“Shoot, Enoch, you and your brother,” rapped out Zack. “Andy and I will hold our fire.”
The two Gilmers steadied their pieces against the trunks of trees, aimed and pulled trigger. A crackling double explosion. A Tory in a fur-trimmed surcoat went head over heels backward.
“Down, all!” cried Zack, and all five dropped flat, even as a storm of bullets whined over their heads. Up rose Zack on his knees and fired in turn. Andy’s rifle spoke beside him. Another of Alspaye’s men fell and lay motionless, while yet another sprang high in the air, then doubled over and yelled in pain.
But Alspaye thundered more orders. His sword was out and he ran past his men, waving his bright blade toward the evergreens from which those surprise shots had come. The Tory line gave a great roar and advanced at a swift walk behind its leader.
“He counted our shots, he knows how few we are,” groaned Andy. “Let’s move back, friends.”
“I give orders here,” Zack reminded Andy. “Hold where you are, load again, and that swiftly.”
John had rammed down another ball, and fired. Again he missed in his quivering rage, and the oncoming enemy howled in derision.
But then more guns crashed in the trees to either side of them. The charging line reeled backward. Almost at Zack’s ear rose a wild battle yell:
“Aroooo/” That was the great voice of Seth Mawks.
“Huhuhuhu!” whooped another mountaineer, a quavering Indian war cry.
And then the Tories ran back the way they came. Fenniver, who had come up behind, was swept along in their flight. Only Alspaye held his ground, and he did not advance. He waved his sword and wildly shouted for his men to return to the charge.
But the South Fork Rangers burst from their masking trees in a wild counterrush. Zack sprinted among the foremost, and almost at once he came to close quarters with Alspaye.
His old enemy’s eyes widened in deadly recognition, and the sword swept at Zack in a vicious slashing lunge. So low under the cut did Zack bow that he fell to a knee, and from that position he hurled his big body forward. His long arms flung themselves around Alspaye’s legs. At the same time he straightened with a mighty surging effort, lifting the Tory captain as he did so. Next moment he had hurled Alspaye backward over his shoulder.
Down slammed Alspaye, while past them to either side the Rangers went racing in pursuit of the Tory partisans. Zack whirled toward his fallen foe, and with a hurried kick knocked the saber from Alspaye’s hand. Then, as Alspaye struggled to his feet, Zack Harper closed in upon him again.
7 Capture for Capture
More than once in the past, Zack Harper and Robinson Alspaye had fought it out hand to hand. Zack knew his own strength and the value of the wrestling tricks taught him by Indian playmates. Alspaye could box like any bare-knuckle champion, and Zack had learned, by painful experience, that he could not compete at fisticuffs with his old enemy.
Already Alspaye had knotted his hard fists, was poising them and advancing at a shuffle, intent on clubbing Zack’s head with a right and left. Zack sidled backward, pawing with an open hand. Then, as Alspaye stabbed out with his left, Zack ducked sidewise to avoid it. Alspaye’s right hit him on the temple, but only glancingly. Again Zack threw his whole weight in and got his arms around Alspaye’s body. And here the advantage was his.
He hugged that thick struggling torso as a bear hugs, and brought forward a foot, hooking the heel behind Alspaye’s booted leg. With all his strength he surged forward. Tripping, Alspaye went down, and Zack on top of him.
Somewhere else, far away it seemed, was a spatter of shots, a drum roll of the hoofs of horses, and then a wild yell of triumph, Indian fashion. Zack’s comrades were routing the Tories, but Zack did not take time to look up. He dragged himself astride Alspaye’s red-coated body and stayed there, despite Alspaye’s wallowing struggles, as he might stay astride a pitching horse. Alspaye struck up with his fist, and landed. Zack felt blood leap from his nose. Then Alspaye jabbed a thumb at Zack’s eye, but Zack caught the wrist, imprisoned it and forced it away. With his free hand, Zack snatched the hunting knife from his belt and quivered the point within an inch of Alspaye’s throat beneath the silver gorget.
“Lie still or I’ll skewer you,” Zack warned, and Alspaye subsided, panting and glowering.
Feet came pounding the earth all around them. Zack spared a glance. A dozen of the South Fork Rangers were closing in.
“They’ve run,” he heard Godfrey Prothero say. “We took them so by surprise, and when their leader was down they lost heart. They got to their horses and sped off, leaving four of their number on the field.”
“Aye, zookers,” added Seth, with savage elation. “Them Tory cringers is ’way up at burning of houses and stealing of hogs and scaring of old men and womenfolk 5 but let a war party come on ’em and they scuttle out of there like chickens from hawks. I see ye gobbled one of ’em, Cap’n Harper.”
“ ’Tis Robinson Alspaye,” said Enoch Gilmer. “Is he alive?”
“He is, but let him dare move,” replied Zack, knife poised.
“Ahooo!” whooped Seth. “So that’s their cap’n man, huh? Lemme set fingers in his hair, and my knife’ll reap the scalplock off’n him, slick as a snake!”
“No, he’s a prisoner.” Zack rose to his feet, caught Alspaye by the shoulder and dragged him up, too. “Their captain, as you say, Seth. And now we have him, the others will be that much easier to deal with.”
“If we can come up with their flying feet,” grumbled Johnny Starrett. “Let’s get to our horses and after them. I’ve a long account to settle with the burners of this home of mine.”
Alspaye laughed mirthlessly. “You took us by surprise,” he mouthed at them. “The shoe was on t’other foot these few weeks gone.” He grimaced at Seth. “That was when we surprised you, and you ran before us, leaving your dead in our hands.”
“Ye mind me of that?” squealed Seth. “Shall I skin that there smile off the face of ye?”
“You see you’re in trouble,” said Zack to Alspaye. “Aye, and that deeply.”
“For once I’ll not argue the point with you, you rascal Rebel poltroon,” gritted Alspaye. “What’s it to be, then? A rope and a tree branch? You won’t see me quail or hear me beg.”
“We hang no prisoners, save for special cause,” Godfrey informed him. “Zack, since he’s in our hands we may well scare those others into surrender. They’re left leaderless—”
“Not quite leaderless, you traitor renegade from King George,” Alspaye spat at Godfrey. “I’m taken, but Lieutenant Fenniver is with them, and he’s as stout an officer as England needs to do her service in these parts. Roundly he tricked you once, and he’ll do so again. Be warned by me, he’ll wind up your Rebel affairs for you in swift order.” “Bold-babbling ye are, when we say we won’t hang ye,” said Jud Rawlins of Seth’s mountain platoon. “Hark’ee, Cap’n, ye say no hanging; but how if we slip a line round his neck and twitch him up till he’s half-hung? I’ll banter ye he’d speak us less sassy after sich a play-party.”
“Amen to that,” seconded a comrade. “And right here I’ve got a line to do the trick with.”
He held out a doubled length of buckskin thong. Despite himself, Alspaye flinched, and his flush of rage faded into pallor.
“See to him, his face matches his coat less nicely,” growled John Starrett. “He looks blood-drawn.”
“Blood-drawn I may be,” blurted out Alspaye, with a show of bold defiance, “and you may draw the rest, if you’re so cowardly with a helpless man. But more blood will be drawn ere the day’s out, and ’twill be blood of your own kin, you gay-grinning outlaw scum.”
“I said, we are not hangmen,” Zack warned his men. “Use that cord to bind his hands, not his throat.”
The man with the thong drew Alspaye’s wrists behind him and noosed them tightly together. The free end he drew through the captive’s elbows, made another loop and knotted it securely. Emboldened by Zack’s words, Alspa
ye twisted his lips in a savage smile.
“You have me fast, what then will you do with me?” he challenged. “By heaven, Pve kept you all here, happily hooting over me, while my own men are off to their next place of call.”
“Next place of call?” echoed Godfrey.
“Aye, do you think we would content ourselves with but one burning of a Rebel roost today?”
“Where do your men head?” Godfrey inquired.
“And don’t you wish that I’d tell you?” taunted Alspaye. “Aye, dog’s-meat,” said Seth Mawks deep in his great chest. “Cap’n Harper says not to kill ye, ye bold-mouthed Tory, but we might make ye mightily sore to get news from ye.”
Out flashed Seth’s long sharp knife as he spoke, and despite his sneering defiance Alspaye shrank back from it.
“Where’s your pack of dogs bound for?” howled Seth. “Talk, man, while ye yet have a tongue to talk with!”
His big hand clutched the front of Alspaye’s red coat. Zack moved quickly to pull them apart, but before he could interpose himself Alspaye was fairly shouting his protests: “I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!” he cried frantically. “Hold that blade, you murdering wild savage. Captain Harper, you promised me fair treatment.”
“I said to spare him, Lieutenant Mawks,” Zack growled, pushing Seth clear of Alspaye. “Now, Alspaye, you said you would talk, and for my part I think you’ll be wise to do so.” “And that swiftly,” added Seth crooningly, his knife still ready in his great hairy hand.
Alspaye bowed low, with his hands trussed behind him.
“First, Captain Harper, my frank and heartfelt thanks for your intervention on my behalf. ’Twas nobly and handsomely done, and worth the doing of a brave and honorable officer.”
“Not so much jabber,” grated out John Starrett.
“Nay, sirs,” said Alspaye smoothly, “but I must acknowledge the kindness of a generous foeman. Indeed, such exertions on Captain Harper’s part—”
“Even now, you were for telling us where your men were headed, and on what errand,” broke in Zack impatiently.
“And I’m coming to that,” Alspaye said plausibly. “Trust me, good sirs, Pm coming to it.”
“We weary of your slow speech,” barked Enoch. “Speak, Alspaye, and to the point.”
“Why, now,” protested Alspaye, “here’s a great vast plenty of hurry. I tried only to be grateful, when you, Captain Harper, said you’d not stand by and allow your friends to wreak vengeance upon me.”
“I said that very thing,” Zack agreed, “but I feel that in exchange you have promised us an information, and that now you decline to give it.”
“I decline?” said Alspaye. “Why, never. I but said first—”
“Decline is what I say,” repeated Zack. “And if you hesitate and temporize further, I may just walk away from here, and sing myself three verses of Barney O’Linn. And you’ll be left here, with John Starrett at hand whose house you scurvily burnt, and with Seth Mawks, whose knife, I take note, is still drawn and a-thirst for your scalp. What then? With me and my promise departed, I won’t answer for how you’ll fare. Shall I go, sir?”
Alspaye stared, and Zack turned upon his moccasined heel, as though to walk away. Seth uttered what was too fierce and eager to be a chuckle.
“Stay, stay!” besought Alspaye hurriedly. “I’ll tell. Indeed, I wonder that you haven’t already guessed.”
“Guessed what, sir?” Zack prodded him. “Speak, or I leave you in their hands.”
“My men have fled, and far and fast, while we waited here. They are headed for that home of yours, Zack Harper.”
“He tells the truth for once in his lying life!” cried out Cy Cole.
“They are halfway there even now,” went on Alspaye. “They ride swift, and they’ll slay and destroy and burn. As it fell out here, so shall it fall out there. Count it as already done, you Rebel rascals.”
With a wild murderous yell, Seth was upon him again, flinging him flat. Zack leaped swiftly, just in time to pin Seth’s knife with both of his hands. He had to strive desperately to drag the big mountain warrior away from his prey. At last he pried Seth free and shoved him four or five stumbling paces clear.
“To horse!” cried Zack. “Come, every man of you. Fetch along this prisoner, and harm him no whit. His life may buy some friend of ours free and safe. Come, come! ”
As he spoke, he was running to where Jonah stood tethered. Godfrey raced after him.
“Zack, what are your orders?” Godfrey panted.
“Take the trail of those raiding Tories,” Zack flung at him. “Nay, not too swiftly or carelessly, for they may be lying in wait. Fetch along Alspaye, and close in, but only as it is safe to do so. When you come up with them, take them from where they least expect you, and give them a sharp taste of trouble.”
“They’ll have galloped miles while we waited here,” Godfrey said.
“Aye, and I’ll go swift to eastward.” Zack had untied Jonah and was mounting. “My hope is that they will watch to rearward only for the whole company. If I make a shortcut across fields, I may reach the house ahead of the attack.”
“Alone?”
“I can alert our people there and direct the defense. We have several good shots, and guns and powder in plenty. But command the company, Godfrey, I must make haste!”
With that, he drummed Jonah’s chestnut flanks with his heels and the horse sprang with instant speed off and away.
Behind him rang cries and questions from his Rangers, but he paid no heed. He dashed away to eastward, avoiding the road where Alspaye’s band must be traveling toward their new adventure. A railed fence rose up before him, and a twitch of the bridle and a touch of Zack’s hand on Jonah’s shoulder urged the chestnut to a soaring leap. Coming down on the far side, Zack galloped along a trail made by cows from the meadow to a brook. Another springing stride cleared the water, and they thundered away over cleared fields beyond.
Zack knew, as he flew along, that only this decision could possibly help his kinsmen and friends at home. He had had to make that decision on the instant. No doubt was in Zack’s mind but that the Rangers would overtake their foemen sooner or later and, in overtaking them, beat them in a fair fight. But the overtaking must be accomplished carefully and deliberately. It might come too late to save the house and the people at the Harper farm. Taken off guard by a sudden blow, these would be in dire peril. Could he but reach there in time, if only moments before the attackers—
“On, Jonah!” he cried. “To it, boy! Bravely, bravely— aye, we’ll outrun them yet, and outfight them too!”
Jonah seemed to hear, to understand and to agree. He increased his long-striding pace that ate up the distance. He whirled Zack along a curve of a trail, smashed his way through a clump of brittle undergrowth, and fled through a grassy meadow beyond.
Bending low against the rush of air, Zack peered ahead. Yonder he saw the main road, and nobody upon it for a considerable stretch. Could he have come around the flank of the enemy so soon? He doubted it, but with no horsemen in sight he might dare venture upon the hard-packed thoroughfare. He reined Jonah toward the road and then upon it. Without a trice of hesitation, his good war horse sped along. Two miles were tossed behind them. Another.
“You’re of the true grit, Jonah,” he said, leaning even farther to speak his praises close to the sharp ears. “Give us your last ounce, and we’ll be home ahead of them. You can rest safe there. More—you can watch while we meet those Tories with a straight volley and send them about their ill affairs.”
On and on, and on. There ahead of him would be Armstrong’s Ford. How far behind him would come his Rangers? How far to the front would be Alspaye’s partisans, and how close to their quarry? He was accomplishing a tremendous feat of distance and speed—all the South Fork would wonder at this ride to the rescue. By heaven, he and Jonah would outflank the Tories yet. Once across the South Fork, he knew a whole network of trails for the accomplishment of shortcuts. Already he s
aw himself at home, with stout loopholed shutters, a whole arsenal of loaded muskets, and his father and the others to help face any approach, whether a sudden stampeding charge or a stealthy beleaguering.
They were coming to the ford now. Zack checked Jonah’s speed, and they went into the water. It rushed and foamed around Jonah’s legs and to his saddle girth, and Zack drew his feet from the stirrups and held them high to avoid soaking them. Beyond was the tree-fringed road, and surely he would be close upon the Tories. Up he came from the river to dry land. To the right opened a half-hidden trail. He would go that way—
Then, suddenly, a sharp cry, and out of the trail came a rider, swinging his horse flank on to block Zack’s way. The man wore a blue greatcoat.
Edmund Fenniver it was, in his hand a long pistol, bigger and much more business-like than the pretty pair he had given to Chief Halougra.
“Out of my way!” roared Zack, and drove Jonah at him.
But beyond Fenniver appeared two more horsemen from among the roadside trees, each with a poised musket in his hand. And from each side came yet others. Fenniver leveled his pistol.
“Sir, you’re my prisoner,” said Fenniver.
And, because he must, Zack drew Jonah to a halt and sat there in sick, helpless discomfiture.
8 The Siege of the Harper House
Zack scowled, and Fenniver smiled wryly. “Welcome,” he said.
“ ’Tis Zack Harper,” spoke up Deevor Plum, sitting his horse beside Jonah. “Here’s for him, the blackguardly young cur! ”
Up came Plum’s rifle-muzzle, and its bore looked a foot wide to Zack.
“Down with that gun!” Fenniver cried quickly. “They have our captain, and now we have theirs. Thrice welcome, Captain Harper. Say, is Captain Alspaye alive?”
“Alive indeed,” Zack made reply, fighting to keep his voice calm. “We hold him safe bound.”
Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1963 Page 6
