Napier eyed him dubiously but continued on. “Walked right up to the Indians where they were getting ready to have a bit of fun with the soldiers and put a stop to it.”
Crowley’s grin was quick and savage. “And what did you say to them, Mister Slate?”
Slate looked directly at him. “Leave.” He shrugged. “They left.”
“So the Indians are gone and the soldiers are leaving.” Crowley nodded, a satisfied expression crossing his features and feeling decidedly alien there.
“Can’t be that many soldiers left.” Napier’s frown deepened and he looked around. “I don’t reckon that’s a bad thing just now.”
Slate spoke up, his voice still pained. “Might we be on our way, Mister Crowley? I’m feeling a bit faint.”
Mister Napier opened his mouth to say something else, but one look from Slate silenced him.
When the morning came the two men claimed their horses from the stables. A surprising number of the Cavalry’s horses were gone, despite the lack of riders, but no one was foolish enough to try for theirs.
Outside, the remaining soldiers were gathering together, preparing to head northeast, toward Camp Woodbine, if Crowley was remembering properly.
“Where are we headed today, Mister Crowley?”
Crowley looked at his companion and shrugged. The weather was hideous, but that was hardly unusual. “I took the time to listen to a few men chatting last night, after you had gone to sleep. The men were French and talking about Loup Garou.”
Slate frowned. “Werewolves?”
“You speak French, Mister Slate?”
“Not as well as I speak English, but I can manage. Spent a bit of time in Louisiana and dealt with my fair share of Cajuns.”
Crowley nodded. “We’re heading west, Mister Slate. We shall discuss what happened here when you feel more inclined to discussing the matters, but we are heading west to see if there are, in fact, werewolves hiding somewhere in the region.”
“You don’t suppose it’s merely wolves?”
“No. In my experience, wolves very rarely attack wagon trains.”
Slate nodded. “Well then, I imagine this will be an interesting journey.” The man seemed distracted and Crowley simply nodded. Let him have his time to think.
As they rode, Lucas Slate listened to the song that always played for him and, in listening, began to comprehend.
CROWDFUNDERS
Thank you to all who contributed:
David Stegora
Stefan Taylor
Jon Edwards
Robert Fleck
Lucas K. Law
Andrew Hatchell
Jaime McDougall
Kevin McAlonan
H Michael Casper
Samantha Warren
Marty Young
D. Nicklin-Dunbar
Deborah Sheldon
Jason Carr
Gerry Huntman
Nathaniel Buchanan
And the many who did so without a public name.
Thanks