There von Lowenbrau had it, just as plainly as anybody could have asked for.
Being close enough to hear the conversation, the Dragoons waited—the majority with bated breath—to discover what their officer meant to do. They were not unmindful of the danger to themselves if he tried to enforce his demand. While outnumbering the contingent from the Texas Light Cavalry, they offered a better target to the men in the rifle pits than vice versa.
"The primary purpose of an officer is to obey his superior's orders. Captain Hardin!" von Lowenbrau pointed out, sharing his men's awareness of the situation and playing for time in the hope that he might find a way to gain ascendancy over the tall, ramrod straight young Texian. One thing was for
sure, unlike his cousin, he would not be frightened by the prospects of committing mutiny by refusing to obey.
"Yes, sir," Ole Devil replied, chopping off the other's thought train. "Which is why the Texas Light Cavalry and other regiments are withdrawing to the east as General Houston ordered."
Just as the Texian had anticipated, from what he remembered of von Lowenbrau's character from their meetings, the comment was not well received. No matter what had caused the Prussian to have "gone to Texas," he still retained much of the training which was instilled since his early childhood. "Befehl is befehl," orders are orders, was the creed by which he had been raised. So he had never been completely reconciled to serving Johnson. He was honest enough to admit to himself that loot rather than patriotism, or even strategy, was the main purpose behind the proposed invasion of Mexico. What was more, it went against the commanding general of the Republic of Texas's Army's policies and instructions.
"And what does that mean?" von Lowenbrau demanded, his face struggling to remain as impassive as Ole Devil's Me-phistophelian features.
"Looky here now!" called the Dragoons' sergeant, seeing what he regarded as his opportunity and appreciating how his words would sound when reported to their superiors on rejoining the regiment. "All this talk's fine, but it ain't getting us them rifles."
"You're not having them, hombreV Ole Devil stated flatly, turning to face the speaker and seeing how he might turn the interruption to his advantage.
"Now you just listen to me!" Sergeant Benn growled, the Texian's obvious disdain causing him to forget that the odds were no longer in his company's favor. "We've been told by Colonel Johnson to take 'em and that's what I'm fixing to do."
'You are?" Ole Devil challenged, noticing that the Prussian was not offering to intervene and, while guessing why, pleased that he had not.
"Me 'n' these fellers here," Benn corrected, having understood the implications of the Texian's emphasis on the word you" but oblivious of the consternation being shown by the majority of "these fellers here."
"You'll have to kill all of W5 first," Ole Devil warned. "And we'll try to stop you. And we're in a better position to stop you than you are to kill us."
"You don't reckon's them boys back of you'd throw lead us's is good 'n' loyal Texians same's them," Benn countered. "Now do you?"
"Hombre!" Sergeant Dale called, before his superior could reply. "We'd throw lead at our own mothers happen Cap'n Hardin gave the word and we knowed he was in the right."
"Which we-all concludes he's in the right just now," announced a grizzled old-timer from another pit.
"So, happen you jaspers want it," went on the youngest member of Company "C," in the belief that he too would be helping out, "just come on ahead and try to take it from us."
While Ole Devil had been delighted by the first two comments, he was less enamored of the third remark. It was too like a direct challenge and there looked to be a few equally young hotheads among the Dragoons who, despite their companions' appreciation of the danger, would want to pick up the gauntlet. If that happened, blood was sure to flow and, like Mannen, he was equally aware of the subsidiary consequences of such a fight.
"There's no call for men who're needed to help fight Santa Anna to get killed," the Texian pointed out, still keeping his gaze on Benn. "If yow're so set on having the consignment, hombre, I'll fight you for it."
"^^lat—?" gasped the sergeant, conscious of the muted rumble of conversation to his rear.
"It should be plain enough, even for you/' Ole Devil replied dryly, walking forward. "If you can kill me, just us two, nobody else involved, Mister Blaze has my orders to give it to you."
"Stay put, Major," advised Mannen, as von Lowenbrau began to move. "You've let it get this far, now see it through. That way, a whole slew of lives will be saved."
Assessing the redhead's comment and the situation with a gambler's cool calculation rather than an officer's training, the Prussian knew he was hearing the truth. Having set the stakes in the game, Hardin would have to face the consequences. If he lost, his own men would insist that the forfeit be paid. So von Lowenbrau stood still, allowing the events to run their course without his participation.
As with the case of most of his regiment's non-coms, the sergeant had been promoted through his connections and toughness rather than military qualities and intelligence. However, he was smart enough to duplicate his superior's summation of how his victory would be received.
And Benn also knew that there was only one way in which the prize could be won!
Studying the man who had made the offer, the sergeant found that he did not care for what he was seeing.
Although Ole Devil had never heard the term, he appreciated the psychological effect produced by his hornlike hairstyle and features in times of trouble. So he had shoved back his hat and allowed it to dangle on his shoulders by its barbi-quejo. Unshaven, haggard from lack of sleep, even without the savage challenge that it bore, his face had never appeared more Satanic.
To Benn, whose childhood religious instruction had in-
stilled a hearty fear for the possible wrath of the hereafter— although it had been many years since he last saw the inside of a confession box—it seemed that he was confronted by Old Nick himself all ready, willing and out-and-out eager to pitchfork him into a fiery furnace.
"Let's take—" the sergeant began, just managing to control a desire to make the sign of the cross as he had been taught by the Fathers and looking to his rear in the hope of enlisting support.
"This is between just you and I, hombreV Ole Devil snapped, bringing the other's head to the front and ending his words. "So either get down from that horse and make your play, or turn it and ride out of this hollow."
"But—" Benn commenced, staring as if mesmerized at the Mephistophelian face.
"Count to five. Mister Blaze," Ole Devil ordered, still staring with awesome intensity at the sergeant. "And, hombre, if you haven't done one or the other by the time it's reached, I'll kill you where you sit."
"One!" Mannen said, as soon as his cousin had stopped speaking.
"Hey now—" Benn growled, realizing the position in which he had been placed.
"Two!" Mannen went on unhurriedly, but ignoring the interjection.
While the redhead was counting, he knew without needing to be told what his cousin wanted. So he did not hurry his words. While Mannen did not doubt that Ole Devil would carry out the threat, he guessed that the other would prefer that the need to do so did not arise. So he intended to give the sergeant time to back off.
Waiting for the count to continue, Benn considered his position faster than he was used to thinking. On the face of
it, he held the advantage. His rifle lay across his knees, not yet cocked but more available than any weapon carried by the empty-handed young man in front of him. However, even as he was on the point of turning the barrel forward, doubts began to assail him.
Would Hardin be taking such a chance unless he was completely confident of surviving?
Knowing that he personally would not, the sergeant based his answer upon his own standards.
If the young Texian had accepted the risk when making the challenge, he must be certain that he would win!
"Three!"
Mannen drawled, seeing the perturbation on the sergeant's face.
Would Hardin kill another member of the Republic of Texas's Army?
Ben did not doubt that, under the circumstances, the answer was "yes!"
"Four!"
Inexorably, if unhurriedly, the count was going on!
Standing as rigidly as if waiting to be inspected by the Emperor of Prussia, von Lowenbrau watched and waited without offering to intercede. Like his sergeant, he felt certain that Ole Devil would carry out the threat. Faced by something which was endangering the consignment he had been entrusted to deliver and aware that it might make all the difference when the time came for the Texians to make their stand against Santa Anna's Army, he would deal ruthlessly with anybody who tried to stop him.
As far as von Lowenbrau could see, he stood to benefit in one of two ways dependent on the result. Should Benn succeed, the consignment would be in their hands and his own moral dominance would soon put him back in full command of the company. If Hardin won, he would be rid of a trouble-
some subordinate who was too well connected in the regiment for his demotion or removal in any other way.
For his part, Benn had been counting upon the backing of the other Dragoons, but he now knew that it would not be forthcoming. So he would have to stand—or fall—alone.
Suddenly the sergeant experienced a sense of overwhelm-mg fear. The motionless figure with the face of the Devil was something beyond his comprehension. Despite his empty hands, he seemed as grimly inevitable as death and just as permanent. Although he was making no attempt to arm himself, the sergeant knew that somehow he had the means to do what he had said he would.
Seeing Mannen's mouth starting to open for what would be the last digit of the count, Benn's courage—always more bravado than bravery—broke. Reining his horse around and dropping his rifle, he rode up the slope at an ever increasing pace.
"Don't you say a word!" Sergeant Dale snarled at the youngest member of Company "C," who was on the point of makmg a derisive comment, and his order was obeyed.
Von Lowenbrau watched his ex-sergeant's flight with mixed emotions. Two things he knew were sure. After such behavior, Benn was through. However, having seen the non-com routed, the rest of the Dragoons would refuse to attempt anything he wanted to try and carry out the assignment.
"Any of you who want to go with him may do so," the Prussian announced, raking his men with cold eyes. "Whoever stays will ride with me."
"Where are you going. Major?" Ole Devil inquired, turning to look at the speaker.
"With you, if you let me. Captain," von Lowenbrau replied. "My men and I may be of assistance until you've delivered the arms to General Houston."
"How about Colonel Johnson?" Ole Devil asked.
"I'm going to serve a better man," the Prussian stated. "And we'll be riding in better company than any under Johnson's command. If you'll permit us to accompany you that is."
FLL COME AND HOLD YOUR HANDS
Old Devil Hardin had an active and inquiring mind which would always take an interest in anything he believed might one day be of service to him. While he had no intention of going into business competition with Ewart Brindley, he knew that the time might come when a knowledge of mule packing could prove advantageous. So, leaving the organization of the escort to his subordinates, he was standing and watching the main preparations for the start of the return journey.
Taking everything into consideration, the Texian felt that he was entitled to grant himself a brief period of relaxation after the events of the past few days. Not only had he dealt with one positive and one potential threat to the consignment of caplocks, he had almost doubled the strength of its escort. Only time would tell whether the latter would be beneficial or not. He refused to worry about it at that moment.
Not one of the Red River Volunteer Dragoons had elected to follow Sergeant Benn, who had kept riding once he passed beyond the rim. Nor had a problem envisaged by Ole Devil arisen. Major Ludwig von Lowenbrau had waived the matter
of his rank, stating that he placed himself and his men under the young captain's command until the delivery of the caplocks was completed. After which, the Prussian had gone on, he intended to offer to transfer himself and his company to the Texas Light Cavalry.
While von Lowenbrau had sounded sincere, Ole Devil had continued to be wary of him. However, there had been nothing about his behavior, or that of his men, to which exception could be taken. Not knowing how long they might have to wait for the mule train and wishing to keep the Dragoons out of mischief, Ole Devil had put them to work strengthening the defenses. While he was taking some well-earned and badly needed sleep, watched surreptitiously by Mannen Blaze, they had dug more rifle pits at the top of the hollow. The redhead had reported that, although there was some grumbling, they had carried out the duty in a satisfactory manner. By the middle of the afternoon, the chance of treachery had been greatly reduced.
Diamond-Hitch Brindley had wasted little time in utilizing the replacement bell-mare. Although her grandfather was being transported on a travois* made by the Tejas packers, Joe Galton was sufficiently recovered to ride a horse. However, they had arrived at Santa Cristobal Bay too late for there to be any point in loading the mules and moving out that day. So the girl and Ole Devil had agreed to bed down in the hollow for the night and set off early the following morning.
Looking around, Ole Devil could tell that what appeared to be a lot of confused activity taking place was all being carried out in a swift and purposeful manner which called for no action on his part. He was on the point of watching the
* Travois: a primitive form of sledge, although not restricted to use on snow, constructed of two poles for shafts with a frame upon which the load is carried and drawn by a single animal.
OLE DEVIL AND THE CAPLOCKS
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nearest mule packer, merely to find out how the work was performed, when something happened which prevented him from doing so.
"Riders coming, Cousin Devil!" Mannen Blaze called speaking in what-for him-was considerable haste, having noticed the sentiy on the rim giving one of the prearranged signals. Waving his hat from left to right in a series of double circular motions gave additional information. "Could be some of Tom Wolfs scouts headed in."
Partly to strengthen his force in case von Lowenbrau might still be contemplating treachery and knowing that the Tejas Indians would be even better at the duty than his own men Ole Devil had sent Tom Wolfs scouts out to replace his pickets. As there was nobody else belonging to the party outside the hollow, in all probability the riders had been sent by Tom Wolf with urgent news. So the Texian wanted as little delay as possible m learning what it might be.
"I'll go up and meet them," Ole Devil decided, striding to where his linebacked dun gelding was standing saddled and ready for use. "Will you come with me, Major?"
"Thank you. Captain," von Lowenbrau answered, making just as quickly for his bay which was in an equal state of readiness.
Glancing around as he mounted, Ole Devil noticed that-like himself-all of the soldiers wore either cloak-coats or some other form of protective clothing. While fine the weather was cold and damp. So he decided against telling them to remove the garments until he found out what the returning scouts had to say.
"Hey, Di!" the Texian called as he swung astride the dun's saddle, looking to where the girl was standing by her grandfather's travois and supervising the packers' work without needing to tell them anything. "Can you come with us please?"
While the Tejas could speak a certain amount of English and some Spanish, only their leader was fluent in either and the Texian wanted a fuller report than he felt he could obtain by using those languages. Knowing that the girl was able to speak their tongue, in fact it could be termed her second language as she had been cared for by Wolfs squaw after the death of her parents, her presence would be of the greatest assistance.
"Be right with you," Di promised, knowing what Ole Devil had in min
d. She directed a glare at her grandfather, who was trying to sit up, and went on, "Stay put, you're not going no place. Anyways, he wants somebody's can 'interpretate' Tejas for him properly. If you have to do anything, make sure the boys's>'OM taught don't put the aparejos* on upside down or backward."
Ignoring Brindley's spluttered response, the girl ran to her horse. Mounting, she set off after the two men. Catching up, she accompanied them toward the rim. On reaching it, they all gazed in the direction indicated by the sentry.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Di yelled. "That's Tom Wolf. So what-ever's fetched 'em must be real important."
"It would have to be for Tom to be doing it himself," Ole Devil admitted, taking note of the direction from which the two Indians were galloping. "Like the Comanches say, 'Bad news rides a fast horse.' And I'll take bets that I can guess what it is."
"Not with me!" Di stated emphatically.
"Or I," von Lowenbrau seconded, but was pleased by the thought that—although he had acted with efficiency up to that point—the Texian had omitted to take a basic military precaution before ascending to the rim.
"Damn it," the girl went on indignantly. "After us feeding
* Aparejos: a type of pack saddle designed for heavy or awkwardly shaped loads.
him and him putting the victuals down Hke they was going out of fashion, that son-of-a-bitching mozo'd lied to us."
"Or he was wrong about how far off they were," Ole Devil pointed out, thinking of the fear shown by Major Abrahan Phillipe Gonzales de Villena y Danvila's deserted servant— who was in the hollow and probably being better treated than in all his life—^when first questioned. Stopping the dun, he dismounted and continued, "It doesn't matter which, but I go for my guess."
'You would," Di sniffed, joining the Texian on the ground. "Might just's well wait here 'n' find out just how bad it is."
"Let's hope it isn't as bad as you believe. Miss Brindley," von Lowenbrau suggested, also quitting his saddle,
"It'll likely be worseV guessed the girl, knowing that they would have the answer within seconds.
"Them house-Indians* coming, Diablo Viejof" announced Tom Wolf, translating Ole Devil's name into Spanish as he and the younger brave brought their mounts to rump-scraping halts before the trio. "Plenty of em. Maybe so twenty, thirty hands, with Mexican officers."
Ole Devil and the caplocks Page 17
