Old Devil Hardin had an active and inquiring mind which would always take an interest in anything he believed might one day be of service to him. While he had no intention of going into business competition with Ewart Brindley, he knew that the time might come when a knowledge of mule packing could prove advantageous. So, leaving the organization of the escort to his subordinates, he was standing and watching the main preparations for the start of the return journey.
Taking everything into consideration, the Texian felt that he was entitled to grant himself a brief period of relaxation after the events of the past few days. Not only had he dealt with one positive and one potential threat to the consignment of Caplocks, he had almost doubled the strength of its escort. Only time would tell whether the latter would be beneficial or not. He refused to worry about it at that moment.
Not one of the Red River Volunteer Dragoons had elected to follow Sergeant Benn, who had kept riding once he passed beyond the rim. Nor had a problem envisaged by Ole Devil arisen. Major Ludwig von Lowenbrau had waived the matter of his rank, stating that he placed himself and his men under the young captain’s command until the delivery of the Caplocks was completed. After which, the Prussian had gone on, he intended to offer to transfer himself and his company to the Texas Light Cavalry.
While von Lowenbrau had sounded sincere, Ole Devil had continued to be wary of him. However, there had been nothing about his behavior, or that of his men, to which exception could be taken. Not knowing how long they might have to wait for the mule train and wishing to keep the Dragoons out of mischief, Ole Devil had put them to work strengthening the defenses. While he was taking some well-earned and badly needed sleep, watched surreptitiously by Mannen Blaze, they had dug more rifle pits at the top of the hollow. The redhead had reported that, although there was some grumbling, they had carried out the duty in a satisfactory manner. By the middle of the afternoon, the chance of treachery had been greatly reduced.
Diamond-Hitch Brindley had wasted little time in utilizing the replacement bell-mare. Although her grandfather was being transported on a travois li made by the Tejas packers, Joe Galton was sufficiently recovered to ride a horse. However, they had arrived at Santa Cristobal Bay too late for there to be any point in loading the mules and moving out that day. So the girl and Ole Devil had agreed to bed down in the hollow for the night and set off early the following morning.
Looking around, Ole Devil could tell that what appeared to be a lot of confused activity taking place was all being carried out in a swift and purposeful manner which called for no action on his part. He was on the point of watching the nearest mule packer, merely to find out how the work was performed, when something happened which prevented him from doing so.
“Riders coming, Cousin Devil!” Mannen Blaze called speaking in what-for him-was considerable haste, having noticed the sentry on the rim giving one of the prearranged signals. Waving his hat from left to right in a series of double circular motions gave additional information. “Could be some of Tom Wolfs scouts headed in.”
Partly to strengthen his force in case von Lowenbrau might still be contemplating treachery and knowing that the Tejas Indians would be even better at the duty than his own men Ole Devil had sent Tom Wolf’s scouts out to replace his pickets. As there was nobody else belonging to the party outside the hollow, in all probability the riders had been sent by Tom Wolf with urgent news. So the Texian wanted as little delay as possible m learning what it might be.
“I’ll go up and meet them,” Ole Devil decided, striding to where his line backed dun gelding was standing saddled and ready for use. “Will you come with me, Major?”
“Thank you. Captain,” von Lowenbrau answered, making just as quickly for his bay which was in an equal state of readiness.
Glancing around as he mounted, Ole Devil noticed that-like himself-all of the soldiers wore either cloak-coats or some other form of protective clothing. While fine the weather was cold and damp. So he decided against telling them to remove the garments until he found out what the returning scouts had to say.
“Hey, Di!” the Texian called as he swung astride the dun’s saddle, looking to where the girl was standing by her grandfather’s travois and supervising the packers’ work without needing to tell them anything. “Can you come with us please?”
While the Tejas could speak a certain amount of English and some Spanish, only their leader was fluent in either and the Texian wanted a fuller report than he felt he could obtain by using those languages. Knowing that the girl was able to speak their tongue, in fact it could be termed her second language as she had been cared for by Wolfs squaw after the death of her parents, her presence would be of the greatest assistance.
“Be right with you,” Di promised, knowing what Ole Devil had in mind. She directed a glare at her grandfather, who was trying to sit up, and went on, “Stay put, you’re not going no place. Anyways, he wants somebody’s can ‘interpretate’ Tejas for him properly. If you have to do anything, make sure the boys’s you taught don’t put the aparejos lii on upside down or backward.”
Ignoring Brindley’s spluttered response, the girl ran to her horse. Mounting, she set off after the two men. Catching up, she accompanied them toward the rim. On reaching it, they all gazed in the direction indicated by the sentry.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Di yelled. “That’s Tom Wolf. So whatever’s fetched ’em must be real important.”
“It would have to be for Tom to be doing it himself,” Ole Devil admitted, taking note of the direction from which the two Indians were galloping. “Like the Comanches say, ‘Bad news rides a fast horse.’ And I’ll take bets that I can guess what it is.”
“Not with me!” Di stated emphatically.
“Or I,” von Lowenbrau seconded, but was pleased by the thought that—although he had acted with efficiency up to that point—the Texian had omitted to take a basic military precaution before ascending to the rim.
“Damn it,” the girl went on indignantly. “After us feeding him and him putting the victuals down like they was going out of fashion, that son-of-a-bitching mozo’d lied to us.”
“Or he was wrong about how far off they were,” Ole Devil pointed out, thinking of the fear shown by Major Abrahan Phillipe Gonzales de Villena y Danvila’s deserted servant— who was in the hollow and probably being better treated than in all his life—when first questioned. Stopping the dun, he dismounted and continued, “It doesn’t matter which, but I go for my guess.”
“You would,” Di sniffed, joining the Texian on the ground. “Might just’s well wait here ’n’ find out just how bad it is.”
“Let’s hope it isn’t as bad as you believe. Miss Brindley,” von Lowenbrau suggested, also quitting his saddle,
“It’ll likely be worse,” guessed the girl, knowing that they would have the answer within seconds.
“Them house-Indians liii coming, Diablo Viejo,” announced Tom Wolf, translating Ole Devil’s name into Spanish as he and the younger brave brought their mounts to rump-scraping halts before the trio. “Plenty of em. Maybe so twenty, thirty hands, with Mexican officers.”
“How far off are they, Chief?” Di inquired, speaking Tejas.
“Except for their scouts, they’re about two miles away,” the Indian replied in the same language. “I collected Little Foot here on my way back and sent Son of the Wind to fetch in the rest of our men if there was time. I didn’t figure Diablo Viejo would want them to know for sure I’d seen them and didn’t wait to kill their scouts.”
“Good thinking. Chief. That way there’s just a chance they might go by without coming near enough to find us, although they’re probably following my trail,” Ole Devil remarked, when the girl had translated the report and, as Wolf started speaking again, he could see the next information was displeasing her. “What is it, Di?”
“You don’t need to count on ‘em missing us, even if they wouldn’t’ve seen the mule train’s sign,” the girl warned, anger flashing in her eyes. “That bitch de Moreau’s with ’em, Tom recognized her from when they hit at Grandpappy Ewart ’n’ Joe. She’ll’ve been able to tell ’em just smack where we’ll be.”
“There’s nothing more certain than that,” von Lowenbrau agreed, having heard of the abortive ambush and the escape of the woman in question. “It’s a pity you didn’t get her, Captain Hardin. She’s probably the only one of them who would get a chance to tell the Mexicans what she knows.”
“Blast it. Devil did all any man could and better’n many—!” Di protested.
“The major’s right, though, they’d probably have shot any of the men they’d come across on sight,” Ole Devil interrupted. “But, as she’s sure to have told them, maybe we can turn it to our advantage. In fact, I think it already is!”
“How the hell do you make that out?” Di demanded and the Prussian showed just as great a lack of comprehension. “She’ll bring ’em straight here, without them even having to do a mite of work cutting for sign.”
“Yes,” Ole Devil conceded. “But she doesn’t know how many of us there are.”
“She knows your whole company’s here—” the girl began, then understanding came as it had with von Lowenbrau if the way he was nodding his head meant anything. “But she won’t be taking your fellers into account, Major.”
“Not unless they come across our tracks,” the Prussian pointed out.
“That they not do, soldier-coat,” Wolf put in, having been able to follow the conversation without difficulty and using it. He could speak good English if the need arose, but preferred to use his native tongue particularly when addressing white strangers. liv “Coming way they are, they won’t see ’em until they’re out on this open ground here.”
Listening to the Indian, Ole Devil had his own thoughts on the matter confirmed by an expert. While there were a fair amount of bushes, trees and other cover in the vicinity, through which even a large body of the enemy could pass undetected provided that they took precautions—which Wolf and his companion had not troubled to do—none of any consequence was available for a strip about two hundred yards wide extending from the cliffs and the rim of the bay. Having come in at a more acute angle than the Arizona Hopi Activos Regiment would be approaching, the tracks of the Red River Volunteer Dragoons were unlikely to be noticed until the more open terrain was entered. By then, if things could be arranged properly, it would be too late for the attackers to appreciate the danger.
“Whereabouts are their scouts, Tom?” Ole Devil asked.
“Maybe a mile back,” Wolf replied, employing better English than when he had spoken to von Lowenbrau. “Not much more.”
“Will they find your sign?” the Texian wanted to know.
“If they’re any good, they will—and I think they are good,” the Indian answered and, knowing that many settlers had small respect for his tribe’s fighting qualities, went on, “We came back too fast to hide our tracks.”
“I know,” Ole Devil said, with a grin.
“I figured ’ow did,” Wolf stated, flickering a brief glance at the Prussian although his words had been directed at the Texian.
“I hope they are good,” Ole Devil declared, before the indignant von Lowenbrau could comment. “It’ll be a help to us if they do cut your sign. They’ll move even slower and give us more time to get ready. But we’d still better go down straightaway and get started at it, Major.”
“Little Foot says do you want us to go and deal with their scouts?” Wolf translated after the younger brave had asked a question in tones of eager anticipation.
“Tell him I apologize for making him miss the chance to count coup, but they must be let come, see what we want them to see, then go to report,” Ole Devil requested, mounting the dun. “But if they arrive before we’re ready, they must be killed. Will you stay here. Chief, and attend to that for me, please?”
“You’re leading this war party with Ewart and Joe shot,” the Indian replied. “You tell us what you want doing and that is what we do.”
“Gracias,” Ole Devil answered, aware that he had been granted what amounted to an unqualified accolade, then he looked at the Prussian and, setting his horse moving, continued, “I hope your men see it the same way, Major.”
Without elaborating upon his cryptic utterance, the Texian sent his dun loping down the slope. The girl and the Prussian followed him. Straightaway, von Lowenbrau discovered that he had not forgotten to take what would have been a necessary precaution when dealing with the Dragoons. Obviously he had known that he could count upon Mannen Blaze to assemble and form up the men ready to be put to whatever use the situation demanded. The two companies stood in separate groups and each man had a pair of the new Caplocks to supplement their own arms.
“All right,” Ole Devil said, leaping to the ground before his mount had stopped and looking at the Dragoons. “I want all of you in the rifle pits you dug on top of the rim.”
“Why us?” growled the man whom von Lowenbrau had promoted to replace Sergeant Benn, and there was a mumble of agreement from the other Dragoons.
“Because Captain Hardin has told you to do it!” the Prussian thundered, taking note of his men’s reactions and seeing an opportunity to build up their resentment against the Texian.
“Yeah, but you’re—” Sergeant Otis began, realizing that he and his companions would be in the forefront if—as seemed almost certain from what was happening—an enemy force was approaching.
“The protection of the arms is Captain Hardin’s responsibility,” von Lowenbrau interrupted, picking his words with care. “It is he who decides how it can best be carried out.”
“Why that—!” Beauregard Rassendyll hissed and was on the point of going to support his friend.
“Stay put, Beau!” Mannen Blaze commanded, lounging in his usual fashion at the supercargo’s side.
“Damn it, Mannen!” Rassendyll replied, glaring at the redhead. “Don’t you see what he’s trying to do?”
“I do,” Mannen admitted languidly. “Only I reckon that Cousin Devil’s eyesight’s as good—and most likely better.”
While the two young men had been speaking, another factor had entered the affair. Less perceptive than either with regard to the Prussian’s motives, Di had listened to Otis’s response to Ole Devil’s orders. She found herself comparing their new helpers with Company “C” of the Texas Light Cavalry—and not to the former’s advantage.
“There ain’t no son-of-a-bitching time to stand arguing,” the girl yelled angrily, glaring around the Dragoons. “But, happen you-all too scared to go up there, I’ll come and hold your hands!”
“There’ll be no need for that, Di,” Ole Devil contradicted, although he was pleased by her spirited words. He could see that she had annoyed and, to a certain extent, shamed the Dragoons. “Mister Blaze, Tommy and I’ll be with them.”
“And I, Captain,” von Lowenbrau stated, having no desire to lose the slight advantage he had gained from the sergeant’s objections. “They’re my company and as their commanding officer, it is my place to be with them.”
“I’d agree, sir, but for one thing,” Ole Devil countered politely. “You and your company aren’t supposed to be here. Most of your men are wearing buckskin shirts like mine, so they’ll pass as they won’t be seen below the waist until it’s too late. But having a strange officer could ruin everything.”
“May I know what you have in mind, Captain?” the Prussian requested, neither making agreement nor refusal to the instructions.
“Certainly,” Ole Devil replied. “Mister Blaze, Mister Rassendyll, Di, Joe, Sergeant Otis, Sergeant Dale, Corporal Smith, come and listen.”
“By cracky, it could work!” Di enthused and could see that the men shared her sentiments, after the Texian had explained what he wanted to be done.
“You won’t get no more arguments from me on that,” Otis stated, although he was still aware that he and his men would be the first upon whom the attackers concentrated.
“I’ll tell you something else there ain’t going to be no son-of-a-bitching argument on either,” Di declared, her expressive face set in lines of grim determination. “I’m going to be up there with you. De Moreau’s with the greasers and, after all she’s done to us, I figure me and her’ve got things to settle happen she comes close enough.”