by J. T. Edson
Liberated from its tension, the bow’s limbs returned to their previous positions. In doing so, they propelled the arrow forward. Hissing viciously through the air, the shaft flew towards its mark. On arriving, the needle-pointed, razor sharp, horizontal head cut between the ribs. It sliced open the heart in passing, to emerge through his back and sank into the bar.
Involuntarily throwing aside his unfired rifle as a spasm of agony ripped through him, Halford wrenched the arrow from the counter. Then he spun around with his hands clawing ineffectually at the shaft which was protruding from his chest and crashed dying to the floor.
With his left fingers closing around the barrel of the rifle so that he could elevate it into the firing position, Mucker saw first Stiple and then Halford struck down. He continued to lift the weapon instinctively, turning a worried gaze on the men who were responsible for his companions’ deaths. What he discovered was not calculated to reduce his anxiety. The young Texian was starting to move forward, transferring the still smoking pistol to his left hand so that the right could go across to the ivory hilt of the bowie knife. Beyond him, the small ‘Chinaman’ was already reaching for another arrow,
Lying across the table which had prevented him from falling to the floor, Verde was also studying Ole Devil and Tommy. While a capable knife-fighter and no coward, the vaquero had more sense than to tangle with the Texian in his present condition. Not only had he lost his knife, but he also lacked the other’s ability to draw and fire a pistol swiftly, and he was still feeling the effects of the knee kick What was more, contrary to Juglares’s information, their would-be victim was not alone, Nor was he likely to have restricted his escort to one small man armed with such primitive, if effective, weapons. In all probability, the rest of the escort were approaching ready to support the advance pair.
While these thoughts were passing through Verde’s head, fright was spurring Mucker to move at speed. Already the butt of the rifle was cradled against his shoulder and its barrel was pointing at the centre of the Texian’s chest. His right hand drew back the hammer, then returned to enfold the wrist of the butt and his forefinger entered the trigger guard.
Deciding that discretion was by far the better part of valor under the circumstances, Verde lurched erect. Moving around, he hooked his hands under the edge of the table and flung it in Ole Devil’s direction. Precipitated to the floor, the lamp—which the party had found behind lie bar on their arrival—was shattered. It was almost out of fuel, so did not burst into flames. Instead, it went out and, as the moon had disappeared behind some clouds, the room was plunged into darkness.
Holding tie pistol in his left hand and with the right engaged in drawing the bowie knife, Ole Devil could do nothing more than leap aside as the table was thrown his way. However, the evasion saved his life. Mucker’s rifle roared an instant before the lamp was extinguished and its bullet passed where Ole Devil’s torso had been a moment earlier.
Turning as soon as the darkness had descended, Verde ran across the room. He was making for where an oblong, slightly lighter than the surrounding blackness, marked the window in the left wall.
Realizing that he had missed the Texian and hearing his companion’s footsteps, Mucker did not hesitate. He had no intention of testing his strength against such an efficient fighter as their victim had proved to be, especially as Verde clearly had no intention of staying. Having reached his decision, the lanky man flung his rifle towards where he had last seen the Texian so that it revolved parallel to the floor.
Luck was on Mucker’s side.
Starting to follow the vaquero with the intention of intercepting and capturing him, Ole Devil felt the barrel of the rifle passing between his legs. He was tripped, pitching forward through the blackness. Instinctively he let go of the pistol and the knife, so that he would have a better chance of breaking his fall.
There was a shattering crash of breaking glass and timber. Covering his face with his forearms, Verde had hurled himself through the window. Carrying the ruined frame and broken panes with him, he plunged into the alley. Landing on his feet, he darted towards the lean-to.
At the door, Tommy had started to draw the bow and was watching the window as he had guessed that the vaquero would attempt to leave through it. When the sound of Ole Devil falling reached his ears, he could not prevent himself from looking in that direction. The commotion caused by Verde’s departure brought the little Oriental’s attention back to the window. He realized that he was too late to stop the vaquero. Nor was he any too sanguine over his chances of being able to do anything about the lanky white man, who he felt sure would follow the vaquero. Accurate aiming in the almost pitch blackness of the room was far from easy. In fact, Tommy could not even be sure of exactly where his arrow was pointing.
Listening to Mucker as he sprinted across the room, Tommy waited with the bow fully drawn. When he saw the other’s vague silhouette, he loosed the shaft. It flew high, but came very close to scoring a hit. Mucker felt the hat snatched from his head as if by an invisible hand and heard the thud as the arrow which had impaled it drove into the ruined frame of the window. The sensation gave him an added incentive to leave. Letting out a screech, he flung himself recklessly through the hole. Although he came down on his hands and knees, he was up like a flash and racing after his companion.
‘Are you all right, Devil-san?’ Tommy called anxiously, lowering the bow.
‘Sure,’ the Texian answered, feeling along the floor for his bowie knife. ‘See if you can stop them!’
Satisfied that his companion was not hurt, Tommy turned and went out of the door. He found the line backed dun and the bay were moving restlessly, but not so badly frightened by the commotion that they were threatening to pull free the reins and bolt. So taking another arrow from the quiver, he nocked it to the bow’s string and trotted along the sidewalk.
Even before Tommy reached the alley, he could hear enough to warn him that he might not be able to carry out his companion’s order. The moon was still behind title clouds, which had reduced the visibility. While he could not see that far, the sounds suggested the two men were already leading their mounts from the lean-to. Leather creaked as they swung into their saddles, then the animals started moving.
Tommy increased his pace, but by the time he arrived at the rear of the cantina the men were galloping to the west Although he brought the bow into the shooting position, he did not bother to draw back on the string. Having only twenty arrows, he did not want to chance losing one while trying to hit a practically impossible target. Waiting until he was sure that the pair did not intend to return, he replaced the arrow and walked through the alley. On reaching the street, he found Ole Devil was standing on the sidewalk.
‘Any luck?’ the Texian inquired, sheathing his knife.
They were gone before I could shoot,’ Tommy replied. ‘Who were they?’
‘I don’t know,’ Ole Devil admitted. ‘It’s a pity we couldn’t have taken at least one of them alive and questioned him. I’ve an idea they weren’t here by accident, or just to shelter from the rain.’
‘You mean that they were waiting for you} Tommy asked.
‘I started to think so,’ Ole Devil answered. ‘But this isn’t the shortest way from San Antonio to Santa Cristobal Bay. So, even if they’d learned about the shipment in some way, they wouldn’t have expected to find me on this trail.’
‘Unless they knew how you are going to carry the rifles,’ Tommy supplemented.
‘How could they?’ Ole Devil demanded. ‘Only General Sam and I knew that.’
‘I heard the first two that left talking as they went,’ Tommy explained. ‘One was saying something about the town being out of the man they were expecting’s way and the other said they’d been told he was going to Gonzales first.’
‘Then it could have been me they were after,’ Ole Devil breathed, remembering the conclusions he had drawn from the men’s behavior when he had arrived.
What was more, the young Texia
n saw the implications if his assumption was correct. Somebody very close to General Houston must be a traitor and was supplying information to the Mexicans. He also realized that there would not be time to return and warn the General, then reach the rendezvous with the ship. Before he could do so, it would have been forced to depart and the consignment of rifles would be lost to Texas.
Chapter Eight – If You Can’t Help Me, Don’t Help the Bear!
Despite the fact that he arrived at Gonzales without any further difficulties or attempts upon his life, Ole Devil Hardin refused to let himself be lulled into what he suspected might be a sense of false security. Even the fact that he was now riding across the range between the town and Ewart Brindley’s property did not cause him to relax his vigilance. Rather the knowledge tended to increase it.
Having taken precautions in case the vaquero and Mucker should return with the two men who had departed earlier, Ole Devil and Tommy Okasi had made their preparations to spend the night at the hamlet. After attending to their horses and those of the dead men, they had made a meal from the rations of jerked beef and pemmican which they were carrying. Then they had resumed their investigations into the ramifications of the incident at the cantina.
A thorough search of the two bodies had produced one very significant piece of evidence. In a concealed pocket at the back of the larger corpse’s belt there had been a document bearing the Mexican coat-of-arms and a message written in Spanish. It was to inform all members of Santa Anna’s forces that the bearer, Sidney Halford, was working for the Mexican Government and must be given any assistance that he requested. Although his companion had not been in possession of a similar authorization, it was convincing proof that they were not loyal to the Republic of Texas.
Unfortunately, there had been nothing to suggest why the renegades were at the hamlet.
Being aware of the very serious issues involved, Ole Devil and Tommy had discussed the matter at great length and in detail.
First they had considered the way in which the vaquero had acted when Ole Devil had entered the cantina. If the gang had merely been awaiting the arrival of a companion, there was no reason for him to have behaved in such a manner. He might, of course, have been alerting the other members of the party to the fact that the newcomer was rather more important than a chance-passing member of the Republic of Texas’s army. However, the lanky man’s reaction to the introduction had implied that he, for one, wanted to discover who had arrived.
Against that, the gang had apparently expected only one man. If they had known who was being sent to collect the rifles, they must have acquired their knowledge from what had been said in General Samuel Houston’s office. Which meant that somebody had been able to listen to the conversation without the General and Ole Devil being aware of it. However, if that had been the case, the eavesdropper would have known that Tommy was accompanying the young Texian. Unless, as the little Oriental had pointed out, for some reason he—or she—had been prevented from hearing all that had passed between them.
There was, Ole Devil had realized, only one course open to him. If there should be a spy with the means of gathering such confidential information, the General must be warned so that he could take precautions. Producing a writing-case from his war bag, the young Texian had composed a report for Houston. In it, he had given a comprehensive description of the incident and of the conclusions which he and Tommy had reached. He had also said that he was retaining the document which identified Halford in case he might find a need for it during the assignment
The next morning, after having spent an otherwise uneventful night in the cantina, Ole Devil had sent Tommy back to San Antonio de Bexar with the report. Using one of the dead men’s horses, which the fleeing pair had been in too much of a hurry either to take with them or frighten away, the little Oriental was to ride relay. After delivering the information to Houston, he would follow and rejoin Ole Devil on the way to the rendezvous at Santa Cristobal Bay.
Taking along the second of the horses which had been left in the lean-to—the contents of the bed roll on the cantle of its ‘slick fork’ saddle, although supplying no information of greater use, suggested that it had been Halford’s property – Ole Devil had resumed his journey at dawn, Tommy was using Stiple’s mount, which had a Walker-style rig, having lost the toss of a coin to determine which of them should take it.
Once again the young Texian had not stuck to the trail. While the two men had fled and not returned, he doubted whether they and their companions would give up so easily; especially if they were aware of his assignment and were trying to prevent him from carrying it out. He had reached Guadalupe without having seen any sign of them. Visiting the town, he had found its population were preparing to take part in the withdrawal to the east
The commanding officer of the town’s small garrison had listened to Ole Devil’s story and, without having asked too many questions about the nature of his mission, had promised to send a patrol to the hamlet. They were to search along the trail on the very slender chance that the four men might still be lurking in the vicinity. Although Ole Devil had described the quartet as well as possible and the officer had said that he would try to find out if they had been seen around Guadalupe, he doubted if he would be successful as there were so many strangers present. However, he had offered to supply Ole Devil with an escort as far as Gonzales. Wanting to travel faster than would be possible if he was accompanied by a number of men, as well as having no wish to reduce the other’s already barely adequate force, the young Texian had declined the offer and had ridden on alone.
As was always his way, Ole Devil had given much thought to the situation. While he had remained alert and watchful, he had not expected to run into any trouble before he had passed through Gonzales on the final five or so miles which separated it from the Brindleys’ place. His reasoning was that if the men were hunting him because of the shipment, and had been told of at least part of the arrangements he had made in Houston’s office, they would know why he was not taking the most direct route to Santa Cristobal Bay. After the way in which he had arrived at the hamlet, they were likely to assume that he would adopt similar tactics and stay off the trail. While there were a number of ways in which he could travel from Guadalupe to Gonzales, once he had passed the latter town his route would be more restricted.
In view of his conclusions, Ole Devil was willing to bet that they would be spread out and keeping watch for him somewhere between two and four miles beyond Gonzales. Nearer to the town, or closer to the Brindleys’ ranch, any shooting would be heard and might—almost certainly would if there was more than one shot—be investigated. Now he had already entered the region where, if his assumptions were correct, he could expect to find them.
Slouching comfortably in the saddle of the borrowed horse, with the line-backed bay walking at its right side, the young Texian kept his eyes constantly on the move. He was passing through rolling, broken and bush-dotted terrain which would offer plenty of scope for ambush. What was more, there were numerous areas of high ground; vantage points from which the quartet could keep watch for him. However, it was also the kind of land that allowed a man to move without making himself too conspicuous if he knew how to utilize it and did not mind winding about instead of trying to go directly to his ultimate destination.
Since his arrival in Texas, Ole Devil had learned how to make the most use of such land when he was traversing it. Despite his upbringing, in fact because of it, he was no snob. Nor had he ever been so self-opinionated that he would not take advice and learn from those who knew what they were talking about. Working with experienced frontier men, he had watched, listened, remembered and put his findings into practice. He was doing so now as he rode along, leading the dun with its reins held in his left hand.
Having called at Gonzales and obtained advice on how to find the Brindleys’ ranch, Ole Devil had kept to the bottom of draws, or passed through areas of bushes instead of going across more easily negotiable open ground.
When he had been compelled to expose himself by crossing a ridge, he had done so with great care and only after scanning every inch of the land ahead and behind.
The raucous cackle of feeding magpies came to Ole Devil’s ears as he was approaching the top of a bush-fringed rim. Suddenly, one of the black and white scavengers gave an alarm call and they rose into the air. The young Texian realized that it was not his presence which had frightened them.
Slowing down his horses, Ole Devil approached the rim with extreme care. Making use of the screen of bushes, he peered over the top. About a hundred yards away, a buckskin-clad figure carrying a rifle was walking towards the partially eaten carcass of a mule that lay in the open some thirty yards from a clump of buffalo-berry bushes,
Although the figure was dressed in a familiar manner, except that he had on Indian moccasins and leggings instead of boots, and despite the brim of the hat hiding his face as he looked down at the carcass, Ole Devil knew he was not one of the white men who had been in the cantina. About five foot seven inches tall, while neither puny nor skinny, he lacked the thickset bulk of the one who compared with him in height. In addition, he gave the impression of being younger. His horse, a black and white tobiano gelding with a ‘slick fork’ saddle that had a coiled rope strapped to its horn, but no bed roll on the cantle, was standing ground-hitched some thirty feet away. It was staring in alarmed manner at the dead mule.
The horse, Ole Devil decided, was showing better sense than its owner.
Even as the thought came, there was a rustling among the buffalo-berry bushes. Ole Devil looked that way and a sense of chilly apprehension drove through him. From all appearances, the youngster’s desire to examine the dead mule had led him into a potentially dangerous situation. Rearing up on its hind legs, a large bear loomed over the bushes. It had been lying up in the shade after feeding on the carcass, Snorting and snuffling, it stared at the intruder advancing towards its kill.
