‘MENFOLK DO SO have all the fun and excitement and you-all know they do, Cousin Betty, for shame,’ Georgina Blaze insisted, continuing to expound a point of view which she had always advocated and which had been resurrected by a comment from the person to whom the words were addressed. Looking at the other member of the small hunting party, she challenged, ‘Now isn’t that just so, Tommy?’
The three riders were leisurely traversing the thinly wooded terrain forming the boundary between the great OD Connected and Double B ranches—which occupied the far from diminutive whole of Rio Hondo county—in the warmth of a warm early summer afternoon. In several respects, they would have struck a chance onlooker new to the area as being somewhat unusual. All wore masculine attire and were armed, but only one of them was of the male gender and even he was undeniably out of the ordinary for the United States of America—an incorrect term under the circumstances, as the struggle by certain of the States to be allowed to attain the constitutional right to secede from the Union was taking place elsewhere in the country—during the early 1860s.
While none of them could be considered tall, seated astride the low homed, double girthed Texas-style range saddle of a spirited little hayos azafranados gelding66 at the right of the trio, Betty Hardin was the smallest. Not yet eighteen years of age, bare headed, with her shoulder long black hair gathered at the back of her head in what a later generation would refer to as a ‘pony tail’, she was petite and very beautiful. There was a suggestion of an inborn power to command and an intelligence beyond average about her attractively tanned face and she comported herself with the assured composure that might be expected of one who was undeniably descended from General Jackson Baines ‘Ole Devil’ Hardin, G.S.A. Yet, for all that she was said to be the granddaughter of a man with such prominence in the affairs of the Lone Star State,67 there was nothing arrogant or snobbish about her. Rather her demeanor was of competent, yet—unless the need to change it for something more positive arose—unassertive self-confidence.68
A tartan shirt and yellowish brown Nankeen trousers, which were tucked into the legs of brown Hessian boots,69 could not entirely conceal that Betty had a curvaceous little body budding into womanhood, despite the fact that they had been made for a somewhat larger male wearer. A magnificent ‘Hawken’ plains rifle, custom built for her by John P. Gemmer—who had been trained by the Hawken brothers and, on their retirement in 1862, continued to produce excellent examples of the type of weapon for which they were famous—rested across her knees. Its powder horn and a buckskin pouch containing several .45 caliber round lead balls with which to load it were suspended on the left side of her saddlehorn and, at the right, was strapped an open topped holster holding an ivory handled Colt Model of 1851 Navy revolver. Although few of her sex and even less belonging to her social class would have considered using anything other than a side-saddle, she sat astride her mount in masculine fashion with the relaxed grace of one who frequently rode in such a manner. Nor, being possessed of the much sought after quality called brio escondido—hidden vigor—for which duns were justly acclaimed, was the gelding an easy animal to handle. While brio escondido produced first rate stamina, speed, agility and general hardiness, it also created a lively spirit requiring—demanding even—a considerable skill in matters equestrian.
In the center of the trio, displaying an almost equal facility in the unfeminine style of riding and handling a fine fourteen hand blue roan gelding, Georgina Blaze was slightly taller, buxom without being fat, blonde and with a pretty, expressive face that looked meant for laughter even while registering indignation over what she regarded as unkind discrimination against her sex. Being more subject to the dictates of conventional behavior than her cousin, she had on a light blue blouse and a black, wide brimmed, low crowned hat suitable for a young lady. However, once beyond the range of maternal scrutiny, she had exchanged her skirts for a pair of men’s trousers and replaced her high-buttoned shoes with Comanche moccasins. She was nursing a ‘Kentucky’70 style rifle which had had its barrel’s length reduced to offer greater portability and ease of handling and she carried its ammunition supply in a similar fashion to Betty, as she did a .31 caliber Colt Model of 1849 ‘Pocket Pistol’—a revolver in spite of its name—with a five shot cylinder and six inch barrel.
Not quite five foot six inches in height, the male member of the trio was considerably older than the girls, but his actual age was hard to determine. His cheerful, almond eyed yellowish features were undoubtedly those of an Oriental; but his short-cropped, grey-tinged black hair lacked the long pigtail by which, tradition claimed, a member of the Chinese race was drawn to the Celestial Paradise on dying. His garments consisted of a loose fitting and wide sleeved black shirt hanging outside trousers of the same material and these were tucked into the black Hessian boots he wore instead of going bare foot, or in sandals, as was usually the case among his race. He had a dark blue silk sash about his waist. Over this was strapped a black leather belt from which two swords—the one on the right longer than its mate—with slightly curved blades and small, circular hilts strange to Occidental eyes, were suspended by slings in sheaths made of bamboo. He had no firearms visible upon his person, or the saddle of his large black gelding, which he rode with no less competence than his companions. However, he had a quiver of arrows slung across his back, their flights rising over his right shoulder and he carried a long bow very different from those usually seen in the Western Hemisphere, strung ready for use, in his left hand.
Known as a daisho, the swords—called respectively a tachi, the longer, and a wakizashi—and the archery equipment were, in fact, traditional weapons of a Japanese samurai. Before his departure from his homeland, Tommy Okasi had belonged to that elite and very efficient warrior class.71 What was more, he had lost little of his skill in the martial arts with the passing of the years. He was still able to deal adequately with the situation should he be abused by larger, heavier and stronger men who drew an erroneous conclusion with regards to his nationality.72
Although Tommy had accompanied Ole Devil in his capacity of valet when the General had joined the Confederate States’ Army, a private matter of considerable importance had caused him to return to Polveroso City, seat of Rio Hondo County.73 Finding himself at a loose end, as the matter was not developing as swiftly as he had anticipated, he had willingly accepted a suggestion that he accompanied the girls on their hunting expedition.
There was something of considerably greater importance than just a desire for sport motivating the girls and the little Oriental. The previous afternoon, an eccentric old man—who went by the name ‘Prospector Tuck’ and who was allowed to live undisturbed on the OD Connected’s range—had arrived at the ranch house with his right arm wrapped in a crude bandage.
The story of how the injury had been caused had created considerable concern. Seeing that one of the small herd of goats he had kept to supply him with milk, meat and skins had been pulled down by a pair of coyotes, the old man had left his cabin with the intention of retrieving the carcass. Instead of running away, as would normally have been the case at the sight of a human being, the male coyote had rushed towards him. Surprised by such untypical behavior, he had shot at it and it went down. Not until he had approached and was bending over to make sure it was dead had he noticed there was saliva smearing its jaws. Even as an awareness of what the sight implied struck him, the coyote had expended the last dregs of its life in delivering a bite to his arm. Hurrying back to his cabin, he had cauterized the wound by burning it with a piece of blazing wood from the fire upon which he had been cooking a meal.
While sympathizing with Prospector Tuck over what had happened and being aware of how serious the consequences of the bite might prove if the coyote was suffering from rabies, Betty had considered the other news he brought demanded instant action, Unlike its mate, the female coyote had fled when he appeared. However, he had claimed that it too had shown a similar ‘foaming’ at the mouth which suggested it also was suffering from the dreaded disease.
After the old man had been dispatched in a buggy to Polveroso City, in the hope that the local doctor could give him some kind of treatment, Betty had called a council of war. With the ranch short staffed, so many of the hands having followed their employer into the Army, she had stated her intention of attending to the matter personally by going to try and find and kill the second coyote. Aware of how capable she was in such matters, her Aunt Elizabeth Fog74—who was acting as her guardian in the absence of her grandfather—had given assent to the proposal with the proviso that the little Oriental accompanied her. Although the girl had not been averse to company and had agreed, Georgina’s participation was made without any official sanction. She had looked so downcast over the prospect of missing involvement in such an important affair that Betty did not have the heart to refuse when she suggested that she became the third member of the party.
The hour of Tuck’s arrival had been too late for the search to be commenced that day. So the trio had waited until morning before setting out. None of them, not even the usually optimistic Georgina, had believed the task would be a sinecure as they were deprived by the particular circumstances of what would otherwise have been an invaluable aid. Because of the possibility that they would be in contention with a creature suffering from one of the most deadly diseases known that was transmittable to human beings, they could not make use of the pack of well-trained big hounds which was Betty’s pride and joy.75 Instead, they would be compelled to depend upon their own resources and abilities. As both of the girls had done a fair amount of hunting, they were not at an impossible disadvantage.
Being slightly over a mile from Tuck’s property and knowing something of the strong territorial habits of the species Canis Latrans, although none of them would have employed the term or scientific name for the coyote, the trio were not expecting to come across their quarry for a short while. They were scanning their surroundings more in hope than expectancy as they rode along talking. A remark by Betty about how much better off they were at that moment than their cousins, Dusty Fog and Red Blaze, who had recently left to become officers in the regiment recruited, equipped and financed by the clan, had provoked Georgina’s response and question.
‘Ancient and wise Nipponese saying!’ Tommy commenced, employing a sing-song tone he invariably adopted when making such a pronouncement, as the girls’ looks implied they expected an answer.
‘Which he’s just now made up!’ Betty and Georgina chorused in unison.
‘Woman’s place is in home, or geisha teahouse spending all her time making man comfortable, well fed and happy,’ the little Oriental continued, paying no observable attention to the kind of comment with which his friends—and the girls came into that category—invariably greeted his opening gambit. ‘That way, she not have time, or need, for fun and excitement.’
‘I wish I’d never asked!’ Georgina declared, making a wry face.
‘Doesn’t everybody who asks him?’ Betty replied, her voice an equally well-educated and attractive Texas drawl showing that there was no malice to the comment.
‘Nipponese women …’ Tommy began, but was not allowed to finish.
‘Surely must have a dull time, the way you tell it,’ Betty asserted, then looked at the other girl. ‘And, anyway, Cousin Georgie, although I’m sure Mrs.. Greenhow and Belle Boyd don’t think what they’re doing is fun, there are two ladies who are playing an important part in fighting the Yankees.’
‘Why they just surely are,’ Georgina agreed, as the smaller girl realized her statement had been an error of tactics, knowing the women in question to be prominent members of the Confederate States’ Secret Service.76 ‘And when you and I go to visit with Uncle Devil next year, we may get to meet one or the other of them.’
‘It’s not likely,’ Betty smiled.
‘Well, if we do,’ Georgina stated emphatically, despite having a feeling that her cousin—who she was willing to admit was far more knowledgeable than herself—would be correct. ‘I just know we can show her we’ll be as good spies as she is.’
For once Betty was in error. The meeting Georgina desired was to take place and have tragic consequences.77 However, the discussion was not permitted to continue.
‘Look!’ Tommy said, quietly yet urgently, pointing to his right, then reaching for an arrow from his quiver.
As they looked in the direction indicated by the little Oriental, the girls had no difficulty in seeing what had provoked his suggestion and action.
And neither of them was slow in responding to what they saw.
A sandy-reddish creature with a shaggy coat, a sharp, doglike face and pricked ears had emerged from among some bushes about fifty yards away. Coming to a halt, but showing no sign of being aware of their presence, it stared towards the woodland to the south and sniffed the breeze. Its size and build suggested to the trio that it was a female, the male coyote tending to grow about a fifth larger than the bitch. What was more important about this particular specimen, however, was that there was something whiter than the usual greying caused by age around its nose and mouth.
Taking the latter factor into consideration, Betty released the split-ended reins and gave a signal with her heels which brought the bayos azafrandos gelding to an almost immediate halt. While the motion was being brought to cessation, she thumbed back the hammer of the Hawken rifle and swung its butt towards her shoulder.
Moving with a corresponding alacrity, being less trustful of her mount’s training as it was borrowed for the occasion from the OD Connected’s remuda, Georgina did not attempt to duplicate her cousin’s actions. While she too dropped the reins, knowing the blue roan was range-trained to stop and stand still when they were released to dangle from the bit, she did not remain in the saddle. Tossing her right leg forward and over the saddlehorn, exhibiting agility of a high order in spite of her buxom build, she jumped to the ground. On alighting, she cocked the action and began to raise her shortened Kentucky rifle to the firing position.
Extracting the arrow deftly, Tommy turned his bow into a position ready to receive it. Designed for use by a person of his comparatively small stature, the handle of the six foot long stave was situated two thirds of the way down instead of centrally as was the case with Occidental bows. Notching the arrow to the string as he brought his mount to a stop, he commenced his draw after the fashion of a samurai warrior.
Obedient as the bayos azafrandos might be, it did not stand as steady as a statue. Just as its rider was squeezing the Hawken’s trigger, it moved a little. Not much, but sufficient to ruin her aim. Flying beneath instead of into the coyote, the bullet flung a spray of dislodged dirt against its belly.
Having its attention held by scents and sounds carried to it from the woodland, the little predator was unaware of the trio’s presence until receiving the warning shot. Letting out a yelp of alarm, it bounded into the air like the doll of a jack-in-a-box on the lid being raised. The involuntary action proved to be its undoing.
Aiming hurriedly in the hope of beating her companions to the shot, Georgina failed in one respect. Her Kentucky barked slightly after the Hawken’s deeper detonation. Although its bullet would have passed over the intended target, the bitch’s bound caused them to converge. Struck by the lead while in mid-air, the coyote gave another yelp and was knocked to the ground in a leg kicking tangle. An instant later, having made an alteration to its alignment, the arrow released by Tommy flew across the intervening distance and pinned the predator to the turf beneath it.
‘Hold hard, hot head !’ Betty ordered, watching the coyote’s body contorting as is snapped spasmodically at the arrow’s shaft, noticing her cousin was lowering the Kentucky and stepping forward, ‘Let us not forget what happened to Prospector Tuck when he went up to one he thought couldn’t harm him.’
‘She won’t be able to harm anyone,’ Georgina objected, but refrained from advancing.
‘Maybe not,’ Betty conceded. ‘But, if she has got rabies, I’d rather wait until I’m sure she can’t.’
‘Ancient and wise Nipponese saying, which I’ve just made up,’ Tommy remarked, being equally aware of the potential danger and the blonde’s tendency for impatience. ‘When there is nothing to do, do something useful.’
‘That’s a wise saying?’ Betty challenged.
‘What would you like us to do,’ Georgina went on, ‘make you a cup of tea?’
‘Not possible, as we don’t have any,’ the little Oriental pointed out. ‘Would suggest instead, you reload round-eyes devil’s rifles.’
Exchanging glances of simulated derision at the advice, the girls nevertheless showed no hesitation in carrying it out. Joining her cousin on the ground, Betty lifted the powder horn from the saddle. Taking a bullet and a small brass box from the buckskin pouch, she set about the process of reloading. With the powder and ball rammed home, the latter wrapped in a small leather ‘patch’ from one portion of the subdivided box, she took a percussion cap from the other section and fitted it to the nipple which gave access for the flame it would produce on being struck by the hammer to reach the main charge in the chamber of the barrel. With the task completed and the ramrod returned to its groove beneath the rifle, she hung the powder flask over the saddle-horn once more.
‘Now can we go take a look?’ Georgina inquired, a few seconds later, having carried out a similar procedure except that—the Kentucky having the older flintlock type of mechanism—she had had to put a small amount of powder into the priming pan to ensure detonation of the firing charge.
‘Go ahead, there’ll be no living with you until you have,’ Betty authorized with a smile, knowing her cousin’s impatience stemmed from a desire to find out whether they were correct in their suppositions regarding the coyote. ‘And, as you’re in such a rush, we’ll give you-all the privilege of carrying the body back to Polveroso for the doctor to look it over.’
‘Why thank you ’most to death, cousin dear,’ the blonde replied. ‘How can you-all be so good to lil—?’
The mock derisory words were brought to an end as it became apparent why the coyote’s attention had been directed elsewhere until the arrival of Betty’s bullet had given it warning of their presence.
Although none of the trio had seen or heard anything to suggest there were other human beings in the vicinity, the sound of movement and the faint creaking of leather instinctively alerted them. Only a glance was needed to inform each of them that the riders who were approaching through the woodland about seventy-five yards away were strangers. Even at that distance, recognizing one of the dozen Mexicans who—accompanied by four Indians whose tribal origins were clearly south of the Rio Grande—were obviously stalking them, the girls were supplied with a further indication that the newcomers were far from being merely harmless travelers coming to find out why the shots were fired.
Shortly before their cousins had left to join the Texas Light Cavalry, the four of them had been hunting when they came into contact with a party of Mexican bandidos carrying out a reconnaissance to discover whether Rio Hondo County would be a fruitful area for depredations. Such had been the effectiveness of the tactics suggested by Dusty Fog that only one of the band escaped from the attack they had made.78 Fortunately, he had been the most easily identifiable out of a far from prepossessing bunch. He had, in fact, tried to capture Betty and had received a response which caused him to forget his intentions. For all that, neither she nor Georgina—who had shot a man attempting to take her prisoner—were likely to forget him.
Having questioned the prisoners who had been taken, Judge Mannen Blaze—acting as head of the clan in Ole Devil’s absence—and the county sheriff had been of the opinion that, on receiving what would almost certainly be a distorted account of their reception from the survivor, plans for further forays into Rio Hondo County by the rest of the gang would be cancelled.
Now, seeing the men and considering how they were behaving, Betty and Georgina concluded their uncle and the local peace officer’s summation was incorrect.
Finding that their presence had been detected, the bandidos discarded the slow and stealthy approach which they had hoped would bring them close enough to allow them to rush from such a short distance that their victims would have no chance of escaping. With one exception, a burly Mexican who began to raise the rifle he was carrying, they let out yells and urged their mounts forward at an increased speed.
Although Tommy did not have the girls’ advantage of recognizing one of the bandidos to guide him, he was equally aware of their status. So he had reached for another arrow as soon as he had received his first glimpse of them. Showing the kind of skill he had displayed when dealing with the coyote, he nocked, drew and loosed it in a smoothly flowing, yet rapid, sequence of motions.
Swiftly as the little Oriental acted, the missile he discharged flew where it was intended to go. Passing just above the head of the horse carrying the man who was preparing to shoot, it traveled beneath his weapon and sank through his chest until its point emerged from his back. He gave a scream of agony and, with the rifle tilting to fire harmlessly into the air, toppled from his saddle. None of his companions as much as glanced around to find out if he needed assistance, or gave the slightest indication of caring what his fate might be. Ignoring the shrieks of pain he continued to utter for a few seconds, which ended in a harsh rattle as death claimed him, they continued to urge their mounts onwards inspired by a mutual desire to be the first to reach their intended victims and, by doing so, have the pick of the spoils.
Appreciating that to do so would merely delay their escape without halting the rest of the gang, neither girl offered to use the weapon she had just reloaded. However, while the methods they employed differed slightly, each was sufficiently cool and capable to make ready for taking flight in a commendably rapid fashion.
Grabbing the bayos azafrandos gelding’s reins in her left hand, Betty caught hold of the saddlehorn with them in it. Then, retaining the Hawken in her right fist, she made a bounding swing to alight astride the animal’s back. The combination of a yell and jab in the ribs with her heels set it into instant motion.
Lacking her small cousin’s agility and dexterity, Georgina nevertheless proved just as calm in a time of crisis despite her frequently impetuous nature. Quickly sliding the Kentucky into the leather boot attached to the blue roan’s saddle, she too collected the dangling reins and grabbed the horn, but was able to employ both hands. Which proved fortunate. Startled by Betty’s yell and seeing the bayos azafrandos start moving, her mount followed suit with a jerk that would have dislodged one hand. Even having two in place, she needed all her strength to hang on. Contriving to do so, she was able to duplicate the means by which her cousin had mounted.
Unlike the girls, Tommy had remained in the saddle. He was prepared to continue using the bow, or draw and attack with his daisho if necessary to protect them, but a glance to his rear informed neither course would be necessary. No coward, he was far from reckless and realized that to stand and fight against such odds would be suicidal. Not only for himself, either. Knowing Betty and Georgina, he did not doubt they would turn to his assistance if he adopted such a course. So, waiting until both were mounted and moving, he sent his black gelding after them.
Yells of fury burst from the bandidos as they saw the speed with which their intended victims were taking flight before they had covered more than half of the distance separating them. Knowledgeable in such matters, every member of the gang could appreciate how this would make their task more difficult. While being reasonably good riders and well mounted, as was obligatory for survival in their ignoble profession, their horses had done considerable traveling. On the other hand, not only were the two girls and the primitively armed small foreigner equally competent, they had other advantages. Their horses were if anything of superior quality and they were personally lighter burdens to be carried by the much fresher animals.
Sitting astride horses capable of running as swiftly as the proverbial Neuces steer and possessing the stamina required to keep up the pace for a long distance, the girls and Tommy were confident that, unless something untoward occurred, they could outrun their pursuers. Nor, with about fifty yards already separating them and likely to increase (being aware of how difficult it was to aim accurately from the back of a fast running horse), did they consider there was any great danger to them should the bandidos try shooting to halt them. Only by sheer bad luck, from their point of view, would a bullet be likely to find its mark on one or another of them.
On the negative side, the trio appreciated how they were being driven away from the town or either of the ranch houses at which they would be able to find shelter and protection. Having confidence in their mounts, they felt this could be overcome by taking a circuitous route to one of the havens. Furthermore, they hoped that the length of the chase, which showed no sign of being brought to a successful conclusion, might persuade the bandidos to give up the attempt.
There was, although Betty and her companions were unaware of it, little chance of that hope being brought to fruition.
Despite a growing realization that they could be in for a protracted chase, the bandidos were not swayed from their determination to continue. They were driven by a much stronger motive than the chance of obtaining the trio’s property and were not dissuaded from the pursuit in spite of knowing that the usual pleasures would have to be at least delayed when the girls fell into their hands.
Although the prisoners had not disclosed the fact to Judge Blaze and the sheriff of Rio Hondo County, one of them had been a participant in the hiding of the loot taken earlier in the foray upon which the gang were engaged. As he alone of those who had been responsible had survived the defeat of the scouting party, allegedly at the hands of about twenty well-armed Tejanos, his associates wanted to secure his release and had, in fact, sent two of their number to Polveroso City the previous night to secretly advise him this would be done.
Having guessed who Betty and Georgina were when the Yaqui Indian scouting ahead had returned to tell of seeing them, without mentioning all he knew, the man who had escaped suggested they should be taken as hostages and offered in exchange for the release of the prisoners. Being disinclined to try and attack a town which they imagined to have a larger active population than was actually the case, the others had been in agreement with his plan. Nor were they put off when their attempt to effect the capture in an easy fashion came to nothing, knowing what was at stake.
By the time the trio were entering the large wood-encircled clearing in which Prospector Tuck had his home, the distance between themselves and the pursuers had opened to a good hundred yards. This had been achieved in spite of the precautions taken by the girls against their being forced to halt and fight for some reason. Returning the Hawken temporarily to its saddleboot, Betty had hung the powder flask and bullet pouch over her left shoulder. Then, having transferred the Navy Colt from its holster to her waistband, she took possession of the rifle once ,more. Seeing what her cousin was doing, Georgina made a similar adjustment to her armament.
Erected as a refuge in the days when depredations by hostile Indians as well as bandidos was an ever present possibility and maintained in an excellent state of preservation, despite the need having decreased prior to the War Between The States, the sturdily built cabin was situated in a very good defensive position. Occupying the whole of a niche in the sheer wall which formed one edge of the clearing, there was a trapdoor in the roof and a ladder of sufficient length inside to offer a means of ascending the fifteen or so foot to the top, otherwise an approach could only be made from the front and across the open ground.
Despite being aware of the potential for defense offered by the cabin, the trio had no intention of staying to make a fight from it. Nor were they swayed from the decision by noticing that the old man had left the door open in his haste to help to deal with his wound. They believed their chances were better by continuing the flight, but the matter was to be taken out of their hands.
How and why the mishap occurred, Betty had no conception, but the normally sure-footed bayos azafrandos gelding stumbled and started to collapse. Displaying the superb skill she had acquired, even when riding under such adverse conditions, she quit the saddle the moment she felt the horse was going down. Although she contrived to alight on her feet and keep running, it was at the expense of losing the Hawken. Finding it an encumbrance threatening to make her lose her balance, she tossed it aside and continued to sprint towards the cabin’s open door.
Seeing what was happening to her cousin, Georgina immediately started reining the blue roan to a rump-scraping stop. Before its forward motion had ended, she was dismounted and running after the other girl as fast as her legs could carry her.
However, while equally aware of what had befallen Betty, the little Oriental did not follow the blonde’s example. Instead, paying no attention to the delighted yells given by their pursuers, he continued to ride across the clearing at the same pace and disappeared among the trees as his companions were entering the building.
‘Blast the luck!’ Betty Hardin ejaculated, slamming the cabin’s door as her cousin entered and shooting across the stout wooden bar which served as a bolt. ‘I could use that Hawken of mine!’
‘It’s still lying where you threw it, for shame,’ Georgina Blaze pointed out, going to the left side window and, closing the thick wooden shutter, peering through the aperture cut as a loophole. ‘Shall I go and fetch it?’
‘If you’d any sense, you wouldn’t be in here at all, hot head,’ Betty stated, treating the other window in a similar fashion. Then she picked up the double-barreled shotgun which was leaning against the window instead of drawing her Navy Colt. She felt sure its owner would keep it loaded for just such an emergency. Then she continued, ‘Well of all the nerve! Only two of them are going after Tommy.’
‘I hope they’ve made their wills,’ the blonde commented, showing no animosity over the little Oriental’s apparent desertion. Having drawn the same conclusion with regards to the bell-mouthed blunderbuss hanging on hooks beneath her window and being satisfied that it would be ready to carry on the fight, she thrust the Kentucky’s barrel out of the loophole. ‘I’d say we’ll have to do something about the rest of them, though.’
‘Let’s do it then!’ Betty suggested, bringing up the shotgun and drawing its twin hammers.
Starting to turn their horses towards the cabin, the remaining bandidos saw the weapons emerging. Any hopes they had that the girls might be bluffing, or unable to handle the weapons, were shattered as flame erupted from the rifle’s muzzle and the shotgun’s left barrel. An Indian let out a yell of pain as the bullet from the Kentucky caught him in the shoulder. With his horse collapsing underneath him, one of the Mexicans was swept from the saddle by mates of the buckshot balls which had struck it down. Seeing the rifle rapidly replaced by an even more potentially dangerous blunderbuss and suspecting the shotgun still had a second barrel loaded, the rest wheeled their mounts and rode out of range.
‘That’s stopped them!’ Georgina enthused.
‘Not for long, though,’ Betty warned. ‘Keep watch on them while I see whether Prospector has any other guns we can use.’
Leaving the shotgun extended through the window ready to be used again without delay if the need arose, the smaller girl started to conduct the examination. A glance at the roof satisfied her that the trapdoor was bolted. Passing the table in the center of the room, she noticed there were a number of rock chips and a sheet of metal made by cutting open and beating flat a kerosene can on it. She paid little attention to the piece of new chimney pipe lying alongside the stove. Instead, she searched the cupboards and sidepiece without finding any weapons.
‘There’s only this keg of powder,’ Betty reported, at the conclusion of her efforts, carrying the item in question from where she had located it beneath the old man’s bed. ‘The trouble is, we’ve no more shot for either the gun or the blunderbuss, or bullets for our revolvers.’
‘We could always roll it outside and shoot into it when they’re close enough,’ Georgina offered hopefully, knowing the find would be of little use due to the lack of ammunition to be propelled by it.
‘Which would be fine if they were obliged enough to come up to it,’ Betty replied, her gaze returning to the stove. ‘What are they doing?’
‘Standing and talking’ is all,’ the blonde answered, then ducked instinctively as one of the bandidos jerked up his rifle to send a shot which struck the shutter near the loophole but did not penetrate. ‘No sense in answering him, they’re too far away. What’s wrong?’
‘I’ve an idea!’ Betty stated, straightening up from the r examination of the chimney pipe which had provoked her cousin’s question. ‘They’re going to rush us sooner or later and, when that happens, we may get a couple but the rest will be on us before we can reload.’
‘We’ll have our Colts,’ Georgina pointed out.
‘They don’t know that,’ Betty countered. ‘And, anyway, we’re neither of us close to as good as Cousin Dusty or Cousin Red with them.’
‘We could go out there and throw ourselves on their mercy,’ Georgina said dryly, although confident her cousin had something more positive in mind. ‘But I don’t really think that would be too good an idea,’
‘Neither do I,’ Betty seconded, still studying the object at her feet and thinking of the other things she had seen during her search of the cabin. ‘So, as Cousin Dusty might say, it’s our turn to improvise, Miss Blaze,’
‘I suppose you’ll finally tell me what you mean,’ Georgina declared, giving what might have been a sigh or resignation.
‘I will, I will!’ Betty promised, but with reservations. ‘Just as soon as I decide what I mean myself.’
There were, the black haired little girl told herself as she picked up the piece of pipe, a considerable number of factors against the scheme she was envisaging working. However, as she could not foresee any other alternative, she was determined to put it into effect if she could possibly do so.
Carrying the pipe to the table, Betty set it down. Designed to form the bottom section of the chimney, it had a stout cap firmly welded to one end and there was a hole a couple of inches above the appendage to connect it to the back of the stove. Collecting a roll of baling wire and box of matches from the kitchen, she put them on the table. Listening to her cousin’s commentary on the bandidos’ activities, she wrapped the sheet of metal securely around the pipe so it covered the opening near the bottom. Having done so, aware of the pressures to which the device would be subjected when her idea was put to the test, she began to bind it into place as tightly as she could manage. Nor did she stop when confident it was as secure as she could make it, but wound the rest of the wire around the remainder of the pipe. Then, fetching a hammer and a metal spike from a tool box she had located, she inserted the tip of the spike between the wire over the now concealed hole. Delivering a blow with the hammer, she created a small aperture which gave access to the interior of the pipe.
‘I wish I knew what you’re doing!’ Georgina remarked, glancing around.
‘I wish I could be sure it will work,’ Betty replied fervently. ‘How about them?’
‘They seem to be arguing about what to do,’ the blonde decided, returning her gaze to the loophole. ‘I’d say none of them are willing to take the lead when they attack.’
‘Let’s hope they all stay the same way!’ Betty breathed, taking her contraption and one of the chairs to a position facing the door.
Setting the chair on its side, the girl inserted the strengthened pipe between the legs so that its base was resting on the floor and the hole she had made in the metal sheet was uppermost. Ensuring the inclined tube was pointing at the door, she gathered and weighted its lower end beneath sacks of provisions. With that done, she collected and placed the powder keg alongside the contraption.
‘My god!’ Georgina gasped, having taken another glance around. ‘You’re making a cannon!’
‘No!’ Betty corrected grimly. ‘I’m trying to.’
With that, the girl continued her task by fetching over the keg of gun powder. As she did so, she thanked providence for her insatiable curiosity and having had the opportunity to acquire at least sufficient knowledge to make what she was hoping to achieve feasible. While not a tomboy in the accepted sense, she had taken an interest in the lessons her two favorite male cousins had been receiving at Judge Blaze’s small military academy. Among the other manuals they and she studied had been a couple devoted to artillery. Possessing an excellent memory, she could recollect enough about the procedure to know something of how the loading of a cannon was carried out.
Knowing and putting the knowledge into practice were, Betty realized, horses of a very different color. Unless using ready-made cartridges, a gunner in the Army employed a ladle designed to take only enough powder to ensure the gun fired properly. She had neither aid available. Yet too little would mean the charge would barely leave the barrel.
Too much, on the other hand, would explode the pipe and might even blow up the cabin!
Scooping a handful of the potent black grains from the keg, Betty gingerly tipped them into the tube. Deciding they would be insufficient, she sent a second after them. A glance informed her that the hole she had made was now concealed by the powder. So, taking off her shirt, she tore it in half. Placing one portion into the muzzle of the improvised cannon, she rammed it on to the powder with the aid of a broom-handle. Obtaining projectiles for the device proved the simplest task, a double handful of the rock chips serving in the place of more formal shot. These too were rammed home and held in place by the rest of her shirt. With that completed, she poured more powder through the small hole until the space below was filled and a small mound remained on top.
T)o you think it will work?’ Georgina asked, unable to prevent herself from taking quick glances while keeping the bandidos under observation.
‘I’ll tell you after I’ve tried,’ Betty replied, pulling the ramrod from its place beneath the Kentucky rifle.
‘If it doesn’t I’d rather not know,’ the blonde asserted, watching her cousin fastening a piece of cloth to the end of the ramrod. Then, hearing a shout, she returned her gaze to the loophole. ‘Somebody’s coming!’
‘Let’s hope Tommy found some help,’ Betty answered.
‘It isn’t them, even if he did,’ Georgina declared. ‘Whoever it is is coming from the wrong direction. There are two of them, which makes two more against us.’
Joining her cousin, Betty studied the two men who came from the woodland. One was a Mexican and the other a Yaqui Indian. From the pace they approached and the heated manner in which each was speaking while pointing behind them, she concluded they were bringing important and possibly alarming news.
‘Whatever they’re saying’s stirring the others up like bees with a bear clawing open the hive!’ Georgina estimated, also watching the bandidos’ reactions.
‘And it’s enough to make them ready to rush us!’ Betty supplemented, returning to the improvised cannon. Applying the light from a match to the piece of rag at the end of the ramrod, she went on, ‘Wait until they’re close, then open the door!’
Listening to the sound of the pursuit drawing closer as he slowed down his black gelding, Tommy Okasi glanced over his shoulder. He saw everything was progressing as he required. Not only were he and the two men who had followed him out of sight of the clearing, but their behavior met with his entire satisfaction. Each was a Yaqui Indian and had already discharged the trade musket with which he was armed without scoring a hit. Because of the terrain they were traversing and the way in which the little Oriental had led them on a swerving course through the trees, neither had had an opportunity to reload. Furthermore, their upbringing as warriors was leading them to compete for the honor of being the one to reach and strike him down. Already the smaller had gained a lead over his companion of close to twenty feet and was striving to keep in the favorable position.
Satisfied with his latest observation and having no desire to be driven too far from the clearing, Tommy bounded off his saddle. As he alighted, he tossed aside his bow. However, he made no attempt to pull out either the tachi or shorter wakizashi. Instead, he did no more than turn and face his pursuers, standing balanced lightly on his spread apart and slightly bent legs.
Urging his fast moving pony eagerly, the leading Yaqui could hardly believe his good fortune. He was so delighted at seeing his intended victim dismount and discard the bow on turning to face him that he gave no thought to why the basic precaution of drawing one of the ‘long knives’ was not being taken. Nor, at the pace he was approaching, did he have much time to ponder on the matter. Dropping his empty rifle, he snatched the knife from its sheath on his belt and, letting out a whoop of triumph, he dived from his horse’s back towards what he regarded as being an easy means of counting coup and acquiring loot.
Tommy was far from being as incautious as his behavior suggested. Like every samurai warrior, he was accomplished at lai jitsu, the extremely rapid withdrawal of the tachi. Waiting until seeing how the attack was being launched and considering it ideal for his purpose, he stepped aside. As he did so, he swept the long blade of the sword from its sheath to send its point into the ribs of the descending brave, Jerking the weapon free as its victim plunged dying to the ground, he swung to face his second assailant.
Startled by the fate of his companion, the taller and slightly older Yaqui was less inclined to be reckless, but continued to press home the attack. However, conveying the impression that he was intending to ride the foreigner down, he swerved his well-trained mount at the last moment. Throwing his empty rifle butt first at Tommy, he sprang after it. Deflecting the missile with his left arm while retiring a long step, the little Oriental swung the tachi in an almost horizontal arc. Made of specially forged steel, the razor sharp blade bit into the Indian’s skull like a length of wire slicing through a piece of cheese. Continuing the retreat to avoid being struck by his victim’s body, he extracted the weapon and looked around.
One glance assured Tommy he had nothing to fear from the other Indian. Having ensured that no more of the bandidos were in the vicinity, he wiped the blade of the tachi clean on his second victim’s shirt and returned it to its sheath. Then, collecting his bow, he went to where his horse had been brought to a halt by its dangling reins. Mounting, he guided it around and rode in the general direction from which he had come.
Instead of returning and entering the clearing, the little Oriental turned aside while still out of sight of its occupants. Being a competent warrior, he wanted to discover what he would be up against when he arrived. From his knowledge of the area, he could remember a point of vantage which would allow him to achieve his purpose and also offer an opportunity of intervening without his presence being suspected in advance.
Before leaving the open ground, hoping to draw away more of the bandidos than had proved the case, Tommy had looked back to ensure the girls reached the safety of the cabin. If they had not, he would have returned to their aid immediately and regardless of the odds. He had heard the Kentucky and the shotgun being fired and, remembering having seen one in the building during a previous visit, deduced Betty was using the latter weapon. Although he had been surprised by how little shooting there had subsequently been, he considered this good rather than bad tidings. The girls would never have allowed themselves to be taken, particularly from such a sturdy refuge, without having put up a fight.
Dismounting on arriving at the slope, as ascending it on the black was out of the question, the little Oriental climbed to the top and set off through the undergrowth on foot. Before he reached his destination, he discovered to his relief that his summations were correct. There was no sign of the girls and the bandidos were gathered in a group at a safe distance from the cabin, with the exception of one who lay dead by an equally lifeless horse.
Coming to a halt among the bushes above the niche in which the cabin was situated, Tommy watched the arrival of the two newcomers. Like the girls, he could tell that their coming was a source of considerable interest to the assembled bandidos. Despite being unable to hear what was being said, he also concluded from their actions that an attack was imminent.
On noticing the way in which the assault was to be carried out, Tommy decided how he would respond. Realizing the way he meant to intervene could put him in danger from the girls, he envisaged a method of notifying them of his presence and hoped they would draw the correct conclusions with regards to his intentions. Sliding three arrows from his quiver, he thrust their points into the ground at his feet. Then, removing the quiver as an unnecessary encumbrance, he leaned it against a bush. Removing a fourth arrow, he set it in position on the bow and prepared to put his scheme into practice.
‘Heavens to Betsy, they’re playing it tricky!’ Georgina Blaze gasped, taking a look through the loophole before she set out to follow her cousin’s instructions. ‘They’re not riding, but are walking here with the horses ahead of them.’
‘Are they?’ Betty Hardin ejaculated and darted to the other window carrying the ramrod with its burning attachment. Keeping it in her hand, she peered through the hole. As she did so, she saw one of the Mexicans suddenly reel and clutch at the shaft of arrow which had appeared to sprout from nowhere out of the center of his chest. Taking up her position behind the shotgun and gripping it without relinquishing her other device, she snapped, ‘Fire the blunderbuss when I shoot and try to scatter the horses. Then get ready to open up for them.’
Noticing another Mexican being impaled by an arrow, Georgina was too engrossed in doing as she was told to draw any conclusions from the sight. However, having no wish to harm the animals, she sent the charge from the blunderbuss into the ground ahead of them. Dropping the weapon and springing towards the door, she saw that her cousin had fired in a similar fashion. She had also seen something else, but was moving before the implications of it struck her.
The horses did not scatter!
Despite the blonde’s consternation, which she did not permit to stop her continuing with the instructions, Betty’s purpose was achieved.
Allowing the shotgun to fall, the smaller girl watched the result of her ploy starting to take effect before turning and darting to the improvised cannon.
Concluding that the weapons had been discharged and abandoned in panic, the bandidos pushed between the horses and dashed forward. Having been informed by the newcomers that a large and well-armed posse from Polveroso City were coming, they were so eager to take the girls hostage that none of them noticed the two men who were killed by Tommy Okasi’s arrows. Nor did they pay any greater attention when one of the Yaquis was struck down in the same fashion. There was something else attracting their interest.
The cabin’s door had swung open!
Because the interior of the building was in deep shadow, the men were unable to see what was waiting for them. So, although puzzled by the sight, they not only continued to advance with no reduction of speed, but began to converge so as to make the most of the opportunity that the apparently pointless behavior of the occupants was presenting.
Sparing a glance as she stood holding the ramrod over the small mound of powder on the touch-hole of the home-made cannon, Betty found as she had expected that Georgina had shown a sound grasp of the situation. Having drawn the bolt and thrown open the door, the blonde had moved away from it.
There was, however, no time for Betty to think of anything other than the bandidos. Already they were closing upon the entrance, pressing together in their eagerness to reach Georgina and herself. Waiting until they were almost at the door, she lowered the burning cloth on to the powder. Dropping the ramrod as the grains ignited, she sprang aside and snatched out her revolver. Even as it was coming clear, she heard a thud on the roof of the cabin and guessed what had caused it. Once more, she was granted no chance of considering the possibilities suggested by the sound.
Spluttering and emitting a cloud of acrid white smoke, the flame cause by the rag passed through the hole. The main charge was detonated with a roar. Pushed along the pipe by the volume of gas this created, the bits of stone belched from the muzzle and spread like the charge from a shotgun while flying towards the gang. Taken totally unprepared, those men who were not hit found their troubles were far from over.
‘Banzai!’
Having discarded his bow after the fourth arrow missed, Tommy had left his place of concealment. Hoping the girls would draw the correct conclusion from seeing the men he had hit going down, he sprang from the top of the cliff on to the roof. Although he was as surprised as any of the attackers when the explosion sounded from beneath him, he did not let it deter him from continuing with his plan of campaign.
Giving the traditional samurai battle-cry, the little Oriental leapt from the cabin to alight among the already discomfited bandidos. Bringing out the tachi on alighting, he struck left and right in rapid succession to disembowel the Yaqui whose shoulder wound had been no more than a graze, then almost remove a Mexican’s head by severing the neck. As the second victim was falling, the girls opened fire with their Colts through the loopholes. While neither made a hit, their contribution proved too much for the five survivors. Deserting their wounded companions, the quintet raced after the horses which had bolted in fright at the explosion. Each one contrived to catch himself a mount and set off for safety as quickly as he could persuade it to carry him.
Emerging from the smoke filled cabin, keeping their eyes averted from the carnage they had helped to wreak, Betty and Georgina joined Tommy in the fresh air. Their concern over hearing shouts and hooves died away as they saw who was coming through the woodland. All knew the danger was past and the girls wanted only to get away from the clearing where they had so ably made use of their turn to improvise a means of defense.
Author’s note: An examination of the dead coyotes, the male’s body being found where it was shot, established that neither had rabies. The ‘froth’ on their mouths had come from eating the remains of a batch of sourdough discarded by Prospector Tuck.