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

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Big gun!’ Harry repeated, throwing a glance at Eric, then trying to compose her features into an expression of merely casual inquiry. ‘Is that what you’re looking for?’

  ‘Yes’m,’ Hassle confirmed, watching her with what might have been no more than ordinary interest. ‘That’s just what we’re after. You wouldn’t’ve seen the son-of-a-bit— consarned and blasted thing, now would you?’

  ‘No,’ Harry was forced to admit, in what she hoped would be tones of mere curiosity.

  She felt that it was advisable to refrain from mentioning her connection with the big gun until after she had met the soldiers’ commanding officer. After all, she had only their unsupported words regarding their true status.

  ‘I didn’t reckon we’d be that lucky,’ Hassle sighed, glancing at his companion. ‘Don’t you go letting them blasted Yankee catch you, Kiowa.’

  ‘I’ll do what I can to stop ’em,’ the sergeant promised and, nodding to the girl, set his big roan gelding into motion. ‘See you later, Vern. Unless you up and die of old age afore I get back.’

  ‘When you get’s old’s me, it could happen,’ the corporal pointed out to Kiowa’s departing back. Then he turned his attention to the girl. ‘We’ll sort of keep to the low ground and sneak about kind of careful, if that be all right with you, ma’am. I know I’m dressed like a Yankee, but seeing you two along could make any of ’em’s happened to see us mighty suspicious.’

  ‘We’re in your hands,’ Harry confirmed, having taken a liking to the old timer and concluded that he was anything but as decrepit as he liked to suggest.

  Taking the precautions suggested by Hassle, the girl and the Negro accompanied him. They traversed almost two miles without seeing anything to alarm them. Little was said as they rode along. The girl was wondering what the corporal had made of finding her travelling alone except for Eric, but his leathery old face had not given her a hint as to his thoughts. There was another item which insisted on passing through her head. She had only Hassle’s word that he did not belong to the United States’ Army. Perhaps he had been lying and was merely escorting her into captivity.

  If Harry had known it, Hassle was more concerned at that time with keeping a watch for Yankee patrols. Who she was and what she might be doing could, in his considered opinion, be settled more satisfactorily and safely after they had rejoined Company C.

  ‘Won’t be long now, ma’am,’ Hassle commented at last, having given the surrounding terrain an even more thorough and careful scrutiny, as they approached a stretch of woodland. ‘The Company’s hid away in there. You see, we’re not exactly in Confederate territory and Yankees ain’t noted for Southron hospitality. So Cap’n Fog allowed we shouldn’t let ’em know we’re around.’

  ‘This Captain Fog sounds a right smart man,’ Harry remarked with a smile, for she had noticed the sound of respect which had accompanied every mention of the officer’s name made by the two soldiers. Her situation would be greatly helped if she had fallen in with a capable officer, one who could understand the full significance of her position.

  ‘He’s all of that, ma’am,’ the corporal confirmed.

  On reaching the first of the trees, Harry saw an alert, watchful sentry behind the trunk of an oak. He wore the uniform of the Confederate States’ Cavalry and his kepi carried the badge which she identified as being of the Texas Light Cavalry. Giving a cheery wave as they rode by, he turned his attention once more to gazing at the land before him.

  Going deeper into the woodland, the girl came upon hobbled horses, watched over by more members of the Texas Light Cavalry. However, the main body of Company C appeared to be sleeping. They lay, rolled in their blankets and using their saddles for pillows, in whatever cover or shelter they had found.

  ‘Some folks’ve all the danged luck,’ Hassle complained and, disregarding the fact that he had volunteered for the assignment, went on, ‘Sending a poor, wored-out old cuss like me to do the dirty work while they lies sleeping.’

  ‘It’s a sin and shame!’ Harry declared indignantly, her compassion aroused by what appeared to be a genuine, heart-felt protestation.

  ‘Anyways, none of us got any sleep last night and young ’n’s need it more ’n’ old timers like me,’ Hassle grinned and heard the girl give an annoyed snort as she realized she had been tricked. ‘There’s Cap’n Fog.’

  Turning in the direction indicated by her escort, Harry saw a small, blond officer throwing aside his blankets and rising. For a moment, she wondered if the corporal had made a mistake, or if she was looking the wrong way. She had expected Captain Fog to be a much older, more impressive man. Yet there did not appear to be another officer present. However, not far away, a tall, gangling, mournful-faced sergeant major had also woken and was rising.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve found the big gun already, Vern?’ Captain Dusty Fog inquired, throwing a quick look at the girl and the Negro but dealing with what he regarded as the more important matter first.

  ‘Can’t come out truthful and say we have, Cap’n Dusty,’ Hassle confessed. ‘Met up with this young lady, though, ’n’ concluded you’d like to see ’em.’

  ‘Howdy, ma’am,’ Dusty greeted Harry. ‘Get down, please.’

  Before the girl could follow the small Texan’s instructions, she heard the sound of fast-running hooves. A rider was galloping recklessly through the trees from the opposite direction to which the girl’s party had arrived. He was a tall, well-built red-haired young first lieutenant, Harry observed and looked excited or considerably agitated.

  ‘We’re headed in the wrong direction, Cousin Dusty!’ Red Blaze announced, bringing his big brown gelding to a sliding halt and quitting its saddle almost in the same motion. ‘That damned balloon’s just going up back across the river from Camden.’

  ‘The hell it is!’ Dusty ejaculated, exchanging a startled glance with Sergeant Major Billy Jack. ‘How can it be? No team of horses could have hauled it from Arkadelphia that quickly.’

  ‘They’d’ve left a string of dead ’n’s behind for the turkey buzzards, even had they worked them in relays,’ Billy Jack went on, but without any of his usual gloomy predictions. He only employed them when things were going right.

  The news brought by Red suggested that things had gone badly wrong.

  In some way, Dusty appeared to have fallen into the trap of having underestimated the enemy. Working on the assumption that the big gun’s weight and general unwieldiness would have caused it to be travelling very slowly, he had brought his men over Ouachita River about three miles upstream from Stilton Crossing. They had left the vicinity of the bank immediately and, by the time dawn had broken, they had covered four more miles in a north-westerly direction. Daylight had found them concealed in the woodland and resting. Dusty had taken that precaution in case the Yankees should have had their balloon in the air. For miles around, the nature of the terrain was too open for him to chance moving such a large body of men, horses and the four little mountain howitzers across it. Instead, he had dispatched his two best scouts, dressed as Yankees—there had not been sufficient uniforms to supply all his Company and Staunce’s battery—to try to locate the big gun. Having seen that his men were all right, the Englishman had joined Red with the small rear guard. They had been watching in case the Yankees had discovered that enemies were north of the Ouachita and had come looking for them.

  Despite all the precautions and the hard work entailed in transporting the howitzers over the river, using four rowing boats held by the guard at Stilton Crossing, it seemed that Dusty had miscalculated. The men with the big gun had contrived to pass through the territory which his scouts were searching and, in a remarkably short time, had already reached their destination.

  ‘After the raid you pulled on their remount depot at Searcy, I’d’ve sworn that the Yankees didn’t have enough spare horses to kill them off reckless-like,’ Red told his cousin sympathetically, watching Harry, Hassle and Eric dismounting. Although consumed with curiosity regard
ing the girl, he kept his mind on the serious development at hand.

  ‘And, like Billy Jack said, they’d’ve had to kill off plenty to get the gun up Camden way so quickly.’

  Sucking in a deep breath, the girl prepared to face the moment she had been dreading ever since learning Hassle’s real identity and hearing of Company C’s mission.

  ‘They aren’t using horses to pull it,’ Harry said.

  ‘They have to be!’ Red protested. ‘There’s no railroad hereabouts and we’d have heard if they were using a steamboat along the river. And they sure’s hell aren’t hauling it with men on the ropes.’

  ‘How are they moving it, ma’am?’ Dusty asked and, quietly as he spoke, the girl suddenly became aware of the full strength of his personality.

  In some strange fashion, the small Texan seemed to Harry to have taken on stature until he towered above his companions. She knew that it was only an illusion, but she would never again think of Dusty Fog as being small.

  ‘With a traction engine,’ Harry replied.

  ‘A what?’ Red yelped.

  ‘A steam-powered traction engine,’ Harry elaborated and stiffened defensively as she continued, ‘I know what I’m talking about. My father’s driving it.’

  ‘Massa Eli had to do it, mister!’ Eric put in, determined to set the record straight from the start. He moved protectively to the girl’s side and glared at the big blond Texan. ‘The Yankees was holding Miss Harry here so’s he’d work ole Pulling Sue for ’em.’

  ‘Huh huh!’ Dusty grunted, understanding why the girl and the Negro were behaving in such a manner. Many Southrons might regard her statement as treasonable. As always, he was prepared to keep an open mind on the subject. ‘Maybe you’d best tell me all about it, Miss—’

  ‘Cable,’ the girl introduced. ‘Harriet Cable—my friends mostly call me “Harry”.’

  ‘Yes’m. I’m Dusty Fog, these are my cousins, First Lieutenant Red Blaze and Sergeant Major Billy Jack. If you’ll let me tend to a couple of things, I’ll hear what you have to say.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Harry authorized.

  ‘Vern, take Miss Cable’s man and tend to the horses,’ Dusty ordered.

  ‘Eric’s a free man—’ Harry put in.

  ‘That’s how he’ll be treated, ma’am,’ Dusty promised. ‘Did you see anything of the gun, Cousin Red?’

  ‘Nope,’ the lieutenant replied, as Hassle guided Eric away with the horses. ‘Doug figures they’d only put the balloon up to make sure there was none of us around before setting up the gun.’

  ‘It’s likely,’ Dusty admitted. ‘The notices weren’t to go up until tonight, so they’re not likely to open fire before our folks’ve had time to read them and decide on whether to set General Culver free.’

  ‘It ain’t like me to think miserable,’ Billy Jack lied. ‘But they might’ve heard we’ve done catched their spy and are aiming to cut loose straight away.’

  ‘Hell, yes!’ Red spat out. ‘What’ll we do if that happens, Cousin Dusty?’

  ‘Get back as fast as we can, balloon or no balloon,’ the small Texan replied; but, even as he spoke, he knew that they would arrive far too late to save Camden from being shelled. ‘Go and ask Doug to come in for a spell and come back with him, Red. Billy Jack, wake Sergeant Major Smalley and get the men ready in case we have to pull out fast.’

  ‘Yo!’ Red affirmed and Billy Jack echoed with the traditional Cavalry assent to an order.

  ‘There’s a log over by my blankets, Miss Cable,’ Dusty went on, as soon as his subordinates had taken their departure ‘It’s the best I can offer by way of a seat and we don’t have any coffee—’

  ‘I ate and had some before we broke camp this morning,’ the girl assured him and sensed that he was deeply perturbed by his cousin’s news. She walked towards the fallen tree and sat on its trunk. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Everything that might help me,’ Dusty requested, squatting on his heels before her.

  ‘Where shall I begin?’

  ‘At the beginning’s usually a good place.’

  ‘That would be in England, in ’Fifty-Eight,’ Harry decided. ‘Poppa had taken me over there on a combined vacation and business trip. It was just after Momma had died—we met most of the men connected with building steam engines of various kinds. Poppa had done some work on that line and believed they had a great future in America. Anyway, we met James Boydell and Charles Burrell, who’d designed a steam traction engine that used what they called “endless railway shoes” on the wheels. Poppa saw that it wasn’t a practical idea—do you want me to tell you why?’

  ‘Likely I wouldn’t know what it was all about,’ Dusty smiled. ‘But I’ll leave that to you, ma’am.’

  ‘I could accept “Harriet” at a pinch,’ the girl remarked, finding herself growing to like the big young captain. ‘But I’d prefer “Harry”.’

  ‘Tell me what you like, Harry,’ Dusty offered.

  ‘Well, without getting too technical, Poppa saw that the Burrell-Boydell idea wouldn’t work. Then he got to know William Bray, the chief engineer on what the British call a cross-Channel paddle steamer. It’s like a big riverboat that runs between England and France. Mr. Bray had a really good idea for the kind of wheel to use on a traction engine—that’s one meant to travel on land, without rails and—’

  ‘I’d an idea it might be,’ Dusty told her.

  ‘The wheels were based on the paddles of his steamer, except that the blades moved in and out through the rims and gave a firm grip as they turned. Anyway, Poppa felt that it was a real good idea. So when he brought me home, he decided to use the Bray wheels on his own design of machine. You see, he knew that, especially out West, there wouldn’t be a regular supply of coal or coke for fuel. So he worked up a system that gave better combustion with wood than any other steam engine offered.’

  ‘And he made up this engine that’s hauling the big gun around?’

  ‘It wasn’t meant for that,’ Harry protested. ‘Poppa had heard about the trials held by the military in England. In May, we’d seen a Bray Patent Traction Engine haul three 68-pounder cannons from Woolwich Arsenal to Plumpstead Common, up and down some pretty steep slopes. That was around twenty tons. Pulling Sue, our first successful machine, can equal that with wood for fuel and Big Minnie, the second, is even more powerful. Pulling Sue can average a speed of three miles per hour, Dusty. And keep it up for hour after hour, day after day.’

  ‘And that’s what the Yankees are using,’ Dusty said quietly.

  ‘Poppa didn’t intend his machines to be used for war!’ Harry insisted. ‘If he had, he could easily have made them back East, where he’d’ve had better facilities and could probably have got financial backing. Especially when it became certain that there must be the war. So he came home to Cable Grange and built them there. He tried to keep their existence a secret, so neither side would benefit from them but they would be ready to help with the rebuilding once there was peace.’

  ‘It didn’t work out that way,’ Dusty drawled, seeing the distress and anguish on the girl’s pretty face. It was replaced by a flicker of anger at his comment.

  ‘It didn’t!’ Harry conceded bitterly. ‘Just before the War, while we were in New York buying some equipment, Poppa met Monica Freer. He’d been lonely since Momma’s death and—well, Monica’s a beautiful woman and, when she’s a mind, she can charm a bird down from a tree. They got married and we all went back home. Monica never liked the idea of living out in what she regarded as the frontier and was always wanting Poppa to move back East. Then the War came. Poppa was determined not to let his machines be used for military purposes, which is why we never entertained members of the Confederate States’ Army. Then when you started to pull back, Major Lyle and his men arrived. Don’t ask me how they knew about Pulling Sue and Big Minnie, but they did. No, damn it, why should I lie. I believe Monica had got word to them. Anyway, Lyle arrived. He had brought two companies of soldiers, all armed with Spenc
er repeating rifles, and four heavy guns. The thirty-pounder Parrot rifle you’re hunting and three Vandenburgs. Do you know what they are?’

  ‘Sure. Multi-barreled pieces, not long ranged, but real dangerous at close quarters.’

  ‘He’s using two of the Vandenburgs to cover the bridge from the island and has the other mounted to cover the boats’ landing beach, although his men don’t guard it too carefully; which’s how we escaped. Lyle said that Poppa was to use Pulling Sue to take the Parrot after the Rebels. When Poppa tried to refuse, Lyle said that he would turn us over to his men. What else could Poppa do but obey?’

  ‘Not a whole heap,’ Dusty admitted. ‘So Lyle’s with the big gun now?’

  ‘No,’ Harry corrected. ‘He put the gun and one Company in the hands of his officers and sent them off. He stayed at the Grange, making sure the work he’d demanded was done on Big Minnie.’

  At that moment, Red returned with Captain Douglas St. John Staunce. Having introduced the girl to the Englishman, Dusty had her go over her story once more. With his companions brought into the picture, he let her continue.

  ‘Lyle’s having steel plates put around Big Minnie,’ Harry warned. ‘He’s going to arm it with two Williams Rapid Fire cannons that have been captured from the Confederate Army and fix scythes on the wheels to help hold off attackers—’

  ‘The blighter must have met, or heard about, James Cowen,’ Staunce put in. ‘He suggested the British Army did the same to the Burrell-Boydell engines, but my father wouldn’t have anything to do with such a barbaric idea.’

  ‘Lyle doesn’t have Sir Arnold’s scruples,’ Harry warned, having met Staunce’s father while attending a demonstration of a traction engine’s use as an Artillery tractor in England. ‘He’s having the “improvements” installed, in fact they’re nearly completed. Then he’s going to use it when the big gun has forced the Confederate Army to come back across the Ouachita. He thinks that Big Minnie will be all that’s needed to win the battle.’

  ‘An’ he could be right at that!’ Dusty breathed, visualizing the effect of such a device against men who would already be outnumbered. ‘Damn it. More than ever, we’ve got to get that blasted big gun.’