by Neil Hunter
She scowled at him. ‘Do my best to uphold the honor of the damn regiment, sir!’
Brand leaned across and kissed her. ‘Lady Sarah, you’d make a mean man.’
‘Wouldn’t be as much fun in bed though.’
‘You could be right.’
‘Jason — be careful.’
He eased through the undergrowth, skirting the edge of the pool, his eyes always monitoring the movements of the two guards. He was grateful for the thick tangle of greenery that grew across the whole area. It covered his movements. He could hear the guards’ voices carrying over the pool. They didn’t seem to be all that content. Being stuck out here in the bayou had unsettled them. Brand hoped it had made them lax.
One of the guards sat on a rotted stump and started to roll himself a smoke. The other man said something to him, tucked his rifle under his arm and wandered across to the shack. He went inside. Shortly smoke began to rise from the crude chimney stack angled crookedly from the sloping roof of the shack.
Brand kept moving until he was within a few yards of the rear of the shack. He could hear the man inside the shack moving around, mumbling to himself. The tantalizing aroma of frying bacon reached Brand’s nostrils making him realize how hungry he was.
He pushed thoughts of food to the back of his mind as he concentrated on the guard sitting on the tree stump, smoking his cigarette. The man’s rifle lay across his knees, so he wasn’t in any position for a quick response. That suited Brand. He wasn’t about to give the guard any kind of chance — but anything could go wrong.
Once he had made up his mind Brand moved. He took long strides, bringing him up behind the guard, and slammed the barrel of his revolver down across the man’s skull. As the guard began to slump Brand hit him again, snatching up the falling rifle as it slid toward the ground. He also took the guard’s handgun, tossing both weapons into the pool.
Turning in toward the shack Brand was unexpectedly confronted by the second guard as he stepped out of the door. The guard locked eyes with the intruder and went for his holstered gun. Brand raised the Colt in his fist, dogging back the hammer and tripping the trigger.
The gun misfired.
Still moving forward, even as the gun became a dead weight in his hand, Brand didn’t waste time on a second attempt. He lunged at the guard, ducking low. He heard the man’s gun fire, the heat of the shot scorching his cheek as he slammed shoulder first into the guard’s stomach. The momentum propelled them back through the shack’s open door. As they stumbled inside they struck something that splintered beneath their weight, sending them crashing to the floor. Breaking free Brand pushed to his feet, and saw the outline of the other’s gun lifting again. He kicked out, the toe of his boot catching the man’s gun hand. A yell of pain split the air as the weapon spun from his fingers. He swore angrily, recovering fast and came up off the floor with a slim bladed knife in his free hand. He held it low, body crouching as he watched Brand. When he moved he was fast, the slender blade slicing through Brand’s sleeve, scoring the flesh. Blood soaked Brand’s shirt. The guard moved in again, weaving, the blade glittering as it cut the air, then thrust forward. This time the cut was to Brand’s chest. The guard knew how to use a knife, and his skill was making him confident. Sure that he had Brand where he wanted him.
Brand felt heat at his back. Remembered the plume of smoke he had seen rising from the chimney. He recalled the smell of frying bacon. There was a cook stove behind him. He let his eyes flick to the left and saw the small, round-bodied cast iron stove close by.
His glance took in the heavy iron fry pan sitting atop the stove. Thick slices of salted bacon crackled in the hot fat of the fry pan.
He acted without any further thought, spinning on his heel and snatching up the heavy pan and swinging back toward the startled guard. Brand hurled the contents of the pan into the guard’s face.
The man’s scream was loud, shrill. He stumbled away from Brand, dropping the knife as he clasped both hands to his burned, blistering face. The scalding fat had burned deep into his flesh, searing skin and eyes.
Brand snatched up the man’s fallen gun. He eased back the hammer, raised the weapon and put a single shot through the back of the screaming man’s skull, ending his agony.
Stepping outside Brand made for the cave. Fine spray soaked his shirt as he made his way across the wet stone ledge behind the waterfall. The cave before him was a dark hole pushing deep into the rock. Oil lamps hung on metal spikes driven into the rock. Brand took one and returned to the guard he’d knocked unconscious. He found matches in the man’s pocket and used one to light his lamp.
It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for.
Only yards inside the cave were stacked boxes and crates. Even barrels. A quick check confirmed Brand’s suspicions. They contained large quantities of weapons. Rifles and handguns. There was ammunition. Black powder. Even bullet moulds and lead strip. It was an impressive and frightening arsenal. It showed that Beauregard St Clair did things on a grand scale.
Brand spotted something familiar off to the side. It was one of the Gatling Guns he had seen in St Clair’s cellar. The gun had been fully assembled and loaded. Beside the weapon was an open box containing additional magazines. The Gatling was pointing at the cave entrance. Most probably there as a safeguard to protect the arms cache if it was discovered.
Hanging the lamp on a wall spike Brand returned to the stored weapons. He took a couple of black powder casks and used the butt of his handgun to break the tops. He laid a thick trail of powder around the other powder casks and the ammunition boxes. Then he used the remaining powder in the second cask to lay a thick line of powder across the floor of the cave, taking it to the mouth of the cave.
He realized it was a waste of good munitions, but better to destroy it all than let any of it stay in St Clair’s hands. There was no way Brand could let McCord know what he’d found. And St Clair’s people weren’t far behind. If the man spirited the weapons away they might vanish completely. The man was fanatic enough to have his supporters use the weapons, so Brand decided to remove temptation. Someone in Washington would raise all hell over the waste of Government property. Brand wasn’t going to waste too much time letting that worry him.
He stood at the mouth of the cave, studying the powder trail, wondering how long it would take for it to burn. When it did reach the arms cache there was going to be an impressive explosion, and Brand wanted to be at a fair distance when that happened.
He took the oil lamp, preparing to touch off the powder.
And froze.
Was that his imagination? Or had he heard someone call his name? He turned in the direction of the cave’s mouth, and heard the shout clearly this time.
‘We know you’re in there, Brand! Show yourself! And do it fast because we have your lady friend with us! Alive — for now!’
Chapter Nine
Sarah hadn’t even heard them!
The first indication that she had been discovered had been a rough hand grasping her arm and yanking her to her feet. Someone spun her round. The rifle had been torn from her grasp. She got a quick impression of a group of men, at least eight of them. And among them was the pale, slim figure of Willard St Clair.
Sarah’s first thought was of Brand. She opened her mouth to yell a warning, but a heavy fist struck her. She stumbled back from the blow, tasting blood in her mouth and the sting of a cut lip.
‘If I was you, Miss Debenham, I would maintain a dignified silence.’
Sarah glared at Willard St Clair. A shudder ran through her. There was something repellent about him. The unhealthy way he was staring at her made her uneasy.
‘I say we should get over to the shack,’ one of the men said.
Sarah saw it was the man Brand had forced to lead them to this place.
Willard silenced him with a flick of his hand. ‘In time, Bates. In time.’ He moved closer to Sarah. ‘First I need to find out something from our guest.’
‘Go to hell!’ Sarah told him.
‘Damned if she ain’t got guts,’ one of the other men said.
The observation failed to impress Willard.
‘If I were you, my dear lady, I would temper my words with caution.’
‘Fine,’ Sarah replied. ‘Would you kindly go to hell.’
A man laughed. Willard’s face paled even more. He took a short breath, then lashed out with his slender hand. The blow stung Sarah’s cheek. Tears of pain filled her eyes. She forced herself to face Willard.
‘If I was a man you wouldn’t have dared to do that. The only reason you managed to hit me now was because all these men are behind you.’
‘You damn Yankee bitch!’ Willard screamed, his voice rising to a girlish squeal. ‘At least you’re right about one thing. If you were a man I wouldn’t be able to do this . . . ’
He reached out to snatch at her shirt, ripping it from shoulder to waist and exposing her naked body. Before Sarah could move away from him Willard cupped one of her breasts, his thin fingers squeezing cruelly. Sarah gasped as his nails dug into her soft flesh.
‘Now you tell me, girl. Who is that man? I know he’s not Colter. Believe me it would be better if you told me what I need to know. Every man here has been out searching all night, and they’re all aching for a chance to spend some time with you.’
Bates pushed forward, eyes gleaming. He dragged the coat off Sarah’s shoulders.
‘I’ll have this back first.’ Then he grinned. ‘And I might take the pants to go with them.’
He began to paw at Sarah’s belt, his hands sliding over her stomach and thighs.
‘Your choice,’ Willard said. ‘No help coming so you can yell all you want. Tell the truth, girl, I’ll enjoy watching the boys havin’ their fun.’
Sarah held out for a few minutes, until the sweaty touch of so many hands was too much for her to bear. She felt guilty. Weak at her capitulation, but the implicit threats coming from the grinning bunch of men made her aware of what they had in store for her, and it was too much.
‘So he’s a damned government agent!’
Willard rounded on the man who had spoken.
‘What does it matter who he is? He’s helpless out here. No way he can get a message to his people. He isn’t going to get out alive so anything he’s learned dies here in the bayou along with him.’
‘If he’s an agent it means the government must know what we’re planning.’
‘If they come we’ll kill them too,’ Willard raged. ‘And I don’t believe they know too much. If they did they wouldn’t have sent one man. I believe we’re safe as long as we kill this man Brand. He’s been sent to try and find out what we’re doing. All he’s got are some stolen guns. Nothing else.’
‘We could lose them if he takes a mind to destroy them,’ Bates pointed out. ‘Took us a long time to collect them. Your daddy ain’t goin’ to be too happy if Brand blows those guns sky high.’
Willard calmed down, staring at Bates, because even he could see the logic of the man’s argument.
‘All right. Let’s move. And fetch the woman along. She might be able to persuade him to come out peacefully.’
‘Unless Quinn and Prentice have already stopped him,’ one man suggested.
Bates dragged Sarah to her feet. ‘Not that bastard. He’s mean enough to have taken Quinn and Prentice without breakin’ sweat.’
When they reached the pool, gazing across the tranquil water, they were able to see the motionless figure stretched out near the shack.
‘Told you so,’ Bates said, rounding on Willard. ‘Where is he, St Clair? My money says inside the damn cave.’
‘Shut your mouth,’ Willard yelled. ‘Let me figure this out. Then I’ll tell you what to do.’
Bates held back with difficulty. He didn’t like Willard. The man was a weak fool. He liked to throw his weight about, using his father’s authority as a shield. His problem was he caved in too easily when the pressure was on him.
‘Well, what do we do now, boss-man?’ Bates taunted after a short wait.
‘Bring the girl,’ Willard ordered.
Sarah was hauled to the pool’s edge and a challenge yelled in the direction of the cave. Clutching her torn clothing against her bruised, trembling body, Sarah hoped Brand was inside. She wished she could have been with him. Anything would have been preferable to the bunch of braying men jostling around her.
‘Maybe he ain’t there,’ one man said.
‘Sweet Jesus,’ Bates said. ‘Of course the bastard’s in there. You expect him to show and wave at us, Anderson?’
‘Bates,’ Willard said. ‘Put your knife to the girl’s throat.’
Bates grinned. This was something he liked. He took a knife from one of the men and grabbed Sarah by the hair, forcing her to her knees. Moving behind her he pulled her head back and laid the keen edge of the blade against her taut throat.
‘I know you’re in there, Brand,’ Willard called out. ‘If you don’t want to see the woman’s throat sliced open show yourself. And be quick about it.’
Despite the knife at her throat Sarah struggled against Bates’ restraining grip. He pushed against even harder.
‘You go right on squirming, honey,’ Bates whispered, crouching low behind her. He was enjoying the pressure of her firm buttocks against his groin. ‘Right now this is the best part of the day.’
There was no response from the cave. Silence apart from the hiss of the falling water.
‘Brand?’
Nothing.
Willard St Clair began to sweat. Why wasn’t Brand responding? Maybe the woman didn’t mean that much to him after all. It was possible the man would allow her to die.
Before any further thoughts passed through Willard’s confused mind there was a response from within the cave. It was far from anything he might have expected, but it confirmed one thing.
Jason Brand was still around, and he was in no mood to talk.
He let something else do his talking for him, and it tore the day wide open with deadly intent.
Chapter Ten
Brand had dragged the assembled Gatling Gun to the mouth of the cave along with the box of extra magazines.
When Willard and his men appeared Brand stood back and waited to see what they were going to do.
He watched as one of the men pushed Sarah to her knees and laid a knife to her throat.
The main bunch were standing to one side, giving him a clear line of fire. Brand knew what he had to do. Willard was giving him no choice.
They knew who he was. By now they would have figured out the reason for his presence. Which meant the moment he stepped out of the cave he was a dead man.
Sarah was also under threat. Brand knew they would kill her too. And no amount of bleating from McCord would change anything once they were dead. So Brand had to make his choices here and now, and act on them.
He had opened one of the cases and selected a brand new Colt Peacemaker. Wiping off the thin coat of oil with the tail of his shirt Brand had broken open a carton of .45 caliber shells and loaded the gun. He had tucked the weapon under his belt, dropping a handful of cartridges in his pants pocket. The burning lamp, with the glass raised, stood beside him as he tugged the Gatling round to line up on the main group of men just beyond Sarah and Willard St Clair. He checked that the weapon was primed and ready, then reached for the cranking handle.
So you want to start a war do you? Want the Confederacy to rise again? So try this for size!
He cranked the handle.
The Gatling exploded with sound. The cylinder of barrels rotated, each one spitting out a bullet as it passed the breech. The cave reverberated to the chatter of gunfire. Smoke filled the air. Through the haze of the waterfall Brand saw a line of bullets march across the pool, bursts of foam lifting. He tilted the barrel as he kept firing and this time saw his stream of fire rip into the bunched men even as they tried to scatter. He angled the barrel left and right, catching them as they spread.
They went down in a yelling mass, bodies punctured and bloody.
Willard suddenly broke out of his motionless trance. Turning to Sarah he snatched at her arm, dragging her to her feet and used her as a shield as he retreated into the undergrowth, followed by the man who had been holding the knife to Sarah’s throat.
Brand let go of the cranking handle. He picked up the oil lamp and turned up the wick. He touched the flame to the trail of black powder. It crackled and spat, then gushed out a long tail of bright flame. With surprising speed it began to race toward the main stack of weapons and the additional powder Brand had spread around.
Aware that time was running out fast Brand turned and made for the mouth of the cave, through the waterfall and skirted the edge of the pool. He was making for the rear of the shack. The only cover close by.
The blast came before he reached the shack.
The sound of the explosion was deafening.
The ground shook beneath Brand’s feet. A gush of flame and smoke belched from the mouth of the cave. The air was suddenly full of flying debris. The impact of the blast picked Brand up and threw him for yards. He landed face down, rolling frantically to break his fall. The day turned dark as the boiling smoke from the explosion spilled over him, followed by the heat of the blast.
Brand lay for long moments. He was shaking from head to foot. Moments later he felt a mist of cool water drizzle over him. Probably the contents of the pool. He raised his aching head.
A pall of thick smoke drifted over the area. The shack had been torn apart. It lay a splintered wreck, flames licking at the wooden frame. The mouth of the cave was piled high with shattered rock.
Brand climbed to his feet, feeling giddy until his senses sorted themselves out. He pulled the Colt from his belt. Cocked it.
He made his way round to the far side of the pool. Willard’s men lay in bloody rags. Not a man was moving. Brand stepped by them, making his way to where Willard had vanished in the undergrowth. Before long he found a bunch of tethered horses. He chose one and swung into the saddle. He cast around until he found the fresh tracks left by Willard and his man. One of the horses was carrying double.
