Ole Devil and the Mule Train (An Ole Devil Western Book 3)

by J. T. Edson

  ‘They might,’ Ole Devil conceded, grasping his line-backed dun gelding’s saddle horn and reaching for the stirrup iron with his left foot. ‘But I don’t mean to count on it. Let’s get down to the landing stage and over the river.’

  ‘Does that mean I get to ride again?’ Corrinne Hallistead asked.

  ‘Unless you’d rather run alongside,’ Ole Devil replied with a grin, swinging astride the dun.

  ‘I’m not sure which would be most preferable right now,’ the little woman sighed, waiting for her husband to mount the borrowed horse so she could get on behind him. ‘But knowing you pair, I’ll probably be expected to dance for your entertainment when we get to the other side. Do you know something, Devil? My mother actually warned me against marrying into the “thittuh”.’

  ‘Up you come, light of my life,’ Hallistead boomed, helping his wife to board the animal. ‘Didn’t I promise you would travel extensively and see strange and exotic places of interest?’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Corrinne agreed, wrapping her arms around the entertainer’s waist. ‘But you didn’t say I’d have to do it this way. I don’t know which is most sore, my feet or my—well, somewhere else.’

  Glancing at the little woman, Ole Devil felt nothing but the greatest admiration for her. Once his clothes had dried, he had decided against waiting for Tommy to rejoin them. So he had fastened the Hallisteads’ belongings to the cantle of the dun’s saddle, reducing some of the weight to be carried by the horse which they would both have to ride. They had set the best pace possible, while also conserving sufficient energy to leave the couple’s heavily laden mount particularly with something in hand to be used if there should be a need for greater speed. It had entailed them walking and leading the animals for long periods. Despite clearly being very tired, Corrinne had refused to continue riding on such occasions. Instead, not only had she trudged mile after weary mile at her husband’s side, but she had also managed to keep her spirits up and had never complained.

  Apart from the effort that it required, the journey from the woodland had gone by uneventfully. Throughout it, especially in the later stages, Ole Devil had expected Tommy to catch up with them. However, with about two more hours of daylight left, they had come into sight of Hickert’s Landing and he still had not put in an appearance. In spite of being aware of the little Oriental’s ability as a fighting man and appreciating the possible benefits from it, the Texian had grown increasingly perturbed by his continued absence.

  Wanting to take his thoughts from Tommy, Ole Devil studied their destination about three quarters of a mile ahead. Because of the flow of traffic attracted by the ferry, a small community had grown up around its owner’s premises on the eastern bank of the San Bernard River. However, as Ole Devil knew from his earlier visit, with one exception all of the population other than the Hickert family had already taken their departure.

  From what the young Texian could see, Moses Hickert had taken to heart his warning that the second Mexican column—or at least a force from it—might already be moving north from San Patricio and, even if they were not, the Arizona Hopi Activos Regiment was almost certain to come in search of the mule train. A couple of wagons, which had been under the lean-to when he and Tommy had left that morning, were now standing in front of the house. He regarded the sight as a good sign. The owner of the ferry had stated an intention of continuing to operate it for as long as possible in case it should be needed to carry refugees fleeing to safety from the Mexicans. However, as he had obviously taken the precaution of making ready to leave, he was likely to be willing to accept that the time for departure had come.

  There was, however, something just as important as the preparations for departure from Ole Devil’s point of view. Several saddle-mounts, hopefully more than the family would consider necessary for their requirements, were mingling with the draught horses in the large corral. Provided that Hickert could be persuaded to part with some of the surplus, one of his problems would be eased.

  As he and his companions were drawing nearer, Ole Devil turned his attention to the means by which they would go across the two hundred and fifty yards wide and deep river. Not only must he convince the Hickerts that the time had come for them to leave, but he must induce them to destroy their source of income. All too well, he knew that he must employ persuasion. He would be dealing with a man who possessed a full measure of the typical Texian’s spirit of rugged individualism and disinclination to take orders. So any attempt to dictate orders to Hickert would end in failure.

  The ferry was a flat-bottomed boat, completely decked over with stout planks and having sturdy guardrails along each side. Provided that their teams were unhitched, it could accommodate two fully loaded twenty-six foot long Conestoga-pattern lviii freight wagons. However, as the river’s current along that section was exceedingly sluggish, it could not be operated on the more economical ‘compass’ system. lix Instead, a powerful cable of rope passed under the deck—being secured at the bow and stern—and very tightly around a massive pulley wheel on each bank. The wheel at the eastern side was equipped with a long, thick cross bar and had a ramp over the two portions of the cable, so that a pair of draught oxen could be hitched on and supply the motive power.

  Noticing that the boat was alongside the opposite landing stage and wanting to avoid any delay in going over, Ole Devil drew the Manton pistol from its loop on his belt and fired a shot into the air. The two male figures working in the corral stared, then one of them pointed across the river and shouted something that did not reach the approaching riders’ ears. Clearly he had announced their coming. Two more men stepped from the porch of the house and a woman appeared at the end of one of the wagons.

  Even at that distance, Ole Devil could identify the people on the other bank. The two men who were already leaving the corral were, as might be expected, big and bulky. Their parents, Maw and Moses Hickert, stood respectively six foot and six foot two in height and weighed over four hundred pounds between them. While he was pleased to see the members of the family, he was less enamored of the fifth person who was present.

  Nothing Ole Devil had seen of Abel Ferris the previous evening had been calculated to produce a feeling of liking. Somewhat smaller than any of the Hickerts, which did not make him anywhere close to being classed as a midget, he had struck the Texian as being a bullying hard case and potential troublemaker. Unlike the male members of the Hickert family, who wore town bought shirts, trousers and heavy boots, he had on smoke-blackened and greasy buckskins. A cheap bowie knife, even larger than the far superior James Black’s product carried by Ole Devil, hung in a fancy Indian sheath on his belt.

  Giving a wave, Hickert returned to the porch and collected two ox-goads. He handed one to his wife and they went to where two big draught oxen were standing patiently in harness.

  At his command, without needing inducement from the steel tipped poles, the animals began to plod ponderously in a circle around the wheel. As it turned and the cable began to pay out, the boat moved forward. Before Ole Devil and his party had arrived, it was waiting for them at the western landing stage. Already the Hickerts were making preparations for the return trip. He observed that, although Ferris had accompanied the couple, they alone set about the task of uncoupling and turning the oxen around. Nor did the surly hard case offer to help as they set about refastening the beasts’ harnesses to the wheel’s crossbar. Instead, he stood scowling across the river. Once the passengers had led their mounts aboard, the oxen were started walking in the opposite direction and the boat reversed its course towards the eastern bank.

  ‘Howdy, Cap’n Hardin,’ Hickert greeted, as the Texian walked from the landing stage with the dun following on his feels like a well trained hound dog. ‘You’re back a whole heap sooner’n you counted on.’

  ‘With cause, sir,’ Ole Devil replied, conscious of the way that the owner of the ferry was looking at the Hallisteads but wanting to establish the urgency of his return before satisfying his curiosity. ‘
We found the Hopis are much closer than I’d been led to assume. In fact, they’re likely to be here before noon tomorrow.’

  ‘As soon’s that?’ Hickert asked, rubbing a huge hand across his bristle-stubbled chin and looking at his boat.

  ‘I don’t think it will be much longer,’ Ole Devil replied, doubting whether the scouts with whom he had come into contact would be more than ten miles ahead of the main body. Then he turned his gaze to the big, buxom and, in spite of being in her early fifties, still handsome wife of the ferry’s owner, continuing, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Hallistead here have been trav—’

  ‘Misiz—?’ Maw Hickert repeated, staring at the small figure alongside the entertainer with first surprise, then enlightenment and pity. ‘Land sakes! So you are. Come on up to the house, gal. You look ’most dead on your feet.’

  ‘I feel it,’ Corrinne admitted with a wry smile, sensing and appreciating the larger woman’s feeling of compassion for her condition, as she walked forward slowly. ‘But I’d rather just feel it than be it, which could have happened if we’d stayed at San Patricio.’

  ‘San Patri—!’ Maw began, eyes raking Corrinne from head to toe and, being sufficiently experienced to read the signs correctly she could tell the whole story without needing to take the hard-used condition of the horses into consideration. Raising her voice in a bellow which, Ole Devil decided, would not have shamed Stentor, lx she called, ‘Henry! Clyde! Get on down here pronto and take care of these good folks’s hosses.’ Then, moderating her tone she went on, ‘You come along with me and rest whatever you figure needs resting, gel. We can leave the talking to the menfolks. Only don’t you go wasting too much time on it, Mose. These folks’ve been traveling fast ’n’ hard, so they could likely do with a rest.’

  ‘Go ahead, my dove,’ Hallistead prompted, when his wife looked at him for guidance. ‘I’ll follow you soon with these gentlemen,’

  ‘So you reckon’s it’s as bad as all that, huh, Cap’n?’ Hickert asked, as the women were walking away.

  ‘I do, sir,’ Ole Devil confirmed. ‘You’ll have to move out now.’

  ‘Have to?’ Ferris repeated, before Hickert could speak. He advanced to stand by the owner of the ferry’s side and eyed the young Texian truculently. ‘Well now, soldier-boy, I can’t say’s how Mose’ ’n’ me’ve ever took kindly to letting nobody tell us’s we have to do anything.’

  Listening to the harsh Louisiana drawl, Ole Devil decided that Ferris must have understood his meaning. When making the statement, he had had no intention of giving orders to Hickert. He was merely making a comment based upon the conversation they had had the previous night.

  ‘Just how soon do you conclude they’ll be getting here, Cap’n?’ Hickert inquired, before the Texian could attempt to clear up Ferris’s misapprehension.

  ‘It could be tonight, or some time tomorrow, sir,’ Ole Devil guessed, wishing he could give a more positive reply. ‘I won’t know for sure until—’

  ‘Have you seen ’em?’ Ferris demanded, with an air of challenge.

  ‘We had a run in with their scouts, killed three and one got away,’ Ole Devil answered, speaking in a polite way which would have warned anybody who had had much contact with him that he was growing annoyed by the interruptions. ‘I sent my man after him, with orders to find the rest of them.’

  ‘Your man!’ Ferris snorted, his whole attitude redolent of contempt. ‘You hear that, Mose’. The soldier-boy’s sent that heathen “Chinese” and’s counting on him to find out how close them Injuns be.’

  ‘Tommy’s as good a scout as any man I know,’ Ole Devil declared, but he appreciated that, unless seen in action, the little Oriental was not an impressive figure. He was also aware that the kind of Chinese with whom either of the men had come into contact with before were not noted for ability in the martial arts. ‘I’m satisfied that he’ll find them if anybody can.’

  ‘You might be, soldier-boy,’ Ferris sneered, his voice oozing offence and disdain. ‘But that don’t mean’s how anybody else has to.’

  Listening to the challenge in the derisive words, Ole Devil realized that the burly hard case was bent on causing trouble and wondered why this should be. To the best of his knowledge, they had never met before the previous evening and the name ‘Ferris’ meant nothing to him. Although he had been conscious of the other eyeing him malevolently yesterday evening, he had thought little of it. During his life, he had come across men who harbored a deep and bitter resentment against anybody in a position of authority, or who was better favored in wealth, social standing and possessions than themselves. So he had been inclined to regard Ferris as such a person and had ignored him. Now he was wondering if the hard case had some other reason for trying to pick a fight. He also appreciated that, under the circumstances, it was up to him to avoid becoming involved in one if possible.

  While there were those who believed differently, Ole Devil was neither quick tempered nor the kind of hot head who went out of his way to seek trouble. He had been born and raised in the State of Louisiana, which was notorious as being a hotbed for adherents of the ‘code duello’, but he had been taught that fighting and killing were matters to be taken seriously. They should never be indulged in on the flimsy pretences used by many wealthy young Southrons as excuses to issue challenges to duels. So he refused to allow his resentment over the doubts which Ferris was casting upon his veracity, or Tommy’s abilities, to make him lose his temper.

  For all his resolve, Ole Devil realized that avoiding a contre-tempts with the hard case would not be easy. A shrewd judge of character, he had formed an accurate assessment of the other’s nature. What was more, experience had taught him that there was only one way to deal with such a man. Any suggestion of hesitation, or attempts at temporizing, were likely to be regarded as a sign of weakness and would probably lead to further abuses.

  There was, however, a further factor for the young Texian to take into consideration. If he tried to evade the issue, apart from the likelihood of causing additional aggression on Ferris’s part, he might forfeit Hickert’s respect. In which case, his advice and wishes would be ignored. Or at least there could be such a delay in acting upon them that it might result in the ferry falling into the enemies’ hands. That would endanger the lives of everybody present, as well as lessening the time needed by the Hopis to catch up with the mule train. He was counting upon the destruction of the boat to allow him to rejoin the consignment and prepare for the fight which he believed was sure to come. Nor could he order that the wrecking of the family’s business be carried out. The only way he could achieve his purpose was by gaining their support.

  A glance at Moses Hickert warned Ole Devil that his assumption was correct. While he sensed a disapproval of Ferris’s behavior behind the seamed, tanned and expressionless face, he knew there would be no help out of his predicament from that source. According to the code by which the ferryboat’s owner lived, any personal matter must be settled between the two main participants and without outside interference.

  Even as Ole Devil accepted that he must take some kind of action, he was all too aware of what doing so would entail. He would be contending with a man who matched him in height, but was heavier. Furthermore, while he was tired from the exertions of the past day, Ferris was fresh and rested.

  In spite of all that, the young Texian knew he must do something.

  And soon!

  Chapter Twelve – Isn’t This Just Like Men?

  ‘Couldn’t be sure this far off, Cap’n,’ Moses Hickert remarked, almost casually, as the grim faced young Texian was about to release the line-backed dun gelding’s reins as a prelude to tackling his tormentor. ‘But it sure looks like the lil “Chinee” feller of your’n coming.’

  ‘It is Tommy,’ Mangrove Hallistead confirmed, having been standing silently but experiencing a growing concern over what was developing. He had heard of his companion’s reputation of being a ‘lil ole devil for a fight’ and doubted whether the other would have suffic
ient self control to avoid one in spite of being on an important mission. However, he had not been able to think of a way in which he could intervene and prevent it. ‘He’ll soon be here, the way he’s riding.’

  ‘Bueno,’ Ole Devil Hardin replied, without taking his eyes from Abel Ferris’s surly face, but directing the words at the other men. ‘Once he arrives and we hear what he has to say, we’ll know what has to be done.’

  ‘Yeah?’ the hard case growled, eager to cause a fight but also wanting to have what would pass as a reason for doing so. Remembering the stories he had heard about his proposed victim, he did not doubt that he could achieve this. ‘Only we’ll make up our own minds. This here ain’t Iberville Parish, lxi Louisiana, where everybody has to jump when one of you Hardin, Fog and Blaze bunch beckons.’

  At the mention of the region in the United States where his clan had their most extensive holdings, Ole Devil realized that he might be wrong regarding the cause of Ferris’s hostility. Up until then, he had put it down to either stemming from just a bad tempered desire to make trouble or—as when a man deliberately sought out and challenged a successful duelist—a matter of wanting to prove himself better than somebody who had earned a reputation for being a tough and capable fighter.

  Other possibilities now sprang to Ole Devil’s mind. Given so much of a clue, Ferris’s Louisiana accent suggested what might be a solution. He could be nursing a grudge against the members of the Hardin, Fog and Blaze clan for some real, or fancied, wrong and was hoping for an opportunity to repay it.

  It was also feasible, the young Texian decided, that the hard case might have an even more sinister intent. After Ole Devil had left Louisiana, a reward had been offered for his arrest and return. However, it had been for a comparatively small amount and would only be paid if he was taken back alive. So, particularly with Texas in such a state of turmoil, Ferris was unlikely to be considering making such an attempt. He could have something else in mind, believing that if he could kill Ole Devil the people who had put up the reward—and whose son he had been falsely accused of murdering—might be generous out of gratitude for having such a service rendered when they had no other means of taking revenge.