Never had the hammer of the Manton pistol seemed to be moving so slowly!
It fell, at long last, striking the brass percussion cap!
Still moving to compensate for the bear’s ever changing—and nearing—position, the pistol roared!
Converging with the approaching beast, the .54 caliber bullet struck it between and slightly above the eyes to plough through into the brain. Hit while its forelegs were approaching the end of a rearwards thrust, the bear began to crumple forward.
Even as smoke partially obscured the bear and the pistol’s barrel rose under the impulsion of the recoil, without waiting to discover the effect of the shot, Old Devil Hardin sprang to his right. Dropping the empty weapon, he sent his right hand curling back and around the butt of the pistol’s mate. Twisting it free from the retainer loop on his belt, he was just starting to draw back the hammer with the heel of his left palm when the bear emerged from the smoke. However, it was turning a somersault and it crashed to the ground on its back. With its jaws chomping in a hideous fashion and legs flailing their death throes, it slid to a halt on the very spot Hardin had just vacated.
It was, the young Texian decided, as narrow an escape from a painful death as had ever come his way.
Suddenly, courageous as he was, Ole Devil found that he was perspiring very freely and breathing as heavily as if he had run a mile. What was more, his limbs were shaking from the reaction to the highly unnerving few seconds that he had just passed through.
Much of Ole Devil’s reaction was, he realized, stemming from a belated understanding of the possible effects of the risk he had taken. If he had been killed or injured, the very important mission upon which he was engaged would have ended in ignominious failure.
And all because of a stupid act by a boy who might even be one of the party who were trying to prevent Old Devil from completing the assignment.
‘Thanks, mister. You surely saved my life.’
The youngster’s voice came to Ole Devil’s ears as, starting to regain control of his churning emotions, he looked from the bear’s body to where the line-backed dun had been brought to a halt by its trailing reins and was standing quietly. Something about the words, perhaps the fact that they sounded so damned effeminate, brought the young Texian’s temper to boiling point.
‘Why the hell did you have to pull such a god-damned stupid trick as that?’ Ole Devil roared swinging around, fury making his features as Mephistophelian as ‘Ole Nick’ forking sinners into the fiery furnaces of Hades. ‘Your folks shouldn’t let you out alone if—’
The angry tirade died away at the sight which met the young Texian’s gaze. And it wasn’t the sight of the borrowed horse, carrying his saber on its saddle, still galloping away that stopped him.
Having apparently contrived to wriggle onwards for several feet after falling down and losing his hat, the youngster had regained his feet. Returning the knife which he had been drawing to its fringed, Indian-made sheath, he was walking towards his rescuer. An expression of mingled relief and gratitude was on his tanned and freckled face as he held out his right hand.
The reason for the falsetto, effeminate tones which had been one cause of Ole Devil’s annoyance was explained. Describing the youngster as ‘he’, or ‘him’ was most inaccurate. Despite the masculine clothing, the person he had rescued was a pretty and, although her garments did only a little to emphasize it, shapely girl in her late ‘teens, with shortish, fiery red, curly hair. Her reaction to his hostile words and attitude suggested that the hair was matched by a hot and explosive temper.
Coming to a halt, her features lost their friendliness which was replaced by indignation. Like a flash, she whipped up her extended right hand in a slap that met Ole Devil’s right cheek hard enough to snap his head around and caused him to jerk back a pace. Rocking to a stop and, in his surprise, dropping the pistol he responded almost automatically to the blow. Before he could stop himself, he was launching a backhand swing in retaliation to the attack. Although he just managed to reduce the power behind it, as a realization of what he was doing belatedly came to him, his left knuckles came up against the side of her head in a cuff of some force.
The girl had been retreating. Her expressive features were registering a change to contrition, as if she was already regretting her hasty and uncalled for behavior towards the man who had saved her life at some risk to his own. The blow connected, knocking her off balance. Staggering back a few paces, she flopped rump-foremost on the ground. A screech burst from her as she landed and her face turned red with fury.
Like the girl, Ole Devil started to regret what he had done. Meaning to apologize and help her to rise, he began to move forward. Before he could achieve either intention, she bounded to her feet. Ducking her head, she charged at him like a bighorn ram going at a rival in the mating season.
Growling an imprecation which he would not normally have used in the presence of a member of the opposite sex, the young Texian tried to fend off the girl. Although he caught her by the shoulders, the impetus of her charge drove him backwards. Unable to stop himself, or the girl, he retreated until his legs hit the now fortunately dead and motionless bear.
With the girl toppling after him, Ole Devil sat on the corpse. Pure chance rather than a deliberate intention caused him to guide the girl so that she landed face down across his lap. Studying the situation, he decided that the opportunity was too good to miss. Holding her in position by gripping the scruff of her neck with his left hand, he applied the flat palm of his right to the tightly stretched and well-filled seat of her buckskin trousers.
Ten times in rapid succession Ole Devil’s hand came into sharp and, if the girl’s yelps after each slap were anything to go on, painful contact with her rump. She struggled with considerable strength and violence, twisting her body and waving her legs, but to no avail. Suddenly, her captor once again realized what he was doing. He decided to bring the spanking, well deserved as some might have said, to an end. Coming to his feet and releasing her neck, he precipitated her from his lap. She landing, rolling across the ground, and came to her knees.
Tears, caused by anger and indignation over the way she had been treated more than pain, trickled down the girl’s reddened cheeks. She glared furiously at the young Texian as she sprang to her feet. Spitting out a string of curses which were the equal of any he had ever heard, she crouched as if meaning to throw herself at him for a second time. However, on this occasion, her right hand flew across to close around the hilt of the clip-pointed knife sheathed at the left side of her belt.
‘I’m sorry that I spanked you,’ Ole Devil said quietly. His soft-spoken words were anything but gentle and, taken with the savage, almost demoniac aspect of his countenance, seemed to be charged with menace. ‘But if you pull that damned knife on me, I’ll take it from you and paddle your bare hide until you’ve learned better sense.
For a moment, watching the girl’s every move and the play of emotions on her face, the young Texian thought that she intended to force him into a position where he would have to disarm her, even if he did not carry out the rest of his threat. She was quivering with temper over the humiliation she had suffered at his hands and made as if to continue drawing the weapon. Wanting to avoid such a confrontation, he stared straight into her eyes. Almost twenty seconds dragged by before she tore her gaze from his coldly threatening scrutiny.
‘Just you wait until Grandpappy Ewart hears about this!’ the girl warned, without looking at her assailant, spitting out the words as if they were burning her mouth. However, her fingers left the hilt of the knife.
‘Who?’ Ole Devil asked before he could stop himself, with a cold feeling hitting him in the pit of the stomach.
‘Ewart Brindley, fancy pants,’ the girl elaborated viciously, sensing her combined rescuer and assailant’s perturbation and drawing the wrong conclusions regarding what had caused it ‘As soon as he hears what you’ve done to me, he’ll skin you alive!’
‘Diamond-Hitch Brindley!’ Ole Devil thought bitterly, recollecting General Samuel Houston’s comment on the advisability of keeping on the best of terms with the girl as that would be the most certain way of winning her irascible grandfather’s support and assistance. ‘I’ve sure picked a fine way of doing that.’
‘Happen you know what’s good for you,’ the girl went on, although not quite so heatedly, when her warning failed to evoke a verbal response or discernible change in the young Texian’s attitude, ‘you’ll go catch my horse for me. Then get going to wherever you’re headed and I’ll forget what you did.’
Even as the wrathful words had been boiling from her lips, Charlotte Jane Martha Brindley was starting to regret that she was saying them. Always of a volatile and ebullient nature, she was quick to anger but just as ready to forgive; particularly when conscious that she herself was as much, perhaps even more, at fault than the other participant in the contretemps.
While Di had been very grateful for being saved from a very painful death, her rescuer’s attitude and scathing words could not have come at a worse time. She had been churned up emotionally over her narrow escape and not a little annoyed by the realization that her perilous predicament had come about through her own reckless behavior.
On finding the dead mule, which had strayed from the remuda the previous night, a girl with her experience ought to have shown greater caution. The tobiano gelding was not long broken to the saddle and she was riding it to further its training. So she should have known that it was not as steady as her regular horse and would be unreliable in an emergency. On top of that, when the bear had made its appearance, she had pro-yoked a charge which could have been avoided by using her common-sense. In doing so, she had endangered her own and the stranger’s lives. She could guess how he must have stopped the animal. Only a man of great courage, or a reckless fool would have attempted to do so in such a manner. Her instincts suggested that he came into the former category.
So Di’s relief and gratitude had been entangled with guilt over her folly. Nor had her rescuer’s behavior on turning to face her done anything to lessen her emotional tensions. With her nerves stretched tight, his obvious anger had triggered off her unfortunate response.
Despite the way in which her rescuer had subsequently treated her, Di was sorry for the way in which she had acted. However, her pride would not permit an open apology and she hoped that he would do as she suggested.
For his part, Ole Devil could appreciate the girl’s motives and, under different circumstances, he might have sympathized with her. Unfortunately, he too had been under a considerable strain and possessed a fair amount of pride. So her attitude was doing little to bring about a conciliatory situation. However, as he remembered what was at stake, he forced himself to consider how he might establish a more amicable relationship with her. He decided to explain what he was doing and hoped that she would have the good sense, sufficient gratitude for her rescue, and loyalty to Texas, to overlook the spanking.
Before Ole Devil could start putting his good intentions into practice, he saw four riders topping a ridge about half a mile away. One of them was pointing in his and the girl’s direction, then they were urging their horses forward at a faster pace. He could tell that they were a Mexican and three buckskin-clad white men, two of whom were carrying rifles. While the distance was too great for him to make out further details, he was certain that they were the quartet he had been expecting to be in the vicinity. What was more, unless he was mistaken, the recognition had been mutual
Ole Devil could have cursed the vagaries of fate. Having saved Di Brindley’s life, which would have made him extremely popular with her grandfather, he had ruined the effect by giving her a not undeserved spanking. Now, before he could try to make amends, she was likely to find her life endangered because of him.
‘Run and fetch my horse!’ Old Devil ordered, striding forward. The urgency of the situation put an edge to his voice which, he realized too late, taken with his choice of words, would not enhance his popularity with the girl.
<Who the hell—!’ Di began, once again taking umbrage at his tone.
The indignant tirade trailed off as Ole Devil hurried past the girl. Turning, she watched him picking up the pistol which he had dropped when she slapped his face. Then she noticed the approaching riders and stopped speaking.
Retrieving the weapon, Ole Devil examined it to make sure that its barrel had not become plugged up with soil when it landed. Satisfied, he replaced it in the belt loop and, after another glance at the four men, swung around. Much to his annoyance, he found that Di was still standing watching him.
‘Get going!’ Ole Devil commanded, bounding forward. ‘Head for my horse!’
Realizing that the riders must be the cause of her rescuer’s behavior, Di did not waste time in asking questions or making protests. Turning, she started to run at Ws side. Any lingering doubts she might have been harboring were wiped away when a bullet passed between them and ploughed into the ground a few feet away from the dun. She darted a glance at her rifle as she went by, but knew better than to stop and pick it up.
As Ole Devil was approaching the dun, he reached behind him with his left hand and raised the flap of the leather pouch that was attached to his belt From it, he drew a rectangular metal bar with rounded ends. Having done so, he put on a spurt which carried him ahead of the girl. Arriving alongside his mount, he thrust his right hand towards the rifle in its saddle-boot.
‘Mount up and get going!’ the young Texian told the girl as he drew out the rifle and turned to face the direction from which they had come.
‘Like hell I will!’ Di answered, guessing what he had in mind. She pivoted to a stop by his side, reaching to haul the pistol from his belt’s loop and, serious as she realized the situation must be, could not resist continuing, ‘I hope whoever loaded this blasted thing for you knew what he was doing, fancy pants.’
‘And I hope you know how to handle it and can shoot better than most women,’ Ole Devil commented dryly, although he guessed that the girl would prove competent, accept that to try and enforce his demand for her to leave would be futile.
‘I can shoot better than most men? Di countered, speaking jerkily as she replenished her lungs with air. ‘Don’t worry, fancy pants, I’ll protect you.’
While speaking, the girl was drawing back the hammer of the Manton pistol and gauging the strength of the trigger-pull that would be required from die amount of resistance she was meeting. It moved easily and the gentle clicking of the mechanism implied that the pull would be light, but not excessively so. Taken with the pistol’s weight and balance, her deductions were comforting. She knew that she was holding a weapon of exceptional quality which, in capable hands, would prove extremely accurate.
Despite the danger which was threatening them, Ole Devil could not hold down an appreciative grin at Di’s spirited response. A quick glance at her assured him that the breathless way she was speaking was caused by her exertions and not from fear or panic.
Having satisfied himself upon that not unimportant point, the young Texian returned his attention to the four men. They had fanned out into a well-spaced line and were galloping closer. Although they still had at least a quarter of a mile to cover, the vaquero and the lanky man who had fled with him from the cantina were already holding pistols. Tucking his empty rifle between his left thigh and the saddle, the man who had fired the shot started to draw his handgun. However, the last of the quartet was still carrying a loaded rifle even though, as yet, he had not attempted to use it
On meeting their companions, who had heard the shooting and were returning to the hamlet to investigate, Arnaldo Verde and Mucker had done almost exactly what Ole Devil had deduced they might
Being aware that Al Soapy regarded every man of Mexican origin as a coward and knowing they had just as little regard for Mucker’s courage, the vaquero had considered it advisable to stretch the truth when telling them what had happened at the cantina. So he, with Mucker’s support, had deliberately over-estimated the size of Ole Devil’s escort They had claimed that their quarry had been accompanied by at least half a dozen men and had appeared to have been expecting trouble, which had chilled any desire the other two might have felt towards avenging their dead companions,
There had been a difference of opinion between the quartet as to what their best line of action would be in view of the changed circumstances. Soapy had suggested that they should return to their hide-out and pick up reinforcements. Verde had pointed out that there had only been six men at it when they had left, and that their leader was intending to use them to gather together the rest of the gang ready to go and intercept the shipment. The vaquero had also pointed out that their task was to prevent Ole Devil Hardin from reaching Ewart Brindley and they would not have sufficient time to go to the hideout before making another try at stopping him.
After Verde had established his points and gained his companions’ grudging agreement, he had declared that they ought to continue with their assignment As none of the others could come up with a better idea, they had let him make the arrangements. Without having realized it, the vaquero had duplicated Ole Devil’s summation of the situation. Instead of trying to lay an ambush along the trail, or attempting to locate the young Texian as he made his way across country to Gonzales, they had headed directly to the town. Learning where the Brindleys’ place was situated, they had taken up a position that offered them a good view of the terrain over which he was most likely to pass.
The discovery that Ole Devil was riding alone had been the cause of considerable recriminations, with Soapy demanding to be told what had happened to the escort. Although Verde had not cared for the other’s attitude and implications, he had managed to control his temper. He had suggested that the men might have been accompanying the young Texian only as far as Guadalupe, or Gonzales. Or they might even have been a patrol which Just happened to be using the trail and Ole Devil was riding with them for the company. Either explanation had left a number of questions unanswered, but the urgency of the situation had prevented them from being asked. As Mucker had said, no matter what had happened to the escort, its absence made their work that much easier and safer.
Accepting Mucker’s statement, the quartet had set off to intercept the young Texian. Although while using Verde’s telescope to watch for Ole Devil they had noticed Di Brindley, they had been in a hollow and missed seeing her meeting with him. On coming into view, having heard the shot, they had drawn at least one incorrect conclusion from the sight which had met their eyes. As they could not see the pistol which Ole Devil had discarded after filing, they assumed he was holding an empty weapon. So they had not been surprised when Ole Devil and the ‘boy’—the quartet had fallen into the same error regarding Di’s sex—turned and ran towards the line-backed dun. They had expected the fleeing pair to mount the horse and try to escape in that way.
Always boastful about his ability as a marksman, Soapy had tried to prevent the Texian and the ‘boy’ from escaping by shooting the dun. Not unexpectedly, as the range had been dose to five hundred yards and he was sitting a fast-moving horse, he missed. So, having emptied his weapon to no purpose, he felt somewhat perturbed when Ole Devil and Di turned instead of mounting the waiting dun. If the way they were arming themselves meant anything, they were going to fight rather than try to escape with the animal carrying a double load.
Watching Ole Devil holding and doing something to the rifle which he could not make out, Verde did not share Soap’s misgivings. In fact he was not displeased by the way things were turning out True the ‘boy’ had armed himself with the Texian’s pistol, suggesting that it might have been reloaded, but even in skilled hands it would only be a short range weapon. The rifle which Ole Devil was raising to his shoulder would be a far greater danger.
‘Keep moving at long range until he fires,’ Verde called to his companions. ‘Then rush him before he can reload.’
Although the vaqueros advice did not reach Di’s ears, she was aware of such a danger. Having helped to fight off more than one Indian attack, she suspected that the four men might adopt similar tactics by hovering at a distance until fired on and then attacking before the empty weapons could be replenished. Noticing that her companion was taking aim, she decided to warn him against playing into the quartet’s hands.
Before the girl could speak, the rifle cracked!
Almost as if wishing to oblige his attackers, Ole Devil sighted and touched off a shot Soapy heard the bullet passing close to his head, but was not hit
‘Come on, amigos!’ Verde yelled, watching the Texian lowering the rifle’s butt so as to start reloading, ‘We’ve got him now!’