From the moment Dusty Fog entered the library of the fine colonial-style house, loaned by a prominent Camden citizen for use as General Hardin’s temporary headquarters, he sensed that events had taken a very serious turn. It showed on the faces of his father, Ole Devil, Colonel Blaze and Major Smith. Almost instinctively, Dusty guessed what was wrong. The older men were gathered about the big desk and, prominent on it, were the warning notices which he and Captain Staunce had found beyond Stilton Crossing.
The time was shortly after ten o’clock at night. Having left Lieutenant Clements and his men to resume their interrupted guard duties—they had been hidden in the woods while the deception was being played out—Dusty had brought Meats to the jail in Camden. During the journey, the spy had been questioned. None of his answers had been very informative. However, Dusty had felt that any threat Meats might have posed was now at an end.
Unless, of course—
‘The Mounted Infantry haven’t dealt with the big gun, Dustine,’ Ole Devil announced, raising the matter upon which his nephew had just been dwelling. ‘They’d crossed the river about two miles upstream from Arkadelphia and were taking a roundabout route to join the Malvern trail behind the woods. Instead, they were ambushed by a large force of Yankee cavalry using repeating rifles and suffered heavy losses.’
That meant, Dusty realized, only the warning notices had been prevented from making their appearances. The bombardment could still be carried out. The situation was very grave and he had been correct in his guess at what was causing the solemn expressions displayed by his superiors. They had returned from Arkadelphia knowing that a serious and dangerous threat must be met.
‘Only one officer escaped,’ Colonel Blaze went in. ‘A young shave tail. xvi He’d been wounded and wasn’t too coherent. But, from what he said, it looks as if the Yankees knew they were coming and had been waiting for them.’
‘How about the gun, sir?’ Dusty asked.
‘They never saw it,’ Ole Devil answered. ‘But the commanding officer of the detachment across the Ouachita sent a message under a flag of truce. He apologized on behalf of the Union Army for the shelling and assured us that it wouldn’t happen again.’
‘Do you believe him, sir?’ Dusty inquired.
‘He’s a career soldier and a man of honor,’ Blaze put in. ‘I know him. He wouldn’t have allowed the shelling to happen if he’d known about it.’
‘But, according to these notices, it was done as part of a plan to make us turn General Culver loose,’ Dusty objected. ‘Surely he’d have been told about it, sir.’
‘One would think so,’ Blaze conceded. ‘But I’m inclined to believe he wasn’t. The order could have come from higher up and, knowing that many of their officers wouldn’t approve, they didn’t spread the word around.’
‘That’s possible,’ Ole Devil went on. ‘Has that damned spy been questioned yet?’
‘We asked him a few, sir,’ Dusty admitted.
‘I won’t inquire how you asked,’ the general promised, frosty black eyes raking his small nephew from head to toe.
‘Gracias, sir,’ Dusty replied, thinking of the methods he had applied. The torture had been far more anticipatory than actual, with the victim being led to expect far worse lay ahead if he failed to cooperate. ‘He wasn’t more than a messenger, though, and had only claimed to be a member of the Yankees’ Secret Service to impress our “blue-bellies” with his importance. Mr. Fletcher’s inclined to think he was telling the truth. Anyways, Meats reckons that he’d been told to watch for a signal from the other side, then row over. When he got there, he was given the bundle. He was to put out some of the posters around Camden tomorrow evening, then start to move down the river and leave more of them at the villages along the way.’
‘And you believe him?’ asked Ole Devil.
‘I reckon he was too scared of Kiowa and Vern Hassle to lie,’ Dusty replied. ‘And what he said made sense. He told us he’d left the bundle under the boat instead of taking it along straight away because he didn’t have to start putting out the notices until tomorrow evening and figured it would be safer there than around his bunk at the camp. If anybody should’ve found the boat, there was nothing to show he’d been near it.’
‘That sounds reasonable and likely,’ Hondo Fog stated.
‘So the big gun won’t be here until tomorrow evening,’ Ole Devil said, tapping a finger on the poster.
‘Or the day after, sir,’ Dusty suggested. ‘They’d have to haul it up from Arkadelphia and that won’t be done at speed. And they’ll want folks to have seen the posters before they start throwing the shells, so that you can be asked to set General Culver free.’
‘Assuming, of course, that their main purpose is to set Culver free,’ Ole Devil replied. ‘It could be that they are hoping to use the threat of the big gun to make us go back across the Ouachita and face them in open battle.’
‘That, even more than securing Culver’s release, may be what the Union’s high command wants,’ Blaze went on. ‘A decisive action in which we could lose everything, or be so weakened that they can discount us as a factor in the War.’
‘Are the Yankees ready to fight a major action, sir?’ Dusty wanted to know. ‘After all, we’re holding their commanding general and they can’t have replaced him yet.’
‘From the reports I’ve had, Culver was more figurehead than commanding general,’ Ole Devil replied. ‘And, even without him, there may be colonels with sufficient knowledge and ambition to make this play.’
‘Which means that we must find some way of destroying the big gun,’ Blaze declared. ‘And before we’re compelled to take mass action, if possible. But, considering what happened to the Mounted Infantry, it won’t be easy.’
‘I reckon they were seen almost as soon as they crossed the river by the observer in the balloon,’ Dusty guessed, when the colonel paused and every eye turned on him as if seeking his opinion. That meant they had time to move their cavalry screen into position to ambush the Mounted Infantry.’
‘It’s probably what happened,’ Blaze conceded. ‘So we’ll have to send a large enough force, two or three Companies, next time.’
‘With respect, sir,’ Dusty said quietly, stiffening into a brace and holding his voice to a flat, yet respectful tone. ‘I don’t think a larger force is the answer.’
‘Why not?’Blaze asked.
‘The bigger the force, even if they split up, the greater chance of it being located by the men in the balloon,’ Dusty explained. ‘Seeing that we know now which way they’re headed, a single Company might be able to handle it.’
‘Your Company, I suppose, Dustine,’ Ole Devil put in.
‘Not necessarily, sir,’ Dusty replied. ‘But Company C is at full strength and—well, I’d been figuring on taking them on a long training ride, so they’re armed and supplied ready to go. I reckon we could handle it.’
None of the older men spoke for several seconds, but all studied the small, blond youngster. Dusty had already reverted to his more comfortable, non-issue style of dress and, without any suggestion of being cocky or self-assured, he exuded a quiet aura of confidence. If he was sent on the mission and failed, it would not be through rashness or a lack of thought and planning ability.
Behind a cold mask that hid all emotion, Ole Devil was deeply concerned. He knew that the threat of the big gun must be removed as quickly as possible. If it was not, it could easily turn the scales in the Union’s favor. To send Dusty across the Ouachita might cause his death; but the same applied no matter which officer received the assignment and the general knew them all as well as he did his small, blond nephew.
The question facing Ole Devil was whether Dusty could carry out the mission. The general was inclined to believe that he could. Regard for his favorite nephew’s safety could not be allowed to affect the decision. Ever since Dusty had joined the regiment, he had proven himself a capable, courageous and intelligent officer and leader. All three qualities had been amply displayed in how he had dealt with the affair at Stilton Grossing. While Dusty had had Captain Staunce’s assistance, the main plan had been his own. What was more, the youngster had insisted upon personally testing both sets of harness before allowing them to be used in creating a convincing and effective part of the deception.
‘Very well, Dustine,’ the general said, trying to keep his voice hard and impersonal. ‘You will take your Company and destroy the big gun.’
‘Yo!’ Dusty assented, unable to suppress the eagerness he was feeling.
Although Hondo Fog shared the general’s concern for his son’s future, he forced himself to carry out his duty.
‘When do you plan to move out, Dusty?’ Hondo inquired.
‘Before midnight, if I can, sir,’ the small Texan replied. ‘Or as soon as I can after. I want to be well beyond the river by sun-up, so that I can come at them from behind. They’ll be less likely to expect us from that direction.’
‘That’s good thinking, Dustine,’ Colonel Blaze praised. ‘Is there anything you need by way of supplies?’
‘No, sir,’ Dusty replied. ‘Like I said, I’ve had the men set for a three-day ride. We’ve everything we need. Except maybe—’
‘Well?’ Blaze prompted.
‘Could I ask Captain Staunce to come with me, sir?’
‘You mean you want to take his mountain battery?’ asked Ole Devil.
‘Yes, sir. Those little wheel-guns of his throw a shell for over half a mile and, with his men handling them, come real close to hitting what they’re aimed at. They could make our work a whole heap easier and more certain.’
‘Won’t they slow you down, or be awkward to take across the river?’ Hondo wanted to know.
‘I don’t think so,’ Dusty answered. ‘We’ll not be travelling too far at a gallop and, if we have to, we can get them across on boats. I’ve another reason for wanting Doug—Captain Staunce—along. The big gun won’t be too far from the river. We might just be able to capture it and fetch it back with us.’
‘There’s not a whole lot of hope of that,’ Blaze warned.
‘No, sir.’ Dusty conceded. ‘But, happen the chance comes, I’d like to be ready for it. And Captain Staunce knows a heap more than I do about moving a cannon.’
‘Very well,’ Ole Devil confirmed. ‘Take him and his battery with you. But don’t forget that your primary objective is to destroy the big gun, not to try to capture it.’
Affirming that he understood his duty, Dusty discussed a few other points and then left the building. Mounting his horse, he rode to the Texas Light Cavalry’s camp. As he approached the wall tent which he was sharing with his second-in-command, Red came out. Red was dressed, apart from his hat, tunic and weapon belt.
‘Is everything ready for tomorrow, Cousin Red?’ Dusty asked, remaining on the bay’s back.
‘Why sure,’ agreed the redhead, without displaying any great enthusiasm. ‘Fifty rounds a man for the revolvers, same for their shoulder arms. Food for three days, just like you told me.’
‘Bueno,’ Dusty said.
‘Do we have to take that damned ride?’ Red asked, for he was not looking forward with any pleasure to carrying out the long training march which Dusty had arranged.
‘Nope,’ the small Texan replied, watching his cousin with amused anticipation and awaiting his reaction to the word.
‘Maybe we ought to get them doing some shoot—’ Red began, then realized what Dusty’s answer had been. ‘Did you say “no”?’
‘That’s just what I said. Get your horse and go ask Doug Staunce if he and his Limeys would like to come along with us and see how a good horse-outfit does its work. Tell him Uncle Devil reckons the exercise will do them good.’
‘Yo! What’s doing—Just happen Doug wants to know?’
‘We’re going over the Ouachita after the big gun,’ Dusty explained and was delighted by the expression that crossed his cousin’s face. Tell Doug that I’m hoping to be moving out by one o’clock, if not sooner.’
Leaving Red, who dived back into the tent to dress before setting off with the message, Dusty made his way to his enlisted men’s quarters. Going to the tent assigned to the senior non-commissioned officers, he found only the sergeant major present.
‘Turn out the Company, Billy Jack,’ Dusty ordered as the lanky figure came in answer to his call. ‘Have the bugler sound “Boots and Saddles”.’
‘Yo!’ Billy Jack replied. ‘Only most of the new men’ve gone down to the Tavern. They were paid and I figured they wouldn’t be wanted before morning.’
‘That’s all right,’ Dusty said. ‘You weren’t to know.’
‘I’ll go fetch them—’
‘Leave that to me, you have the others making ready.’
‘Livesey’s not going to be too happy about you taking them away while they’ve still got money in their pockets,’ Billy Jack warned. ‘I’d step careful, was I you, Cap’n Dusty. His uncle’s the mayor.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind and be real polite,’ Dusty promised. ‘Have that big black gelding we took from the Lancers for me to use, this bay’s been pushed hard recently.’
‘Yo!’ the sergeant major assented, but did not make an immediate start to commencing his duties. ‘I could fetch Kiowa and Stormy Weather from the pok—prayer meeting they’re at and have them come with you.’
‘Tell them to come down after me,’ Dusty suggested.
For all his mournful appearance and habit of always pretending to expect doom and disaster, Dusty knew that Billy Jack was no alarmist. If he felt that the owner of the Tavern might prove to be difficult, the small Texan was willing to accept his summation.
Having accepted Billy Jack’s offer, Dusty set his mount into motion. Holding the bay to a canter, he wasted no time in covering the half mile separating the camp from Camden. Once there, he made his way towards the river. The Tavern stood about fifty yards from the bank, a one floor stone building glowing with light and the sounds of merriment. Looking across the water, Dusty could see little or no signs of life. As at Arkadelphia, the Yankees had halted at long cannon shot and there was only the red glare of their campfires to tell of their presence.
At that moment, Dusty was not especially interested in the enemy. Instead, he swung his gaze to the horses hitched to the rail outside the Tavern. They all bore double-girthed Texas saddles, which meant they would be available for use by his men.
Swinging from the bay, Dusty left it ground-hitched. He crossed the warped boardwalk, opened the front door and entered the barroom. Smoke hung in a heavy cloud under the roof, being combated by the lamps which illuminated the tables and bar. A number of garishly attired girls hung around the soldiers who appeared to be the majority of the customers, encouraging them to drink, or take part in the various gambling games. There were half a dozen burly, hard-looking civilians, who had the appearance of river roughnecks, scattered around and watching the various activities with more than casual interest. Behind the bar, two big, tough-faced men attended to the customers’ needs.
Looking around, Dusty discovered that the majority of the soldiers were recruits. Half of them belonged to his Company, replacements for the men who had died at Martin’s Mill. However, standing at the bar and gazing about him in a tolerant manner, Corporal Vern Hassle held a glass of whiskey.
Dusty’s arrival created some interest among the civilians in the room. It also was arousing suspicion, he guessed. The Tavern was not often visited by officers, being an establishment devoted to the enlisted men. So the bartenders, girls and roughnecks were wondering what had brought him into their presence.
‘Hello, handsome,’ greeted a pretty girl, leaving two lanky recruits who were part of Company C and approaching the small Texan. ‘My name’s Magda. Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘Not off hand, ma’am,’ Dusty replied, partially gratified for the silence that had fallen over the room. ‘You men from Company C, finish your drinks and get mounted. We’re going back to camp.’
A chorus of protest rolled up. Although the recruits recognized Dusty and had heard plenty about him from the old hands, they had seen little of him since joining his Company. So they were not over impressed—having taken sufficient drinks for their susceptibilities to have become dulled—as he stood there, a small figure amongst so many bigger, older men.
‘Hey!’ said one of the pair who had been entertaining Magda, standing and picking up a bottle. Crossing the room behind Dusty, he draped his other arm around the captain’s shoulders in a friendly manner. ‘You take a drin—’
Which was as far as the recruit got.
Dusty knew that, with the soldiers in their present frame of mind, he could not permit the man to take such liberties. If he did, he would have no control over any of them. So he acted with his usual speed and effectiveness.
Raising his right boot, Dusty propelled its heel hard against the top of the soldier’s left foot. With a shrill yelp of pain, the recipient of the attack jerked away his arm and hopped on his other leg. Turning, Dusty laid the palm of his right hand against the man’s face and shoved. Reeling backwards, the soldier sat down hard on the floor with the bottle flying out of his hand.
‘Like I said,’ Dusty announced, giving no indication of knowing that the recruit had come and gone. ‘I want every man from Company C—’
One of the biggest civilians lurched forward. Hooking his thumbs in his waist belt, he loomed above the small Texan and teetered menacingly on his heels.
‘Now just a blasted minute,’ the man snarled. ‘This ain’t no son-of-a-bitching Army camp. You ain’t got no right—’
‘This’s an Army matter, mister,’ Dusty interrupted! ‘So—’
‘Like hell it is!’ the man barked back. ‘Them things on your sleeves don’t pack no weight in here.’
‘I’d best apologize now,’ Dusty said quietly.
‘So you should, coming in here—’
‘No,’ Dusty corrected. ‘For what I’m going to do to you.’
And saying it, he kicked the man sharply but with considerable force on the front of the shin bone. Letting out a startled and agonized howl, the roughneck went backwards, hopping on his uninjured limb. He did not go far enough. Advancing almost with a bound, Dusty whipped over a right cross that slammed his knuckles into the side of the man’s jaw. How hard the punch landed was shown by the bulky figure changing course with rapidity. Blundering away from his assailant, he landed belly down on top of a table which collapsed under his weight. Almost before the man’s body had reached the floor, Dusty’s matched Colts were drawn to throw down on others of the civilians. However, he could not watch everybody in the room.
Behind the counter, one of the bartenders reached to where he kept a shotgun with its barrels cut down to a convenient length. Before his fingers closed about the butt, he heard a double click and a cracked, old voice addressing him.
‘There ain’t nothing down there’s you wants, now be there, friend?’
Raising his gaze, the bartender looked into the yawning muzzle of a Dragoon Colt and beyond it was the leathery, ancient face of Corporal Hassle. Old the non-com might be, but the heavy revolver never wavered in its alignment.
‘Nope,’ conceded the bartender, bringing his hands hurriedly into view. ‘There ain’t.’
The front door opened to admit Kiowa Cotton and the stocky, powerful Sergeant ‘Stormy’ Weather. They each held a revolver and changed the minds of two other civilians who had considered drawing weapons.
‘Like I said,’ Dusty barked, returning the Colts to their holsters almost as swiftly as he had drawn them. ‘I want every man of my Com—’
‘One minute!’ called a voice and a tall, elegantly-dressed man came from a doorway at the rear of the room. ‘These soldiers are here as my guests and I question your right to come in giving them orders.’
‘They’re in the Army—’ Dusty began, guessing correctly that he was speaking to Livesey, the owner.
‘And they’re on civilian property,’ Livesey countered, taking in the bare details of Dusty’s appearance without looking at the essentials. Believing that he was dealing with a callow, inexperienced junior officer, he decided to try a bluff and continued bombastically, ‘I resent this high-handed attitude and won’t hesitate to lodge a complaint with Colonel Blaze, or even General Hardin. My uncle is mayor of Camden—’
‘And I’m General Hardin’s and Colonel Blaze’s nephew,’ Dusty put in, watching alarm come to the man’s face. ‘My name is Fog.’
For a moment Livesey stared at the small Texan and this time took notice of the triple gold bars on his collar. The Tavern’s owner had heard of Dusty and knew that he was related to the senior officers in question. So, while Livesey hated to see the recruits leave before they had spent all their money, he decided that it would not be polite, or wise, to antagonize a man with such influential family connections.
‘The bar’s closed to all members of Captain Fog’s Company,’ Livesey declared, putting on a more benevolent expression than he was feeling. ‘There’ll be a free drink for every one of you next time you come in, but now I want to see you all obeying orders and getting going.’
‘Why thank you ’most to death, sir,’ Dusty drawled, watching the soldiers rise and start to file out. ‘It’s sure good to see such a co-operative gentleman.’
With that, the small Texan strolled from the room. He neither saw nor would have cared if he had seen, the bitter glare the owner threw after him. Instead, he was thinking of the work that lay ahead. Luckily none of his men were too drunk to ride. Something told him that he might need every one of them before he was finished with the big gun.