Casca 46: The Cavalryman Read online

  There was a bucket by the door and he splashed water over his face, wiped himself then got ready for bed. His shoes he kicked under the bed and stretched out, his bare feet hanging off the end.

  The door opened. He sat up in surprise. He hadn’t heard the outer door being knocked on or opened. Maybe he had been splashing his face or something. “Hello,” he said to the dark shadow by the door. “Anything I can help with?”

  It was Helen. “Mr. Long, I’ve been thinking. Can I come in?”

  “Looks as if you’ve already done that, Miss. Be my guest.”

  Helen came closer, paused, then sat on the bed, her head down. Casey could half see her in the faint light, and she seemed to be still thinking. “I’ve seen you look my way plenty of times these past few weeks. Seems to me you’ve got something to say to me.”

  Casey wondered what to say to the girl. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t attractive. She was easily the best-looking girl he’d seen for a while, with her dark hair and fresh face. Her figure was filling out pretty nicely too. Going a while without the pleasures of a female was becoming more difficult to avoid when she was around. He’d had so much experience of women, he knew he could attract many without half trying. The problem he had was his immortality. One day things would end and he’d either have to leave her or she would leave him, and he’d miss her. He hated that; too many times his woman had died on him, and many times he’d had to leave before their suspicions about him not ageing or getting silver hair or lines on his face led to something bad.

  They’d stopped burning witches now but even so, he didn’t want to run the risk of being accused of being something inhuman. The thought chilled him. People were still damned superstitious. Though, try as he might, he couldn’t help falling for women. It hurt to leave them, but it hurt a damn sight more not enjoying one sat next to him on his bed looking at him with that come-on way they had. Aw shit, she wants me as much as I want her. It was getting too much to say no to.

  “Yes, Miss – Helen. I can’t help myself. You’re just the prettiest girl, you know.” Keep it simple.

  “Well, Casey, I’m thinking you’re a fine man, and someone who could well look after a woman like myself. Its a hard life out here, and someone like me would need a big strong husband to make a home. I could see myself settling down here or somewhere with you. I’ve been waiting for you to say something, but since you seem too shy to speak to me direct, I’ve had to do the talking myself. You don’t seem the shy type – is there something wrong with me?”

  “No, Helen,” Casey grinned, “its just that I’m never in one place for long. I’m not really the type for wedded bliss. I’ve had women before but for some reason I’ve just not been able to stay with any. I didn’t want to try to start something with you and then go my way leaving you here.”

  “Is that so?” She looked at him for a moment, appraising him. “Da says you’re not the one for me either. It seems you men want to keep me a pure maiden, unspoiled, to be admired from afar but not enjoyed close up. I’ve got feelings too, and I’m of the mind I want to enjoy some close-up pleasures. Even if, as you say, you’re not the marrying type or the settling down type, I’m thinking to myself here’s a man, and I want to enjoy him. You see anything wrong with that?”

  Casey shook his head. “Isn’t it against the Catholic religion to sleep with a man before your wedding night? And your father would be outraged if he knew you’d slept with me before getting hitched, surely.”

  “I’m a Protestant,” she said, mildly outraged at being thought of a Catholic. “One of the reasons Ma and Da left Lisburn, besides the potato famine. Lisburn is divided, Casey, like a lot of the north of Ireland. We Proddies, as we’re called, are a minority and we get blamed for lots of things, the famine for one. Folks get a wee bit odd when problems rear their heads, and so that’s when the fighting starts. So, no, we’re not as touchy about that kind of thing before marriage.”

  “Even so, I think your old man would come knocking on the door with a gun in his hand.”

  “He wouldn’t dare – and I’d have plenty to say to him if he did! This is not Ireland, Casey. It’s America where we are always told its the land of opportunities and I’m taking one now. You want me, I want you. I want to sleep with you tonight. So are you going to sit there discussing philosophy with me or want to share the night with me in something more pleasurable?”

  “Shit, you don’t hang about, do you?”

  She shook her head, unfastening her blouse. “But I do like to take time in certain things.”

  Casey tugged off his shirt. “So I hope. So be it, young lady. Slip under the blankets and let’s see how good you really are.”

  She chuckled and slipped off her remaining clothes. It was going to be an interesting night.

  ___

  That was the start of the problems. Although neither knew it, someone else had his eyes on the young and presentable Helen. He watched with growing envy as Casey and Helen spent longer and longer in one another’s company. Soon all the others got to know of the attachment between the two. Her father asked Casey whether he was going to marry Helen, and Casey gave a non-committal answer which didn’t satisfy the man.

  Others began to trickle in, seeking a new life on the other side of the mountains. Some went on, but others stayed. The settlement began to grow. Four new homesteads went up in a matter of three weeks and there were more animals brought with them that needed pens and shelters built. Casey and Buck Calloran had to go further and further for good wood, the best of the timber near the houses having been cut for buildings and the rest used for firewood.

  The two men climbed up a shallow gully and came to a growth of alder. “Yep,” Halloran said, giving the trees a good look. “Ah’m a-thinkin’ these’ll do.”

  Casey hefted his axe and began chipping away at the trunk. Halloran tutted his head. “Ye’m holdin’ it wrong, lad,” he growled and came over, reaching out for the handle. “Ah’ll show ye.”

  Casey thought he’d learned to do it the right way but shrugged. After all, the man knew his lumbering. As he passed it over, Halloran’s other hand came into view, holding a knife which he plunged into Casey’s ribs. It happened so fast there was no time to react or avoid it.

  Casey stood there in surprise, the shock of the blow transmitting itself through his body. Halloran pulled the blade clear and watched in satisfaction as Casey slumped to his knees, weakness coating him. He looked up and asked with his eyes as to why,

  “Ye’nt ‘aving the girl,” he said, a snarl on his lips. “She’s gonna be mine, not ye’s. Ah’m gonna marry the girl, so ye gotta git outta ma way.”

  Casey felt consciousness ebbing and his limbs growing cold. Bastard’s knife had gone in deep and cut into his heart. He was filling with blood inside, but it was already seeking to repair itself, he could feel it. As he fell face forwards his last thought was to rise from the dead and get back to the settlement as soon as he could. Halloran would be cut into bits and then....

  He had no further thoughts.

  Halloran wiped his blade. He’d have to drag the corpse away somewhere and hide it. His story would be a bear had gotten the man and he had only escaped himself by the skin of his teeth. Then he’d comfort the girl and work his way into her heart. Damn Long to hell.

  When he dragged the dead man he was surprised to feel warmth in his skin. It should be cold. He felt for a pulse. Nope. Breathing? Nope. The eyes were open slightly so he poked one. Nothing. He was a dead ‘un. So why was he still warm? Halloran scratched his head for a moment, then he shrugged and resumed dragging the dead weight down the slope and into a stand of brush. Leave him there, there was nothing around worth investigating. Maybe a wild animal might come take him which’ll help.

  Casey was left to rot, but he didn’t decompose. Instead his blood rerouted itself away from the damaged parts, until the cut was healed and then everything resumed its normal route. The heart began beating again, pumping blood and oxygen back though his
system, and Casey’s eyes blinked. His lungs rose and fell, and again life returned to his body. He groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, bringing up the blood that hadn’t been absorbed into his body.

  Spitting with distaste, he got to his feet, wiping his mouth. He looked around. How long had he been out? Not sure, but it was still daylight. It seemed to be the afternoon, so it could only be a few hours. One wound. Not bad, he thought. Maybe I’m getting better at healing? He briefly searched the area but saw nobody and nothing.

  He retraced his route back to the settlement, getting there last thing as darkness fell. Calloran would be there somewhere. He sneaked up to the big hut that had been put up the past couple of weeks for meetings and get-togethers and listened through the thin walls.

  Calloran was explaining the attack by the bear and Casey’s vain attempt to flee. Halloran had tried to intervene but the bear turned on him and he had no option but to run for his life. Casey gritted his teeth in fury. Then he heard Helen’s wail of denial. Poor bitch; she would be going through hell now all because of Calloran’s actions.

  Would he wait till Halloran was alone and deal with him? Nope, this was best done his normal way, no backstab, just a straight up-front method. He walked around the building and into the hall, standing there framed while everyone was facing away from him and looking at Calloran who was holding center stage. Calloran was the first to see him and he stopped in the middle of yet another explanation and went white.

  One by one the others turned around, puzzlement and astonishment on their faces. Helen shrieked in joy and ran to him, flinging her arms around him, babbling incoherently for a moment. Casey put an arm around her and squeezed reassuringly. “I’m alive,” he said loudly so everyone could hear. “No thanks to this bastard.”

  “What’s going on?” Schneider demanded. “What is all this?” He looked at the still shocked figure of Calloran. “You said he was dead!”

  “He tried to kill me,” Casey said, gently disengaging Helen’s hands and stepping in front of her, putting himself in the way of Calloran. “Tried to knife me through the ribs. Lucky I had something underneath my shirt, else no doubt I’d be dead right now.”

  Calloran was too stunned to speak. He knew he had killed the man now standing before him. This was too crazy for words. His eyes strayed to the blood-soaked area of his shirt and instinctively knew his stab had hit home.

  “This needs to be settled now,” O’Neill said, looking from one to the other. “Calloran, you talked of a bear, but there’s no sign of any bear wounds on Long at all. What the hell have you been drinking?”

  “Drinking, shit,” Casey growled. “He stabbed me when I was busy chopping a tree. And he took the axe I’d been using, so he had a helluva lot of time to take it if some bear had been attacking! And look,” he tugged at the rip in his shirt with the bloodied stain. “What’s the bet there’s some blood on his knife?”

  Calloran sensed the hostility growing, so he made a sudden decision to get the hell out of there. He took out Schneider with a roundhouse punch and sprinted for the door, smashing through it, taking it off its hinges and stumbling out into the open. Casey cursed and ran after him, clearing the broken door in one bound and pursued the fleeing man.

  Calloran turned at the edge of the settlement, knowing he wasn’t going to get away from his nemesis and his knife was in his hands. “Come on then you bastard!” he snarled, “this time I’ll get you well and good!”

  “Just you try it,” Casey said and came at him, fists clenched. Taking on a man armed with a knife was no hardship for him, for over the centuries he’d amassed a fairly big knowledge of unarmed moves, some of which he’d invented himself. Mostly though the techniques of the man he’d known a long time ago, Shiu Lao Tze, were what he used. The Way of the Open Hand, or that’s what Shiu had called it anyway.

  The first thrust of his opponent slid narrowly past his ribs, and Casey was within reach. One hand clamped on the knife arm, his thumb digging in deep to paralyze the nerves, while his other formed a curious half-fist and slammed into Calloran’s neck.

  Stunned, and with a tingling right arm, Calloran staggered backwards. Casey stepped forward and sent one fist into the man’s ribs, then his other crashed into the jaw. Calloran toppled like one of the trees he lumbered, hitting the dirt and remaining prone.

  The others came crowding round and nodded at the knockout blow that had been delivered. That had been one hell of a punch. Casey flexed his hands, then his arms and stepped back. “What you going to do with him?”

  “Well, we ain’t got a lawman here,” O’Neill said. “Dunno about anyone else here, but I say we kick him out and send him on his way.” He looked at Casey. “You alright with that?”

  “Guess so,” the Eternal Mercenary said thoughtfully, his right arm sliding once more around the welcome figure of Helen. “Don’t go in for killing defenseless people. He can go elsewhere and do his stuff there.”

  The rest concurred, glad the decision had been taken not to hang him. That wasn’t unknown, but they weren’t keen to deliver that kind of justice. Helen squeezed his side and he hissed in pain. “Oh, sorry!” she said, contrite. “Is it bad?”

  “No, just a skin lesion – it’ll heal quickly enough. Needs cleaning up though.”

  “Ah and so it does,” she smiled. “I’m thinking you’ll be needing help.”

  “You might be right,” Casey said. “Know of anyone willing?”

  She slapped his shoulder, then chuckled. “Come on, let’s get to our house and I’ll show you.”

  Casey grinned. Guess that was the rest of the night sorted out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A few more months went by but the problems didn’t go. This time it wasn’t directly a problem of Casey’s, but of the Tuckers. Sam had never been one of the orthodox kind of people, and this rankled with a few of the newcomers, especially one Joseph Biggs, a parson coming west to spread the word of God to the godless wilderness. Too much whiskey, loose morals and fornication going on, especially with the non-white skinned people.

  To him Mary and the two kids were abominations and had to be converted to God before their souls had passed beyond redemption. The big problem was Sam Tucker, a man who firmly rejected God – any god – and told Biggs to perform an obscene act with himself and insert his bible in the area reserved for Lucifer.

  Biggs called down the wrath of God on Tucker and denounced him from the small stand in the center of the settlement. It got on most people’s nerves after a few hours of ceaseless invectives and it ended, predictably, with Tucker knocking the parson to the ground, threatening him with further bodily harm if he continued.

  Now Tucker wasn’t that popular and his move had been a bad one. Enough people grouped together to force a banishment and they told Tucker and his three charges to leave. It was at this point that Casey intervened. He pointed out that Biggs had been the architect of the altercation and was nothing short of a hypocrite, preaching about a religion founded on love and tolerance and demonstrating the polar opposite.

  Casey couldn’t give a shit about Christianity, any more than any other religion, but he was damned if he was going to let a vindictive priest get away with it. He stood next to Tucker and the frightened kids and Mary. “Where are they going to go? You want to throw these two kids out just because of that piece of shit?” he pointed at the furious Biggs.

  “God will punish you for such sacrilegious words!” he thundered, pointing at Casey.

  “He already has, you fake,” Casey said. “Your religion is ill-served by people like yourself. Leave it to those who actually follow the bible, not your own sick minds.”

  “You defy the word of God?” Biggs screamed.

  Casey moved like lightning. Biggs ended up on his ass in the dirt, his lips smashed. “I defy your words, you nasty piece of shit. Now get the hell out of this place before someone forgets you’re masquerading as a pious man of God and kills you, like you deserve.”

  Biggs
scrambled to his feet, a hand to his bleeding mouth. “He struck me!” he slurred, blood oozing through his fingers. “He struck a man of God!”

  “A man of filth,” Casey replied, standing over the scared man who retreated, bleating for protection.

  Helen came running up, concerned. She clutched hold of her man’s arm and the rest of the settlers gathered, wondering what was going to happen. It was a heated debate, with O’Neill pleading for calm and level heads, but Biggs and the more religious people baying for blood. Eventually Schneider, who was the de facto head man, reluctantly turned to Tucker and Casey.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m left with little choice here. There’s too many people here wanting your hides. Striking a priest is a serious business, even if he is stirring things up. We’ve got far too many here now who won’t forget this and it’ll just make things here worse. I’m sorry,” he spread his hands helplessly.

  So Casey packed his few belongings. Helen stated she was going with him, no matter what her father said, and so the five set off back east towards the mountains. Tucker said he knew of a settlement where the natives were tolerated and that Casey and Helen were welcome to come along with them.

  Winter was approaching so they set off as quick as they could, tagging along with a few people heading that way that they encountered. At least hitching a ride in their wagons was better than walking.

  They ended up in the slopes east of the mountains as winter fell upon them and it was bitterly cold. They had a meagre tent for comfort and spent many nights huddled together for warmth.