by J. T. Edson
‘Groce’s, sir,’ Ole Devil repeated. ‘But that’s north of here and Harrisburg’s thirty miles or so to the south-east.’
‘I have been known to look at a map of Texas on occasion, captain,’ Houston answered, understanding what had provoked the comment. As far as the majority of his Army and the members of the Provisional Government were aware, the route of the withdrawal was directed towards the “temporary Capital”. ‘Nevertheless, those are the orders your Company will carry out.’
‘But I won’t be with them, sir?’ Ole Devil guessed.
‘That depends upon whether you are willing to volunteer for a very special duty,’ the General said quietly and the faces of the two older men behind him grew even more grave. He raised his right hand as the young Texian was about to speak. ‘However, as it is an exceptionally hazardous mission and as there is every possibility that whoever attempts it will be killed, or captured—which amounts to the same, except it would be a slower death—I want to tell you what it is before you give me your answer.’
Long before Houston’s explanation of what would be expected from him was concluded, Ole Devil realized that the danger involved in carrying out the mission had not been over-exaggerated. What was more, he knew that he had not merely been sent for to explain his behavior at the hotel. That aspect had been settled satisfactorily before his arrival. The assignment which he was being offered, fantastic as it might appear on the surface, was one of the greatest importance. If it was successful, the effects could be as far reaching as the General hoped.
‘It’s a big gamble, Devil,’ Colonel Fog commented, after Houston had stopped speaking. ‘I’ll not deny that the odds are greatly against it succeeding. But, if it does, at the very least we’ll gain a badly needed respite.’
‘We’ll gain far more than that,’ Ole Devil replied, at last understanding his uncle’s concern for his welfare. ‘And it will work, if all I’ve heard about Santa Anna’s character is true.’
‘He’s one mean, ornery, vengeful son-of-a-bitch, for sure,’ Smith declared. ‘Happen that be what you’ve heard.’
‘Something along those lines,’ Ole Devil conceded, without taking his gaze from Houston. ‘What have the Government said about your idea, sir?’
‘It hasn’t been mentioned to them and by the time they find out, they’ll have other things to occupy them,’ Houston replied and Smith, no lover of politicians, gave an appreciative chuckle. Opening the drawer of his table, the General took out an impressive looking document. It had a printed heading, a written message and a large red seal. ‘This is the Republic of Texas’s stationery and seal, which were sent to me just before the “Runaway Scrape”. I was instructed to use them in future for all official communications. So that’s what I’m doing.’
‘Only not the way they was counting on,’ Smith cackled delightedly, as the young Texian accepted and started to read the document. ‘But it’s being put to a good use.’
‘I shouldn’t think that Santa Anna is familiar with President Burnet’s signature,’ Houston remarked, after Ole Devil had completed his examination and handed back the sheet of paper. ‘And, provided it is delivered in an appropriate manner, it’s unlikely that he will bother taking the time to find out whether it’s a forgery.’
‘That’s for sure,’ Smith seconded. ‘Happen it’s got to him the right way, Devil-boy, he’s going to be so pot-boiling mad that he won’t care about nothing ’cept getting evens with the feller’s he thinks’s sent it.’
‘Well,’ said Houston. ‘Will you accept the assignment, Captain Hardin?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Ole Devil replied, holding his voice just as even. ‘And I’ll do my best to see it through.’
‘We know you will,’ Houston declared, and Smith nodded in agreement.
‘It’s not a one man assignment, Devil,’ Colonel Fog pointed out, studying his nephew and thinking of the terrible risks which would be necessary if the scheme was to be brought to a successful conclusion.
‘I’d go along with you, boy,’ Smith continued. ‘But it can’t be done. You can have your pick of my fellers, though.’
‘Gracias, sir, but that won’t be necessary,’ Ole Devil answered. He glanced at his uncle, ‘With your permission, sir, I’ll take Tommy Okasi—’
‘I thought you would,’ Colonel Fog admitted, before the captain could finish. ‘You couldn’t have chosen a better man. Who else?’
‘Just one more,’ Ole Devil drawled. ‘Paul Dimmock.’
‘Dimmock?’ Colonel Fog repeated.
‘Yes, sir,’ Ole Devil confirmed. ‘We all know that he’s no coward and the fact that he’s been on an assignment like this ought to settle any doubts other people might have about him.’
‘You’ll not be able to tell them what’s happened when you come back,’ Houston warned. ‘At least, not until we’re able to show proof that it’s been successful.’
‘I appreciate that, sir,’ Ole Devil stated. ‘But, by taking Paul, I’ll show him that I and, more important, you have no doubts about his courage.’
‘That’s all very well, Devil,’ Colonel Fog remarked. ‘But he might do something reckless to try and prove how brave he is.’
‘Not while he’s with me, sir,’ Ole Devil contradicted. ‘He knows I don’t doubt him. And I’d rather have him where I can keep an eye on him than leave him with the Company. He’s growing increasingly touchy and, in my opinion, it’ll be better for all concerned if he’s kept occupied. On top of that, he knows the country between here and Santa Anna’s column better than I do.’
‘It’s your assignment, Captain Hardin,’ Houston declared, nodding in grim approval. The young Texian’s summation strengthened his belief that he had selected the best man for the task. ‘So I’m not going to try and tell you who to take, or how it should be done. All I can say is, go and do it any way you see fit.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Ole Devil responded, hoping that he was not showing the pride and satisfaction he was feeling. ‘When shall we leave?’
‘Can you be on your way before noon tomorrow?’ Houston wanted to know.
‘Easily, sir,’ Ole Devil promised. ‘Something told me that we’d be sent out on a patrol after that trouble at the hotel—’
‘Something, or somebody?’ the General growled, glancing at his chief of scouts who assumed a far from convincing air of injured innocence.
‘It seemed likely that you’d want to separate us from the Wildcats until tempers cooled down a mite, sir,’ Ole Devil countered. He and Smith had envisaged this possibility during their discussion on how to deal with the situation that had arisen between the Creoles and Dimmock. ‘So I told Mr. Blaze to start making ready to leave, and I sent Sergeant Smith to fetch back the foraging detail.’
‘Smart thinking,’ the General praised. ‘Now, captain, only we four here know what I’m sending you to do. You’ll have to tell Mr. Dimmock and that man of yours—’
‘May I tell Mangrove Hallistead, sir?’ Ole Devil put in. ‘There are a couple of things he might be able to help me with.’
‘I trust him, but don’t tell him any more than is absolutely necessary,’ Houston replied. ‘It’s imperative that no mention of this gets out and I don’t mean just so Santa Anna doesn’t hear about it. None of our people must know. I don’t need to explain why, do I?’
‘No, sir!’ Ole Devil stated and the grin which came to his face made it seem even more Satanic. ‘The Government aren’t going to be any too pleased if they learn what you could be letting them in for. Of course, by the time they find out, it would be too late for them to try and stop it. But it’s still better that they don’t hear until it’s over.’
‘You’re not wrong about that, boy,’ Smith chuckled, savoring the thought of how the politicians at Harrisburg would react if they were aware of Houston’s scheme. ‘What they don’t know won’t cause ’em to lose sleep at nights, nor make fuss for us fellers who’re doing the fighting.’
‘Is there anything else you nee
d me for, sir?’ Ole Devil asked, deciding that his uncle and the General shared, even if they did not express, similar sentiments to those of the old scout. ‘I’ve some extra preparations to make now I’ve been given this assignment.’
‘Go and do what needs doing, boy. And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask for it,’ Houston authorized. ‘You can collect your Company’s orders and this document in the morning.’
‘Yo!’ Ole Devil said, saluting as he gave what had already come to be accepted as the cavalryman’s response to a command.
‘Good luck, boy,’ Smith drawled and, after the young captain had left, he continued grimly, ‘That’s one hell of a wild notion you’ve come up with, Sam. But, like I said when you told me about it, if anybody can pull it off, he can.’
‘I’ll have sent him to his death if he can’t,’ Houston answered quietly. ‘And the damnable thing about it is that he might still pull it off by getting killed.’
Chapter Four – You’ll Get Your Satisfaction
‘M’sieur Hardin!’ called a young voice which carried what seemed to be a quiver of nervous tension. ‘I wish to have a word with you!’
Noticing the way in which his name had been spoken, Ole Devil Hardin had a premonition of what was coming. Turning his attention away from the man to whom he had been talking, he looked to see where the words had originated. Even before his gaze reached the three figures who were emerging from the front entrance of the Grand Hotel, his ears identified the speaker’s accent.
It was that of a well-educated Creole!
Although the Texian recognized Lieutenants Gerard Jaloux and Marcel Pierre-Quint, members of the party with whom he had earlier been in conflict, the way they were behaving informed him that they had not spoken. They were walking slowly, allowing their companion to draw ahead of them.
Somewhat shorter and more stockily built than either Jaloux or Pierre-Quint, the third of the group had not been with them in the hotel’s barroom. However, his attire suggested that he was another member of the New Orleans’ Wildcats. In his late ’teens, he was younger than his companions and had grown a mustache in the hope of creating the impression that he was older. Possibly for the same reason, he had conformed to the Texians’ habit of going armed. There was a fine looking caplock pistol tucked into his trousers’ waistband. While he moved with a stiff and purposeful erectness, to Ole Devil’s experienced gaze, his posture suggested a tension similar to that which had tinged his voice.
An annoyed hiss burst from the Texian as, coming to a halt, he took in the sight. The last thing he wanted, with matters of importance demanding his full attention, was a further altercation with the Creoles.
After being dismissed from Major General Samuel Houston’s office, Ole Devil had returned to his own quarters in a pensive frame of mind. On his arrival, he had relieved Lieutenant Mannen Blaze’s anxiety over the result of the interview. Then he had told his cousin of the task to which Company ‘C’ had been assigned, and also that he would not be accompanying them to carry it out. That he refrained from mentioning the nature of his own mission did not imply a lack of faith in the burly redhead’s discretion. He knew that Mannen was completely reliable and would not speak of it. However, he had been ordered to limit the number of people to whom he divulged the details and that was sufficient to ensure his reticence.
Nor, in spite of being curious, had the redhead attempted to elicit the information. No matter how he generally looked and behaved in public, he was anything but the somnolent dullard he frequently pretended to be. His long association with Ole Devil suggested that there was something of greater importance than a routine scouting mission that was going to separate him from the Company. Appreciating also that his cousin would have told him if it was permissible, he was content to carry out his own orders and have his superior officer—for whom, his comments at the hotel notwithstanding, he had the greatest respect, admiration and affection—to do whatever was required elsewhere.
Although Ole Devil had not been able to take Mannen into his confidence, he had realized it was advisable, in fact necessary, to tell Tommy Okasi what they were being sent to do.
On the surface, the Texian’s first choice of a companion for such an important and perilous venture seemed to have no justification.
Under five foot six inches in height, although possessing a sturdy physical development, Tommy Okasi did not look impressive. In his early twenties, with a sallow complexion and almond eyes, his features betrayed Oriental blood. He rarely wore a hat and his black hair was kept closely cropped. His garments consisted of a loose fitting black shirt hanging outside baggy trousers of the same material which were tucked into matching Hessian boots. Even the pair of long hilted, slightly curved swords with small circular guards that were dangling—the shorter at the right—by slings attached to his broad leather waist belt did little to explain the reason for his selection.
As there was only limited contact between his homeland, Japan, and the Western Hemisphere at that period, Tommy was generally assumed to be Chinese. Many people expected him to display a meekness similar to that of members of the latter race. Nor, unless he was provoked or some other need arose, did he do anything to disillusion them.
However, although for personal reasons Tommy no longer retained the traditional costume and hair style, he was a fully trained Samurai xiv warrior. In spite of his willingness to be regarded as no more than Ole Devil’s valet, his martial education made him a very effective fighting man who was able to offer useful suggestions on how to succeed in their various missions.
Knowing that the Mexicans employed spies and wanting to avoid any chance of being overheard while they were talking, Ole Devil had left the organization and preparations for their departure in his cousin’s capable hands. As he and Tommy strolled together in search of the man he wished to consult, he passed on the details of their unusual and dangerous assignment. They had been told that Mangrove Hallistead was staying at the Grand Hotel and were making their way there. Remembering Colonel Dumoulin’s assurances and knowing that the New Orleans’ Wildcats were camped on the other side of the town, the Texian did not consider the possibility of meeting any of them. The interruption came while Tommy was suggesting that they might achieve their purpose by utilizing his skill as an archer and employing some of the specialized arrows peculiar to his nation.
‘Well?’ Ole Devil asked, employing a coldly forbidding tone which would have served as a warning to anybody who had been acquainted with him for even a short time. Tommy, who knew him very well, glanced at him and drew back a couple of steps. ‘What can I do for you?’
While speaking, the Texian devoted some of his attention to the two older Creoles. He noticed that, although neither had been armed at the earlier meeting, they had now remedied the situation. Each had the epee type of sword hanging from the military style belt he was wearing and had a pistol tucked through it. Most significantly, the firearms were obviously a matched pair. Like the swords, they had been designed for a more specific purpose than mere defense.
‘My name is Alphonse Jules Dumoulin, m’sieur,’ the youngster answered, advancing another four paces after his companions had stopped. ‘I am a lieutenant in the New Orleans’ Wildcats.’ His words were coming out in a jerky fashion, almost as if he was repeating something which he had been instructed to say. ‘It has been brought to my notice that you assaulted several of my brother officers and comrades-in-arms—’
‘Has it also been brought to your notice, lieutenant, that your colonel has received an explanation. He accepts that the incident was a regrettable accident and, as such, in the interests of the cause for which we are fighting, should be forgotten by all concerned.’ Ole Devil could see that his words were having a disturbing effect upon the youngster who, he guessed, was closely related to the commanding officer of the New Orleans’ Wildcats. ‘Furthermore, if your brother officers and comrades-in-arms desire to continue the issue contrary to your superior’s instructions, don’t you
consider that it should be for them to do so personally.’
‘As you can see, sir,’ Dumoulin answered, turning slightly to indicate Jaloux’s completely closed right eye and the sling supporting Pierre-Quint’s right arm, ‘They are temporarily unable to demand satisfaction and know you would not wish to take advantage of their incapacitation. So, as we have heard that, like ourselves, you are leaving for an indefinite period, we feel that you should grant them satisfaction. As the honor of our regiment is involved, I have been selected to represent them.’
‘Have you?’ Ole Devil said, after what seemed to Dumoulin, a very extended period of silence. His voice was as chilling as the inside of an ice-house.
For all his desire to display the composure which he believed was expected of a grown man in such conditions, the Creole youngster was feeling increasingly perturbed. Somehow, the confrontation was not progressing as his companions had told him it would. To hear them talk, delivering a challenge was an exhilarating and noble experience; the ultimate test of manhood.
Dumoulin discovered that he felt neither exhilarated, nor noble. Instead, there was something distinctly unnerving about the grim looking Texian who stood before him. He found that it was almost impossible to meet the steely scrutiny of those hard dark eyes and he wished that he could turn to Jaloux or Pierre-Quint for guidance. Wondering if the sensation was the result of cowardice on his part, he felt a growing anger with himself. He became filled with a determination to carry the affair through to the bitter end.
