Ole Devil and the Caplocks (2 page)

At least six foot tall,
the man with the scarlet bandana appeared to be in his early
twenties. Bulky of build, he conveyed an impression of well-padded,
contented lethargy. He had curly auburn hair and there was an
amiable expression on his sun-reddened face.

Unless Adams missed his
guess, the remaining member of the group was its leader. Matching
his Anglo-Saxon company ion’s size and about the same age, he had a
whipcord lean physique. He stood with a straight-backed alertness
that was emphasized by the other’s almost slouching posture.
However, it was his features which the captain found most
interesting. Combed back above the temples, his black hair seemed
to form two small, curved horns. Taken with eyebrows like inverted
“V’s,” a neatly trimmed mustache and a short, sharp pointed chin
beard, either accidentally or deliberately the protuberances made
his lean, tanned, otherwise handsome face look like the accepted
conception of the Devil’s physiognomy.

Even from a distance of
close to a quarter of a mile, aided by the magnification of his
powerful telescope, Adams’s shrewd judgment of human nature led him
to determine that the slender young man bore the indefinable and
yet recognizable aura of a born leader. He comported himself with
assurance, but there was no trace of self-conscious arrogance which
frequently marked a less competent person who had been placed in a
position of authority. In spite of that, he struck the captain as
being an unusual choice for so important a task as collecting and
delivering the consignment.

Despite appreciating how
vital the goods in his charge might prove to be in the Texians’
struggle for independence, the “supercargo” had not shared Adams’s
qualms. In fact, Beauregard Rassendyll had been delighted
when—using a borrowed telescope as the brig was approaching its
anchorage—he had discovered who was to be his escort. He had not
hesitated to request that he be taken ashore, or in confirming that
the consignment could be landed. What was more, his only slight
misgivings were relieved by the conversation which took place
shortly after he had stepped from the jolly boat.

“
Beau!”
greeted the slender young man, striding forward with his right hand
held out. “I thought it was you, but Cousin Mannen said Uncle
Marsden couldn’t be so short of reliable help that he’d need to
send
you.”

“
Huh!”
Rassendyll sniffed, looking all around the bay with an
over-exaggerated care. “I was told I’d have a suitable escort
waiting. You wouldn’t have seen them, would you
Devil?”

In spite of the comments,
there was pleasure on the two young men’s faces as their hands met
and shook. Then they studied each other as friends would when
meeting after a lengthy separation.

Studying the most obvious
change in Jackson Baines Hardin’s appearance, Rassendyll felt
puzzled. There had always been a slightly Mephistophelian aspect to
his features, which in part had produced his nickname “Ole
Devil,”
^viii
but the hornlike effect caused by the way his hair was
combed, the mustache and beard, tended to emphasize it. Being aware
of the circumstances which had compelled him to come to Texas, the
supercargo would have expected him to avoid anything that made him
easily identifiable.

Returning the scrutiny,
Ole Devil found little change in Rassendyll. His senior by four
years, the supercargo topped him by about three inches and,
although not as bulky as Mannen Blaze, was more heavily built. Red
haired, clean shaven and handsome, clad in a white “planter’s” hat
and riding clothes cut in the latest fashion popular among the
wealthy young Southrons of Louisiana, he looked as hard and fit as
when they had served together on a merchant ship commanded by Ole
Devil’s father.

“
They’ve
sent you the best,” the Mephistophelian-featured Texian declared,
releasing his right hand so that he could indicate a group of about
twenty well-armed men in similar attire to his own. They were
standing about two hundred yards away, with a number of excellent
quality horses. “Isn’t that right, Cousin
Mannen?”

“You’ve never been
righter. Cousin Devil,” confirmed Mannen Blaze, in a sleepy drawl
that matched his lethargic attitude, having ambled forward to his
kinsman’s side. However, there was nothing weak or tired in his
grip as he shook the supercargo’s hand. “You ask most anybody.
Beau, and see what they say about Company ‘C of the Texas Light
Cavalry.”

“I’d hate to, if there
were ladies present,” Rassendyll stated, glancing past the Texians
in a pointed manner. “Hello there, Tommy—ma’am.”

“This is an old friend of
ours, Beauregard Rassendyll, from New Orleans, Di,” Ole Devil
introduced, taking the hint and presenting the supercargo to the
girl and the little Oriental. “I wish I could say he was kin, you
can’t pick them. Beau, I’d like you to meet Diamond-Hitch Brindley.
She and her grandfather are handling the transportation of the
consignment.”

A keen student of women,
Rassendyll had been examining the girl with interest. While she was
not yet twenty and dressed in a most unusual manner, there was
little of the shy, naive, backwoods maiden about her. Nor, despite
the revealing nature of her garments, did she appear brazen and
wanton. Instead, her whole attitude was redolent of self-confident
competence. It implied that she was used to the company of men and
dealing with them as equals, neither ignoring nor playing upon the
fact that she was an attractive member of the opposite
sex.

The supercargo was aware
that he was being studied and analyzed just as thoroughly, and he
found the sensation a trifle disconcerting. Normally he would have
enjoyed being stared at by such a good-looking and shapely person,
but on this occasion he deduced that it was not for the usual
flattering reasons. She was not contemplating him with a view to a
possible romance. Rather she was considering him as a man would
consider another member of his sex who would be accompanying him
upon a hazardous endeavor. He was as yet an unknown quantity who
might prove more of a liability than an asset. From her attitude it
appeared that while she was willing to accept him as the friend of
somebody for whom she had considerable respect, he would have to
win her approbation on his own merits.

“I’m not so old, Miss
Brindley,” Rassendyll corrected, offering his hand. He wondered how
the girl had come by such a strange Christian name and how she had
received the injuries to her face. “It’s just that knowing this
pair has aged me.

“
Likely,” Charlotte Jane Martha Brindley admitted, shaking
hands. “Only the name’s ‘Di,’ which’s short for ‘Diamond-Hitch’ and
I’m called that because I can throw one faster, tighter ’n’ better
than anybody, man, woman, or child. How soon’ll we be getting ’em
over here. Beau?”

“The crew should be
fetching the first of them in the next few minutes,” Rassendyll
replied, having been impressed by the strength and hardness of her
hand. “Are your wagons coming down?”

“We’re using mules, not
wagons,” Ole Devil put in. “It was decided that they’d be quicker
and better suited to our needs.”

“
Grandpappy Ewart’s fetching ’em along,” Di went on. “But we
figured’s how we’d best come ahead to make sure it’d be safe for
them to be landed.”

“And I presume that it is
safe,” Rassendyll remarked, making the words a statement rather
than a question.

“It is,” Di confirmed.
“Now.”

“Did you run into trouble,
Devil?” Rassendyll inquired, swinging around to look at the
Texian.

“
Some,”
Ole Devil admitted, but nothing could be read from his
Mephistophelian features to suggest just how serious the trouble
might have been. “With any luck, it’s all over
now.”

“
Huh!”
snorted Di. “The way those damned renegades lit out, they won’t
dare come back and, after what Tommy did to it, that blasted
Mexican ship’ll not be able to.”

“
Renegades,” the supercargo repeated.
“Ship!”

“There were a bunch of
renegades around,” Ole Devil explained. “But Cousin Mannen arrived
with Company ‘C and drove them off. We found a ten-gun brig taking
on water in the bay, but we tricked its captain into leaving. It
went south and, provided we don’t have any delays, we should have
finished here and the ship’ll be gone before it could beat
back.”

“
If I
know Captain Adams, there won’t be any delays. He knows too well
what will happen to him if he’s caught,” Rassendyll stated, then
glanced at the men with the horses. Knowing something of the
Republic of Texas’s newly formed army, he continued, “Is that your
full company?”

“Less than half of it,”
Ole Devil answered in a reassuring manner. “I’ve sent twenty-five
men to the mule train in case they should be needed. The rest are
beyond the rim, some keeping watch from the cliffs in case that
Mexican brig comes back, the rest acting as pickets on the
range.”

“Good,” Rassendyll
praised, finding that his misgivings about the small size of the
escort were groundless. “If you’ll bring the mules down, we can
start loading them as soon as the consignment arrives from the
brig.”

“
It’s
not that easy,” Di warned. “You can’t move pack mules as quickly as
riding bosses. So Grandpappy Ewart won’t be able to get ’em here
afore sundown at the soonest.”

“
Sundown?” Rassendyll repeated, glancing at the sky as if to
estimate how much longer they would have to wait. “Adams won’t
agree to stay in the bay until then.”

“He doesn’t need to,” Ole
Devil replied. “In fact, he can leave as soon as he’s sent the
consignment ashore. One of the reasons we came on ahead of the mule
train was so he could land it and set sail again with the minimum
of delay.”

“On top of that,” Di went
on, bristling a little at what she regarded as the supercargo’s
implied criticism of their arrangements, “we figure on having the
rifles packed ready for moving when Grandpappy Ewart gets
here.”

“
There’s
no need for that,” Rassendyll protested. “We aren’t carrying them
loose, they’re in boxes of twenty-four.”

“
Our
mules can tote twenty-four apiece all right, but not while they’re
in a wooden box,” Di countered, and the supercargo could sense that
the conversation was doing nothing to improve her opinion of him.
“So we aim to take ’em out and put ’em in bundles of
twelve.”

“Can you get us enough
canvas from the ship to wrap them in, Beau?” Ole Devil inquired,
hiding the amusement he was feeling over having noticed the girl’s
attitude toward his friend and recollecting that she had treated
him in a similar fashion on their first meeting. “We were traveling
fast and couldn’t bring anything with us to make up the
bundles.”

“I’ll ask the captain to
send some over,” Rassendyll promised. “I was told that I could make
any purchases which might be necessary.”

“
Bueno
,” Ole Devil
drawled.

“You called it right,
Beau,” Mannen put in, before his cousin could continue. “They’re
surely not wasting any time. Here comes the first load.”

Propelled by four sailors,
a boat was making a swift passage between the Bostonian Lady and
the shore. At Ole Devil’s signal, the men of his company left their
horses standing ground-hitched by allowing the split-ended reins to
dangle and walked to the beach. Without needing orders, they waded
to where the boat had been brought to a halt. Taking hold of an
oblong box’s rope handles, two of them lifted and carried it on to
dry land.

“Open them up, Sergeant
Grayne,” Ole Devil instructed to a stocky, bearded man who had no
insignia of rank but was standing aside with a short crowbar in his
hand.

“Yo!” the non-com replied,
giving what was already the accepted cavalryman’s response to an
order.

Prying open the box’s lid,
Grayne exposed its contents to view. Twenty-four rifles lay inside,
their butts in alternating directions. Lifting one out, the girl
examined it without worrying about the grease with which it was
coated. About four foot in length, with a barrel thirty-six inches
long and .53 in caliber, it looked a typical “plains” rifle
developed with the needs of travelers west of the Mississippi River
in mind. However, she noticed that there were three main
differences between it and the weapons to which she was accustomed.
Most obvious, at the breech, the hammer had a flattened head with
no jaws for holding a flint and, instead of a frizzen pan, there
was only a small protuberance with a nipple on top as a means of
igniting the powder charge in the chamber. The third difference was
a metal stud on the side of the barrel slightly over an inch from
the muzzle.

“It’s a fair piece,” Di
stated with the air of a connoisseur after several seconds, and she
indicated the stud. “But I’ve never seen a doohickey like this
afore.”

“
It’s to
fix a bayonet on, there’s one for each of them in the bottom of the
boxes,” Rassendyll explained. “A company in the United States made
them, hoping to sell them to the army, but the generals didn’t want
anything as newfangled as Caplocks.”