by J. T. Edson
‘Eight extra, senor,’ the major domo said doubtfully. ‘In that case, I’ll have to go into town and make some purchases.’
As Juglares and the first sergeant left the cellar, Ole Devil Hardin was finishing outlining his plans for the collection of the shipment. Houston agreed that, as only he and the young man were aware of the date and place where it would arrive, the line of action which had been proposed stood every chance of succeeding.
Chapter Six – I’d Hate to Get Killed
Although the rain had ceased to fall about half an hour earlier, Ole Devil Hardin and Tommy Okasi were still wearing the waterproof ponchos which they had donned to keep their clothing, saddles and other equipment as dry as possible. The moon had broken through the clouds and its pallid light was sufficient for the two young men to make out some details of the small hamlet at which they were intending to spend the night
Having followed General Samuel Houston’s advice and allowed their horses to rest at Shelby’s Livery Barn overnight, Ole Devil and Tommy had left San Antonio de Bexar early that morning. Instead of accompanying them, Mannen Blaze had returned to the Texas Light Cavalry so that he could take command of Company “C” during his cousin’s absence.
Ole Devil had had no idea that his conversation with the General had been overheard and reported to the enemy. Nor did he suspect that plans were already in motion to circumvent him on the assignment, but he and Tommy were too experienced as campaigners to ride along the main trail which connected San Antonio and Gonzales.
All of the Mexican army’s garrisons might have been driven out of Texas, but that did not mean military activity was at an end. Some of Santa Anna’s volunteer cavalry regiments, the Rancheros Lancers for example, were comprised of Creole xii hacienda owners’ sons and their vaqueros. Hard-riding, tough and capable fighting men, they were sufficiently enterprising to carry out raids north of the Rio Grande. There were also groups of Chicanos who supported el Presidente and were always ready to strike at any unwary Texians with whom they came into contact In addition, marauding bands of Comancheros and white renegades roamed in search of loot and plunder.
Any such foes could be expected to watch a trail that carried traffic between two fair-sized towns. So, even though they had not been able to make such good time, Ole Devil and Tommy had ridden parallel to, but out of sight of it. That meant they were approaching the hamlet from across country. With the wind blowing from the east, the scent of them and their horses was being carried way from the buildings. Due to the rain, the ground was soft and their mounts’ hooves were making little noise.
‘There’re some horses in the lean-to at the back of the cantina,’ Ole Devil warned quietly, bringing his line-backed dun gelding to a halt about two hundred yards from the nearest building. ‘But the rest of the town looks deserted.’
‘Perhaps they belong to some of the men who have stayed behind to guard their homes,’ Tommy suggested, stopping his bay gelding. His sibilant tones were no louder than those of his companion. ‘Or they could be a patrol who have taken shelter from the rain.’
The two young men were not worried by the deserted aspect of the town. They found that less disturbing than the presence of the horses. On passing through while going to report to General Houston, they had found its population on the point of leaving for the greater security offered by the larger town of Guadalupe.
‘It could be either,’ Ole Devil agreed. ‘But, if it is a patrol, is it from our army or Santa Anna’s?’
‘A wise man would make sure before letting them know he is close by,’ Tommy pointed out
‘You’re riding with a wise man, believe it or not,’ Ole Devil declared, swinging to the ground and removing his hat. ‘I’ll drift on over and take a look.’
While Tommy was dismounting, Ole Devil hung his hat by its barbiquejo chinstrap on the saddlehorn and shrugged off his poncho. Folding and tucking it between the cantle and his bed roll, he removed the powder horn and bullet pouch which were slung across his shoulders and suspended them from the hilt of his saber. There was an oblong leather pouch attached to his belt in the centre of his back. Although it held the means to load his rifle, he left it in place. To have removed it would have entailed drawing the belt through the loops of his breeches and the slot of the pistol’s carrier. He had not worn the pouch in San Antonio, but had fixed it into position before leaving that morning.
During the removal of these items which would be an encumbrance to swift and silent movement, the young Texian was examining the hamlet on the off chance that he might discover something to supply a clue to the identities of the horses’ owners. He failed to do so, but did not advance immediately. Instead, he waited while his companion prepared to cover him as he was carrying out the scouting mission.
When the rain had started, Tommy had removed the string from his bow to prevent it from getting wet. The six foot long weapon—which had its handle set two-thirds of the way down the stave instead of centrally, as was the case with Occidental bows—was hanging in two loops attached to the left side of his saddle’s skirts. To keep the flights of the his arrows dry, he had suspended the quiver from the saddlehorn and covered them with his poncho.
Allowing his horse to stand ground-hitched by its dangling, split-ended reins, Tommy duplicated Ole Devil’s actions by removing hat and poncho. Then he retrieved his quiver and swung it across his back so that the flights of the arrows rose above his right shoulder and would be readily available to his ‘draw’ hand. With that done, he restrung the bow and nocked an arrow to the shaft
‘Are you taking your rifle?’ Tommy inquired, when his companion made no attempt to pull the weapon from its saddle-boot
‘I can move faster and quieter without it,’ Ole Devil replied and nodded to the bow. ‘If you have to use that heathen device, try not to stick the arrow in my butt end will you?’
‘I’ll try,’ Tommy promised, grinning as he heard what had come to be the usual comment under such circumstances.
Despite his remark, the Texian had complete confidence in his companion’s ability as an archer. It was, in fact, very comforting to know that Tommy was ready to cover him if it should prove necessary. While the odds were in favor of the horses behind the cantina being owned by friends, Ole Devil did not discount the possibility that they might belong to enemies. If so, and if he got into some kind of trouble, he might need all the help he could get
Tommy might be small, but Ole Devil knew he was completely reliable. He was as deadly effective with the bow as he was with the daisko, the matched pair of slightly curved, long hilted swords which he carried; the thirty inch long tachi hanging by the slings at the left side of his belt and the eighteen inch blade wakizashi dangling on the right.
Walking forward with his eyes continually raking the buildings for any sign of danger, Ole Devil found himself revising his opinion regarding the wind being from the west Earlier he had cursed it when it had occasionally contrived to send some of the rain down the back of his neck. Now he had to admit that it was coming from an advantageous quarter. It was not carrying their scent to the horses behind the cantina nor had it caused their mounts to become aware of the other animals.
Leaving his big bowie knife sheathed and the Manton pistol in its belt-loop, Ole Devil drew nearer to the lean-to without being challenged. Aware of the danger, he took precautions against startling the horses. Hissing gently through his teeth, he alerted them to his presence and arrived without causing them to take fright and betray him. After giving his surroundings a thorough scrutiny and satisfying himself that he was not being watched by the owners of the animals, he stepped underneath the roof.
‘Easy now, boy,’ Ole Devil breathed, going up to the nearest horse in a calm and unhurried manner. Laying his left hand gently on its flank, he stoked it and went on, ‘You’re cool now, but I’d say you were out in the rain for a time. xiii
Having made this deduction, the Texian turned his attention to the horse’s saddle. It was still in p
lace, with the single girth xiv tight enough for the animal to be ridden. The large horn and bulging fork wooden tree covered by sheep-vellum and lined with wool, to which the girth and stirrup leathers were attached by simple straps, was typically Mexican in origin.
However, on going to the next animal, Ole Devil found that it was carrying a different kind of rig. Even before the conflict of interests had caused hostility towards the Mexicans, Texian saddlers had begun to develop their own type of horse’s equipment They were already producing a saddle with a smaller horn, little swelling at the pommel, a very deep seat, wide fenders to the stirrups and double girths. The horse was fitted with such a rig and, like all the others, had a bed roll strapped to the cantle.
Continuing with his investigation, Ole Devil discovered one more Texas ‘slick fork’. The other three horses had on double girthed rigs, but with a quilted, hammock-type seat and no horn, of the style made popular around 1812 in the Eastern United States by James Walker, a Philadelphia saddler. Unfortunately, the diversity of types supplied little or no information regarding the identities of the men who had ridden on them.
Standing by the last horse he had examined, Ole Devil was able to see into the alley which separated the cantina from its neighboring building. Although the rear of the cantina was as dark and apparently deserted as the rest of the hamlet, there was a glow of light from the side window.
Leaving the lean-to, the Texian crossed to the alley in the hope that he might gain more information silently he crept forward, halting to peer cautiously around the side of the window. The light was supplied by a single lamp which was standing on a table in the centre of the room. Of die four men who were sitting at the table, one was a tall, slim vaquero whose charro clothing showed signs of hard travelling. The rest were hard-faced, unshaven white men dressed in buckskins. Yet another gringo was standing behind the bar cutting up pemmican. There were four flintlock rifles leaning against the counter.
Crouching below the level of the windows, Ole Devil went by and reached the front of the building. Instead of turning the corner, he looked around it cautiously. Nursing a rifle, a fifth man was sitting on a chair by the door.
Even as Ole Devil looked, the man lurched to his feet!
Although the young Texian felt sure that he had not been detected, he instinctively drew back his head. There was no outcry, nor anything else to suggest that he had been seen. For all that, without conscious thought, his right hand went to the most suitable weapon for his purpose in case the man should prove to be an enemy and come to investigate whatever he might have seen.
With that in mind, Ole Devil did not reach for his Manton pistol. Instead, his fingers enfolded the concave ivory handle of the bowie knife. Under the circumstances, it would be more effective than the firearm and would not cause a general alarm. Weighing forty-three ounces, the knife’s eleven-inch long, two-and-a-quarter-inches wide, three-eighths of an inch thick blade, and the scalloped brass butt cap, made it as good a club as a cutting and thrusting implement
There was, Ole Devil told himself, no real reason for him to be taking such precautions. While the men were dirty, unshaven and not very prepossessing, they were not especially different from many members of the Republic of Texas’s army which, in general, was more concerned with fighting efficiency than in trying to present a smart and military appearance. Nor was finding a vaquero with the buckskin-clad white men cause for alarm. Several regiments, Bowie’s Texas Volunteers in particular, had Chicanos serving in their ranks.
Despite that, the young Texian felt uneasy. Try as he mighty he could not think of any reason why he should be; but the feeling persisted.
After about thirty seconds had gone by without the man approaching the corner, Ole Devil once again surreptitiously peeped around. The man was now standing at the edge of the sidewalk and looking to the west along the trail. Then, making a gesture of impatience, he turned and stalked towards the cantina without so much as a glance in the young Texian’s direction.
‘Ain’t no sign of him, Sid,’ Ole Devil heard the man saying in protesting tones and a Northern accent as he went through the door which had been broken open. ‘I bet he’s holed up some place out of the rain and’ll be staying there until morning.’
‘Get the hell back out there and keep watch in case he ain’t!’ roared a second voice which had a harsh New England timbre.; ‘I want to be ready for him if he comes.’
Turning before the man reappeared, Ole Devil withdrew along the alley. He went as silently as he had come and just as carefully. Bending as he reached the window, he passed without attempting to look in. Then he straightened up and strode out faster. On coming into sight, he signaled for his companion to wait and hurried to rejoin him.
‘There are six of them, Tommy,’ Ole Devil reported sotto voce, and he described what he had seen, concluding, ‘I’m damned if I know what to make of them, except that they’re definitely not men from the town acting as guards. All I know is that I don’t like the look of them.’
Neither Ole Devil nor Tommy attached any significance to the fact that two of the white men spoke with Northern accents. They knew that not all Texians had originated in the Southern States.
They are waiting for somebody?’ Tommy remarked.
‘From what was said,’ Ole Devil agreed. ‘Just one man, the way they were talking.’
‘Then, as they haven’t unsaddled their horses, they may be expecting to move on when he joins them,’ Tommy suggested. ‘We could stay here and wait to see if they do.’
‘Trouble being, if he has taken shelter from the rain and is staying there for the night, they’ll not be leaving,’ Ole Devil argued. ‘Then again, they’re not trying to hide die fact that they’re in the cantina. If they were, they wouldn’t be showing a light.
‘That doesn’t mean they are friendly,’ Tommy pointed out. ‘They would know a light would lure anybody who was passing.’
‘I’m not gainsaying it.’
‘Then what shall we do?’
‘I hate puzzles, Tommy,’ Ole Devil replied. ‘So I’m just naturally bound to get an answer to this one. Thing is, I’d hate to get lolled before we’ve collected those rifles. General Sam and Uncle Edward’ll be riled at me if I do. So as we can’t play it safe well have to handle it sneaky.’
‘Very wise old Nipponese saying, which I’ve just made up, says, “Always better to be sure than sorry,”‘ Tommy announced soberly. ‘What do you intend to do, Devil-san?’
Despite the light-hearted comments, neither Ole Devil nor Tommy was forgetting that they were engaged upon a mission of considerable importance. However, they also realized it was their duty to try and learn who the men might be and what they were doing in the hamlet. It only remained for them to decide how they might most safely satisfy their curiosity.
‘I’ll take both horses and swing around so that I ride into town along the trail from the east,’ the Texian answered. ‘You go through the alley on foot and be ready to cut in if there’s trouble.’
‘I expected that if there was walking, humble Nipponese gentleman would have to do it,’ Tommy sighed with mock resignation, watching his companion gathering up the horses’ reins.
‘If you’re that humble, you shouldn’t be riding in the first place,’ said Ole Devil and swung astride his tall, line-backed dun gelding. He started it moving and the no-smaller bay followed in response to his gentle tug on the reins. ‘Sayonara?’
‘Remember old Nipponese proverb, which I’ve Just made up,’ Tommy counseled. ‘ “In time of war, wise man treats all others as enemies until they have proved differently”.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ Ole Devil promised and caused the horses to move faster.
Keeping the arrow nocked to his bow’s string, Tommy set off to carry out his part of the plan. Before he had reached the lean-to, he could neither see nor hear Ole Devil and the horses. Which proved to be fortunate.
The sound of footsteps on the planks of the sidewalk in front of
the cantina reached the little Oriental’s ears. Darting to the lean-to, he halted behind its back wall. So quietly had he been moving, even during the last brief dash, that the horses were unaware of his presence and he did not disturb them.
Two of the buckskin-clad white men, each carrying his rifle, came along the alley. However, Tommy had already attained his place of concealment and he listened to what they were saying as they approached.
‘You reckon well come across him, Al?’ asked one of the men, almost petulantly, his voice suggestive of a Northern origin. ‘It’s out of his way if he’s going to—’
‘I know it is,’ the second interrupted and he too did not sound like a Southron. ‘But we were told’s he’d be heading for Gonzales first and this’s the trail’s goes to there. So we’ll ride out for a couple of miles and see if there’s any sign of him. If there ain’t, we’ll come back and see what Haftord wants us to do.’
‘But if he’s holed up, he won’t be along until after daylight,’ the first man protested. ‘And I don’t cotton to the notion of hanging around here after sun up.’
By that time, the pair had reached the lean-to. Tommy was hoping to find out who they were looking for, but did not The conversation was terminated as they collected their horses. Leading the animals outside, they mounted and rode away to disappear into the alley at the opposite end of the cantina. Tommy clicked his tongue impatiently over his failure to learn anything. Even the fact that the man did not wish to be in the hamlet during the daytime proved nothing. He might be a loyal Texian who believed, like Ole Devil and Tommy, that the trail and locality could become unhealthy due to enemy raiders.
