Ole Devil and the Caplocks (18 page)

Although Madeline would
not have been averse to capturing the consignment, that was far
from being her primary consideration. She had been too appreciative
of the difficulties involved in taking and disposing of it—as well
as retaining the lion’s share of the profits it would bring—with
her husband dead to feel sanguine over the chances of success. So
her main objective had been vengeance.

Basing her plan upon a
shrewd summation of Ole Devil’s character, formed while in his
company as part of her husband’s scheme to gain possession of the
Caplocks, the woman had guessed how he would respond to the loss of
the bell-mare. Feeling sure that he would personally lead the
detail sent to obtain a replacement, and as he would not wish to
reduce the guards on the consignment or the mules to any great
extent, she knew it would consist of only a few men despite the
unsavory nature of the town’s population. She had argued that
catching him would place a useful hostage in their hands. Even if
his men refused to exchange the rifles for him, or he should be
killed, they would be left leaderless and consequently much easier
to deal with.

None of the men, not even
Dodd, had suspected Madeline’s true motive for bringing them to the
San Phillipe area. Being shrewd as well as intelligent, she knew
that she could not hope to retain her former position of authority
in the band now that her husband was dead. Nor was she willing to
act in a subordinate capacity to any other man, particularly those
who were with her. So she planned to break away from them and
return to the United States, where she felt certain that she could
re-establish herself without difficulty, as soon as they had helped
her to take revenge upon Buttolph’s killer.

On arriving in the
vicinity of San Phillipe, Madeline and the men had sought for the
best place to establish their ambush. Doing so had only been a
matter of selecting the most suitable of several locations, any one
of which would have filled their needs adequately. Concluding that
their victims would in all probability follow the trail which ran
parallel to the coast had made their task easier. However, they had
not wanted to be too near to the town in case any shooting that was
necessary should be heard and bring some of the citizens to
investigate. Being aware of the kind of people who lived there, the
renegades had considered it most inadvisable to let them learn
about the valuable consignment. With that in mind, they had settled
upon a bend with a number of bushes on either side to offer
concealment for themselves and their horses. It was in fairly thick
woodland and about three miles from the nearest human
habitation.

In spite of having agreed
to carry out the ambush, a difficulty had arisen. While the men had
been willing to take the precaution of eating the food which they
were carrying without warming it and to do without lighting a fire,
they had started to complain about the lack of liquid refreshment.
Finally, to keep the peace, Dodd had taken three companions and set
off to purchase a supply of liquor from the town. As he had pointed
out to the woman before leaving, some of the others were sure to
slip away for it if he did not go and, by taking charge of the
party himself, he could make sure that it returned as quickly as
possible.

From the way in which her
companions had been and still were behaving, Madeline could tell
that they were growing less enamored of the scheme. While fine and
dry, there was a chill in the air which did nothing to make the
waiting more pleasant and comfortable. If the Texian failed to act
as she had anticipated, or there should be any other setback, she
would lose what little control she had over them. In view of the
kind of men they were, especially without Dodd to stand by her, she
might suffer an even worse fate than merely being
deserted.

“
Maybe
something’s happened to ’em,” suggested the fourth of the renegades
who were with Madeline on the right side of the trail. “You know
what kind of a place San Phillipe is.”

“Or it could be they’ve
changed their minds and don’t conclude to come back,” suggested the
man who had started the latest outburst of complaints.

“
There’s
some’s wouldn’t blame ’em if they have,” commented the second
speaker. “Hell’s teeth, we ain’t going to do no son-of-a-bitching
good here. Happen Hardin knows about San Phillipe, which ‘most
everybody in Texas does, he’ll not be loco enough to come there
fixing to get another mare.”

“It don’t strike me’s he
would,” admitted the last of the quintet.

As the woman heard the
trend being taken in the conversation, she began to grow
increasingly perturbed. Up to that point, she had drawn some slight
comfort from the way in which the men had been speaking. Several
feet were separating her from them, which was nothing unusual as
she had never mingled closely in their company. Up until that
point, she could only just hear their words and had felt sure that
they were not aware she could do so. The fact that they were no
longer attempting to hold their voices down implied that they might
be contemplating a revolt against continuing the ambush.

Worried by the
possibility, Madeline slipped her right hand into the side pocket
of what had been her husband’s cloak-coat. Closing her fingers
about the butt of the weapon which was inside, she found herself
wishing, not for the first time, that he had had it in his
possession when he was confronting Ole Devil Hardin. However, for
some reason, he had failed to take the precaution. In view of the
latest development, she was not sorry to have it available and
unsuspected by her companions. It had a potential which could be of
great use if they were considering more than merely deserting
her.

Even as the woman was
drawing her conclusions, she began to walk in a casual seeming
fashion to where her section of the party had left their horses.
Although she was alert for any hint that her actions were arousing
the men’s suspicions, she did not take out the multi-barreled
Maybury “Pepperbox”
^xlvi
handgun. It offered her the advantage of being able to fire
no less than eight shots without needing to be reloaded, but was
only .34 in caliber and lacked accuracy at anything except close
quarters. If there should be trouble, she planned to stop at least
one of her assailants before they were near enough for it to be
effective. Her husband had taught her to shoot and she had attained
a fair proficiency at it even before her arrival in
Texas.

Coming to a halt, as if
she had merely gone to check on the animals, Madeline glanced at
the group beneath the white oak tree. First one, then another began
to stand up and all were gazing in her direction. Alarm and anger
gripped her, but not to the extent of rendering her unable to
think. The situation was bad, but not desperate. As a precaution in
case a hurried departure should become necessary, all the horses
were saddled and had the girth tight enough to let them be ridden
with the minimum of delay. So she could mount and be gone long
before any of them could reach her. Especially if she caused some
confusion by shooting one of their number. With that in mind, she
lifted one of a brace of pistols from the holsters attached to her
saddle’s horn. If the men had noticed what she was doing, they made
no comment. However, when they heard her drawing the hammer to full
cock, they might suspect why she had armed herself.

Even as the woman’s left
hand went to the hammer, she heard a low whistle from where the
sixth member of her group was keeping watch on the
trail.

“Hey, Mrs. de Moreau!”
hissed the first complainant and, although more softly spoken than
his last words, his tones were sullen as he continued, “There’s
somebody coming!”

Taking advantage of the
news as an excuse, Madeline cocked the pistol while returning to
the men. They were reaching for rifles, or pistols when the sound
of the approaching horses reached their ears.

“Not from the south,” the
woman said, a touch bitterly. “It’s probably only Mister Dodd’s
party coming back from town.”

“
It’s
taken ’em long enough to do it!” commented another of the quintet,
just as quietly as the first and sounding equally resentful. “This
sitting around waiting’s surely hell without a drink to help pass
the time.”

“I know’s I can use one,”
declared a third speaker, turning toward the trail. “There’s no
saying how long we’ll be here. Or if anybody’ll come after we’ve
waited.”

With that, the renegade
walked in the lookout’s direction. Leaving their rifles behind and
handguns in their belts, his companions followed. Setting after
them, still carrying her pistol, Madeline could see and hear enough
to inform her that the other group across the trail were behaving
in a similar manner.

Taking the recent events
into consideration, the woman was not sorry to hear the approaching
riders despite them coming from the wrong direction. While Dodd
lacked the masterful personality of her late husband, he was
tougher than the others and still a force to be reckoned with in
the band. His presence would offer her considerable protection if
things should go wrong.

Suddenly a thought struck
Madeline and it drove the relief from her mind as she felt sure it
had not occurred to any of the men. The riders might not be Dodd’s
party, but somebody else who had been in San Phillipe and were
using the trail. Travelers from the town were likely to be engaged
in a way of earning a living which would make them wary and
mistrusting. Riding into such a situation, they would be inclined
to shoot first and ask questions later.

“
Hey
there!” yelled a voice, almost quavering with urgency and alarm, to
the accompaniment of several bottles clinking against each other,
before the woman could put her thoughts into speech. “Don’t shoot,
fellers! It’s only us ’n’ we’ve brought the
liquor!”

Having given a startled
gasp at the first shouted word, a snort of annoyance burst from
Madeline as the explanation continued. From the way in which the
approaching rider was carrying on, he considered that he was taking
a most sensible and necessary precaution. In fact, his tones
suggested that he was very nervous.

For all the woman’s relief
at discovering the identity of the men on the trail, she silently
cursed Dodd for not having kept him quiet. If Ole Devil Hardin—or
whoever had been sent to obtain a replacement for the slaughtered
bell-mare— was close enough to have heard what was said, he would
know that somebody was lurking in the vicinity and ready to start
shooting at passersby. While he was unlikely to guess who the
ambushers might be, he was certain to take steps to avoid them.
Obviously Dodd’s party had failed to take that point into
consideration. Nor were the rest of the band showing any better
grasp of the situation.

“You was right, ma’am!”
announced the lookout, no longer bothering to speak quietly.
“That’s ole Pudsey. I’d know his voice anywheres.”

“Sounds like they ain’t
coming back empty-handed, neither,” another renegade went on in
normal tones. “Which a drink’s what I’m needing right
now.”

Before Madeline could
suggest that they remembered what they had come to try to do, the
second speaker started to walk from the bushes and the others
followed his example. They were joined by the men from the other
side. An ever growing anger filled her as she listened to the
commotion her irresponsible companions were making, but she doubted
whether they would take any notice if she attempted to make them
behave in a more sensible manner. What was more, there was a
likelihood that they would become even more noisy. With the mood
her group of the ambushers had been in, they could also do worse to
her than just alerting anybody who might be in the vicinity of
their presence.

A bitter sense of
resentment against Dodd began to assail the woman. She wished that
he had given more thought to what they hoped to achieve and had
restricted the quantity of liquor his party was bringing from San
Phillipe. If the clinking was anything to go by, there were
sufficient bottles to let them all get drunk and she was all too
aware of how dangerous that could be for her. There were men
present who had little cause to be kindly disposed toward her.
Under the influence of the cheap whiskey, they could decide to
repay her for the arrogance she had always shown to
them.

Appreciating the peril
from the renegades, either if she tried to prevent the issue of the
liquor or after they had finished it, Madeline did not follow them.
Instead, remaining among the bushes, she peered through the
darkness at the four returning members of the band. Although she
could only make out their shapes, she concluded from the steady way
in which they sat their horses that none of them had imbibed an
excessive amount of liquor while they were in town. Clearly Dodd
had restrained any desire the other three might have had to
overindulge.

Even as the thought came,
Madeline grew puzzled. While nowhere near the man her husband had
been, Dodd was tough, experienced and not unintelligent. What was
more, he had proven himself capable of enforcing his will upon the
other members of the band even before he had made his party refrain
from getting drunk in San Phillipe.

So why had Dodd allowed
Pudsey to call out the warning of their arrival instead of
announcing it himself in a more suitable manner?