Chapter 8 – In Too Deep

August 1865

Cape Girardeau, MO

It was well into the night. Peyton ended up giving into Kid Colt’s constant negging and they turned back for Marshall and Ira. When they met up with them, the two had followed Captain Jack Bennett and his rebels to a military base. Marshall and Ira were the only two willing and able to track them west.

Ira gave them a brief debriefing and Peyton realized he was already getting in too deep. Rebel Captain Bennett had joined up with a sinister Iroquois and the rest of their gang, who had raided a military base after the botched bank robbery. Now they were holding twelve coloured infantrymen hostage, continuing to make their way west on a violent trollop of folly.

Peyton was playing his retirement too close to the chest. He could not afford such reckless tracks. But something pulled him towards them. Some ancillary influence that he could not yet see drove Peyton to stay with this clandestine posse. The path of the rebels seemed to be taking them to Cape Girardeau, a small port town south of St. Louis.

When they got into Cape Girardeau the streets were quiet. It was early in the morning. They saw the last of the rebel troops gathering at a supply boat dock.

"Who wants to go?"

"Ira, it ain't our place," argued Peyton.

"Hell, I'll go," rallied Kid Colt.

"I'll stay behind with you. We can try for a ferry across."

"That's a lot of money, Buck."

"I got some money."

Marshall told Ira and Kid Colt to go check out the docks, while he and Peyton searched for a ferry to cross the river; all the while he prayed to God, Peyton didn't remember how he said this was the end of the line with them. Even though he was clearly troubled, Marshall felt a kinship with Peyton. It’s like their lives had been moved together by the hands of God, living in harmony, balancing and off-setting one another. Kid Colt and Ira no doubt would be at the supply docks by now.

Marshall and Peyton found a casino called the Boathouse, "STEAM" they advertised, "A GAMING FERRY BOAT!" You could bring your horses, hitch them on the deck of the ship, and go inside while the massive ferry slowly took you upriver. Marshall and Peyton rode onto the casino boat as Kid Colt and Ira entered the supply ship at the docks.

Marshall approached the desk in the lobby. "How much for four across?" he asked, as Peyton surveyed the casino below.

A character at the poker table caught his attention, a member of his rotten past. He could not take his eyes off of him. The hair on his skin rose. Chills roasted his spine. The same he felt when Ira mentioned the names of Captains Bennett and Kildare.

Ira and Kid Colt looked around the supply boat. No one was there. When they found the negro battalion tied to the deck they realized it was a trap, and the boat was drifting out, into the river.

"There's no time!" yelled Kid Colt.

He got back on his horse and raced it off the boat, narrowly making it safely onto the docks. Ira shot the rope off with his rifle, but then saw that they were all individually tied down. It was the twelve-soldier battalion that the rebels took hostage. This was no supply boat, it was an execution pyre. Their stifled cries rang out in Ira’s ear as he ran for his horse. He took another shot, snapping an arm free from the ropes on one of the soldiers, but wounding his hand.

“DAMMIT!” Ira kicked his horse in an attempt to combat the panic surging around him and then the boat began exploding all around him.

The explosions went down the deck and into the boat’s engine room. They must have set dynamite all the way down into the gulley. Ira rode his mount as hard as it could go. The boat was too far away from the docks now. He wasn’t going to make the jump. It didn’t matter. Ira was a soldier, not some green boy, or outlaw.

Ira and his horse ran straight off the boat and into the water. The fire barely missed them, nipping at the horse’s hooves as they glided down into the water. He held on tight to his reigns and the horse, with all four of its legs still churning the shallow depths, brought both of them ashore next to the docks. Ira got the horse out unharmed, or really the horse got him out unharmed.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

The rebels were still around somewhere. They had to have lit the fuse close by. Kid Colt motioned Ira to follow him. He had caught the Iroquois’ trail. They rode out of the docks and caught up with the strange man. The Iroquois led them into the Boathouse Casino Ferry, where they unknowingly reunited with Marshall and Quade.

They tagged their horses and were shown to their rooms. Marshall had gone all out. The hostess took them up as Kid Colt slipped away unnoticed and headed right for the casino. After they got settled in, Quade walked into Marshall's room.

"I've been honest with you boys so far and, there’s one thing about all this-"

"You got somethin' on your mind, Peyton?" interrupted Marshall.

"I call bullshit."

"Bullshit?"

"Your name is Buck Troy?"

"Yes, it is."

"You ‘spect me to believe you’re named after some gay pirate?"

"Ha- what?"

"I don't doubt the Troy. And I know a thing or two about the nation, being a

Westerner an' all-"

"Westerner?" mocked Marshall.

"With that accent. You got to be from New York, am I right?"

Ira watched the two go back and forth without intruding. Eager to see where it led.

"That’s right." answered Marshall.

"Like the railroad trust company?"

"What?"

"Trojan Railroads," Peyton explained.

Marshall was unsettled and speechless.

"As in the Troy family?" persisted Peyton.

"Yeah," he struggled to recover," Wyatt, Ivy, and Marshall, what about'em?"

"Ivy? What’s that some sort of family nickname?"

“Its roman numerals for four, after junior and third,” Ira said, providing some context fuel.

“Sounds like rich people shit to me.”

"You're Marshall Troy?" Ira asked.

Marshall could not avoid it anymore. Another lie would be too blatant now. He had to give them an answer. As much as he felt a sense of comradery growing with these two it was still too early to trust them. Could they be trusted? His options ran dry. So he decided to go against his gut.

"I am."

"Goddamn!" Quade slapped his leg.

"I don't believe it," Ira gasped incredulously.

"You’re tellin' me that you're one of the richest men in America?"

"That's right."

"Do they know you're gone?" continued Quade.

He nodded his head, "But they don't know where," pointed Marshall.

“Good lord,” Ira exclaimed, “Put together, you two practically got the whole country after you.”

They all started laughing. Ira was beginning to feel the heat of riding amongst such premieres. Peyton stared through a mirror of polarity; Marshall being his reflection. And Marshall felt the dred roll in. The jig was up. He knew it would only be a matter of time now, until they found him; until FreeLander found him.

"You have to come with us, Quade" demanded Marshall.

"What're you talkin' 'bout?"

"To Dodge!"

Peyton got up and grabbed Marshall. Ira rushed up behind the outlaw and tried to pull him off. "Listen Troy. There ain’t no way in hell I'm goin' back there."

Marshall chose his next eight words carefully.

"Then why are you still on this boat?"

Peyton released Marshall and stepped back. The entire ferry shifted as it disembarked from the shore. They were officially on their way across the Mississippi. Peyton racked his mind for the answer. "The Iroquois..." he muttered, "You said he..."

Marshall looked sympathetically at Peyton. He did not envy his paralyzing demons, almost visibly rattling his mind.

Out of the moment, Ira looked around "Where's the kid?"

This spelled trouble.

There was only one place Kid Colt would be. Ira rushed out of the rooms and down to the casino floor. Marshall followed Ira. And Peyton, after snapping out of it, tailed them both back down to the casino.