Free The Violent Peace by George G. Gilman

with wild fire. The troopers flattened themselves to the ground or pressed their bodies against the walls of the house. Dirt spouted and wood splintered, but no further blood was spilled. The riders fled around the rear of the house and started up the western side of the shallow valley. As the gunfire died away, the hoofbeats thundered like a rockfall. But soon, this sound had diminished into the distance.
    “We gonna let 'em reach the Rockies before we go after them?” the sergeant asked sourly. He spat forcefully.
    The shotgun continued to be pressed hard against the nape of Carey's neck. The sweat of fear and frustration stood out in bright beads on his forehead. He thought he hated the sergeant worse than the woman behind him.
    “Don't get impatient, sergeant,” he called hoarsely. “Let's all keep our heads.” 
     
     

     

CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    THE bodies of the four dead troopers lay side-by-side in the back of the buckboard, each wrapped in his bed blanket. A pale-faced young trooper with dried blood encrusting his right tunic sleeve sat on one side of the box seat, the reins held loosely in his left hand. Mona Binns sat beside him, her work-worn but still handsome face impassive as she regarded the column of mounted soldiers. She was not bound in any way.
    Lieutenant Carey, the strain of suppressing his anger showing in the tightness of his mouth line and his upright posture in the saddle, sidled his horse close to the wagon. He pointedly refused to look at the woman.
    “You understand what you're to do, Blake?” he snapped.
    The young trooper attempted to raise his injured arm in a salute, but winced in pain and gave up. He nodded. “I'm to arrange burial of the dead and treatment for myself, sir. I am then to put Trooper Clancy under arrest and escort him to Washington to await court martial proceedings.”
    Carey nodded curtly. “Mrs. Binns is also under arrest. She has shown herself to be as guilty as her husband of complicity in the conspiracy.”
    Mona tried to meet his eyes, but Carey had already started to turn away, heading for the leading position in the column of men. “I don't know what you're talking about,” she said.
    Carey completely ignored her as he took up his position and nodded to the sergeant.
    “Let's move out,” the non-com instructed and the troopers heeled their mounts forward, following Carey around to the rear of the house, picking up the tracks left by the fleeing wanted men.
    Blake clucked to the horse in the shafts and slapped the reins across the animal's back. The buckboard turned in a half circle and headed out of the yard and on to the trail which led to town. From time to time he cast furtive glances at the woman seated beside him, but she sat like a wax statue, not returning his interest nor showing any inclination to break the silence between them.
    But he was glad she was there. She was not old enough, but in some respects she reminded the young trooper of his mother, whom he loved very dearly. So her presence was comforting in his pain and the unnerving knowledge that he was transporting four dead men through a dark night.
    On Mona's part; the soldier at her side did not exist. As the buckboard started out on the trip to town, she had fleetingly considered making a try to rob him of his gun and shoot him. But she dismissed the thought, knowing she was incapable of such a cold-blooded act. Just as she had known, after the initial impulsive action of jamming the shotgun against the lieutenant's head, that she could not have pulled the trigger.
    So , in this self-knowledge, she resigned herself to whatever the future held, It was her way, and always had been, to act impulsively and then await the consequences. It was how she had become a whore and then allowed Edward Binns to marry her. Neither had been worse than she expected, because she expected nothing. Her philosophy was that people were put on earth to be used, or to use other people. .She placed herself in