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When we reach our previous vantage point, we lay flat on our bellies and monitor the clearing through Winter’s telescope. The camp is already stirring with activity. Smith & Co. are loading the mule, and it looks like they’ll be ready to take off at any minute.
I train the magnifying glass on Archie’s face next, and sigh with relief. Some color has returned to his cheeks, and he’s sitting up much straighter than yesterday. His head isn’t lolling lifelessly to the side anymore, and his eyes are open and attentive. Still, the grimace of pain that pulls at my best friend’s mouth is unmistakable.
“What do you see?” Winter asks.
“Archie is much better; here”—I push the telescope into her hands—“see for yourself.”
As she looks, I kiss her temple. “Thank you; it’s all because of you.”
Nothing significant happens for about half an hour, while the soldiers are busy with their preparations. But once they’re done, Carter asks Smith the question I’ve been dreading all along, “What about the prisoners, sir?”
Smith, eyes dark and cold as those of a falcon, turns toward our friends and colleagues and frowns.
A sense of foreboding takes residence in my gut. I don’t like that scowl. I don’t like it one bit.
Smith’s eyebrows draw closer together, and he walks over to the prisoners and squats right in front of Archie.
“Well, Mr. Hill, if you don’t look rosy as a peach this fine morning.” He roughly pulls Archie’s hair to lift his head and presses the back of his other hand to my friend’s forehead. “No fever, either. Carter! Montgomery!”
Like obedient dogs, his minions immediately respond to the summons.
“Sir.”
“Sir.”
“It seems we have a bit of a miracle on our hands…”
“Sir?” Carter repeats.
“Our esteemed guest, Mr. Hill, has prodigiously recovered from his fever. Now, I’m not much of a spiritual man myself… so I suspect we might’ve had a pair of unwanted visitors last night. Two little critters sneaking in the dark. Carter, Montgomery, did you notice anything unusual during your guards?”
“No, sir,” Montgomery says at once.
“Carter?”
Carter shuffles on his feet, uncomfortable, but Smith doesn’t even have to talk to convince him to speak. The colonel’s mean stare is enough of a threat. “Sir, I found Montgomery asleep at his post when I relieved him of his duty at zero three hundred hours last night, sir.”
Montgomery looks affronted for a second at being ratted out like that, but he doesn’t have much time to show his indignation before Smith makes his head snap sideways with a backhanded blow. “You idiot! Search all the tents. I want to know where they went and what they took.”
Next to me, Winter tenses. “What do we do now?”
“Nothing. Even if they figure out what we took, they don’t know where we are.”
“What if they come searching for us?”
“I doubt Smith will want to lose precious time coming after us.”
“Sir!”
A shout makes us turn our eyes back to the camp. We watch as Smith walks toward the supply tent, while Montgomery relates his findings. “There’s a tear in the back of the tent, sir; the supplies are in disarray and most of the medicines are gone.”
“So, Mr. Hill’s miraculous recovery is explained. Carter! You find anything?”
“Yes, sir.” The other soldier joins them. “I found a similar tear in Wallace’s tent.”
“Mmm.” Smith ponders this for a moment, then walks back to the prisoners. “It’s obvious why they went after the medicines in the supply tent, but…” Smith squats in front of Tucker. “Hey, Jonas Brother, what were they looking for in your tent?”
“I don’t know,” Tucker says.
