Ole Devil and the Caplocks (19 page)

Or, if it had been done
without Dodd’s knowledge and authority, why was he keeping silent
when he ought to be remonstrating with his indiscreet
companion?

With the two points
raised, Madeline began to sense that something was very, very,
wrong. However, for a few seconds, she could not decide what it
might be.

Then certain significant,
frightening even, factors started to emerge!

Dodd and his companions
had all been approximately the same height and build, clad in low
crowned hats and range clothes. While the woman could identify the
man in the lead as Pudsey, there was considerable disparity between
the shapes of himself and two of his companions. What was more,
even the fourth of the party—who was behind the other three—struck
her as being wrong. After a moment, she realized why.

Pudsey had been marginally
the largest of the quartet, yet the man who was following him
looked even more massive. In addition, he appeared to have changed
his clothes while in the town. At least, there was now a Mexican
sombrero on his head and he had not been wearing a serape when they
set off.

Even as Madeline was
noticing the fourth rider’s change of attire, she became aware of
how the horses of the men on either side of Pudsey were behaving.
While his mount was walking normally, they seemed restless and
reminded her of something. Just what it was struck her an instant
later. They looked like a couple of racehorses being restrained,
yet ready to hurtle forward when they received the signal to start
a race.

Other thoughts crowded
into the woman’s mind. The rider on the left and slightly behind
Pudsey was far smaller than any member of the band.

However, it was the man
who was closest to Madeline’s position who attracted the majority
of her attention. Tall and slender, his right hand hung by his side
and the left was also hidden from her view. However, he was sitting
his horse with the straight-backed poise which reminded her of an
officer in a first-class cavalry regiment riding in a
parade.

Or of somebody whom
Madeline had come to know—and hate!

With a sensation like an
icy cold hand running along her spine, the woman realized what must
have happened!

Possibly because Ole Devil
Hardin had guessed how she had anticipated his reaction to the
shooting of the bell-mare, he had selected a route which had
avoided the ambush. In addition, he must have recognized and dealt
with Dodd’s party in San Phillipe. Pudsey would not hesitate to
betray the rest of the band if it would save his own
skin.

Suddenly an even greater
appreciation of the situation burst upon the woman. Her men were
walking toward the riders completely oblivious of their peril.
Taken unawares and attacked by three effective fighters, which she
did not doubt the Texian’s party would be, some of them were
certain to be killed.

Apart from one
consideration, Madeline would not have worried over what fate had
in store for her companions, regarding it as being no more than
their stupidity warranted. However, coming in their disgruntled
frame of mind, such an event would be all the inducement they
needed to flee. Even if she went with them, they would never trust
her judgment again. In fact, especially as she could no longer
count upon Dodd for protection, they were likely to turn on her and
she was all too cognizant with what that would mean.

Once again, Madeline was
finding her schemes thwarted and her life endangered by the man who
had killed her husband!

All the woman’s virulent
temper erupted!

“It’s Hardin!” Madeline
shrieked, raising and, confident that she could hit her intended
mark, sighting the pistol. Her finger began to tighten on the
trigger and she went on, “Kill him!”

Sitting his horse with the
reins tied to the saddle horn, but restraining its eagerness to
move—by holding the near side ribbon with his pistol-filled left
hand—Tommy Okasi watched the renegades. They were emerging from
their places of concealment in response to Pudsey’s call and the
clinking of the empty bottles supplied by Cole Turtle. None of them
gave the slightest sign of suspecting that anything was wrong. Even
their betrayer’s understandably nervous tones had passed unnoticed.
As far as the little Oriental could make out, they had left their
rifles and were approaching with empty hands. For his part, he was
holding his
tachi
— its blade blackened by smoke to avoid any glitter from the
steel giving the game away—and the Manton pistol which he had
borrowed from his employer. His unstrung bow was suspended in the
loops on the left side skirt of his saddle, but he had left the
quiver of arrows in Diamond-Hitch Brindley’s care.

Studying the situation.
Tommy was impressed—as he had been on other occasions—by Ole Devil
Hardin’s shrewd assessment of human nature. It had already been
displayed earlier that night, by the way in which he had turned the
events at the San Phillipe Hotel to their advantage.

Despite Tommy’s—and, the
little Oriental suspected, Di’s —original unspoken misgivings as to
the wisdom of the Texian’s decision to tell the crowd that they
were transporting items of considerable value, only good had
accrued from it. Supporting his grim warning with a demonstration
of his Browning Slide Repeating rifle’s potential, by shattering
nine bottles in a rapid succession, which would have been beyond
the capability of any single shot firearm no matter how well
handled, he had increased his audience’s awareness that he was a
man with whom it would be very dangerous to trifle. They had
already seen him provoke a fight and cripple one of their number
whom he had suspected might pose a threat to the goods in his care.
Nor did they doubt that he had sufficient force at his command to
back up his statement of intentions.

Always quick to grasp and
willing to benefit from any situation. Cole Turtle had reached a
decision which was—and would continue to be—of the greatest help to
Ole Devil. He had announced that, with the consignment being of
such importance to the future of Texas, he meant to do everything
in his power to ensure its safe delivery and anybody from the town
who attempted to interfere would incur his grave displeasure. All
who had heard him knew exactly what he meant.

Having made his position
clear, and supported by the hotelkeeper, Ole Devil had turned his
attention to the business which had brought them to San Phillipe,
and also to removing the threat posed by Madeline de Moreau and her
renegades. Once again, Turtle had shown his good faith. In addition
to presenting Di with a mare from his stable, he had offered his
assistance in dealing with the ambush.

Badly frightened by his
predicament, the surviving renegade had done more than tell his
captors that his name was Pudsey. He had described the place where
his companions were waiting. With the added inducement of being
told that he could go free after the ambush had been broken
provided that he got the hell out of Texas by the shortest and
quickest route, he had agreed to lure the rest of the band from
where they would be hiding.

Hearing what the young
Texian intended to do, Turtle had warned that the woman and her
party would be expecting four riders. Although Di had pointed out
that she was on hand to make up the required number, Ole Devil had
refused to let her participate. As he had pointed out, if things
should go wrong, somebody had to deliver the mare and warn Mannen
Blaze of what had happened. Once again, Turtle had supplied the
answer. Not only had he promised to give the girl an escort to
Santa Cristobal Bay in such an eventuality, but he had offered the
services of Charlie Slow-Down to fill the remaining vacancy in the
quartet. Di had reluctantly gone along with Ole Devil’s
wishes.

Satisfied that he had
achieved his original purpose in visiting San Phillipe and, in
spite of having failed to keep it a secret, having prevented the
citizens from causing him trouble on account of it, Ole Devil
wasted no time in leaving. Nor had Tommy blamed him for being
disinclined to linger any longer than was necessary in such a
location. There was considerable urgency in returning to the mule
train with the replacement bell-mare. What was more, given time,
some of the inhabitants’ avaricious natures might override their
fear of opposing Turtle’s will. Regaining their courage, they might
start contemplating means by which they could take possession of
the consignment.

Once the mare had been
handed over to Di and various other preparations had been
completed, Ole Devil, Tommy and Charlie Slow-Down had set out with
Pudsey. Escorted by Turtle’s fifteen-year-old son, Rameses—who was,
at a later date, to achieve even greater prominence than his father
in the law-breaking circles of Texas
^xlvii
—and four trusted, well-armed men, the girl was following Ole
Devil at a safe distance.

When Pudsey had told the
Texian that they were drawing close to the curve where the ambush
was to take place, the trio had made ready for action. In the Caddo
Indian’s case, that had entailed no more than cocking the pair of
blunderbuss handguns he was relying upon. Nor had Ole Devil and the
little Oriental needed to do much more, but they had a somewhat
different problem to contend with. Each was astride a horse trained
for cavalry duties. There was only one kind of situation in which
such mounts would have their reins fastened to the saddle horn.
Their reaction would be to dash forward without any guidance other
than the rider’s movements on the back, and knee pressure. However,
this tendency must be restrained until the most advantageous moment
if they were to benefit fully from the element of surprise. So,
once the reins had been secured, Ole Devil and Tommy kept hold of
one rein with the hand grasping the pistols. These were to augment
the swords they were already carrying to ensure that the prisoner
did not try to betray them. Although the spirited mounts were
restless and eager to move faster, their riders were able to keep
them under control, knowing that they would bound forward on being
allowed to do so.

Too frightened to be
treacherous, even though he was aware of what would happen to at
least some of his former companions, Pudsey had carried out his
instructions and the perturbed agitation in his voice had failed to
warn them that all was far from well. As Ole Devil had hoped, the
clinking of the bottles had drawn the waiting renegades from their
places of concealment. What was more, as they walked along the
trail, they were not so closely bunched together as to create an
extra hazard to what he was planning to do. In fact, they could
hardly have positioned themselves more suitably if he had explained
what he wanted from them.

However, another problem
which the Texian had envisaged had failed to materialize and he did
not care for its omission. Sitting his impatient mount, with his
right hand held so that his saber—suitably treated like
Tommy’s
tachi
—was
concealed behind his leg, he studied the approaching figures.
Although Madeline de Moreau must have been aware of the threat to
the ambush, she had made no attempt to halt the exodus of the men
from the bushes. Nor could he see her among them. He guessed that
she was close by and must be furious at their undisciplined, rowdy
behavior.

Measuring the distance
separating them from the renegades. Tommy glanced at Ole Devil.
Making just as careful an estimate, the Texian decided to hold off
until they were a little closer. The nearer they were when they
launched their attack, the greater effect it would have and the
more damage it would inflict. Nor did he have any qualms over
assaulting the men who were walking toward him under the
misapprehension that they were approaching friends. In fact, his
only regret was that he did not hold a firearm capable of
discharging more than one shot, either in succession or as a
volley. To have carried his Browning Slide Repeating rifle would
have prevented him from using the saber and might have aroused the
renegades’ suspicions. Nor was there any handgun in production at
that time which he felt would have filled his requirements if he
had purchased it.
^xlviii

Although Ole Devil had
seen a Collier Repeating Pistol
^xlix
on his travels, the fact that it was a flintlock and had more
than forty separate parts in the lock alone—not counting the
lock-plate, attaching screws, stock and barrel-cylinder pin— in his
opinion made it far too delicate and complicated to handle the work
it was now called upon to perform.

Much the same
considerations had caused Ole Devil to reject the various types of
multi-barreled “pepperboxes” which were on sale. None of them, even
those designed as Caplocks—particularly as the latter possessed
what he regarded as a lethal failing—had struck him as being
sufficiently rugged and reliable to stand up to the rigors of
conditions in Texas.

However, at that moment
and under the prevailing circumstances, the Texian would even have
settled for the loan of the Croodlom & Co. “Duck Foot” Mob
Pistol—which would have allowed him to discharge four .45 caliber
bullets simultaneously and not in the same direction—that
Beauregard Rassendyll had brought as a personal sidearm. Such a
weapon would have served his purpose better than his single-shot
Manton pistol.