Ole Devil and the Caplocks (15 page)

Driving his left hand
rearward, with the
tachi
’s blade extending below its
heel instead of ahead of the thumb and forefinger, Tommy sent the
inverted “beak” point into his would be assailant’s solar plexus.
The speed with which the little Oriental had drawn the sword and
the unconventional manner in which he was wielding it, aided by his
unexpected change of direction, gave the renegade no chance to take
evasive action. Nor, although the man had just started to bring the
pistol from behind his back, was he able to use it and save
himself. Pain numbed him and, as he stiffened involuntarily, the
weapon slipped from his fingers.

Like his companion, the
second pistol-toting renegade was commencing to bring the firearm
into use. While he was clearly startled by the discovery that at
least one of their proposed victims had guessed what they were
planning to do, he refused to become flustered. In fact, the
urgency created by the changed conditions gave an added speed to
his movements. Without giving a thought to avenging his stricken
fellow conspirator, he devoted all his energies to the task to
which he had been assigned, killing the young Texian.

When Dodd had refused to
let the third man draw his pistol, he had insisted that he should
be allowed to tackle the least dangerous member of the trio.
Agreeing, Dodd had ordered that the girl must be taken alive. She
would make a useful hostage and, even if her grandfather was dead,
the Texians might turn over the consignment as the price for her
liberation.

With that in mind, the
renegade had decided how he would capture Di. Six foot tall and
muscular, he had size, weight, strength and the element of surprise
in his favor. So he meant to step up and enfold her in his arms
from behind. Wanting to avoid a premature attack, he had allowed
his companions to draw slightly ahead. Doing so had allowed him to
watch for a signal from them and had also enabled him to keep the
girl under observation.

Seeing the other two’s
pistols beginning to move forward, the man knew that the moment for
action had come. So he lunged in the apparently unsuspecting girl’s
direction and his big hands reached out to grab her. He was already
in motion before he realized that things were not going exactly as
he had anticipated.

Despite having hoped for
such a result, Ole Devil was surprised by the way in which the
little Oriental was handling the situation. The left-handed draw
was a trick that he had never seen before. Not that he gave the
matter any thought. There was something of far greater importance
demanding his complete attention.

In the interests of
preventing the renegades from realizing that he had recognized them
for what they were, Ole Devil had allowed his right hand to dangle
at his side. It flashed on to the Browning rifle’s stock as he
swiveled from the hips to his left. Although the hand took hold and
its forefinger entered the trigger guard, he made no attempt to
lift the weapon from the crook of his left elbow. With the man’s
pistol swinging in his direction, he knew there would not be time
for him to do so.

Unlike Ole Devil and
Tommy, Di had not noticed the renegades. Instead, she had been
watching the customers ahead and to her right. As these had not
been able to see the pistols in the renegades’ hands, they were
doing nothing to alert her of the danger. Hearing Tommy’s spiritual
cry, which she identified for what it was, caused her to lift her
head. It was her intention to look around and find what, or whom,
the little Oriental was attacking. Instead, as her gaze reached the
reflection in the bar’s mirror, she discovered that there was a big
man approaching, clearly intending to catch hold of her.

The sight came as one hell
of a shock to the girl!

The Texian realized that
the little Oriental had his part in the affair under control, which
did not come as any surprise. However, he was equally aware that
the danger was still far from ended. Nor, much as he would have
liked, could he devote any attention to how the girl was faring.
The renegade to his rear had to be stopped—and fast!

Swiveling to the left at
the hips, Ole Devil pointed the Browning by instinctive alignment.
At such close range, he felt that it would be sufficiently accurate
for his needs and, of infinitely greater importance under the
circumstances, faster than any other method. With the barrel
directed in what he believed to be the required area, his
forefinger squeezed the trigger. If he missed, there would not be
time for him to carry out the simple manipulation of his rifle’s
mechanism which would allow him to fire again.

With the blade of
his
tachi
sinking
into its recipient’s flesh like a hot knife passing through butter.
Tommy flashed a glance to discover how his companions—the girl in
particular —were faring. He realized that, due to the attacks
having been launched almost simultaneously, she would have to fend
for herself until either he or Ole Devil was able to go to her aid.
Twisting and starting to step to the right so as to avoid the
stricken renegade and draw free his weapon, he watched the third
man rushing toward Di and realized that she had not equaled his
speed in becoming aware of the danger.

Even as Tommy came to his
disturbing conclusion, Di looked up. Conditioned by her way of life
to react swiftly and sensibly in the face of danger, she displayed
remarkable presence of mind. Accepting that there would not be time
to turn and defend herself with the rifle, she made no attempt to
do so. Nor did she try to avoid her assailant by leaping forward or
aside. With his hands almost upon her, she dropped into a crouching
posture with her right knee on the floor.

Much to his mortification,
the burly renegade found that his objective was disappearing from
his range of vision just as he was confident that he had her at his
mercy. Carried onward by his momentum, he tripped over her and,
turning a half somersault, alighted supine and with a bone-jolting
impact.

Up flicked the hammer of
Ole Devil’s rifle, setting off the chain reaction which it was
designed to create. There was a crack and flame gushed from the
muzzle, followed by a swirling mass of white powder smoke. Before
the renegade’s pistol could point at the Texian, a conical
.45-caliber bullet slammed into the center of his chest. There was
an audible crack as it broke the breast bone and passed through to
reach the vital organs of the torso. Slipping from its owner’s
hand, the pistol landed on the floor and fired, but its ball flew
harmlessly to hit one of the barrels which were supporting the
counter.

Although the man’s
collision with Di had not been gentle, she had braced herself in
anticipation of it. So, despite having her hat knocked off, she was
able to retain her equilibrium. Straightening up almost as soon as
her assailant struck the floor, she threw a quick look which
assured her that there was no cause for alarm so far as her
companions were concerned. Smoke was still curling out of the
barrel of Ole Devil’s Browning and his right thumb was operating
the lever on the side of the frame so as to cause the next chamber
of the magazine to move into alignment with the bore. Twirling
around, the man he had shot was going down. Beyond them, Tommy had
withdrawn his
tachi
and, clutching at the wound, the stricken renegade was
collapsing to his knees with his face showing horror and
agony.

Startled expressions were
bursting from all sides. Chairs rasped, or were thrown over, as
their occupants began to rise hurriedly. Every nonparticipating
person in the barroom stared at the group which was the center of
attraction. The fact that one of the involved parties had proved to
be a good-looking girl, who showed herself to be as capable as
either of her companions, gave added spice to the drama.

Cole Turtle had been an
interested onlooker from his place at the big stake poker game over
which he was presiding. While he had noticed that one of the men
who was following the newcomers carried a concealed pistol, he had
not offered to intervene. He was puzzled by how the trio, none of
whom he had been able to identify, managed to pass Charlie
Slow-Down with two of their number carrying rifles. However, he had
felt that it was not his place to intrude upon what was clearly a
private matter. His curiosity could be satisfied after the affair
had run its course.

“Well I’m damned!” Turtle
spat out, his eyes focusing on the girl.

Before the hotelkeeper
could say or do anything more, there was an
interruption.

When Dodd had sent his
companions to deal with Ole Devil’s party, using the valid excuse
that he might be remembered from the previous day’s fighting,
whereas they had not arrived until long after it was over, he had
promised to support them from outside if necessary. Leaving the
building, he had done no more than glance at and dismiss as of no
importance the motionless and, apparently, fast asleep Caddo
Indian. Instead, he had drawn and cocked his pistol. Then he waited
to see if he would be required to take a hand.

Watching what was
happening, the renegade felt no remorse over his companions’
failure and fate. His whole attention was being devoted to
considering what would be the most advisable line of action,
concluding that discretion was of far greater value than valor
under the circumstances. According to Madeline de Moreau, Ole Devil
Hardin’s rifle could be fired a number of times without needing to
be recharged in the normal manner. Even if she had misunderstood
its qualities, or was exaggerating for some reason, the girl held
what was almost certain to be a loaded rifle. So, to Dodd’s way of
thinking, the most sensible thing to do was withdraw.

On the point of departing,
Dodd saw an objection to doing so until he had taken care of
another matter. While two of his companions were either dead or
close to it, the third had survived. He had toppled over the girl’s
back when she had ducked to avoid his hands, but was already trying
to sit up and did not appear to be too seriously
injured.

For a moment, Dodd thought
that the problem would be solved without the need for any action on
his part. Seeing the man was still capable of movement, the girl
took the rifle from across her left arm. Grasping it in both hands,
she raised it ready to drive its butt against his head. Such an
attack could easily prove fatal, particularly when it was being
delivered in the heat of anger by somebody as quick tempered as Di
Brindley.

Unfortunately for Dodd,
Ole Devil was equally aware of the possibility.

“Hold it, Di!” the Texian
snapped. “I want him alive and talking!”

Hearing his employer’s
words. Tommy Okasi transferred the
tachi
to his right hand and bounded
forward. He angled the blade so that its point, coated with the
blood of the man he had stabbed, was in an ideal position to be
driven into the renegade’s chest.

“
D—Don’t!” the man yelped, staring at the
tachi
with horror
and making no further attempt to rise. “I—I quit!”

Although the renegade did
not know it, he was in far greater danger from the girl whom he had
tried to attack than the grim-faced “Chinaman” as he assumed Tommy
to

be. There were very few
people who could have prevented her from smashing the butt of the
rifle on his head by speaking. However, such was the respect in
which she now held Ole Devil that she was willing to yield to his
demand.

“Aw shucks. Devil!” Di
protested, lowering the weapon. “You don’t let a gal have any fun
at a—”

A commotion just outside
the building brought the girl’s words to an end.

Realizing that the
Mephistophelian-featured Texian intended to take a living and,
given suitable inducements, information supplying prisoner, Dodd
knew what must be done. So he lifted his pistol to shoulder level
and with both hands. He was about to take aim into the room when
there was a movement to his left. Glancing in that direction, he
received a shock.

Either the man who was
squatting by the entrance had woken up, or—which seemed more
likely—he had not been asleep!

A savage face showed from
below the brim of the sombrero but that was not the main cause of
alarm for Dodd. Looking as large as a cannon under the
circumstances, the bell mouth of a blunderbuss was pointing in his
direction from beneath the serape.

Even as the renegade was
taking in the sight, there was a puff of white smoke from the
priming pan of the Indian’s weapon. Then, with a thunderous roar,
it vomited a spray of buckshot balls which encompassed him and
ripped his torso into gory doll rags. Thrust sideways by their
impact, he twirled and measured his length face down on the
sidewalk.

As always, Charlie
Slow-Down had done his duty. Noticing Dodd’s furtive behavior on
leaving the building, he had been alert for the possibility of
trouble. On hearing the crack of Ole Devil’s rifle, he had drawn
the correct conclusion as to who was involved. He also remembered
that the newcomers had given the name of one of his employer’s
friends. So he had prevented the renegade from taking any part in
the affair.