Free Outnumbered (Book 6) by Robert Schobernd Page B

over the offered food. To my dismay, a big tan colored mongrel sniffed the air and wandered in our direction. It stood at the edge of the clearing and snarled and then barked lightly. I tossed the half piece of jerky I'd been eating toward the dog. It jumped to the side before lowering its head to sniff the object. In one gulp the meat disappeared. The dog was silent but continued to stare in our direction.
    The pack of dogs had dispersed. Molly stepped from the kitchen to dump more scraps onto a large round metal pan, and they quickly raced back to the feeding area and began their fight routine again. Our dog lost interest in us and trotted off to join the fray amid the promise of more food.
    I motioned to Richard that it was time to leave. No one had gone to the barn, so it didn't appear anyone would be leaving anytime soon.
    We tromped back to our horses and gave them water from canteens we'd left on the saddle horns before we quenched our thirst. Instead of going to the main road, we cut through a field overgrown with weeds and trees thirty-feet high to the next private lane. That home site was desolate, also. The house that had stood there was a charred ruins, and the barn and outbuildings leaned sharply; they were in the process of falling down. I guessed no one had lived there for the past forty years. We figured our wandering had put us three-fourths of a mile from the enemy.
     
    At our camp, we told the group what we'd seen. Morgan immediately pointed at Everett, "Then we don't need that sneaky little bastard any longer."
    Richard and I nodded in unison. No one in our group moved to stop him.
    Morgan frowned and was red faced as he turned and walked to where a rope secured the prisoner to a small tree. Everett's hands were tied behind him and he was still almost naked. He received a harsh kick in the ribs as Morgan un-sheathed his knife. He reached down to grasp the rope tied to Everett's neck and then cut it loose from the tree.
    "You murdered my family and good friends, you worthless piece of shit." With nary another word, he pulled Everett along behind him and disappeared deeper into the woods. The prisoner limped as he begged and stumbled along. He knew what was coming to him and stammered pleas to live. Wildlife noises quieted as Everett begged for his life and then screamed until it was cut short in mid-breath. 
    We all suspected what Morgan had in store for Everett and accepted it. The Law of Retaliation we'd adopted demanded an eye for an eye, and a life for a life. We didn't need fancy lawyers to confuse the issue and tell us right from wrong and inject a ton of maybes and what ifs.  No one spoke until Morgan returned to our clearing. When he sat, we resumed the conversations his actions interrupted.
     
    Richard and I slept most of the day amid the subdued noises made by fifteen other people, dogs and horses. After dark we again rode toward the enemy camp. Our whole entourage followed behind. Everything we'd brought was tied down as tight as practical to prevent banging and clanging that might alert an enemy member who couldn't sleep and had moved outdoors. We turned off the main road onto the third lane with the intent of establishing our base in the clearing around the burned house. The horses were muzzled, and the dogs were on the wagons on short leashes. The dogs were used to running free and didn't like being tied down, but each was assigned a handler to keep them quiet.
    Everyone understood there would be no cooking fires built until our mission was achieved. The sight or smell of smoke close-by would alert our enemies of our presence. As I prepared to leave, I told the group, "We're going to reconnoiter, but if you hear gunshots, come running. We'll have been seen, and we'll be outnumbered."
    Two sentries were scheduled on two-hour shifts throughout the remaining hours of darkness. The rest of our people were snuggled in for the night when Richard and I again set off. The time was three-o-three