The Big Gun (Dusty Fog's Civil War Book 3)

by J. T. Edson

  Again excited chatter arose among the civilians. They were becoming aware that things were vastly different to what had appeared on the surface. The ‘shot’ soldiers were rising, grinning amiably at their ‘killers’. At the edge of the woodland, more of the ‘Yankees’ were raising the suspended pair and removing the ropes from their necks.

  Dusty was watching the latter operation with considerable interest and not a little anxiety. It was with much relief that he saw Hassle and the other man had not been injured. While the leather harnesses they had worn—each provided with metal hooks under which the noose had been placed and prevented from closing about the throat—were strong and had been tested by Dusty himself before being used, things might still have gone wrong. Certainly the pair deserved every commendation for volunteering to take that particular part in the scheme.

  ‘That was a neat trick, young feller,’ Fletcher praised and nodded to where Kiowa was guarding Meats. ‘He’s a feller I was wanting to meet. I thought all along he might be, he was too loyal to the South to be true.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Staunce inquired, the words having been directed at him.

  ‘I’m with the Confederate Secret Service,’ Fletcher explained. ‘We heard that there’re Yankee spies along the Ouachita and I was sent to try to get to know them. That was why I acted like I’ve been doing. I figured the spy might reckon I’d be useful to him. Lord, though, you had me worried. Everything that happened looked so damned real.’

  ‘Yes, it did,’ Dusty said thoughtfully and gingerly touched his reddened cheek. He looked to where his cousin had handed the Springfield carbine—which had sent the bullet between his feet—to a genuine private and was watching Hassle’s party. ‘Red.’

  ‘Ye—’ the redhead began, turning.

  Gliding forward, Dusty whipped up his right hand. The knuckles took Red under the jaw and, although Dusty had not struck with his full strength, dumped the surprised youngster rump-first on the ground.

  ‘Hey!’ Red yelped indignantly, ‘what was that for?’

  ‘Hitting me the way you did,’ Dusty answered, extending his open right hand.

  ‘But you said for me to hit you!’ Red protested as his cousin helped him back to his feet.

  ‘Sure,’ Dusty agreed. ‘But I didn’t say you should enjoy doing it.’

  Chapter Seven – We Could Lose Everything

  From the moment Dusty Fog entered the library of the fine colonial-style house, loaned by a prominent Camden citizen for use as General Hardin’s temporary headquarters, he sensed that events had taken a very serious turn. It showed on the faces of his father, Ole Devil, Colonel Blaze and Major Smith. Almost instinctively, Dusty guessed what was wrong. The older men were gathered about the big desk and, prominent on it, were the warning notices which he and Captain Staunce had found beyond Stilton Crossing.

  The time was shortly after ten o’clock at night. Having left Lieutenant Clements and his men to resume their interrupted guard duties—they had been hidden in the woods while the deception was being played out—Dusty had brought Meats to the jail in Camden. During the journey, the spy had been questioned. None of his answers had been very informative. However, Dusty had felt that any threat Meats might have posed was now at an end.

  Unless, of course—

  ‘The Mounted Infantry haven’t dealt with the big gun, Dustine,’ Ole Devil announced, raising the matter upon which his nephew had just been dwelling. ‘They’d crossed the river about two miles upstream from Arkadelphia and were taking a roundabout route to join the Malvern trail behind the woods. Instead, they were ambushed by a large force of Yankee cavalry using repeating rifles and suffered heavy losses.’

  That meant, Dusty realized, only the warning notices had been prevented from making their appearances. The bombardment could still be carried out. The situation was very grave and he had been correct in his guess at what was causing the solemn expressions displayed by his superiors. They had returned from Arkadelphia knowing that a serious and dangerous threat must be met.

  ‘Only one officer escaped,’ Colonel Blaze went in. ‘A young shave tail. xvi He’d been wounded and wasn’t too coherent. But, from what he said, it looks as if the Yankees knew they were coming and had been waiting for them.’

  ‘How about the gun, sir?’ Dusty asked.

  ‘They never saw it,’ Ole Devil answered. ‘But the commanding officer of the detachment across the Ouachita sent a message under a flag of truce. He apologized on behalf of the Union Army for the shelling and assured us that it wouldn’t happen again.’

  ‘Do you believe him, sir?’ Dusty inquired.

  ‘He’s a career soldier and a man of honor,’ Blaze put in. ‘I know him. He wouldn’t have allowed the shelling to happen if he’d known about it.’

  ‘But, according to these notices, it was done as part of a plan to make us turn General Culver loose,’ Dusty objected. ‘Surely he’d have been told about it, sir.’

  ‘One would think so,’ Blaze conceded. ‘But I’m inclined to believe he wasn’t. The order could have come from higher up and, knowing that many of their officers wouldn’t approve, they didn’t spread the word around.’

  ‘That’s possible,’ Ole Devil went on. ‘Has that damned spy been questioned yet?’

  ‘We asked him a few, sir,’ Dusty admitted.

  ‘I won’t inquire how you asked,’ the general promised, frosty black eyes raking his small nephew from head to toe.

  ‘Gracias, sir,’ Dusty replied, thinking of the methods he had applied. The torture had been far more anticipatory than actual, with the victim being led to expect far worse lay ahead if he failed to cooperate. ‘He wasn’t more than a messenger, though, and had only claimed to be a member of the Yankees’ Secret Service to impress our “blue-bellies” with his importance. Mr. Fletcher’s inclined to think he was telling the truth. Anyways, Meats reckons that he’d been told to watch for a signal from the other side, then row over. When he got there, he was given the bundle. He was to put out some of the posters around Camden tomorrow evening, then start to move down the river and leave more of them at the villages along the way.’

  ‘And you believe him?’ asked Ole Devil.

  ‘I reckon he was too scared of Kiowa and Vern Hassle to lie,’ Dusty replied. ‘And what he said made sense. He told us he’d left the bundle under the boat instead of taking it along straight away because he didn’t have to start putting out the notices until tomorrow evening and figured it would be safer there than around his bunk at the camp. If anybody should’ve found the boat, there was nothing to show he’d been near it.’

  ‘That sounds reasonable and likely,’ Hondo Fog stated.

  ‘So the big gun won’t be here until tomorrow evening,’ Ole Devil said, tapping a finger on the poster.

  ‘Or the day after, sir,’ Dusty suggested. ‘They’d have to haul it up from Arkadelphia and that won’t be done at speed. And they’ll want folks to have seen the posters before they start throwing the shells, so that you can be asked to set General Culver free.’

  ‘Assuming, of course, that their main purpose is to set Culver free,’ Ole Devil replied. ‘It could be that they are hoping to use the threat of the big gun to make us go back across the Ouachita and face them in open battle.’

  ‘That, even more than securing Culver’s release, may be what the Union’s high command wants,’ Blaze went on. ‘A decisive action in which we could lose everything, or be so weakened that they can discount us as a factor in the War.’

  ‘Are the Yankees ready to fight a major action, sir?’ Dusty wanted to know. ‘After all, we’re holding their commanding general and they can’t have replaced him yet.’

  ‘From the reports I’ve had, Culver was more figurehead than commanding general,’ Ole Devil replied. ‘And, even without him, there may be colonels with sufficient knowledge and ambition to make this play.’

  ‘Which means that we must find some way of destroying the big gun,’ Blaze declared. ‘And befor
e we’re compelled to take mass action, if possible. But, considering what happened to the Mounted Infantry, it won’t be easy.’

  ‘I reckon they were seen almost as soon as they crossed the river by the observer in the balloon,’ Dusty guessed, when the colonel paused and every eye turned on him as if seeking his opinion. That meant they had time to move their cavalry screen into position to ambush the Mounted Infantry.’

  ‘It’s probably what happened,’ Blaze conceded. ‘So we’ll have to send a large enough force, two or three Companies, next time.’

  ‘With respect, sir,’ Dusty said quietly, stiffening into a brace and holding his voice to a flat, yet respectful tone. ‘I don’t think a larger force is the answer.’

  ‘Why not?’Blaze asked.

  ‘The bigger the force, even if they split up, the greater chance of it being located by the men in the balloon,’ Dusty explained. ‘Seeing that we know now which way they’re headed, a single Company might be able to handle it.’

  ‘Your Company, I suppose, Dustine,’ Ole Devil put in.

  ‘Not necessarily, sir,’ Dusty replied. ‘But Company C is at full strength and—well, I’d been figuring on taking them on a long training ride, so they’re armed and supplied ready to go. I reckon we could handle it.’

  None of the older men spoke for several seconds, but all studied the small, blond youngster. Dusty had already reverted to his more comfortable, non-issue style of dress and, without any suggestion of being cocky or self-assured, he exuded a quiet aura of confidence. If he was sent on the mission and failed, it would not be through rashness or a lack of thought and planning ability.

  Behind a cold mask that hid all emotion, Ole Devil was deeply concerned. He knew that the threat of the big gun must be removed as quickly as possible. If it was not, it could easily turn the scales in the Union’s favor. To send Dusty across the Ouachita might cause his death; but the same applied no matter which officer received the assignment and the general knew them all as well as he did his small, blond nephew.

  The question facing Ole Devil was whether Dusty could carry out the mission. The general was inclined to believe that he could. Regard for his favorite nephew’s safety could not be allowed to affect the decision. Ever since Dusty had joined the regiment, he had proven himself a capable, courageous and intelligent officer and leader. All three qualities had been amply displayed in how he had dealt with the affair at Stilton Grossing. While Dusty had had Captain Staunce’s assistance, the main plan had been his own. What was more, the youngster had insisted upon personally testing both sets of harness before allowing them to be used in creating a convincing and effective part of the deception.

  ‘Very well, Dustine,’ the general said, trying to keep his voice hard and impersonal. ‘You will take your Company and destroy the big gun.’

  ‘Yo!’ Dusty assented, unable to suppress the eagerness he was feeling.

  Although Hondo Fog shared the general’s concern for his son’s future, he forced himself to carry out his duty.

  ‘When do you plan to move out, Dusty?’ Hondo inquired.

  ‘Before midnight, if I can, sir,’ the small Texan replied. ‘Or as soon as I can after. I want to be well beyond the river by sun-up, so that I can come at them from behind. They’ll be less likely to expect us from that direction.’

  ‘That’s good thinking, Dustine,’ Colonel Blaze praised. ‘Is there anything you need by way of supplies?’

  ‘No, sir,’ Dusty replied. ‘Like I said, I’ve had the men set for a three-day ride. We’ve everything we need. Except maybe—’

  ‘Well?’ Blaze prompted.

  ‘Could I ask Captain Staunce to come with me, sir?’

  ‘You mean you want to take his mountain battery?’ asked Ole Devil.

  ‘Yes, sir. Those little wheel-guns of his throw a shell for over half a mile and, with his men handling them, come real close to hitting what they’re aimed at. They could make our work a whole heap easier and more certain.’

  ‘Won’t they slow you down, or be awkward to take across the river?’ Hondo wanted to know.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Dusty answered. ‘We’ll not be travelling too far at a gallop and, if we have to, we can get them across on boats. I’ve another reason for wanting Doug—Captain Staunce—along. The big gun won’t be too far from the river. We might just be able to capture it and fetch it back with us.’

  ‘There’s not a whole lot of hope of that,’ Blaze warned.

  ‘No, sir.’ Dusty conceded. ‘But, happen the chance comes, I’d like to be ready for it. And Captain Staunce knows a heap more than I do about moving a cannon.’

  ‘Very well,’ Ole Devil confirmed. ‘Take him and his battery with you. But don’t forget that your primary objective is to destroy the big gun, not to try to capture it.’

  Affirming that he understood his duty, Dusty discussed a few other points and then left the building. Mounting his horse, he rode to the Texas Light Cavalry’s camp. As he approached the wall tent which he was sharing with his second-in-command, Red came out. Red was dressed, apart from his hat, tunic and weapon belt.

  ‘Is everything ready for tomorrow, Cousin Red?’ Dusty asked, remaining on the bay’s back.

  ‘Why sure,’ agreed the redhead, without displaying any great enthusiasm. ‘Fifty rounds a man for the revolvers, same for their shoulder arms. Food for three days, just like you told me.’

  ‘Bueno,’ Dusty said.

  ‘Do we have to take that damned ride?’ Red asked, for he was not looking forward with any pleasure to carrying out the long training march which Dusty had arranged.

  ‘Nope,’ the small Texan replied, watching his cousin with amused anticipation and awaiting his reaction to the word.

  ‘Maybe we ought to get them doing some shoot—’ Red began, then realized what Dusty’s answer had been. ‘Did you say “no”?’

  ‘That’s just what I said. Get your horse and go ask Doug Staunce if he and his Limeys would like to come along with us and see how a good horse-outfit does its work. Tell him Uncle Devil reckons the exercise will do them good.’

  ‘Yo! What’s doing—Just happen Doug wants to know?’

  ‘We’re going over the Ouachita after the big gun,’ Dusty explained and was delighted by the expression that crossed his cousin’s face. Tell Doug that I’m hoping to be moving out by one o’clock, if not sooner.’

  Leaving Red, who dived back into the tent to dress before setting off with the message, Dusty made his way to his enlisted men’s quarters. Going to the tent assigned to the senior non-commissioned officers, he found only the sergeant major present.

  ‘Turn out the Company, Billy Jack,’ Dusty ordered as the lanky figure came in answer to his call. ‘Have the bugler sound “Boots and Saddles”.’

  ‘Yo!’ Billy Jack replied. ‘Only most of the new men’ve gone down to the Tavern. They were paid and I figured they wouldn’t be wanted before morning.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Dusty said. ‘You weren’t to know.’

  ‘I’ll go fetch them—’

  ‘Leave that to me, you have the others making ready.’

  ‘Livesey’s not going to be too happy about you taking them away while they’ve still got money in their pockets,’ Billy Jack warned. ‘I’d step careful, was I you, Cap’n Dusty. His uncle’s the mayor.’

  ‘I’ll bear it in mind and be real polite,’ Dusty promised. ‘Have that big black gelding we took from the Lancers for me to use, this bay’s been pushed hard recently.’

  ‘Yo!’ the sergeant major assented, but did not make an immediate start to commencing his duties. ‘I could fetch Kiowa and Stormy Weather from the pok—prayer meeting they’re at and have them come with you.’

  ‘Tell them to come down after me,’ Dusty suggested.

  For all his mournful appearance and habit of always pretending to expect doom and disaster, Dusty knew that Billy Jack was no alarmist. If he felt that the owner of the Tavern might prove to be difficult, the small
Texan was willing to accept his summation.

  Having accepted Billy Jack’s offer, Dusty set his mount into motion. Holding the bay to a canter, he wasted no time in covering the half mile separating the camp from Camden. Once there, he made his way towards the river. The Tavern stood about fifty yards from the bank, a one floor stone building glowing with light and the sounds of merriment. Looking across the water, Dusty could see little or no signs of life. As at Arkadelphia, the Yankees had halted at long cannon shot and there was only the red glare of their campfires to tell of their presence.

  At that moment, Dusty was not especially interested in the enemy. Instead, he swung his gaze to the horses hitched to the rail outside the Tavern. They all bore double-girthed Texas saddles, which meant they would be available for use by his men.

  Swinging from the bay, Dusty left it ground-hitched. He crossed the warped boardwalk, opened the front door and entered the barroom. Smoke hung in a heavy cloud under the roof, being combated by the lamps which illuminated the tables and bar. A number of garishly attired girls hung around the soldiers who appeared to be the majority of the customers, encouraging them to drink, or take part in the various gambling games. There were half a dozen burly, hard-looking civilians, who had the appearance of river roughnecks, scattered around and watching the various activities with more than casual interest. Behind the bar, two big, tough-faced men attended to the customers’ needs.

  Looking around, Dusty discovered that the majority of the soldiers were recruits. Half of them belonged to his Company, replacements for the men who had died at Martin’s Mill. However, standing at the bar and gazing about him in a tolerant manner, Corporal Vern Hassle held a glass of whiskey.

  Dusty’s arrival created some interest among the civilians in the room. It also was arousing suspicion, he guessed. The Tavern was not often visited by officers, being an establishment devoted to the enlisted men. So the bartenders, girls and roughnecks were wondering what had brought him into their presence.