The Devil Gun (9 page)

Turning, Jill walked away. She went to where Liz sat on the ground and looked down. Almost with relief Jill saw that the Yankee girl seemed to be recovering and in no danger. A little stiffly, she offered to fit Liz out with dry clothing. While Liz first thought of refusing, she realised—through her exploring fingers—that her blouse had suffered damage in the fight and that she needed to get out of the wet clothing. So, just as stiffly as Jill offered, Liz accepted.

Thought had returned to Liz with Kiowa’s ministrations and she looked about her, seeing much that was puzzling. The bushwhackers had all fled, but from Confederate, not Union soldiers; and a small party at that. Then Liz became aware of Marsden and wondered at his presence. At first she thought he might be a prisoner, yet knew of no prisoner-of-war camp in Texas. Also no prisoner would be under the escort of a captain and three senior non-coms.

Still pondering on Marsden’s presence, Liz followed Jill into the tent. While accepting the other’s offer of dry clothing, Liz maintained frigid silence and Jill did nothing to help. Opening her war-bag, Jill produced two shirts and a couple of pairs of men’s pants, remarking that she had nothing else to offer. Liz opened her travelling case and took out dry underwear and a towel.

While stripping off her clothes. Liz could hear enough to tell her that the men were tending to their horses. As she started to dry herself with the towel, she caught the sound of voices; one a southern drawl, the other a northern accent. Apparently the two officers were in conference and she strained her ears to catch what they discussed.

‘So the bushwhacker girl brought the other one with her.’ The small man with the southern drawl was speaking. ‘Showed good sense in doing it too. The other girl might never’ve been found—or one of the bushwhackers gone back to her.’

‘You believe the girl intended to release Miss Chamberlain?’ asked Marsden, having recognised Liz as an acquaintance from Little Rock’s army social circle.

‘Sure. That girl’s no bushwhacker slut,’ Dusty replied. ‘And she’d a hold on that rabble or Miss Chamberlain’d’ve been raped before now.’

‘Thing now is what do you aim to do with them?’

‘How’s that, mister?’

‘We can’t leave them here,’ Marsden pointed out, then went on. ‘Could find a town, like the girl intended.’

‘There’s none around and we’re too far north for the main Texas-Arkansas trails,’ Dusty answered.

‘If the girl can control her men, leave them both here,’ Marsden suggested.

‘And if the men don’t come back?’

‘Reckon they won’t, sir?’

‘Nope. They’ll figure that I’ve taken the girls with me and destroyed the camp. So the girls will have to come with us.’

‘Can they stand up to the pace?’

‘Mister,’ Dusty said quietly but grimly, ‘they’ll have to stand up to it. You know as well as I do what’s at stake.’

‘Yes, sir,’ agreed Marsden. ‘Couldn’t we leave them at either Dallas or Fort Worth?’

‘It’d take us a day out of our way. We don’t have a day to spare, mister.’

‘Then let one of the men—’

‘I’d thought of it. But there’s nobody I can spare. Even without being short-handed if it comes to a fight, and needing them to deal with the Indians. Sam Ysabel’s our best man with the pack animals and Kiowa’s got the medicine skill if we need it. And Billy Jack can cold-shoe a horse as well as many a blacksmith. It just won’t do, mister.’

‘How about me?’ asked Marsden.

‘You’re no plainsman, mister,’ Dusty answered. ‘And you’d not get far travelling through Texas in that colour uniform. No, mister, those girls will have to take their choice. Stay here and chance being found—or come with us and stick the pace. There’s no other way and too much at stake for me to do otherwise.’

Watching Dusty, Marsden felt sympathy with the other’s position and knew just what moral fibre it needed to make such a decision. Reared in the strict Southern tradition, Dusty did not lightly toss aside his training on the subject of women’s treatment. However, the small Texan had to balance two lives against the chance of preventing an Indian uprising which would bring death, or worse, to thousands of men, women and children.

‘Go pick the best two horses from the bushwhacker remuda,’ Dusty ordered. ‘I want the rest of their stock scattered and all this stuff destroyed if the girls agree to come along with us. See to it, mister.’

In the tent Liz looked at Jill who donned a pair of men’s long-legged red-flannel underwear.

‘Who is that small captain?’ she asked.

While he might have broken up her bushwhacker band, Jill still felt considerable pride in the small Texan’s reputation as a Confederate soldier.

‘Captain Dusty Fog,’ she answered a shade pompously.

Liz tossed aside her towel and started to dress. Thoughts churned in her head as she slipped on the dry underclothing. She knew Dusty Fog’s reputation and felt certain that something very important lay behind the captain’s presence so far from the battlefields of Arkansas. The scrap of conversation she heard confirmed her belief and she felt cold anger well inside her as she realised that the Union officer must be a traitor. He seemed to know her, which meant they must have met. Swiftly Liz finished dressing, feeling uncomfortable in men’s clothing. She stepped to the door of the tent and raised the flap a trifle.

‘Jackson Marsden!’ she breathed.

While visiting in Little Rock, Liz had met Marsden and heard him mentioned as a promising career officer. Only something of great importance would turn such a man into a traitor. From what she overheard, the mission the men rode on was of vital significance with time its essence for success.

Ever since the death of the soldiers, Liz had felt guilty, blaming herself for them getting lost in the first place. Now she saw a chance to partially make amends. She would go with the Texans and do everything in her power to make sure that their mission did not succeed.

‘I’d like to see you ladies outside when you’re dressed,’ Dusty called, standing outside the tent.

A smile played on Liz’s lips. Captain Fog thought his problem with herself and the other girl was over—she aimed to see that it had only just begun.

CHAPTER NINE

‘You must understand, ladies,’ Dusty told the girls. ‘I refuse to allow considerations of your sex to slow me down. If you come with us, it is on the understanding that you obey my orders and accept my conditions. We’ll be covering between thirty and forty miles a day and that’s rough on a man.’

Looking around her, Jill gave a shrug. Although Dusty had not mentioned the nature of his mission, she knew it must be very important for him to lay down such terms to a pair of girls. She decided that she could make a sacrifice for the Confederate States.

‘I accept your conditions, Captain Fog,’ she said.

‘Do you, Miss Chamberlain?’ asked Dusty.

‘Yes,’ Liz replied.

Something in the girl’s voice drew Marsden’s eyes to her and he felt puzzled by her mild acceptance. Although he did not know her too well, Marsden figured Liz to be an intelligent young woman. In which case she must know of the importance of the Texan’s mission—although not the details of it. He knew her to be almost fanatically loyal to the Union, due in some measure to the kind of friends she made among the intellectual Southerner-hating set of volunteer officers. So Liz should be protesting, demanding immediate return to her own people and relying on Southern chivalry to get her way; or at least trying to delay the party’s departure by argument. The manner in which she surrendered to the inevitable worried Marsden.

Taking advantage of the delay, Billy Jack and Sam Ysabel had cooked a meal from the bushwhackers’ supplies and the party ate well. After the meal, Dusty set his men to work. Jill helped saddle the horses while the men fitted the pack saddles on the baggage animals, but Liz stayed out of the way. Instinctively Liz knew the moment for defiance had not yet arrived and so remained meekly obedient.

Before moving out, Dusty saw that all the bushwhackers’ property was destroyed and their remuda scattered. He did not intend to leave them the means to reorganise should they return to their camp-site.

‘From now on you tend to your own mount, Miss Chamberlain,’ he said.

‘Of course, Captain,’ she replied.

‘Mount up, then. You’ll ride at my right, Miss Chamberlain, you at the left, Miss Dodd.’

Jill swung astride her spirited buckskin gelding and Liz mounted the kettle-bellied bay mare assigned to her, feeling just a trifle self-conscious and aware that she filled out her borrowed pants rather well. However, none of the men appeared to be interested in how she looked and she concentrated on handling her horse.

On moving out from the destroyed camp, Liz found herself with Dusty at one side and Marsden upon the other. She realised that she ought to be showing some interest in his presence.

‘May I ask how you come to be here, Mr. Marsden?’ she asked. ‘Are you a prisoner?’

‘No, Miss Chamberlain,’ Marsden replied.

‘Then what are you, a traitor?’

‘You might say that,’ Marsden agreed.

A low hiss left the girl’s lips and anger glowed in her eyes. ‘Do you think betraying your country and your honour is worth the monetary gains you receive?’

‘I’m not doing it for money,’ Marsden replied.

‘Then why do you, a supposedly loyal Union officer, betray your own country?’

‘Because—’

‘He has a good reason, Miss Chamberlain,’ Dusty put in. There was no point in letting the girls know the true nature of the assignment. Even now there might be a chance of a south-bound party to take the girls off his hands, in which case they probably would talk and he did not wish to start panic among the people of Texas.

‘I’d like to hear it,’ Liz snapped.

‘Maybe you will, one day,’ answered Dusty.

Sensing that further questions would be ignored, Liz let the matter drop and Concentrated upon handling her horse. Holding to a steady trot, the party covered three miles before Liz saw a chance to put her delaying tactics into operation.

‘Dismount and walk,’ Dusty ordered.

Every eye turned to Liz as she remained in her saddle when all but she and Dusty swung to the ground.

‘I won’t!’ she stated. ‘I refuse to walk!’

She took a gamble on her knowledge of southern chivalry. With the camp back on the stream destroyed, and no sight of human habitation from one horizon to the other, the men would not leave her behind. So she aimed to delay them by argument, stir up trouble among them. If Dusty Fog allowed her to ride, it would make discontent among the others. Also riding would tire her horse—to be fair, she took no pleasure in the thought of inflicting suffering upon her mount—and she knew the speed of the party could be no faster than the pace of the slowest member.

So Liz prepared for a clash of will with Dusty Fog, looked forward to testing him and learning just how far she might go.

Edging his horse towards Liz’s mount, Dusty suddenly reached out and gripped her by the waist. Like many people when first coming into contact with Dusty, Liz failed to appreciate the powerful nature of his frame. Taken by surprise both at Dusty’s prompt action and his strength, Liz felt herself lifted, swung from the saddle and lowered to the ground.

‘I still won’t walk!’ she shouted and flung herself into a sitting position on the ground.

Dusty did not even give the girl a glance. ‘Sergeant-major!’ he snapped. ‘Take Miss Chamberlain’s horse.’

‘Yo!’ Billy Jack replied.

‘I refuse to walk!’ Liz warned, conscious that every eye was on her.

‘Give me the word and I’ll drag her along by the hair, Captain,’ Jill said.

‘Move out!’ Dusty ordered, ignoring the girl’s suggestion. Only Jill failed to obey the order immediately. As the men stepped off, she stood for a moment, throwing glances first at Dusty, then towards Liz. Although town-raised, Jill had heard often enough of the dangers of being left afoot on the open plains of Texas. Since leaving the camp, the party came across several large bunches of half-wild longhorned Texas cattle and Dusty warned that such animals feared only a mounted human being; and the cattle were but one of the dangers to a girl afoot.

‘Don’t be a fool, Yankee,’ she urged. ‘Captain Fog’s not bluffing.’

‘And neither am I,’ Liz replied grimly.

Giving an angry snort, Jill started to turn. Then she gave a shrug, drew the. Tranter—picked up by Billy Jack at the camp—and offered it butt forward to Liz.

‘Here, you’re more likely to need it than I am.’

For once in her life Liz felt at a loss for words. Taking the Tranter, Liz watched Jill turn and walk away leading the buckskin. Setting her teeth grimly, Liz prepared to call Dusty Fog’s bluff.

‘You can’t just walk away and leave her,’ Jill said, catching up with Dusty.

‘It’s her choice,’ he replied.

Like Liz, Dusty knew the clash of their wills had begun. While he could appreciate her motives and admire her guts, he refused to be swayed from his purpose. If he showed weakness, Liz would come to expect it. For the sake of his mission, he must break the girl’s defiance and aimed to do it.

Nursing the Tranter as she sat on the ground, Liz watched the party walking away from her. Not one of them gave a sign of being aware of her absence and she set her face in an expression of determination. Slowly she looked around and a feeling of awe crept over her as she studied the vast, open, rolling miles of land around her. Apart from the party walking away, she could see no sign of human life, not so much as a far-distant smudge of smoke hinting at a house’s presence.

A momentary fear crept into her as she realised how precarious her position would be if the small Texan refused to back down. For hundreds of miles all she could expect would be deadly danger. The buffalo wolf, the black bear, even the mountain lion under certain conditions, could be dangerous to a lone traveller. Nor would many of the human beings she might meet prove any more of a blessing. She had escaped rape at the hands of the bushwhackers once, but what if they found her alone and without Jill Dodd’s protection? True Liz held a gun, but she knew just how little defence it would give in her unskilled hands.

‘Take hold of yourself, girl,’ she told herself. ‘He’ll break and come back for you.’

‘Keep moving, Miss Dodd,’ Dusty growled as Jill slowed her pace and started to turn her head. ‘Don’t look back!’

Jerking herself around, Jill turned a worried, pleading face towards the small Texan. ‘You can’t just desert her, Captain.’

‘And I can’t waste time on her little games either,’ Dusty replied.

‘Is what you’re doing so important that it’s worth the life of an innocent girl?’ Jill demanded hotly.

‘Take my word, Miss Dodd,’ Marsden put in. ‘It is important.’

‘How would you know?’ Jill snapped, her smouldering hate of Union supporters driving her on.

‘Because Mr. Marsden gave up his career, and that’s as important as his life to him, to bring us news that started this mission,’ Dusty growled.

‘Then you are one of our spies,’ the girl gasped.

‘No, ma’am!’ Marsden replied.

‘Then why—’ Jill began, stopping speaking when she realised that she could not make herself continue with the question of why he turned traitor.

‘Because Mr. Marsden learned something real important, Miss Dodd,’ Dusty explained, and Jill writhed at the scorn and fury in his voice. ‘Something that, unless stopped, will cost thousands of innocent men, women and children their lives. That’s why he turned “traitor” and came to us.’

Contrition bit into the girl and she looked at Marsden. ‘I’m sorry. More sorry than I Can tell you.’

‘Forget it, Miss Dodd,’ answered Marsden. ‘And remember that Captain Fog is doing what he must.’

‘Couldn’t you have told the Yank—Miss Chamberlain about your mission, Captain?’ asked Jill. ‘Surely if she knew how important—’

‘She might not try to delay us,’ Dusty admitted. ‘But I can’t risk taking time to explain and then have her cause me more trouble to delay me.’

‘Would she still try if she knew?’ Jill said.

‘Put yourself in her place,’ Dusty answered. ‘Suppose you learned something that put you in a position to help the South to victory. Would you try to do it?’

‘Of course.’

Even after so short a time Dusty had come to know enough bout Jill to make an argument she would understand. He wanted to stop her talking about Liz and reckoned that such an argument might bring off the desired result.

‘So would Miss Chamberlain,’ he said, cementing the idea in Jill’s head. ‘And that’s why I won’t let her delay us.’

Suddenly Jill realised what a strain Dusty must be under at having to make such a decision. Being born and raised in Texas, he knew even better than Jill the dangers to a person left afoot on the range. Jill set her teeth, fixed her eyes on the forward horizon and fought down her desire to look back. Flickering glances at the men on either side of her she read their concern from the tight-set faces. Only the knowledge of their mission and the respect they felt for their leader kept them walking on, leaving Liz behind, as Dusty ordered.

With growing disbelief and anxiety Liz watched the party continue to walk away. A quarter of a mile separated them and grew on to the half-mile mark. Every step they took, Liz expected to see them halt, look back, possibly one of them return to plead with her for a change of mind. Yet each step saw them going further from her, increasing the distance with relentless precision.

A movement to her right caught the corner of her eye. Swinging around, she saw a small band of pronghorn antelope stepping daintily through the bush-dotted range about two hundred yards away. Even as she looked, something startled the animals and they broke in a wild, scattering, leaping flight. Liz felt a momentary panic, wondering what spooked the antelope and knowing she could not equal their speed should the unseen menace come her way.

‘He’ll turn back soon,’ she told herself, but with less conviction than on the last occasion she used the sentiment.

At that moment her eyes caught another movement. Turning, she gave a low cry of horror and stared at a diamondback rattlesnake all of three foot long as it glided through the buffalo grass some yards from her. Liz came hurriedly to her feet. The vibrations of her rising halted the snake, bringing it into a defensive coil while the interconnecting horny caps which formed its rattle giving out their vicious buzz-saw warning. Choking down a little sob, Liz started to walk a fast as she could after the departing party.

‘That’s a might stubborn lil gal, Sam,’ Billy Jack remarked after they had covered something over half a mile since leaving Liz.

‘Sure,’ agreed Ysabel. ‘Only this time she’s met somebody a damned sight more stubborn.’

If Dusty heard the men, he ignored them. Mouth set in grim, determined lines, he fought down his inclination to turn back. However, one of the party had not been under Dusty’s kind of discipline long enough to stick rigidly to obedience of orders. Having fought down the inclination as long as she could, Jill chanced a quick glance to the rear.

‘She’s coming after us!’ Jill said, letting out a gasp of relief and showing neither jubilation nor derision at Liz’s defeat.

‘Keep your eyes to the front and stay marching,’ Dusty growled.

Catching the faint note of relief in Dusty’s voice, Jill felt no resentment at his brusque tone. Was it her imagination, or did Dusty slow his pace? She could not be sure. With a woman’s instincts, she saw beneath the stony exterior and grim determination, reading Dusty’s feelings at the course of action forced on him. Whatever business took him west, it must be mighty important to make him treat a girl as he had Liz. A shudder ran through her as she remembered what Dusty said about the thing he must stop costing thousands of innocent lives. While she could not imagine what it might be, she felt the growing urgency with which Dusty pressed on to the west and knew he meant what he said.

Behind the party Liz increased her pace to a fast walk. Her cheeks reddened a little as she wondered what kind of reception the others would give her. Probably they would mock her. That little rebel slut was going to— The weight of the Tranter stopped that line of thought and Liz remembered just how much she owed to Jill Dodd.

Going down a slope which took them out of Liz’s sight, Dusty looked at his party. ‘Halt!’ he called. ‘We’ll rest up here for a spell.’