The group of men Carey was leading were pyromaniacs, apparently. His understanding was that Quantrill wanted them to converge on the square, take the outpost, and then light the town on fire as they made their escape. These men spent a great deal of time throwing torches through broken windows, and it seemed that they would never make it to the heart of the battle unfolding on the square a few blocks away.
At last, Carey gave the order to ride on, and then did so, not caring who followed. He could see that a large contingency of the men had accompanied him, while only a few stayed behind to torch the houses along Tenth Street. He covered the few blocks to the square quickly, hoping to get in on the fight. It had been almost two years since he had tasted battle, and he was eager to feel the rush of assault again. However, once he got to the square, he realized Quantrill and Lewis had not organized their attack as well as he had hoped. The 8th Cavalry appeared to be ready for them, cannon drawn and ready to fire. Anytime Quantrill’s raiders attempted a charge at the Union soldiers, there was heavy return fire, and the marauders had to back off. Granted, the aim of the cannons was such that they frequently missed the mark, but the threat of grape pouring into them was enough to make Quantrill’s men rethink their strategy.
Carey saw Quantrill in the distance and hurried his horse off in the direction of the famed leader. He saw a weakness that he hoped the raiders could use to their advantage. “Quantrill, sir,” he said as he drew close enough to speak. “Most of the munitions are stored on that side of the courthouse over there, near the gazebo. If we can set that on fire, we might have an opportunity to bring down the courthouse.”
Quantrill simply nodded, leaving Carey to move forward with the plan. He rode off to find one or more of the prolific torchers who had accompanied him to this point.
* * *
Cordia and Isaac saw several riders pass by in a hurry down Broadway. Some were headed toward the foray on the square, but most were fleeing. There was even a carriage or two that went shooting by, likely families hoping to escape the raiders. They watched carefully for riders approaching their home but saw none for quite some time until Cordia realized a single horseman had crossed out of the shadows on the other side of Broadway and was heading through their yard.
Peering closely, Cordia was quite certain the rider posed no threat. It wasn’t until she heard her father cock his gun that she realized that, despite his weakening eyesight, her father also had the rider in his crosshairs. “Stop!” she yelled as Isaac trained his gun.
Isaac had a nervous trigger finger. He had shot plenty of game in his younger years but never a person. Yet, faced with protecting his family, he was prepared to fire on anyone or anything that moved. “What?” he asked. “Why?”
Cordia wasn’t certain she was looking at her husband making his way cautiously across her yard, but she was nearly so. Still, she was guarded as she went to the door opening it just wide enough to peer out.
Will was well aware that he had at least two rifles trained on him as he neared the front of the house. He raised both of hands in the air to show that he meant no harm. He saw Isaac withdraw his rifle, and Cordia peek out the door. “It’s me, Will,” he said as loudly as he dared, not sure who else may be hiding in the darkness around the house.
Isaac breathed a sigh of relief, not willing to think about what he might have done if Cordia hadn’t spoken up when she did. Cordia motioned for him to hurry inside and though Will was reluctant to leave his horse tied up in the yard so close to the street, he had little choice. He grabbed his weapons and hurried inside, overjoyed to see that his wife was safe.
Throwing her arms around him, Cordia planted a kiss on Will’s lips, not carrying that her father was present. “Thank God you’re here,” she said releasing him and rushing over to the window.
Will could smell the scorched wood immediately as he knelt down next to her. “What happened?” he asked, surveying the broken glass and the burn mark on the wooden floor.
“They broke the window and threw in a torch,” Cordia explained, her eyes still trained on the street.
Will could see the charred curtain tossed in the corner as well. “Who put it out?” he asked, also peering intently out the window.
“I did,” Cordia replied, nonchalantly.
Will snickered. “Of course you did,” he replied, truly not surprised. He knew his wife was capable of just about anything.
“Is it Quantrill?” Cordia asked only glancing at him as she spoke.
“Believe so,” he replied. A rider went flying by just then, but he did not slow and posed no threat. “Good part of the town seems to be on fire,” he added.
Cordia gasped. It was difficult to judge exactly what was going on based on the scent pouring in the window. “What about the Adams Farm?”
“When I left it was just a shed, but if they go back that way, who can tell?” Will remarked, praying they exited south of town and didn’t ride back through the way they had come.
Cordia wanted to ask about Julia but didn’t think this was the right time to do so. The noise from the square was growing. The Rebel yell echoed through the air, a chilling sound that left Cordia shuttering and Will bracing himself against the memories of hearing that cry in battle. Cordia stretched over and put her hand on his knee. He squeezed her hand to let her know he was okay. Just then, an explosion rocked the entire house. The china in the cabinet behind them shook, some of the pieces breaking, and the remaining glass in the window shattered. Will instinctively threw himself on top of Cordia, both of them covering their heads with their arms.
The shaking was over in just a few seconds, and when they believed it was safe to do so, they both looked up, checking to see if everyone was all right. Though Isaac was shaken, he appeared to be fine. “What was that?” Cordia asked, her ears ringing.
“I believe that was the munitions arsenal,” Will replied solemnly.