Edge: Killer's Breed

Hedges led the way around the blind side of the barn, then dismounted to peer out from the corner. His horse whinnied softly and an answering call came from within the barn.

"Where there's horses, I figure there's people," Forrest said evenly.

Hedges narrowed his eyes, scanning the front of the house, caught the slight movement of a lace curtain swinging back into place. "You figure right," he muttered and raised both hands to his face, cupping them around his mouth to shout.

But at that moment, Haskins' skittish mare saw a rat dart from under the barn and streak out into the sunlit yard. The horse reared and bolted into the open, the sudden movement causing the youngster's finger to jerk against the trigger of his musket. The sound of the report seemed to continue for an excruciating length of time and although the ball-shot whined harmlessly into the air, the cause proved more catastrophic than the effect. As Haskins' horse bucked across the yard three more gunshots rang out. Windows sprayed shards of glass across the sweet-smelling porch and three bullets smashed into the young trooper's chest, killing him instantly and lifting him clear off the saddle. The sound of his body thudding against the hard ground was somehow more horrifying than anything which had gone before.

"The sneaky shits!" Seward yelled and heeled his horse forward.

Hedges turned to face the trooper and leapt high to snatch him out of the saddle as he passed. Seward came clear and smashed into the side of the barn as his horse ran clear and keeled over, blood spouting from body and head, wounds, The reports of the defenders' guns were still ringing in Hedges’ ears as he glared down at the winded Seward.

"Frank, you see what he done to me?" Seward gasped.

Forrest spat, "Yeah, he saved your worthless hide, lunkhead. And it weren't 'cause he loves you."

Hedges stared hard and long into the shocked eyes of Seward. "I'll let you know when it's your turn to die, Seward," he said with quiet anger. "You want to commit suicide, you wait until I've got a replacement I can call on." He turned away and flattened himself against the side of the barn, raising his hands to his mouth again. "You in there, can you hear me?"

In the ensuing silence he looked at the crumpled figure of Haskins still spilling blood into the rich earth. The pause lengthened and he could hear the tense breathing of the men behind him.

Then: "What you want with us?" The speaker sounded old—but tough and determined.

"Just to pass through. Us and some men coming up behind."

"We don't want no part of the war."

"So why'd you blast Haskins," Seward muttered as be picked himself up, rubbing a bruised shoulder.

"So let us through."

"Hold hard for a minute." Silence returned to the farm. Hedges removed his hat and drew a sleeve across his hairline. He had experienced hotter weather than this and not sweated so much.

"Hey, soldier?"

"Yeah?" he called.

"Shooting that man and the horse was accidents. We thought you were attacking. We got women and property to protect." The troopers began to whisper.

"Those things are past," Hedges answered through his hands. "How about a safe conduct for the rest of us."

"We decided. You can go through."

"Obliged," Hedges answered and drew back from the corner to mount his horse.

"You trust 'em, Captain?" Douglas asked.

Hedges grinned coldly. "No, but you got any better ideas? I'll go first. Wait until I'm behind that group of huts over there and then follow me—one at a time."

Douglas nodded without enthusiasm and then looked nervously at the others before turning to follow Hedges' progress across the yard. The captain kept his horse down to a slow, even walk, deviating slightly from a direct line to swing around the carcass of Seward's horse and the sprawled body of the dead Haskins. He flicked an occasional glance towards the house and saw three broken windows, two on the lower floor and one above. Lace curtains, unmarked by the gun blasts, screened the insides of the rooms. He thought he heard—but could not be sure—the quiet sobs of a woman. His right ear itched but he suffered it, unwilling to make a move with his right hand, which was curled loosely around the stock and trigger guard of the Spencer. Sweat was sticky in his palms, armpits, behind his knees and at the small of his back. Fear rode with him and he was grateful he could still experience its power; a man without fear was a fool.

"Hey, Captain?"

Hedges cursed and almost reined his horse as he recognized Seward's whining tone.

"I ain't got a horse, Captain."

"So damn well walk," he heard Forrest hiss.