Free Longarm and the War Clouds by Tabor Evans Page A

Injun,” War Cloud finished the thought for the captain.
    The scout rode on the other side of the captain from Longarm. Magpie rode behind her father, with Sergeant Fitzpatrick. The rest of the patrol followed from about thirty yards behind, well out of hearing, especially with the B Company guidon buffeting in the hot, dry breeze, and with the horses clomping and snorting in the growing desert heat.
    A couple of the privates were trailing the three outlaws’ dead horses, with the dead outlaws themselves strapped belly down across their saddles. Sergeant Fitzpatrick had the saddlebags containing the stage loot draped securely across his own horse’s withers.
    Kilroy glanced at War Cloud. “I’m sure that does indeed make it worse. Of course, it shouldn’t—the color of a man’s skin shouldn’t matter—but we all know that it does. Especially out here, with the Apache Wars just now beginning to wind down. The major is a proud man. His wife has run off with an Apache scout. I don’t think it’s even completely sunk in yet what has happened. At first, he believed, or wanted to believe, that Black Twisted Pine had taken Mrs. Belcher against her will. But then, one of the other officer’s wives informed Major Belcher that her fleeing with the Apache scout had been something that Mrs. Belcher had been planning for several weeks in advance. According to Mrs. Pritchard—that’s Captain Dwayne Pritchard’s wife—Mrs. Belcher had fallen quite deeply in love with Black Twisted Pine.”
    â€œI’m sure that was something the major wanted to hear,” Longarm said, ironically, biting off the end of a three-for-a-nickel cheroot. “Hope he didn’t kill the messenger.”
    â€œI think it must have been something he suspected—deep down. I have it on good word from my own wife that Mrs. Pritchard shared the information with the major not to hurt him further but only because she didn’t want him going after the couple and possibly killing Black Twisted Pine. She wanted the major to know that his wife had not been abducted.”
    â€œSounds like Mrs. Pritchard is sympathetic to Mrs. Belcher and Black Twisted Pine,” Longarm said, cupping a match to the end of his cheroot.
    The captain nodded as he stared gravely along the trail. “She is, indeed.” He glanced at Longarm. “She thinks they should be left alone. She seems to believe that Lucy . . . er, Mrs. Belcher . . . will be happier in the Shadow Montañas with Black Twisted Pine than she has been with the major.”
    The captain had said all this in a neutral tone. Aside from using the major’s wife’s first name, that was. It was hard to tell how the young officer really felt about all this—Major Belcher, Mrs. Belcher, Black Twisted Pine, and the latter two running off together. Since the group still had a few miles left to ride before they’d reach Fort McHenry, Longarm decided to do a little probing. He didn’t know what information he might get out of the man that might help him to both track and understand his quarry.
    â€œTell me about Mrs. Belcher—will you, Captain?”
    The captain sighed and looked around, brushing at a blackfly buzzing around his thick, black dragoon mustache that bore not a hint of gray. Longarm thought he was probably still in his middle twenties.
    â€œWhat’s to say about her? My wife and I have had dinner several times with the Belchers, as we all take turns having the other officers over to our separate quarters. Not much to do out here when we’re not chasing hostiles. It’s a lonely place.”
    â€œBut about Mrs. Belcher . . .” Longarm urged, frowning at the captain as he puffed his cigar. He was a little puzzled by the man’s reluctance to talk about the woman.
    â€œMrs. Belcher is . . .” The captain stared straight ahead over his