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  “Stay low when we start out,” Ace said, “and then when we get closer to the fort, we’ll need to get down and crawl.”

  “Watch out for rattlers,” Chance added dryly. “Crawl over one of those varmints, and you’re liable to let out a yell that’d wake folks up in Packsaddle.”

  The brothers heard the lieutenant swallow hard. “I appreciate the advice, despite the fact that you’re civilians. I have to admit that even though I’ve been in the army for several years, I’ve never, ah, taken part in any action against the enemy.”

  Ace said, “It’s a shame the first time has to be against fellow soldiers.”

  “If Olsen has engaged in the activities you’ve told me about, he doesn’t deserve to be called a soldier any longer.” Slattery nodded firmly. “Shall we go?”

  Ace squinted up at the stars coming out in the ebony sky and nodded. “Yeah, I reckon it’s late enough. Come on.”

  Slattery had a few last words for the nine troopers under his command, then he and Ace and Chance slipped out of the cluster of rocks and headed toward the fort.

  They moved quickly but as silently as possible, the only sound to mark their passage being the faint crunch of sandy soil under their boots. They circled toward the rear of Fort Gila, and when they were about two hundred yards from the wall, Ace motioned for them to get down on the ground.

  From there they went ahead on their bellies, using the small patches of shadow cast by clumps of brush as cover for their movements wherever possible. Time seemed to drag as they crawled toward the adobe wall.

  Ace listened closely for the telltale whir that would tell him he was approaching a rattlesnake, but he didn’t hear anything of the sort. Luck was with them, and none of the scaly monsters were in their path tonight.

  He wished they’d had a chance to study the frequency of the guard patrols, but maybe once they reached the wall, they could lie there for a few minutes and listen to the footsteps on the other side enough to get an idea of when would be the best time to make their move. He could communicate that to Chance and Slattery when they got there.

  Another few yards . . . Ace pulled with his elbows and pushed with his boot toes, and then the wall loomed right above him. He put out a hand and touched Chance and Slattery on their shoulders, stopping them. Leaning close to Chance’s ear, he breathed, “Listen for the guards. We need to know how often they come around.”

  Chance nodded and passed that along to Slattery. The three of them lay there, motionless and silent, as more long minutes dragged by.

  Ace heard the sentries’ footsteps passing by and counted the seconds between each set. About a minute went by from one passing to the next. He wished there was a bigger gap than that. Only one man could go over the wall at a time. More movement than that would represent too great a risk of being spotted.

  He heard something else while he was lying there. Somewhere in the fort, men’s voices were raised in talk and laughter, almost like there was a party going on. What could they be celebrating at Fort Gila tonight? The safe return of Evelyn Sughrue? Or something else?

  They would find out when they got in there, Ace told himself.

  Again he whispered in Chance’s ear. “I’ll go first. If they happen to spot me, I’ll put up enough of a fight and cause enough commotion that you and the lieutenant ought to be able to slip inside without being noticed. Go on and get to the major, like we planned.”

  “Blast it, Ace, don’t get yourself killed!” Chance whispered back.

  “I don’t intend to. After I’ve gone, count sixty and then send Slattery. That ought to have him going over between two sentries. You can come a minute after he does. I’m going to head for the nearest building and wait there in its shadow until the two of you join me, assuming I don’t get caught. All of that clear?”

  “Yeah,” Chance said, “but I don’t like all this skulking around. Jensens kick down the door and start shooting.”

  “Not when they’re as outnumbered as we are. Remember when Smoke killed those nineteen gunslingers in one battle up in Idaho, or wherever it was? He had to be smart about it, not just bull his way in.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m just ready to see Olsen get what’s coming to him.”

  “Me, too,” Ace agreed. “And with any luck, it’ll be soon.” He pushed up on hands and knees, listened to the regular footsteps of a trooper crunch past on the other side of the wall, and counted to thirty. Then he breathed, “Here I go,” stood up, pulled himself onto the wall, and rolled over it to drop feetfirst into the fort.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  He landed with almost no noise, dropped into a crouch, and looked to his left. Movement at the corner of the compound caught his eye. The sentry coming toward him had just made the turn. The back of the blacksmith shop was ten normal steps away. Ace made it in five.

  No shout came from the soldier on guard duty. Ace pressed himself against the wall in the thick shadow at the building’s corner and listened. The trooper’s pace never altered.

  It was a good thing he wasn’t an Apache, Ace thought. Otherwise hostiles would be inside the fort now.

  The soldier passed on by. Ace counted inside his head, and so he knew when it was time for Lieutenant Slattery to make his appearance. The lieutenant rolled over the wall—a little more clumsily and not as quietly as Ace had managed—and darted over to the blacksmith shop in response to Ace’s hissed summons. Slattery was panting as he pressed himself against the wall.

  “Quiet as you can, Lieutenant,” Ace whispered.

  “Of . . . of course. This is rather nerve-wracking.”

  It was nothing so far, Ace thought, but he didn’t see any point in saying that.

  Chance joined them a minute later. Since they had worked out their plans ahead of time, nothing more needed to be said. Ace led the way as they crept around the building. Staying in the shadows beside it, he edged up to the front corner and studied what he could see of the fort. From this position, most of the buildings on both long sides of the compound were visible.

  The headquarters building was lit up brightly, and yellow light glowed in all the windows of the house Major Sughrue shared with Evelyn. Lamps burned in the barracks as well. Howden-Smyth’s men were gathered in front of the sutler’s store, some of them passing in and out as they no doubt sampled the whiskey for sale inside.

  Ace looked again at the headquarters building. Four men stood on the porch: Lieutenant Frank Olsen, Eugene Howden-Smyth, Marshal Hank Glennon, and Judge Horace Bannister from Packsaddle. The four main conspirators in the scheme that had cost the lives of a number of men and placed an innocent young woman in jeopardy. Ace wished there was a way to strike at them while they were all there together, but right now any such attempt would just backfire.

  He pointed them out, though, to Lieutenant Slattery and explained who each man was.

  “They’ll be dealt with in due course,” Slattery whispered, “but right now we need to find Major Sughrue.”

  “Follow me,” Ace told him.

  He catfooted his way through the darkness and started along the rear of the line of buildings leading to the commanding officer’s quarters. Chance and Slattery trailed him. They all paused now and then to let one of the sentries pass by without noticing them.

  “The discipline here is very lax,” Slattery commented during one of those moments. “Those men aren’t being the least bit vigilant!”

  “I’m sure actual military discipline has slipped since Olsen’s been running things,” Ace said. “He was only interested in putting men in the guardhouse so he could make them work on that road, not in keeping up with all the other duties.”

  “And the major’s been too busy wallowing in his grief to notice,” Chance added. “I hate to say that, but it’s the truth.”

  The sentry had passed on by. The three men resumed their stealthy mission.

  When they reached their destination, Ace slipped along one of the side walls toward a lighted window. The shutters were open t
o let in the cooling night air, and as he paused beside it, flattening against the adobe wall, he heard muttering from inside.

  At first he thought he was eavesdropping on an actual conversation, but then he realized he heard only one voice—and that belonged to Major Flint Sughrue. It quickly became obvious who the major was talking to.

  “—so proud of her, darling,” Sughrue was saying. “I’m sure she’ll be the most beautiful bride this part of the territory has ever seen. No, the most beautiful bride in all of Arizona!” He paused, then said, “I just wish I could be certain that she’s doing the right thing . . . What’s that? Yes, yes, Eugene is a wealthy man and will be even more so in the future, but wealth isn’t everything. He’s not . . . well, he’s not a military man, and I thought Evelyn might find some excellent young officer, one of these days . . . But as long as she’s happy, I suppose that’s all that matters. The thing is, dear, I’m not convinced that she is . . .”

  Ace edged his head into the window enough to look through a gap in the curtains over the opening. He saw Major Sughrue pacing back and forth in the house’s parlor, hands clasped behind his back and a worried frown on his face. He wore dress uniform, complete with saber, for his daughter’s wedding.

  Despite everything that had happened, Ace felt sorry for the man. He hadn’t asked for the sorrow that had unhinged his mind, and he’d had no reason to suspect that one of his junior officers would turn out to be so ruthless and corrupt. As Slattery had pointed out, there was nothing in Frank Olsen’s military record to indicate that he was going to turn bad.

  That was what had happened, though, and now that evil had to be dealt with.

  “I’ll go in first,” he whispered to Chance and Slattery as Sughrue continued to pace inside the room.

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Chance said.

  Ace waited until Sughrue turned his back and stalked toward the other side of the room. Then, with quick, lithe agility, Ace pulled himself up on the windowsill, swung his legs through the opening, and dropped his feet to the plank floor.

  Sughrue heard him and turned around. The major’s eyes opened wide in surprise. Ace was already moving toward him, slipping the gun from his waistband as he did so. He didn’t want to hurt Sughrue, but he couldn’t allow the man to make an outcry, either.

  Sughrue opened his mouth to yell while at the same time reaching for the scabbarded saber on his hip. Ace lunged at him, clamped his left hand over Sughrue’s mouth, and rammed the major against the wall. He stuck the Colt’s barrel under Sughrue’s jaw and said, “Don’t do it, Major! Let go of that sword.”

  Sughrue glared hate at him, but he let go of the saber’s grip and the blade slid back down the three or four inches he had withdrawn it. Sughrue’s angry gaze darted over Ace’s shoulder. He knew Chance and Slattery were climbing through the window. Maybe the sight of Slattery’s uniform would calm Sughrue down.

  “Listen to me, Major,” Ace said with urgent intensity. “We’re on your side. You may not believe that, but it’s true. We just want to help you . . . and Evelyn.”

  At the sound of his daughter’s name, Sughrue let out some angry grunts behind Ace’s muffling hand. The words weren’t coherent, but the major’s state of mind was obvious.

  Chance came up on Ace’s right, Slattery on his left. The young officer snapped to attention and lifted his hand in a salute. That was a good move, Ace thought. Familiar military routine might get through to Sughrue better than anything else.

  “I’m Lieutenant Patrick Slattery, sir, here on a special mission for the War Department. I’d like to show you my orders and give you my report. Permission to do so?”

  Ace saw the anger fading in Sughrue’s eyes, to be replaced by confusion. He said, “I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth now, sir, if you’ll promise not to yell. Can you do that?”

  The anger came back for a second, but then Sughrue nodded curtly. Ace lowered his hand and took the gun away from Sughrue’s jaw.

  Slattery was still standing rigidly at attention, holding the salute. Sughrue straightened and brushed off his jacket, then returned the salute and asked, “What’s the meaning of this, Lieutenant?”

  Slattery relaxed slightly. “As I said, sir, I’m here on orders directly from the War Department.” He reached inside his jacket, took out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to the major. “I was sent in response to a report you submitted about the construction of a road from Fort Gila to a mine located in the Prophet Mountains.”

  “Yes, yes,” Sughrue said impatiently. He unfolded the paper Slattery had given him and looked at it for a few seconds, then seemed to be satisfied with its genuineness. “Work on the road is progressing at a satisfactory pace, and that’s what I reported.” He looked at Ace and Chance. “What are you doing with these two deserters? I should summon the sergeant of the guard—”

  “Ace and Chance Jensen are not deserters, Major, and that road you’ve been building . . . the War Department never ordered that such a road be constructed.”

  Sughrue stared at him. “What! That’s ridiculous! Of course those were my orders.”

  “Did you actually see those orders, Major?” Slattery asked.

  Sughrue’s frown deepened. “Certainly, I . . . Well, now that I think about it . . . I know my aide filed them. They’ll be over in my office. Lieutenant Olsen told me about them . . .”

  “Olsen’s a crook,” Chance said. “He and Howden-Smyth are in it together. They’re just using you to get that road built so they can make more money off that mine.”

  Ace might have eased into it more, but Chance was probably right: best to get things out in the open, because they had no idea how much time they had.

  “That’s a very serious accusation, especially from a deserter,” Sughrue responded.

  “We’re not—” Chance broke off in frustration.

  “Major, I give you my word as an officer that these men are not deserters.” Slattery nodded faintly to Ace and Chance, which Ace took as an indication that he had finally accepted their story as the truth, now that he had seen Major Sughrue’s state of mind for himself. “They’re simply innocent civilians who got caught up in Lieutenant Olsen’s scheme and almost lost their lives as a result of it.”

  “And that’s not the worst of it, sir, by any means,” Ace said. “Olsen is forcing your daughter to marry Howden-Smyth so they can make her a prisoner up at the mine and keep her from telling you the truth.”

  “Evelyn,” Sughrue breathed. “You say she’s being forced to marry that Englishman?”

  “That’s right, sir. She knows what’s really been going on. They threatened your life to make her go along with them. If you talk to her, I’m sure she’ll tell you. But you have to have Olsen arrested first.”

  For a second, Ace had seen rational thought in Sughrue’s eyes and knew they were getting through to the man. But now the major exclaimed, “Arrested! But . . . but I rely on Frank. Without his help, I couldn’t have kept going here at the fort after . . . after my wife . . . No! This is a pack of lies! I’ve been following orders—”

  Sughrue stopped short. He turned his head and peered past Ace, Chance, and Slattery as if looking at something else. For a moment, they seemed to have disappeared from the room as far as Sughrue was concerned. He was totally focused on something beyond the three of them.

  Finally, he said, “I . . . I understand, dear. If you believe this story is the truth, then . . . it must be. I know I never . . . never really trusted that Englishman . . .”

  He brought his hands up, clapped them over his rugged face, and shook with soundless sobs.

  Ace had a pretty good idea who Sughrue had been talking to. If that was what it took to get him to see the truth clearly, then Ace had no problem with that. Besides, despite his youth, he knew not to condemn such things out of hand as delusions. He remembered the line from Shakespeare: There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy . . .

  �
�It’s all right, Major,” Lieutenant Slattery said gently. “You’ve been through a great deal, and all that matters now is setting things right. To make a start on doing that, you need to call some men in here and order them to take Lieutenant Olsen into custody. But discreetly, so that he doesn’t know what’s happening—”

  Sughrue’s hands dropped away from his face, which was mottled red with rage now. His brain had cleared enough for him to realize how much Olsen had duped and used him, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  Sughrue wheeled around and started toward the door. Ace called, “Major! Major, stop! Where’s Evelyn?”

  Stopping short, Sughrue looked back over his shoulder and snapped, “In my office, waiting for me. The ceremony was to begin as soon as I got there.”

  “Call the sergeant of the guard and some of his men in here,” Slattery suggested. “You can give them their orders—”

  Again, madness swept over Sughrue’s features, wiping away the last vestiges of control. He yanked his saber out of its scabbard and shouted, “I’ll kill that traitor!” He rushed for the door.

  Ace and Chance leaped after him, but too late. Sughrue slammed the door open and stepped outside. He raised the saber high and bellowed, “Olsen!”

  Heads snapped around all over the fort as the major charged across the parade ground, yelling incoherently and brandishing the saber.

  That was when the gates swung open, hoofbeats pounded, and four riders raced into Fort Gila, led by the Indian tracker. “Those Jensen boys!” he shouted over the commotion. “They’re here!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  No matter how well you planned—and they really hadn’t had a chance to do that in this case—things went wrong, Ace told himself as he sprinted after Major Sughrue. On the porch of the headquarters building, the four men had turned to stare at the major in surprise. Olsen saw Ace and Chance spill out of the house behind Sughrue, and his face twisted in anger as he shouted, “Stop them!”