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  “I don’t see anybody else around here who’s going to do it,” Ace said.

  * * *

  As on the previous Sunday, the morning meal was brought to the guardhouse later than usual but also was more substantial and the men were allowed to go outside to eat. When they were done, the men who requested it were given the makings and rolled cigarettes for themselves. Most were relaxed and happy that they weren’t going to have to toil in the hot sun all day.

  Not Vince MacDonald, though. Ace could tell that MacDonald was trying not to show it, but the big man was keyed up about something—and Ace had a pretty good idea what it was.

  MacDonald and Brunner sat together, leaning against the guardhouse wall. Brunner’s injured foot was stuck out in front of him, wrapped in a spare shirt instead of having a boot and sock on it. The two men were talking together quietly but fell silent as Ace and Chance approached.

  “What do you two want?” MacDonald asked them in a surly voice.

  The Jensen brothers sat down next to the other two men without waiting for an invitation. Keeping his voice quiet, Ace said, “You’ve been talking a lot the past few days, MacDonald, about getting out of here. Chance and I have come to the conclusion that you’re right.”

  “I don’t know what the devil you’re talkin’ about,” MacDonald snapped.

  “Look, you were the one who approached us more than once,” Chance said. “There’s no point in denying it now.”

  MacDonald glared at them. Brunner just looked nervous, as if he wished he had never gotten involved in this—whatever this was. Finally, MacDonald said, “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Because we want out of here as bad as you do,” Ace said.

  As the words left his mouth, he wondered if the simple statement contained some actual truth. He and Chance did want out of here. MacDonald’s plan might work. And yet they were trying to convince MacDonald to include them so they could stop his plan, rather than going along with it and maybe escaping. For a split second, Ace wondered if they would be better off if they truly did throw in with MacDonald.

  Then he discarded the idea. That would mean putting innocents in danger, most likely including Evelyn Sughrue. Ace knew that he and his brother could never do such a thing deliberately.

  For a long moment, MacDonald sat there scowling. Then he appeared to come to a decision.

  “In a little while, I’ll be takin’ Brunner here over to the infirmary so the doc can take a look at his foot. You two figure out a way to get over there once Brunner and I have been inside for a few minutes. When you do, you’re liable to hear a commotion inside. You jump the guards that’ll be outside and get rid of them. Grab their guns when you do.”

  “You want us to kill them?” Chance said.

  “I don’t care if they’re dead or not, as long as they can’t interfere with my plan,” MacDonald said. “Brunner and I will be comin’ out of there in a hurry, and I’d just as soon not have to deal with guards as soon as we step out of the door.”

  “What are you going to do in the infirmary?” Ace asked.

  MacDonald sneered and said, “You’ll see when the time comes. I’m still not sure I completely trust you boys. I’ve told you what you need to do, and that’s enough for now.”

  “All right,” Ace said, “but you’d better not try to double-cross us.”

  MacDonald let out a curt laugh. “I was thinkin’ it’s the other way around. And you know what happens to anybody who tries to double-cross me. They don’t live very long.”

  Ace let that veiled threat hang in the air for a moment, then asked, “How much time do we give you, once you’re in the infirmary?”

  “Five minutes ought to do it. It ain’t like I got a watch in my pocket, though, so just don’t be late. I want those guards taken care of.”

  Ace and Chance both nodded. “They will be,” Chance said.

  MacDonald grunted. “Now move on. Ain’t no need to make anybody suspicious by the two of you havin’ a long conversation with me.”

  The Jensen brothers stood up and moved away from MacDonald and Brunner, strolling casually as if they weren’t doing anything except stretching their legs. As they walked, Chance said from the side of his mouth, “I was thinking, Ace . . . Maybe we ought to go along with what MacDonald wants until we’re out of here . . .”

  “Earlier, I thought the same thing,” Ace admitted. “But that would mean putting Lieutenant Driscoll’s life in danger, and probably Evelyn’s, as well. I don’t see how we can do that.”

  Chance sighed and nodded. “You’re right. But say we stop the escape. Olsen’s still not going to let us go.”

  “No, but if we save the life of the major’s daughter, he’s bound to be more willing to listen to us. Convincing him of what’s really going on here is a longshot, but it may be our only play.”

  A minute or so later, Lieutenant Driscoll, accompanied by two troopers, walked up to the men gathered in front of the guardhouse and announced, “Anyone who requires medical attention, please step forward.”

  There was no sign of Major Sughrue, Lieutenant Olsen, or Evelyn this Sunday. That was a little surprising.

  None of the prisoners got to their feet except MacDonald. He reached down, took hold of Brunner’s arm, and helped the injured man up.

  “This man’s foot needs to be looked at,” MacDonald said. “It should’ve been done yesterday.”

  “Well, I doubt that he’s done much more damage to it in the meantime,” Driscoll said. “Can you walk on your own, Brunner?”

  “No, sir, not really,” Brunner said. “I need help.”

  “Very well.” Driscoll nodded curtly to MacDonald. “Bring him along.” He looked around. “Anyone else?”

  No one responded. Most of the men looked at the ground. Ace wondered if MacDonald had instructed them to do that.

  “All right.” Driscoll motioned to MacDonald and Brunner. “Come along.”

  The surgeon led the way, with MacDonald and Brunner coming along behind him, followed by the two troopers. Ace and Chance watched them go. So far, everything was proceeding according to MacDonald’s plan. Driscoll, MacDonald, and Brunner disappeared inside the adobe building that housed the infirmary. The two soldiers took up posts on the porch right outside the door.

  Ace still hadn’t seen Evelyn. Of course, it was possible she was already inside the infirmary. They wouldn’t know about that until things played out some more.

  In hurried whispers, the Jensen brothers talked about their next move. They had to get over to the infirmary without attracting too much attention or suspicion, and Ace could think of only one way to do that.

  “I’ll handle it,” Chance whispered. “I’m a better actor than you.”

  “I don’t know about—” Ace began, but he didn’t get any further than that before Chance abruptly dropped to his knees, clutched his midsection, and unleashed a breathless, quavering cry of agony that sounded like his entire innards were being ripped out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Chance’s actions came so quickly that the look of surprise on Ace’s face wasn’t totally an act. Maybe that was a good thing, because his reaction looked and sounded totally genuine as he cried, “Chance! What’s wrong?”

  Chance doubled over as he pressed his hands against his belly. “It’s like . . . a knife . . . in my guts!” he gasped. He lifted his head, stared wide-eyed at his brother. “I think I’m dying!”

  The first wail had attracted the trio of guards who’d been watching over the prisoners. Two of the troopers waved their rifles at the prisoners to keep them back while the third man came up to Ace and Chance and demanded, “What in blazes is goin’ on here?”

  “My brother’s sick,” Ace said as he bent over and took hold of Chance’s upper right arm. “You can see that for yourself. He needs to see the surgeon.”

  “No, he had his chance for that a few minutes ago,” the trooper said. “Sick call’s over.”

  “But he wasn’t sick
then,” Ace argued. “He’s had spells like this before. They come on him sudden-like, and he never knows when they’re going to happen.” He embellished the lie a little more. “He was really sick like this when he was a kid and almost died. Ever since then, he’s been fighting it. It’s been a while since he had a bout of it, so we hoped maybe it was finally over . . .”

  “Well, if he never died from it before, he’s not gonna die from it this time,” the trooper insisted.

  “That’s loco! If it had happened five minutes ago, you would’ve let him see the doc.”

  Chance groaned again, with even more misery in the sound this time.

  “I’m not gonna let a couple of prisoners wander off half the length of the fort by themselves.”

  “You could go with us,” Ace said. “It wouldn’t take but a couple of minutes, and then you could come right back here.”

  One of the other guards said, “I don’t want nobody dyin’ on my watch, Benjy.”

  “Oh, all right,” the first trooper said disgustedly. “Come on, but don’t lollygag around.”

  “Thanks, Private,” Ace said as he helped Chance to his feet. Chance acted a lot shakier than he really was, as they started stumbling toward the infirmary with the reluctant trooper following them.

  They weren’t there yet when Ace saw Major Sughrue and Evelyn come through the fort’s open gates, walking arm in arm. They appeared to be headed toward the infirmary. Ace could think of only one place outside the fort where they might have been on a Sunday morning. That thought, and the solemn expressions on the faces of both, told him that they had been visiting Amelia Sughrue’s grave.

  Ace was a little surprised that Frank Olsen wasn’t with them, but he supposed there were some parts of the major’s life that Olsen hadn’t been able to worm his way into.

  Sughrue and Evelyn parted company at the infirmary. The major left his daughter on the porch and turned to start across the parade ground toward the headquarters building. Evelyn paused on the porch and watched as Ace and Chance, still about fifty feet away, continued heading in that direction.

  “Blast it,” Ace muttered under his breath. “I was hoping Evelyn wasn’t anywhere around the infirmary this morning.”

  “My goodness,” Evelyn said as they reached the pair of steps leading up to the porch. She wore a long, dark green skirt and a white, long-sleeved blouse with frills on the bosom. A gold brooch with an ivory silhouette of a woman set on it was pinned at her throat. “What’s wrong with your brother, Mr. Jensen?”

  “Just an old stomach ailment, miss,” Ace said. He began helping Chance up the steps. The two troopers who had accompanied Lieutenant Driscoll on sick call stood to the left, obviously curious about why Ace and Chance were there but not particularly wary.

  Ace and Chance had just reached the porch when the infirmary door burst open and Vince MacDonald charged out. “There you are!” he cried as he lunged at Evelyn.

  Chance straightened from his bent-over hobble and threw himself at the two guards on the porch, hoping to occupy them while Ace dealt with the trooper who had followed them over here. The Jensen brothers hadn’t worked out this strategy in advance. They just knew what to do when trouble erupted.

  Ace whirled and dived back down the steps at the soldier. He crashed into the man and drove him backward off his feet. Taken completely by surprise, the trooper hadn’t even had time to raise his rifle.

  Ace got both hands on the Springfield and trapped it between them, using it to press the soldier’s body into the ground while he lifted a knee into the man’s groin. That made the man let go of the rifle.

  Ace rolled away and sprang lithely to his feet, taking the Springfield with him. He saw that MacDonald had wrapped both brawny arms around Evelyn Sughrue and lifted her off the porch, so that both her feet kicked wildly as she struggled to free herself. She screamed as she struck at MacDonald with small, clenched fists, but he ignored the blows.

  Behind him, Brunner had emerged from the infirmary as well. He had his left arm clamped around Lieutenant Driscoll’s throat as he forced the surgeon along in front of him. The scalpel in his right hand flashed in the morning sunlight as he pressed it to the side of Driscoll’s throat. Not much force would be required for Brunner to open the surgeon’s throat from ear to ear.

  To the left on the porch, Chance’s surprise attack had knocked both guards off their feet. Chance had sprawled onto the planks with them, but he recovered faster and was up in time to kick one of the men in the jaw and lay him out, unconscious. Ace had seen that from the corner of his eye as he was surging back to his feet.

  Chance scooped up the rifle dropped by the man who was out cold and backed away swiftly as he aimed at the other man lying on the porch, who seemed disoriented and unsure what to do.

  “Throw your rifle away!” Chance shouted at him.

  The trooper hesitated a second, then tossed his Springfield off the porch.

  Shouts filled the air above the parade ground as men heard the commotion and ran to find out what was happening. Ace knew that he and Chance had to act quickly before they were swarmed. He aimed the rifle in his hands at MacDonald and ordered in a loud, clear voice, “Let go of Miss Sughrue, MacDonald!”

  Chance leveled the Springfield he had grabbed at Brunner and barked, “Drop that scalpel and step away from the doc!”

  MacDonald’s face contorted and turned dark with rage as he stared at the brothers in disbelief. Obscenities began to spew from his mouth. “You’re double-crossing me!” he roared. “You’re really double-crossing me!”

  “We never intended to let you get away with hurting innocent people,” Ace said. “Now release Miss Sughrue and Lieutenant Driscoll. You can’t get out of here.”

  “You could’ve gotten away—”

  “We’re not criminals,” Ace said. “That’s what we’ve been trying to tell people all along.” He looked hard at Evelyn, who had fallen silent and stopped fighting in MacDonald’s grip. “We just need someone to listen to us and make sure the truth gets out. That’s why we pretended to go along with your plan.”

  Ace saw understanding in Evelyn’s green eyes. She knew why he and Chance had done what they’d done. And maybe . . . just maybe . . . she could get through to her father and persuade him to listen to reason instead of allowing Frank Olsen to manipulate him. Maybe she could open Sughrue’s eyes to the way Olsen was using him . . .

  A hard ring of metal pressed against the back of Ace’s neck, and a harsh voice grated, “Drop that rifle, Jensen, or I’ll blow your head off.”

  Ace recognized the voice and couldn’t stop himself from exclaiming, “Corporal Parnell?”

  An ugly grin spread across MacDonald’s face. “That’s right,” he told Ace. “It’s not just the fellas who deserted with me before that have decided they want out of here today.”

  Ace glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see Parnell except as a blur in the corner of his eye, but he saw three more troopers armed with Springfields forming a semicircle around the infirmary’s front porch as they pointed the weapons outward, toward the men approaching on the parade ground. These three, along with Parnell, must have been waiting close by for MacDonald to make his move, since they had arrived on the scene first and taken up what were obviously planned positions.

  Major Sughrue was close enough now to see MacDonald holding his daughter. “Evelyn!” Sughrue cried as he came to a stop. “MacDonald, put her down! Now!”

  “With all due respect, Major”—MacDonald’s mocking tone made it clear he didn’t mean any respect at all—“you don’t give me orders anymore, and the young lady’s not goin’ anywhere except with me.”

  “No!” Evelyn said. She started kicking and fighting again. MacDonald’s arms tightened brutally until she couldn’t do anything except gasp for breath.

  Sughrue lifted a shaking hand. “Don’t hurt her!”

  “Well, that’s gonna depend on you, Major.” MacDonald glanced at Ace and Chance. “And on those Jensen b
oys. You two gonna drop those rifles or not?”

  “Ace . . . ?” Chance said.

  “I don’t see that we have any choice,” Ace said, even though the words were bitter and sour enough that they tasted like gall under his tongue. He lowered the rifle he’d been pointing at MacDonald, rested the butt on the ground, and let it topple over.

  Up on the porch, Chance placed his rifle on the boards at his feet. MacDonald ordered, “Slide it over to me.” Chance did so, pushing the Springfield with his foot. MacDonald kept his left arm clasped tight around Evelyn while he reached down with his right hand and caught hold of the rifle. He lifted and aimed the heavy weapon one-handed. It took a big, strong man to do such a thing, but MacDonald managed with apparent ease.

  Quite a crowd of troopers had gathered around the infirmary by now and milled around in confusion. If they were to rush the place, they would overwhelm MacDonald and his handful of allies with ease, although likely not without suffering a few casualties.

  What held them back was the threat to the lives of Evelyn Sughrue and Lieutenant Driscoll. Because of that, MacDonald held the upper hand right now, and he knew it.

  Ace glanced around the crowd, surprised that he still didn’t spot Lieutenant Frank Olsen anywhere. Clearly, Olsen wasn’t even on the post this morning, or else he would have heard the commotion and come to see what it was about.

  “Let these men through from the guardhouse.” MacDonald called out three names. Ace recognized them as three of the men who had deserted from Fort Gila with the sergeant before, part of the group that had wound up getting caught in Packsaddle. Ace wasn’t sure why the others apparently weren’t involved in this escape attempt, unless they had decided they didn’t want to risk getting even deeper into trouble.

  Some of the other troopers had realized what was going on. The ones who had brought their rifles with them held the weapons ready, but most of the soldiers had been off duty and were unarmed. Some were dressed only in uniform trousers and their long-handled underwear.

  The ones who were armed looked to Major Sughrue for orders. Sughrue glared at MacDonald for a long moment that grew more tense as it stretched out. But then the major sighed and made a vague gesture with one hand.