“What are you talking about?” Keene asked.
Cavan raised a hand vaguely. “Look at all the people you have following you to help you find this woman of yours.”
Keene snorted. “Ah, come on. It’s the only chance they’ve got to get out of this to something better, Leo. That’s the reason, and you know it.”
“I’m not so sure that Alicia would agree that’s the only reason.”
“Well, she doesn’t count. She’s crazy. You’ve told me enough times.”
Cavan lowered his voice further. “But not crazy enough to think you could do it alone, without the military to help. That’s why they’re here, you know. She can be quite an engineer of things too, in her own way.”
“Oh?” Keene knew what Cavan meant but chose to act dumb, letting his frown ask the question.
“She bewitched Mitch into it, and the others followed. He’s a compulsive performer in front of any woman that happens to be around. Don’t tell me you hadn’t noticed, Landen.”
Of course Keene had. It just wasn’t the kind of thing to go making uninvited comments on. “Well . . . I suppose it’s not something I really thought about,” he replied. He studied Cavan’s face for a moment. “Why? It’s not bothering you, is it, Leo? If she did, it’s as you say: to get some backup for me. Unless my judgment of people has gone to hell in the last week, there’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Oh God, I’ve been around too many years for that. She could do worse. He’s got nerve, he’s dependable, and he commands loyalty. If she had any sense, she’d have found herself someone like that years ago.”
Keene managed a wisp of a smile. “Well, there you are, Leo. Who’s got the charisma now?”
“Charitable of you, I grant, but where would be the future? Back in the days when there was a future, I mean.”
Keene looked at him reproachfully. “Don’t tell me you’ve given up hope.”
“Seriously, what do you think the chances are?”
Keene stared down at his hands. They were blistered and split from all the digging and shoveling that he wasn’t used to. He looked up. “If we’d had a clear run through with the Rustler, I’d have said pretty good. But with the way things have gone instead . . . who knows? Maybe Furle was right. What else can I tell you?”
* * *
After a long wait near Uvdale for a damaged bridge to be shored up, they were held in a siding to let a loaded train from San Antonio through the other way, heading for El Paso. They reached San Antonio late that night to find the city in flames. A shrieking wind turned the buildings into torches, lighting up the overcast for miles. Spitting trails of burning naphtha left veils of smoke curling downward between the cloud blanket and the ground. The scout train had stopped a couple of hundred feet ahead. Two of its officers came back to confer with the commander on the wisdom of taking the main train any farther in until the route had been reconnoitered. The decision was to hold it back until more was known. Keene and his party transferred their kit to the lead train to go into San Antonio with it and explore what further options existed from there.
46
The railroad yard and its surroundings were an inferno of burning rolling stock and warehouses. There appeared to be no organized effort to fight or contain the conflagration. It was past being containable in any case, and from the look of things any focus of authority capable of organizing anything had ceased to exist; very likely, there wasn’t enough water available, anyway.
Many people had headed for the open ground along the tracks and were trying to follow that route out of town. A crowd closed around the train as it slowed to a halt, their eyes wide against streaked, smoke-blackened faces, some wailing uncontrollably, obviously aiming to get aboard and stay there till the train departed. The soldiers accepted the injured, laying them out among the sandbags and what materiel remained on the flatcars, while the officers did their best to control the numbers trying to follow. A woman tore at Keene and Colby’s jackets as they climbed down. Her face was a mass of sores and blisters in the light from the fires; her hair looked charred. “My husband! He’s trapped . . . over that way. You have to help me get to him!” Colby disengaged himself, not wanting to be brutal but needing to keep sight of the officer in charge, who was already striding ahead along the track with two of his aides. A couple of the guards drew the woman away. Keene hastened on after the others, raising an arm to his face to ward off the sparks and cinders being driven in the wind.