by N. C. Reed
“And 'this' is?” Whip asked again.
“Well, I don't have a name for it as yet,” Roda almost sputtered. “But in ancient times weapons similar to this one were referred to as cannon.”
“Sounds fancy enough,” Whip nodded. “So, what's it do?”
“Well, in a perfect world, it will use black powder to propel an iron ball many yards,” Roda sounded more sure of himself now. “Once I can perfect that, then I believe that I can use that to hurl iron balls set with a burning fuse that will explode somewhere within the enemy lines.”
“So... how does it work?” the archer rubbed his jaw, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“This hole, here,” he pointed to a small hole on top of the rear of the tube, “will hold either the fuse or a small trail of powder or other propellant that will touch off the larger charge below,” he patted the tube. “That in turn will ignite that powder, creating a force powerful enough to propel the iron ball in front of it out of the muzzle and toward the enemy!” Roda finished in grand fashion, waving his arms and talking like a circus ringmaster.
“Well,” Whip said slowly. “What did you need me for?”
“Well, good Archer,” Roda sounded less confident suddenly. “For the first experimental firing, I thought it prudent to take precautions as we are dealing with a great deal of destructive force here, never before tried in our tim-”
“Roda, I ain't got all day,” Whip cut into the lecture. “You want me to try and hit that hole up there with a burning arrow? That it?”
“Well, ideally, yes,” Roda nodded.
“Alright,” Whip nodded. “From where?” he looked around.
“Well, from there,” he pointed to a log wall almost fifty yards away.
“That's a hell of a shot to have to make, Roda,” Whip looked at that small protection. “Even with no wind.”
“I had considered that good Archer, and made provision for it,” Roda agreed, moving in his fussy little way over to where a trail of oil ran over and down the tube.
“All you need do is ignite the oil,” he promised. “Essentially hitting the tube anywhere in this area,” he indicated the rear portion, “should set off the main charge. That will be most satisfactory for our first experiment.”
“Uh huh,” Whip was under enthused. “How do you know this whole damned thing ain't just gonna... blow plumb up and shatter?”
“Well, I don't,” Roda admitted as he made his way toward the small shelter in the distance. “That's why we need protection, good Archer.”
“How do I get roped into this kinda thing?” Whip shook his head as he followed Roda up the small hill. When he got to the small shelter, which wasn't that small now that he was standing behind it, he found six cloth-wrapped and oil-soaked arrows along with a flint and steel.
“Six huh?” Whip grunted. “Got a lot of faith in my aim, do ya?”
“Is this not enough?” Roda looked puzzled. “I thought surely this would be-”
“Shaddup and gimme that,” he grabbed the first arrow from Roda Finn's hand and held it toward him. The fussy inventor struck flint and steel together and on the second try the arrow flamed to life.
“Anywhere along the back ed-” Roda was saying when Whip let the arrow fly and ducked behind the wall.
“Oh, yes indeed,” Roda ducked as well, watching through a tiny prism.
The arrow lofted into the air and flew straight and true, bouncing off the back end of the tube and setting the oil on it ablaze. It burned... and burned... and kept burning.
“I... I don't understand,” Roda looked at Whip and then back to the 'cannon'. “The fire should have set off the charge.” He stood, walking around the edge of the wall.
“I shall have to go and see what-”
Whip grabbed Roda just as his 'cannon' erupted, yanking the smaller man back and down behind the barrier. A gout of flame longer than the inventor was tall belched from the end of the tube and cracked the pipe all the way down. Pieces of hot iron were falling around them as Whip pulled Roda to his feet.
“Well, I must say this is a serious setback,” Roda said as he brushed himself off. “Perhaps the tube isn't damaged too severely and we can-”
He stopped as the tube in question split apart and fell in two more or less equal pieces to the ground. Roda sighed deeply, then shrugged and turned to Whip.
“Ah, well, I suspect not. Good Archer, I thank you for your time and your expertise. Once I can get a new tube cast I will call upon you again!”
“How are you gonna change things after this?” Whip asked.
“I shall have to lessen the charge, I suppose,” Roda was already on his way down the hill to check on his experiment. “It will lessen the impact but should still work.”
“Or you could make the walls o' that there tube thicker, you know,” Whip called and Roda came to a halt.
“Maybe even put one tube inside another?” Whip continued. “After that inner tube gets to going back you may could pull it out, replace it like?”
“Good Archer you have once again shown that intelligence comes in all forms and packages,” Roda beamed. “A tremendous idea. No! Pair of ideas! Yes, I shall see about this. About both! Two tubes, a liner and outer layer, with the...” Roda was still talking even as he went out of earshot. Whip shook his head as he started back to the Foundry where he had been helping with a new version of the arrow that carried his name.
“I hope he don't kill his fool self before the war is over.”
-
“This is a good place to make camp,” Case ordered. “Circle the wagons and prepare to make camp for the evening!”
“We've still got three or more hours of light left,” Winnie objected.
“We cross the river tomorrow,” Case told her. “About two miles from here we should find a ferry. Whether anyone is still manning it or not, I don't know. If that ferry isn't there then we have to head south to one of the old bridges. I really don't want to do that, but if we have to, then we have to.”
“Anyway, we don't camp right at the river or the ferry landing,” he continued. “Too tempting a target for raiders or for Tribals either. We're close enough as it is to be on the trail in the morning and there in time to cross, assuming all goes well. We can get things taken care of early tonight and be ready for a hard day tomorrow. If we can cross the river and make another two or three miles besides, I’ll be happy.”
“I don't see why we shouldn't camp near the river,” Winnie said. “We could at least get clean there.”
“Creek about one hundred yards that way,” Case pointed north. “Be careful of water moccasins this time of year. And copperheads. Both are venomous and can kill with a single bite. If you decide to go, all of you ladies should go as a group and take five men as escort. They can stay back far enough to give you privacy while being close enough in case of trouble.”
Winnie didn't say anything else as Case finished with his statement. He had been nothing but cold and proper to her since she had run off at the mouth earlier in the week. She recognized it was her fault, but he could give a little she figured. She looked at Case who was checking the hooves of his horse, patting the giant war horse and talking calmly to him.
“I wanna go to the river!” she demanded suddenly.
“Two miles, that way,” Case pointed without looking at her. “Help yourself. Try to be back by dark. Stick to the trail as it's easy to get lost around here.”
“I want the train to go to the river,” Winnie insisted.
“Not going to happen,” Case assured her. “This is where we stop for the evening, milady. Your options are already laid out. I would suggest you stay in camp but can't order you to do so. I can only warn you against going. But the train stops here tonight and tomorrow crosses the river, if the ferry is still there.”
Fuming, Winnie went to speak with the other women in her party, some of whom were equally eager to wash. Collecting those who were, she set off to find the creek without informing Cas
e or taking the escort he had required. Case noticed them go and sighed, shaking his head at the stubbornness of their future Queen.
“Lieutenant,” he called his nearest officer.
“Sir?”
“Take a detail of four and follow Her Royal Sassyness,” Case ordered. “Stay far enough back that they have their privacy but be close by in case of trouble.”
“Sir,” the lieutenant grinned at Case's nickname for the future Queen. All of them used it at one time or another as the girl was a handful and then some. He quickly rounded up four men, two of them archers, and set out to follow the women.
“Why me?” Case sighed, feeling somewhat sorry for himself. “What did I do that was so wrong to get stuck with this duty?” he asked the sky.
He felt a raindrop on his nose in reply.
“Perfect.”
-
There were nine women who served in the battle of Nasil as part of the Auxiliary Archers on the train along with seven other civilian women serving different functions other than driving wagons. Four of the archers had readily agreed to go with their 'commander' to wash away the dirt, dust and what have you of several days on the trail. The other civilians as well as three women wagoneers had all refused, the latter suggesting that doing so was foolish and foolhardy, particularly in a time of war and with Tribals known to be about. Winnie had ignored that and then she and her cohorts had left for the creek. She decided against telling Case about it to punish him in some way.
It never occurred to her to consider that he was right.
There was a trail, little more than a deer path Winnie thought, that led them straight to the promised creek. The water was slow but clear, and with recent rains the creek was full. In mere seconds the women had stripped off their dirty and dusty clothing and plunged into the inviting water. All screeched as they hit the cold water, laughing at how foolish they were not to have checked how cold it was first.
The lieutenant and his men stopped well back from the creek and slipped off the trail. They could hear but not see the five women which was good enough. They could be where the women were in a matter of seconds if there was trouble.
-
Pitch Magee had never had a real job. He and his three friends, Hack and Tucker were known in most towns in a fifty-mile radius as thieves that would take the coins from a dead man's eyes. The three of them made their way on their 'rounds' as they called them, looting, stealing, raping and murdering for a living.
They were moving through broken country near the river, hoping the ferry was running, when they heard the unmistakable sound of femininity. The three stopped cold at that, exchanging glances.
“Sounds like a party,” Pitch grinned, unsightly though it was.
“And we didn't get an invite,” Hack grinned just as wide.
“That ain't neighborly is it?” Tucker's face was colder. He, by far, was the worst of the three. And the deadliest.
The three moved by unspoken agreement toward the sound of feminine happiness, intending to join in, invitation or no. That was what they did, after all.
-
Winnie was usually more aware when in the woods, having been raised in the mountains in a rough and tumble world. But she was enjoying the water a little too much as well as the satisfaction of doing something that Case had told her not to do. Which meant she was not the first to recognize the danger.
She was looking at Bethany Wright when Bethany's face had gone from joyful to terror in a mere flash as she looked over Winnie's shoulder. Even as Bethany screeched in fear Winnie was turning to see what had frightened her. She saw three rough looking men on the far side of the creek, blades already out.
“You ladies wasn't gonna leave us outta the fun, was ya?” the ugliest of the three smiled a blood curdling smile. “That just ain't neighbor... ly...” he trailed off as an arrow appeared in his chest as if by magic. Another cut down the man next to him, the one who had looked like the most predatory of the three. The third didn't bother to check on his friends but took off running for the river.
Before Winnie could react, soldiers were on her side of the creek bank, one snapping orders to the others.
“You two, run him down, get rid of him,” he ordered the archers as he pointed the escaping figure. The two nodded and took off without a word. The lieutenant looked at his two remaining men.
“Get those two out of the water,” he ordered. “And you, all of you,” he turned to the women. “Out of the water and back up the trail. Now!” he shouted when they didn't move. All of them, Winnie included, moved that time.
“Turn your head!” one woman called.
“We don't have the time for that foolishness,” the lieutenant said coldly, though in truth he wasn't looking at them but at the other side of the creek. “Now get out of the water and get back to the train! For all we know those three were scouts for a larger group! Move!”
Reluctance showing in every move, the women did as ordered, each woman grabbing the nearest clothing whether it was hers or not in order to cover herself. Winnie stopped by the lieutenant to protest only to be pushed up the trail without so much as a 'milady'.
“Get moving,” he hissed at her. “There are only five of us and two are running that third one down. We can't cover this much territory and I don't have time to argue about it, now go,” he shoved her along the trail and almost added the flat of his blade to her backside but she was already out of reach.
“Get them up here and into the bush,” he ordered his men. “All we need to do is hide them.”
-
Pitch Magee wasn't sure if he was good or just lucky, but Hack and Tuck had taken them arrows and let him get away. He was running quick as a deer he thought, wishing he could have grabbed his two friends' possibles bags and the goodies they held. A lot of loot was lost.
And what in the hell were Royal Soldiers doing out here in the middle of nowhere with a war on anyhow? This was supposed to be the best time for his line of work. He paused for a minute as the trail forked, trying to remember which way was the quickest way to the ferry landing. He felt a wasp sting him between his shoulders and tried to reach over his shoulder to pull it off. In doing so he looked down and saw an arrowhead sticking out of his chest.
Now where did that... come...
-
“Did you get him?” the lieutenant asked as the two archers came running back.
“Yes sir,” one nodded, tossing the officer the bag they had taken. “Pulled his body about fifty feet off the trail and covered the sign of our movement. His friends won't find him soon enough to matter.”
“I'm not sure these three had any friends,” the lieutenant was going through the third bag. “I think these three were just garden variety thugs and thieves who thought they had just got lucky.”
“Wasn't for the Captain, they just might have,” one of the swordsmen nodded. “What now, sir?”
“We're done here. There's no one else around or sign of anyone else either. Back up the trail. Let’s get back to the train.”
-
It was a comical affair to see the women running back to camp, barefoot and wringing wet, trying to cover themselves in whatever best way they could and still carry their things. The wagon train members all laughed at the sight, the three women wagoneers laughing the loudest, having warned the other women not to go. The archers who had not gone along were careful not to be seen laughing right along with the others but did laugh when no one was looking.
To say that the five women's feathers were ruffled was to put it mildly. By the time the lieutenant and his men returned a very angry and still very wet Winifred Hubel was waiting for him.
“Don't you ever talk to me like that again!” she said at once.
“Very well,” the young lieutenant nodded. “Next time I’ll just leave you to it.” With that, he ignored her completely and turned his attention back to Captain Case to finish his report.
“All three are accounted for and there were no indica
tions of a larger group that we could find either on the ground or in their effects,” he held up the three bags. “Honestly, sir, it appears they were merely low-class thugs who thought they had stumbled across a target of opportunity.”
“I am talking to you!” Winnie grabbed the young lieutenant's arm, intending to force him around to face her. It worked, in a manner.
The young officer's adrenaline was still running on high and his instincts took over when Winnie grabbed his arm and yanked on it. He moved without conscious thought, spinning faster than she had intended to force him around. She held his left arm so it was his right hand that rose, palm out and flat, to strike her in the sternum. The young man managed to get control of himself at the last possible second to pull the punch, but it still was enough to put Her Royal Sassyness on the ground, flat on her ass.
The laughter had pretty much ceased after that.
“Sir, I... milady... sir. I didn't mean...” the young officer was beside himself at what he had done, but Case merely patted him on the arm.
“Easy Lieutenant,” he calmed the young man. “You were still hopped-up from combat and she was asking for it. It wasn't your fault. She knows better than to assault someone like that. You and your men go and get dried out. You're excused duty tonight, all of you,” Case called to the other four. The men nodded their thanks and eased away from what was sure to be a confrontation.
“I want him-” Winnie wasn't even off the ground before she started making demands.
“No,” Case's voice was flat and brooked no argument.
“He hit me!”
“You grabbed him first and did so when he was only minutes out of a combat situation and still in that state of mind. That entire incident was your doing, milady. Yours and no one else. You refused every piece of advice given you, not just from me but from anyone else, and went off to do as you damned well pleased because you've become used to getting your way.”
“Had I not sent the lieutenant and his men after you, where would you be now?”
