The Last Mission Of The Seventh Cavalry. Charley Brindley
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in command,” Alexander said. “And that other officer we saw yesterday on the black charger must be the headman.”
“I wonder what his name is.”
“You’ll have to ask Tin Tin that question. Those Vocontii must be a constant threat. They’ve attacked twice in the last two days, and each time we beat them back, they melt away into the forest, then regroup for another assault.”
“Like guerilla fighters.”
“What would have happened in that battle today if we hadn’t been there?” Alexander asked.
“There must have been over five hundred of them, and with the foot-soldiers and wagons spread out in a long line, the bandits are very effective.”
“They just grab what they can from the wagons,” Alexander said, “and when the foot-soldiers and cavalry charge in, they run with whatever they can carry.”
“Did you notice these people use some kind of horn to alert everyone?”
“Yes.” Alexander watched Autumn adjust the blanket around Kawalski’s shoulders. “I guess three blasts on the trumpet means, ‘We’re under attack.’”
They heard no news about Captain Sanders for the rest of that day.
The platoon settled into a routine, and, staying in small groups, they explored the camp. The camp followers had set up a rudimentary market in a section near the center of the encampment. After lunch, Joaquin, Sparks, Kari, and Sharakova set off toward the market to see what was on offer.
“Hey,” Lojab yelled from behind them, “where you guys going?”
“To the market,” Sparks said.
“Shut up, Sparks,” Sharakova said under her breath.
“Good,” Lojab said, “I’ll come with you.”
“Wonderful,” Sharakova whispered to Karina. “God’s gift to the Seventh Cav will regale us with his sparkling personality and dazzling wit.”
“If I just shoot him,” Karina said, “do you think Sarge would court-martial me?”
“Court-martial?” Sharakova said. “Hell, you’d get the Medal of Honor.”
They were still laughing when Lojab caught up with them. “What’s so funny?”
“You, Bull Donkey,” Sharakova said.
“Up yours, Sharakova.”
“In your dreams, Low Job.”
They walked through a section of camp occupied by the light cavalry, where the soldiers were rubbing down their horses and repairing leather tack. Beyond the cavalry were the slingers who practiced with their slingshots. The bulging bags on their belts contained rocks, chunks of iron, and lumps of lead.
“There’s the market.” Sparks pointed to a grove of trees just ahead.
Under the shade of the oak trees, the market was crowded with people buying, selling, haggling, and bartering bags of grain for meat, cloth, and hand tools.
The five soldiers walked along a winding path between two rows of merchants who had their wares laid out on the ground.
“Hey, guys,” Karina said, “check that out.” She pointed to a woman buying some meat.
“That’s our brass,” Sparks said.
“No shit, Dick Tracy,” Sharakova said.
The woman counted out some spent cartridges the platoon had left on the ground after the battle.
“She’s using that stuff like money,” Karina said.
“Three,” Joaquin said. “What did she get for three shells?”
“It looks like about five pounds of meat,” Karina said.
They walked on, watching for more brass.
“Look there.”
Sparks pointed at a man haggling with a woman who had some cheese and eggs spread out on a white cloth. He offered her one cartridge for a large block of cheese. The woman shook her head, then used her knife to measure off about half the cheese. The man said something, and she measured off a bit more. He tossed a cartridge on the white cloth. She cut off the piece of cheese and handed it to him with a smile.
“These people are a bunch of idiots,” Lojab said, “trying to turn our brass into money.”
“Looks like it’s working pretty well,” Karina said.
“Hey.” Lojab sniffed the air. “You guys smell that?”
“I smell smoke,” Sharakova said.
“Yeah, right,” Lojab said. “Somebody’s smoking pot.”
“Well, if anyone could detect marijuana in the air, it’d be you.”
“Come on, it’s over this way.”
“Forget it, Lojab,” Sharakova said. “We don’t need to be looking for trouble.”
“I just want to see if I can buy some.”
“We’re on duty, you numbskull.”
“He can’t keep us on duty twenty-four hours a day.”
“No, but right now, we are on duty.”
“What Sarge doesn’t know won’t hurt nobody.”
Lojab walked down a slope toward a small stream. The other four soldiers stood watching him for a moment.
“I don’t like this,” Joaquin said.
“Let him go,” Sparks said. “Maybe he’ll learn a lesson.”
Lojab walked along the stream, then around a bend and out of sight.
“Come on,” Sharakova said, “if we don’t watch his back, he’ll get his balls handed to him.”
Chapter Nine
When they caught up with Lojab, he stood at the edge of a group of thirty foot-soldiers standing in a ring, watching two men fight. They laughed and shouted, egging on the fighters.
“The smoke around here is thick enough to get an elephant high,” Joaquin said.
The men were passing small bowls around. Each man would inhale deeply over a bowl, then pass it on. The clay bowls were filled with smoldering hemp leaves.
“Mind if I try that?” Lojab said to one of the foot-soldiers.
The soldier looked him over, mumbled something, then shoved him backwards, into Sparks.
Karina flipped on her comm switch. “Hey, Sarge. You online?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“We might have a little confrontation here.”
“Where are you?”
“In the woods, below the market.”
“What the hell you doing down there?”
Lojab unslung his rifle, but before he could bring it around, two of the foot-soldiers grabbed him, while another man took away his rifle.
“We can discuss that later,” Karina said. “We’re going to need some help.”
“All right. How many should I bring with me?”
Karina looked around at the foot-soldiers; the men looked like they were ready to enjoy a good fight. “How about everybody?”
“We’ll be there in ten.”
The two foot-soldiers dragged Lojab into the ring and held him as a big, hairy man stepped from the crowd and punched him in the stomach.
“Hey, you ugly son-of-a-bitch,” Sharakova said, “knock it off.”
She stepped into the ring, cradling her rifle. The man looked the young woman over for a moment, then laughed