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Andersonville ain’t in any of us no more,” Forrest snarled.
    “And those bastards sure won’t be sending any Yankees to that hell-hole,” Seward snarled.
    Another shot reverberated the foul-tasting air and as the six men whirled towards the door, six more followed the first. Rhett’s sallow face was carved in a mask of savagery as he emptied his Spencer. Each bullet made a dull plop as it drilled through the dead flesh.
    Forrest sighed. “Like the man said, Bob, once is enough.”
    “I was in that lousy place, too,” the New Englander responded spitefully.
    “Where are the horses?” Hedges demanded.
    “Tied up, Captain,” Rhett answered. “Safe.”
    Hedges nodded curtly and motioned for Rhett’ to shed his tattered Union garb and don the spare uniform. Then the men moved out into the clean-smelling darkness and took their pick of the horses. Water canteens and rations from the saddlebags were shared equally under the Captain’s supervision. They ate as they rode.
    “Pity about Casey gettin’ it,” Douglas said after a long period when only the munching of stale food and the sounds of the horses’ progress disturbed the stillness. “He didn’t mean no harm.”
    “He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Hedges replied flatly.
    “He was railroaded,” Forrest growled.
    Hedges heeled his horse into a faster pace and the Union men in Confederate grey were swallowed up by the safe darkness of the Georgia night.
    *****
    “You will be kind enough to remain still like the rock.”
    Edge snapped open his eyes and looked out from under his hat brim at the smooth face of the Chinese sitting opposite him. Then he lowered his gaze and his eyes became mere lines of iced blue as he saw the twin muzzles of the sawn-off double-barreled shotgun.
    “And I thought you guys only ran restaurants”, he muttered.
    “Life is full of little surprises,” the Chinese replied.
    Edge shifted his gaze and saw that the man diagonally across from him and the one seated beside him were drawing their hands apart and taking out sawn-off shotguns of their own from the capacious sleeves of their robes.
    “My God, a gun!” a woman at the centre of the swaying car screamed.
    “Everyone keep calm, no one get hurt,” a Chinese announced in loud tones. He was at the front of the car and rose, turning to look down the aisle and the passengers on either side. His face was as devoid of expression as those of his colleagues. “We take money and valuables. Not wish take life.”
    Alvin and Beth looked fearfully at each other. The boy clutched the woman’s hand in his and it was difficult to tell whether he was offering comfort or seeking it He shot a glance over his shoulder, finding the gaze of Edge and receiving no consolation from the hooded eyes.
    “You will please allow my men to relieve you of your arms,” the leader of the Chinese demanded flatly. He pitched his voice just loud enough to be heard above the clatter of the train as the locomotive hauled its burden through the mountains on the California-Nevada Stateline.
    The shotgun maintained an unwavering aim at Edge’s stomach and the tall half-breed offered no resistance as the man beside him slid the revolver from his holster and picked up the Winchester from where it rested. Throughout the car, most of the men complied in a similar manner as the carefully positioned Chinese menaced them with shotguns. But one man, sitting two seats ahead of Edge on the other side of the aisle, snarled a protest. He wore a business suit and no gunbelt. But a bulge beneath his jacket revealed the presence of a small pistol in a shoulder holster. He was fast on the draw, but not fast enough.
    “Mao!” a Chinese voice called.
    The leader still had his hands clasped together across his middle, concealed by the drape of the robe’s sleeves. But now he snapped them apart and he held a pair of short bladed knives decorated with brass and tortoise-shell. One of them zinged