Trouble

Carey was furious. “This is my aunt and uncle’s farm!” he was yelling, bringing his horse between the torch men and the shed they had just lit on fire. “You have direct orders from Quantrill not to touch any of our property or our relations’!”

“Sorry! We didn’t know!” an older cross-eyed soldier spat back before riding off. Though it was too late for this particular shed, Carey was hopeful that he could save the rest of the farm from a similar fate. He was leading a small band of marauders into town. Quantrill had split his men into smaller groups so that they could enter the city limits a bit more stealthily. They would meet back up at the courthouse directly. Carey had given very specific directions to everyone as to which houses were to be spared, this being one of them, but apparently these outlaws had not listened as closely as he would have liked, and he began to fear for the safety of his father who was likely sleep