by J. T. Edson
‘Just you wait until Grandpappy Ewart hears about this!’ the girl warned, without looking at her assailant, spitting out the words as if they were burning her mouth. However, her fingers left the hilt of the knife.
‘Who?’ Ole Devil asked before he could stop himself, with a cold feeling hitting him in the pit of the stomach.
‘Ewart Brindley, fancy pants,’ the girl elaborated viciously, sensing her combined rescuer and assailant’s perturbation and drawing the wrong conclusions regarding what had caused it ‘As soon as he hears what you’ve done to me, he’ll skin you alive!’
‘Diamond-Hitch Brindley!’ Ole Devil thought bitterly, recollecting General Samuel Houston’s comment on the advisability of keeping on the best of terms with the girl as that would be the most certain way of winning her irascible grandfather’s support and assistance. ‘I’ve sure picked a fine way of doing that.’
‘Happen you know what’s good for you,’ the girl went on, although not quite so heatedly, when her warning failed to evoke a verbal response or discernible change in the young Texian’s attitude, ‘you’ll go catch my horse for me. Then get going to wherever you’re headed and I’ll forget what you did.’
Even as the wrathful words had been boiling from her lips, Charlotte Jane Martha Brindley was starting to regret that she was saying them. Always of a volatile and ebullient nature, she was quick to anger but just as ready to forgive; particularly when conscious that she herself was as much, perhaps even more, at fault than the other participant in the contretemps.
While Di had been very grateful for being saved from a very painful death, her rescuer’s attitude and scathing words could not have come at a worse time. She had been churned up emotionally over her narrow escape and not a little annoyed by the realization that her perilous predicament had come about through her own reckless behavior.
On finding the dead mule, which had strayed from the remuda the previous night, a girl with her experience ought to have shown greater caution. The tobiano gelding was not long broken to the saddle and she was riding it to further its training. So she should have known that it was not as steady as her regular horse and would be unreliable in an emergency. On top of that, when the bear had made its appearance, she had pro-yoked a charge which could have been avoided by using her common-sense. In doing so, she had endangered her own and the stranger’s lives. She could guess how he must have stopped the animal. Only a man of great courage, or a reckless fool would have attempted to do so in such a manner. Her instincts suggested that he came into the former category.
So Di’s relief and gratitude had been entangled with guilt over her folly. Nor had her rescuer’s behavior on turning to face her done anything to lessen her emotional tensions. With her nerves stretched tight, his obvious anger had triggered off her unfortunate response.
Despite the way in which her rescuer had subsequently treated her, Di was sorry for the way in which she had acted. However, her pride would not permit an open apology and she hoped that he would do as she suggested.
For his part, Ole Devil could appreciate the girl’s motives and, under different circumstances, he might have sympathized with her. Unfortunately, he too had been under a considerable strain and possessed a fair amount of pride. So her attitude was doing little to bring about a conciliatory situation. However, as he remembered what was at stake, he forced himself to consider how he might establish a more amicable relationship with her. He decided to explain what he was doing and hoped that she would have the good sense, sufficient gratitude for her rescue, and loyalty to Texas, to overlook the spanking.
Before Ole Devil could start putting his good intentions into practice, he saw four riders topping a ridge about half a mile away. One of them was pointing in his and the girl’s direction, then they were urging their horses forward at a faster pace. He could tell that they were a Mexican and three buckskin-clad white men, two of whom were carrying rifles. While the distance was too great for him to make out further details, he was certain that they were the quartet he had been expecting to be in the vicinity. What was more, unless he was mistaken, the recognition had been mutual
Ole Devil could have cursed the vagaries of fate. Having saved Di Brindley’s life, which would have made him extremely popular with her grandfather, he had ruined the effect by giving her a not undeserved spanking. Now, before he could try to make amends, she was likely to find her life endangered because of him.
‘Run and fetch my horse!’ Old Devil ordered, striding forward. The urgency of the situation put an edge to his voice which, he realized too late, taken with his choice of words, would not enhance his popularity with the girl.
The indignant tirade trailed off as Ole Devil hurried past the girl. Turning, she watched him picking up the pistol which he had dropped when she slapped his face. Then she noticed the approaching riders and stopped speaking.
Retrieving the weapon, Ole Devil examined it to make sure that its barrel had not become plugged up with soil when it landed. Satisfied, he replaced it in the belt loop and, after another glance at the four men, swung around. Much to his annoyance, he found that Di was still standing watching him.
‘Get going!’ Ole Devil commanded, bounding forward. ‘Head for my horse!’
Realizing that the riders must be the cause of her rescuer’s behavior, Di did not waste time in asking questions or making protests. Turning, she started to run at Ws side. Any lingering doubts she might have been harboring were wiped away when a bullet passed between them and ploughed into the ground a few feet away from the dun. She darted a glance at her rifle as she went by, but knew better than to stop and pick it up.
As Ole Devil was approaching the dun, he reached behind him with his left hand and raised the flap of the leather pouch that was attached to his belt From it, he drew a rectangular metal bar with rounded ends. Having done so, he put on a spurt which carried him ahead of the girl. Arriving alongside his mount, he thrust his right hand towards the rifle in its saddle-boot.
‘Mount up and get going!’ the young Texian told the girl as he drew out the rifle and turned to face the direction from which they had come.
‘Like hell I will!’ Di answered, guessing what he had in mind. She pivoted to a stop by his side, reaching to haul the pistol from his belt’s loop and, serious as she realized the situation must be, could not resist continuing, ‘I hope whoever loaded this blasted thing for you knew what he was doing, fancy pants.’
‘And I hope you know how to handle it and can shoot better than most women,’ Ole Devil commented dryly, although he guessed that the girl would prove competent, accept that to try and enforce his demand for her to leave would be futile.
‘I can shoot better than most men? Di countered, speaking jerkily as she replenished her lungs with air. ‘Don’t worry, fancy pants, I’ll protect you.’
While speaking, the girl was drawing back the hammer of the Manton pistol and gauging the strength of the trigger-pull that would be required from die amount of resistance she was meeting. It moved easily and the gentle clicking of the mechanism implied that the pull would be light, but not excessively so. Taken with the pistol’s weight and balance, her deductions were comforting. She knew that she was holding a weapon of exceptional quality which, in capable hands, would prove extremely accurate.
Despite the danger which was threatening them, Ole Devil could not hold down an appreciative grin at Di’s spirited response. A quick glance at her assured him that the breathless way she was speaking was caused by her exertions and not from fear or panic.
Having satisfied himself upon that not unimportant point, the young Texian returned his attention to the four men. They had fanned out into a well-spaced line and were galloping closer. Although they still had at least a quarter of a mile to cover, the vaquero and the lanky man who had fled with him from the cantina were already holding pistols. Tucking his empty rifle between his left thigh and the
saddle, the man who had fired the shot started to draw his handgun. However, the last of the quartet was still carrying a loaded rifle even though, as yet, he had not attempted to use it
On meeting their companions, who had heard the shooting and were returning to the hamlet to investigate, Arnaldo Verde and Mucker had done almost exactly what Ole Devil had deduced they might
Being aware that Al Soapy regarded every man of Mexican origin as a coward and knowing they had just as little regard for Mucker’s courage, the vaquero had considered it advisable to stretch the truth when telling them what had happened at the cantina. So he, with Mucker’s support, had deliberately over-estimated the size of Ole Devil’s escort They had claimed that their quarry had been accompanied by at least half a dozen men and had appeared to have been expecting trouble, which had chilled any desire the other two might have felt towards avenging their dead companions,
There had been a difference of opinion between the quartet as to what their best line of action would be in view of the changed circumstances. Soapy had suggested that they should return to their hide-out and pick up reinforcements. Verde had pointed out that there had only been six men at it when they had left, and that their leader was intending to use them to gather together the rest of the gang ready to go and intercept the shipment. The vaquero had also pointed out that their task was to prevent Ole Devil Hardin from reaching Ewart Brindley and they would not have sufficient time to go to the hideout before making another try at stopping him.
After Verde had established his points and gained his companions’ grudging agreement, he had declared that they ought to continue with their assignment As none of the others could come up with a better idea, they had let him make the arrangements. Without having realized it, the vaquero had duplicated Ole Devil’s summation of the situation. Instead of trying to lay an ambush along the trail, or attempting to locate the young Texian as he made his way across country to Gonzales, they had headed directly to the town. Learning where the Brindleys’ place was situated, they had taken up a position that offered them a good view of the terrain over which he was most likely to pass.
The discovery that Ole Devil was riding alone had been the cause of considerable recriminations, with Soapy demanding to be told what had happened to the escort. Although Verde had not cared for the other’s attitude and implications, he had managed to control his temper. He had suggested that the men might have been accompanying the young Texian only as far as Guadalupe, or Gonzales. Or they might even have been a patrol which Just happened to be using the trail and Ole Devil was riding with them for the company. Either explanation had left a number of questions unanswered, but the urgency of the situation had prevented them from being asked. As Mucker had said, no matter what had happened to the escort, its absence made their work that much easier and safer.
Accepting Mucker’s statement, the quartet had set off to intercept the young Texian. Although while using Verde’s telescope to watch for Ole Devil they had noticed Di Brindley, they had been in a hollow and missed seeing her meeting with him. On coming into view, having heard the shot, they had drawn at least one incorrect conclusion from the sight which had met their eyes. As they could not see the pistol which Ole Devil had discarded after filing, they assumed he was holding an empty weapon. So they had not been surprised when Ole Devil and the ‘boy’—the quartet had fallen into the same error regarding Di’s sex—turned and ran towards the line-backed dun. They had expected the fleeing pair to mount the horse and try to escape in that way.
Always boastful about his ability as a marksman, Soapy had tried to prevent the Texian and the ‘boy’ from escaping by shooting the dun. Not unexpectedly, as the range had been dose to five hundred yards and he was sitting a fast-moving horse, he missed. So, having emptied his weapon to no purpose, he felt somewhat perturbed when Ole Devil and Di turned instead of mounting the waiting dun. If the way they were arming themselves meant anything, they were going to fight rather than try to escape with the animal carrying a double load.
Watching Ole Devil holding and doing something to the rifle which he could not make out, Verde did not share Soap’s misgivings. In fact he was not displeased by the way things were turning out True the ‘boy’ had armed himself with the Texian’s pistol, suggesting that it might have been reloaded, but even in skilled hands it would only be a short range weapon. The rifle which Ole Devil was raising to his shoulder would be a far greater danger.
‘Keep moving at long range until he fires,’ Verde called to his companions. ‘Then rush him before he can reload.’
Although the vaqueros advice did not reach Di’s ears, she was aware of such a danger. Having helped to fight off more than one Indian attack, she suspected that the four men might adopt similar tactics by hovering at a distance until fired on and then attacking before the empty weapons could be replenished. Noticing that her companion was taking aim, she decided to warn him against playing into the quartet’s hands.
Before the girl could speak, the rifle cracked!
Almost as if wishing to oblige his attackers, Ole Devil sighted and touched off a shot Soapy heard the bullet passing close to his head, but was not hit
‘Come on, amigos!’ Verde yelled, watching the Texian lowering the rifle’s butt so as to start reloading, ‘We’ve got him now!’
Chapter Ten – Keep Going, It’s Empty Now!
Eagerly urging their horses forward Arnaldo Verde and his three white companions began to close together as they bore down on their intended victims. Each of the quartet used his spurs as an encouragement to make his mount run faster, wanting to make sure that they arrived before the young Texian could reload his rifle.
Watching the men approaching, Diamond-Hitch Brindley was very worried and her earlier annoyance returned. She had been revising her opinion about the possible capabilities of her rescuer, deciding that he might be much less of the fancily-dressed dude she had first thought After the way in which he had discharged his weapon’s only bullet, she concluded that his method of dealing with the bear must have stemmed from ignorance and reckless folly and not out of a courageous calculation of the dangers it involved. There was, Di knew, no way that he could go through the time-consuming process of reloading any type of rifle with which she was acquainted before the quartet reached them.
That was where Di and the four men were making the same mistake. It was an error caused by ignorance, although pardonable under the circumstances.
At first sight, the weapon in Ole Devil Hardin’s hands appeared to be a so-called ‘Kentucky’ rifle xvii of the kind which had long been popular in the more easterly of the United States; although it was being supplanted by the heavier calibered and shorter ‘Mississippi’ models west of that mighty river. However, a close examination would have revealed that it possessed several features which were not incorporated in die design of the standard ‘Kentucky’ flintlock, or the ‘Mississippi’ caplock. Most noticeable difference was the hammer being set underneath the rifle, just in front of the trigger-guard. There had been a few ‘under-hammer’ pieces made, but they had never been common, or popular, due to the difficulty of retaining the priming powder in the frizzen pan. Neither had any of them carried a lever on the right side of the frame, nor had an aperture cut through it An omission which might have aroused comment was a ramrod, for it was not supplied with the means to carry one beneath the barrel. The latter item was, in fact, not needed.
The action which Verde had noticed Ole Devil carrying out, but unfortunately for his party had failed to understand, was the remarkably easy process of loading a Browning Slide Repeating rifle. Once the original preparations had been made, it did not require a powder flask, patch, ball and ramrod.
The rectangular metal bar which Ole Devil had taken from the pouch on the rear of his belt was, in reality, the rifle’s magazine. Five chambers had been drilled in the front of the bar, that having been the number Jonathan Browning had considered most suitable for convenient handling; although he produced
models with a greater capacity if requested Each chamber had a hole at the rear to take a percussion cap.
After firing a shot a thrust with the right thumb on the lever caused the magazine to move through the aperture in the receiver so that die next chamber was in place. Not only did the mechanism lock the magazine into position, but thrust it forward until a gas-tight seal was formed against the bore of the barrel As a further aid to ease of operation, the proximity of the hammer to the right forefinger allowed it to be cocked without the need to remove the butt from the shoulder. xviii
So Ole Devil did not have any need to reload in die normal fashion. Lowering the rifle as if he was compelled to had been done to make the quartet believe they had nothing to fear and to lure them closer.
When Verde and the three white men were about a hundred and fifty yards away, ignoring the muttering from the girl at his side—although he could hear that it consisted of profane comments about what she assumed to have been his stupidity in emptying his weapon—the Texian returned the butt to his right shoulder. He had already pressed on the operating lever and watched the magazine creeping through the aperture. With all ready for aligning the sights, he manipulated the hammer with his right forefinger.
Sighting at Al along the forty and five-sixteenths of an inch octagonal barrel, Ole Devil selected him because his rifle was most probably unfired and, at that distance he would be the most dangerous of the four. Squeezing the trigger, the Texian felt the thrust of the recoil. Although smoke swirled briefly between them, his shooting instincts told him that he had held true.
Caught in the chest by a .45 caliber bullet, Al was knocked backwards from his saddle and the rifle pirouetted out of his hand. The other three men were surprised that their intended victim had been able to fire as they had not seen him do anything which they could identify as recharging his weapon.
