin trail of dust in their wake.
A couple of hours later, the patrol stopped at the canyon rim beyond the butte, in the same spot as before.
Colt waited, watched, and listened. He raised his spyglass and scanned the eastern and southern horizons.
He saw nothing, heard nothing. Still, an unsettling feeling washed over him, like waking from a dream he couldn’t quite remember.
“There’s nothin’ here,” Slater said. “Must have been a band of wanderers who went back wherever they came from.”
Colt wasn’t convinced. “Let’s ride east along the river another hour,” he said. “I want to make sure.” Dune buggies. A balloon. An airship. Wanderers didn’t carry equipment like that.
“Whatever you say.”
The squad took a moment to drink from their canteens or relieve themselves while Colt made another pass with the small telescope. Then he took the lead, and they rode on.
As they neared the crossing where the slopes gentled and the river ran shallow, the sun beat down from nearly straight overhead. Colt held up a hand and pulled back on his reins. The patrol stopped.
At first, it looked like a weather front rolling across the basin from the south. Colt squinted at the roiling dust cloud, or dirt devil as they called it, trying to read its pattern and direction.
“We don’t want to be caught in that,” said a trooper already covered in grit from hours in the desert.
Colt adjusted his hat, studying the strange disturbance on the horizon.
His intuition screamed. His uneasiness skyrocketed.
That was no cloud, no sand twister. It was dust—one long wall of it—rising from thousands of boots and wheels grinding north toward the river.
The desert floor itself seemed to be moving.
Lines of men and vehicles stretched across the basin so far that the edges blurred into heat shimmer.
Even from a few kilometers away, Colt heard the faint, steady murmur riding the wind. Engines. Metal. Horses. Thousands of feet. The sound of an army on the move. His breath caught in his throat, and he thrust the spyglass to his eye, sweeping it from right to left. He never found the end of them.
“What is it?” Sergeant Slater asked, concern in his gruff voice. “I didn’t think any herds that size could survive out there.”
“It’s not a herd.” The words fell from Colt’s mouth in disbelief. “It’s … an invasion force.”
“Are you glitchin’?” Slater bellowed, his eyes rounding to double their normal size. He pushed his horse nearer and reached for Colt’s brass telescope.
Colt relinquished it and lifted his gaze to the cluster of balloons floating overhead like faded paper lanterns.
Between the desert-hued balloons and the countless ground units hung fat charcoal dirigibles, like whales swimming through the sky.
The sun glinted off something protruding from the nearest airship. A cannon?
“Void take us, Irons!” Slater exclaimed. It was the first time Colt had detected even a hint of fear in Rafe Slater’s voice. “They’re countless! They’ve consumed the desert like an army of ants. And they’re headed this way. What do we do?”
Colt took back his spyglass, meeting Slater’s eyes with resolve.
For a moment, their hands touched as they both gripped the brass telescope.
“We follow our training. We keep our heads. I want a closer look at their emblem, and then we race for Fort Desperado. They haven’t seen us, so we’re safe. ” For now, he supposed.
The horses jumped, whinnied, and pawed the sand while their nervous riders speculated in hushed, worried voices.
Colt zeroed in on a flag clinging to the broad side of a balloon.
Ochre with a black step pyramid silhouetted against a green sun.
Lowering the angle, he tried to get a fix on the vehicles and soldiers, but the dust cloud they created obscured details.
Light, wide-tired buggies—jeep-types. Dirt bikes.
Some larger trucks with artillery pieces rolling behind.
Horses. Foot soldiers. Disciplined in neat rows stretching into oblivion.
And they’d start crossing the border within the hour.
Realization struck with brutal clarity. The Republic’s entire military—save a few small posts like Fort Desperado—was in Verdancia. There was no one to defend against this vast force.
He collapsed the spyglass, jammed it into its holder, and turned his Appaloosa half-Arab around. “Let’s go.” He took off at a gallop, daring the patrol to keep pace.
Slater and the squad rushed about the yard telling everyone what they’d seen, while Colt called Marcus and Andrew into his office. He hastily scrawled words on official military stationery.
“You two are leaving with Sergeant Slater in about ten minutes,” he said.
“What?” Marcus’s face twisted with annoyed confusion. “You can’t—”
“Watch your tone, Crane, or I’ll write you up for insubordination.
” He folded the page, shoved it into an envelope, and thrust it into Marcus’s hand.
“Ride immediately to the mine and give the supervisor this. It’s a military injunction to commandeer a motor vehicle.
The two of you and Slater will take turns driving nonstop until you reach the capital and report to President Irons.
I don’t care what time of day or night you arrive. ”
“But why?” Marcus asked. Andrew looked too terrified to say a word.
Colt ripped off his gloves and yanked off a signet ring. He handed it to Marcus. “If anyone tries to stop you—and they will—show them this. It’ll get you through to the president.”
“Colt?” A look of concern replaced Marcus’s irritation. “What’s so urgent?”
The captain met his gaze. “I guess the Anáhuac didn’t all die in that plague—and they don’t just use spears and bows.
I can’t say for sure who they are, but a massive army is crossing the border a few hours’ ride from here.
Massive. I need the two of you to go with Sergeant Slater to give him credibility.
He witnessed it with me. Make them listen, or all is lost. My father must act swiftly. Everything is riding on you, Marcus.”
His brows shot up. “Me? No one will listen to me, or did you forget? I’m the disgraced General Crane’s son and not to be trusted.”
“And I’m nobody,” Andrew squeaked.
“Tell them to send scouts, balloons, whatever,” Colt said. “They can waste all the time they want verifying it, but the three of you need to leave now.”
“I don’t have a horse,” Andrew mumbled, his head lowered.
“Take mine. He’s the fastest I’ve ever ridden,” Colt said.
“But then you—”
Colt laid his hands on his aide’s shoulders and turned him toward the office door. “Don’t worry about me. Get to the mine. Get a vehicle. Take the sergeant and his eyewitness testimony.”
“Y-yes, sir.” Colt shoved him through the door and pivoted to Marcus.
“This is a vital mission, Lieutenant, which is why I can only trust it to you.”
Marcus stiffened, his lips flattening into a line, and crossed his arms. “I know what you’re doing and why you’re doing it.
You should be the one taking the report to the president.
Don’t be so stubborn.” He shifted position, propping a fist on his hip, poking a finger into Colt’s chest. “If what you say is true, and we’re being invaded by a massive army, it’s bigger than a spat between father and son. ”
“You know I can’t abandon my post,” Colt answered. “If worse comes to worst, I’ll lead an orderly evacuation, but, right now, I don’t think they know we’re here.”
“You just think that because your father killed my father, you’re somehow responsible for me.” Marcus glared at him, his tone offended.
“I’m your commanding officer,” Colt answered, swallowing the lump in his throat, struggling to keep his voice steady.
“That makes me responsible for you—you and the kid. He’s a good kid, not like most of this bunch.
And, for the record, your father was no traitor.
He was a great man, and he loved you very much. ”
Marcus broke his stare, glancing down at the requisition letter and ring in his hands. “I always thought your father was a great man. And then …” Marcus looked up again, squared his shoulders, his voice turning official. “I’ll take the witness, the report, to Dominion, and I’ll make them listen.”
Colt nodded. As Marcus moved, he reached out and pulled him into an awkward embrace, wondering if he’d ever see Maddox’s son again. “Be safe. Tell my wife and mother that I love them.”
“You’ll tell them yourself,” Marcus said, blinking back a tear.
Colt released him.
“Slater!” the lieutenant called as he hurried out. “Let’s go.”
From the command building’s porch, Colt watched them leave a fort in turmoil. Spotting a reliable face, he called, “Sergeant Castellano!”
Big Tony stopped and veered over to Colt, his face blanched with fear. “Is it true?”
“Yes. Now, here’s what I need you to do.” Draping an arm around the stable master’s shoulders, he walked with him, explaining his contingency plan, hoping they’d all still be alive tomorrow.