Johnny scanned his surroundings. Of his once-elite army of twenty-two hundred, fewer than four hundred battered soldiers remained. His heart twisted in anguish.
But he knew this was no time for grief.
"We'll rest here for two days!" Johnny ordered through gritted teeth, his voice raspy. "Let the men treat their wounds and recover their strength. Then, we return to Iron Hammer Town."
For the next two days, Johnny barely slept.
He sat by the campfire, watching his soldiers lying and resting about, and the hatred in his heart grew like a wild weed.
Lynch Blackwood.
The name echoed in his mind, every syllable dripping with bloody hatred.
He hated Lynch's cunning, hated his ruthlessness, and most of all, he hated that damned, mysterious Mr. SK. 'If he hadn't provided false intelligence, how could I have fallen into such a trap?!'
'How could I have lost eighty percent of my forces without even seeing the enemy's face?'
