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"What about the security guards?" Lieutenant Zhao asked, extending the metaphor.
Valentine tapped the corner of the map showing the
Kurian Tower. "You don't have to worry about that. It's my job. Even if we don't get him, we should be able to stop him from coming after you with the Hoods."
Styachowski's face went blank. She would assume command of the operation if something happened to Valentine's group. "Okay, our train up to the front is in two days. Those of you on the train detail, watch them send out the train north tomorrow morning. See where the guards are. They'll be expecting spectators; it's the first train to cross the bridge. Be sure to cheer your lungs out as it goes over."
* * * *
The meeting dispersed, but one soldier waited outside with the patience of a plow horse. Jefferson, the Texas teamster, smoked a cigarette wrapped up in the distinctive gray-green paper of a discarded New Universal Church Guidance propaganda sheet.
"You had something for me, sir?"
"Two things, Jefferson. First, these." Valentine handed him a half dozen of the boxes of cigars he'd acquired from Mantilla in a waterproof canvas pocket. Jefferson smelled the tobacco as though it were a bouquet of roses.
"Thank you, sir." The teamster couldn't keep his eyes from narrowing in suspicion, though.
"You're right, Jefferson, it's a last favor. You've gone above and beyond the past couple of months. You were just supposed to get the wagons safely to a Southern Command outpost, and ever since the ambush outside of Bern Woods you've been running with us. Time for you to go home. If you'd like to try, that is."
As Jefferson smiled, Valentine could see the spaces where the Quislings had knocked out teeth. "I sure would. But I want to be here for this fight."
"Sorry. I'm giving you my horse, a TMCC map and a courier warrant clearing you to Hot Springs. One favor, though. I've got some papers I'd like you to drop off with Colonel Meadows at Bullfrog's Station. Can you find it again?"
"Easy enough, if I've got the right ID." Valentine liked the cheery confidence in his voice.
"You can leave whenever you like, but the sooner, the better."
Jefferson took a long drag on the homemade cigarette, muscles at the corners of his mouth working.
"Out with it, Jefferson."
"You got some good men here, sir. I hate to leave them if a fight's in the cards. Feels too much like running."
"It's not Texas' fight."
"There's a lot who think that way. I'm not one of them."
Valentine offered his hand. "Jefferson, get to Meadows and you'll have done more for what's coming than a whole company of riflemen. And when you get back to Texas ... there's no way I can make this official, but any pressure that could be brought to bear on Oklahoma or Dallas ... it'll help us if they start screaming to have their troops returned."
"I'm a Ranger teamster, not a general."
"Jefferson, I'll write up a promotion for you to lieutenant in Southern Command. That'll make you an official emissary, if you think that'll help."
"It might at that." Jefferson tried a salute on for size. "Thank you, sir."
Valentine touched his eyebrow in return. "Take good care of that horse. He'll get you there."
* * * *
With the paperwork done, Jefferson rode out after the midday meal. Afternoon gave way to a warm evening; spring was truly on the way. Valentine and Ahn-Kha sat on mats on the floor of his tent, playing mahjong with the pieces Carrasca had painted for him.
"It's a good plan, my David. Stop chewing on it and swallow."
"I feel like I'm making a mistake. I'm basing this on Solon's reaction. Suppose he just cordons us off and lets us sit?"
"Maybe we'll catch him in his hole."
"He's off to Pine Bluff, trying to hurry up the rail gangs and get his precious airfield built. Don't know why, since there aren't any airplanes to bring in. Then it's down to Hot Springs to see how the relocation of TMCC headquarters is coming."
