The Floating Outfit 20 Read online

  ‘I’m going to show myself, Billy Jack,’ he decided.

  ‘Yo!’ replied the non-com.

  Rising, Dusty walked up on to the rim and stood in full view of the approaching party. Almost immediately they came to a halt and the officer at Buck Blaze’s side turned to speak to him. Removing his campaign hat, Buck swung it over his head in a circle from right to left, Dusty relaxed and felt sure he guessed correctly at the reason for the party following him. If there had been danger, Buck would have swung his hat in the other direction; trusting that the Yankee did not know the meaning, to a Texan, of a ‘wave ’round’. Waved from left to right, the hat signal meant ‘danger, steer clear’.

  Increasing their pace, the party rode closer. At fifty yards distance they came to a halt.

  ‘It’s all right, Dusty!’ Buck called, indicating the white flag carried by the Yankee guidon.

  ‘I’ll leave my escort here while we talk, Captain—Fog,’ the Yankee captain at Buck’s side continued.

  Captain Baines Hardy of the 6th New Jersey Dragoons wondered if he might be running into a trap. Could that small man be the Captain Dusty Fog who raided the Dragoons’ camp and followed up a devastating attack by capturing a well-guarded Union Army pay roll? ii

  Riding closer, Hardy studied Dusty and, with a professional soldier’s eye, saw beneath the small exterior. Yes sir, small or tall as a pine tree, there stood a man capable of all the feats attributed to Captain Fog.

  ‘The war’s over, Dusty,’ Buck said in a flat, emotionless voice as he and Hardy dismounted.

  Despite having guessed the same thing, Dusty could not hold down his low spoken, ‘Over!’

  Breathing in deeply, Hardy waited for the next question, one he did not relish answering. It was one thing to stand in his Regiment’s mess and boast of having licked the rebs, but quite another to repeat the words when facing Captain Fog’s company and backed by only ten men.

  Of all the Confederate commands, the Army of Arkansas under Ole Devil Hardin had been the most consistently successful during the last eighteen months. On other fronts, the Union’s superior equipment gave them an ascendancy. In Arkansas alone did the Confederacy maintain their record of victory which had been established in the early days of the War.

  So men of the Texas Light Cavalry would not accept Lee’s surrender terms mildly. In fact some considerable concessions had been made by the Union’s leaders when requesting Ole Devil’s cessation of hostilities.

  ‘General Hardin sent us after you, Captain,’ Hardy explained after being introduced. ‘The Union Government wants to avoid the chance of—incidents.’

  ‘Which’s why I came along, Dusty,’ Buck went on. ‘Uncle Devil said for you to report back to him right away.’

  ‘Not until I do what I came out here for,’ Dusty stated.

  ‘The War’s over, Captain,’ Hardy pointed out.

  ‘It ended yesterday morning for those folks in the village,’ Dusty replied.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Hannah’s guerillas were there, Captain.’

  Stepping by Dusty, Hardy looked down the slope. He knew the village and its people, so a low growl left his lips. Fury showed on his face as he turned to Dusty.

  ‘Hannah did it?’

  ‘We reckon so. There’s nobody left alive and that’s always been his way:’’

  ‘He’s a reb—’

  ‘Hannah’s no Confederate,’ Dusty corrected. ‘He’s like most guerillas on both sides, a bloody-handed butcher out for loot. General Hardin’s outlawed all of them and took time to hunt the bands down. As soon as we heard that

  Hannah was hereabouts, the General sent my company out after them.’

  Hooves drummed and the three officers turned to see Kiowa galloping up the slope towards them. Bringing his horse to a halt, the sergeant dropped from his saddle and threw Dusty as near a military salute as he ever achieved.

  ‘The rain mussed up their sign some, but I reckon it can be followed,’ Kiowa said.

  ‘Rest your horse,’ Dusty told him. ‘Billy Jack, tell Mr. Blaze we’re pulling out as soon as the burial detail finishes its work.’

  ‘You’re to return with me, Captain Fog,’ Hardy reminded.

  ‘How about it, Buck?’ asked Dusty.

  Only for a moment did Buck Blaze hesitate, then replied, ‘I’m with you.’

  ‘Are you fixing to stop us, Captain?’ Dusty said, looking at Hardy.

  At first the Union officer did not answer. His eyes went to the ravaged village and he shook his head. ‘The hell I am, I’m coming with you.’

  Two – Hannah’s Hideout

  ‘One thing, Captain,’ Dusty said, before moving from where he stood. ‘Who’s in command?’

  That point had occurred to Hardy as he made the offer. However there could be only one answer. Hardy might be older than Dusty and a career officer trained in the West Point Military Academy, the South may have lost the War too, but he knew he rode with his master.

  ‘I’m under your orders, Captain Fog.’

  ‘Can you trust your men?’ asked Dusty. ‘I don’t want any trouble.’

  ‘They’re regular soldiers. I can trust them.’

  Men who made the Army their career tended to be less vindictive than those enlisted under the stimulus of patriotism in time of war. For all that, Dusty watched the Yankees as they approached. He liked what he saw. Hard-bitten, tough, but disciplined was how they struck him and the time served had given him the knack of knowing such things. While Hardy’s men showed some professional interest, no hint of hostility carne as they approached Dusty’s company.

  Assembling Company ‘C’, Dusty told them the news. A stunned silence followed his words. At last Billy Jack asked the question on every mind.

  ‘Who-all won, Cap’n Dusty?’

  ‘Nobody,’ Dusty replied. ‘They just got the good sense at last to call off the killing.’

  In a command which had suffered heavy losses and defeats, or fought on its home ground so saw enemy depredations on a personal level, the news might have been taken differently. Most of Dusty’s men thought only of one thing. The end of the War meant they could return home to Texas and resume their interrupted lives.

  ‘I’m still going after Hannah,’ Dusty went on. ‘Who’s with me?’

  ‘Can’t rightly recollect you ever having to ask for volunteers afore, Cap’n Dusty,’ drawled the elderly corporal. ‘And until Ole Devil tells us different, we-all still under your command.’

  ‘Then have your food and we’ll move when we’ve done what’s needed here.’

  It said much for the chivalrous reputation gained by the Texas Light Cavalry in general and Company ‘C’ in particular that none of Hardy’s men connected them with the raid on the village. Nor did the Yankees make any comments on the outcome of the War. Like their officer, Hardy’s men knew the value of discretion and did not feel it advisable to flaunt the Union’s victory when faced with odds of around four to one.

  Rebel and Yankee worked together in the grisly business of burying the dead and their hatred of Hannah grew as each further atrocity was discovered. Even the older Texans, who had seen the results of Indian raids, felt sickened at what they saw. The fact that white men had been responsible for the massacre made its effect so much worse.

  A wild-eyed Prince, recovered from Dusty’s blows, prowled disconsolately among the other men, searching in the wreckage and ruins, but finding no sign of the beautiful girl met on his previous visit. At last he stood at the edge of the homes and stared around. Hearing footsteps, he turned and found Dusty approaching.

  ‘She’s not here,’ Prince said.

  ‘Could be she’s away visiting kin,’ Dusty replied, hoping to hold out some faint hope to which the other might cling.

  ‘No,’ Prince groaned. ‘All the kin she had in the world was right here. Why she’d never been farther than Little Rock in her life.’

  ‘You must have known her pretty well,’ Dusty said. ‘I neve
r laid a hand on her—’

  ‘And I never thought you did.’

  ‘Hell, Cap’n Dusty. She was different to any other gal I ever met,’ Prince groaned. ‘She was that pretty, had a face like an angel. We’d walk down by the creek, then sit and talk. How that gal’d talk. She hated being cooped up in this one-hoss lil village and wanted to see some of the big cities she’d read about.’

  ‘She didn’t care for it here then?’

  ‘What pretty gal would? If it hadn’t been for the War, I’d’ve taken her out of it myself. In fact I damned near went over the hill for her.’

  ‘You made the right decision, Tracey,’ Dusty told him. ‘Not deserting, I mean—’

  ‘If I’d done it—’ Prince began.

  ‘You’d’ve been hunted down and brought back. Which wouldn’t’ve done either of you any good. You’d’ve been shot as a deserter and she couldn’t’ve gone back to her folks after it.’

  ‘But she’s either dead—or—’

  ‘It looks that way.’

  ‘If Hannah’s got her, I’ll finish him, no matter where he goes!’ Prince spat out.

  ‘We’ll maybe find out what happened to her,’ Dusty replied. ‘Only when we catch up to Hannah’s bunch, mind that you follow orders. If I see you making a wild move, I’ll have you hawg-tied until it’s over.’

  ‘I’ll not forget, Cap’n,’ Prince promised.

  ‘I know,’ Dusty replied. ‘Go get your horse. We’ll be pulling out soon.’

  Grim-faced men took to their horses after the burial detail completed its work. With Kiowa ahead as lead scout, Company ‘C’ started on what would be its last patrol together. Nobody spoke much as they rode. The somber nature of their business did not stimulate conversation, even if Dusty had permitted chatter when on the move in hostile territory. In addition to what they had seen in the village, the Texans rode with the knowledge that the War was over and gave thought to what the future might hold in store for them.

  Shortly before sun-down they made camp and spent a silent night, waiting for sufficient light to let them resume their journey. At dawn they fed, cared for the horses and moved on again. Despite the rains, Kiowa managed to keep them on the trail and they covered mile after mile through the Arkansas hill country.

  Accompanying Company ‘C’ and studying them, Hardy could see how they built up their splendid record as military raiders. Only the fact that his escort were all veteran cavalrymen prevented them from slowing the Texans down. The average member of the Dragoons, volunteers from the East, could never have maintained such a pace. Never had Hardy seen such superb horse-handling. Even the mules of the artillerymen did not slow down the party to any appreciable extent. Nor did the Texans allow speed to preclude caution. In addition to Kiowa, who needed to concentrate on reading tracks, two scouts rode ahead. A further pair rode on each flank and four more brought up the rear. Surrounded by that square of keen eyes, there would be little chance of any enemy surprising them.

  All through the day they rode without a sight of Hannah’s cut-throat band, although the tracks grew clearer. Apparently Hannah did not expect any pursuit, for he took no precautions to hide his party’s sign. That figured though. The area in which he travelled lay somewhat to the West of the main battle area and had been little touched by either side.

  As night approached, the two lead scouts returned and reported to Dusty.

  ‘Kiowa’s done gone ahead, Cap’n,’ one said. ‘Allows he saw a smidgen of smoke rising and’s gone to check on it.’

  ‘We’ll make camp and wait for him at the next water,’ Dusty stated. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Maybe half a mile on,’ the scout answered.

  Again the men made camp and prepared to spend another night under the stars. While the Yankees had brought along jerked meat and hard-tack biscuits, they had the meager fare augmented by pemmican—that rare Indian delicacy iii —offered by the Texans. In return the Dragoons shared out their coffee, an item which had recently been in very short supply in the blockade-starved ranks of the Texas Light Cavalry.

  Towards midnight Hardy woke as voices came from close by. He sat up and saw Kiowa had returned. The dark-faced scout squatted on his heels, a bowie knife in his hand. Watched by Dusty, Red and Billy Jack, he used the knife’s clipped point to draw a map on a patch of cleared and flattened earth.

  ‘How does it look?’ Hardy asked, joining the others.

  ‘I’ve had easier chores,’ Dusty replied.

  On looking down, Hardy found that Kiowa produced a pretty fair map; and he also agreed with Dusty’s summing-up of the situation. The guerillas’ camp, consisting of seven buildings formed in a half circle, lay across the bottom of a valley. An arrow indicated the line of march the attackers must take and Hardy found they had to approach along the valley to reach the buildings.

  ‘Kiowa allows that we can move on foot along the valley sides, but they’d be too steep for fancy horse-back work,’ Dusty explained. ‘That circle on the far side of the cabins’s their corral.’

  ‘What force has Hannah?’ Hardy inquired.

  ‘His own band runs at around thirty mostly, but likely men from some of the other guerilla bunches we’ve bust up are with him. Kiowa reckons on thirty horses in the corral and at least that many again range-grazing out back of it.’

  ‘It doesn’t follow there’s a man for every horse though.’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘With your company and my men, we may have them out-numbered.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Dusty drawled. ‘Only they’ve the advantage of the ground.’

  ‘Then what do you mean to do, Captain?’ asked Hardy.

  ‘Move out now and try to reach that valley before daylight,’ Dusty answered. ‘If we do, we’ll play it Indian-style.’

  Knowing that Indians of various tribes showed a preference for making an attack during the first light of dawn—he had learned that in lectures at West Point—Hardy nodded his agreement.

  ‘And if we don’t make it in time?’ he went on.

  ‘Then we’ll just have to play them as they fall,’ Dusty replied.

  The first snag to Dusty’s plan was that the mountain howitzer’s mules could not be expected to tote their loads at speed through the darkness. Such a trip would be difficult enough for horses carrying skilled riders and practically impossible for the mules while burdened with the bulk of the dismantled gun or ammunition boxes. So Dusty told the artillerymen to follow at their best speed, leaving a corporal and four Texans to guide and protect his support armament.

  Despite hard riding, plus some of the finest horse-handling Hardy had ever seen, it soon became apparent that they would not reach their objective in time for a dawn rush which might take the guerillas by surprise while still in bed. So Dusty halted the column, told the men to rest their horses and themselves, and then went on foot with Kiowa to scout the enemy camp.

  Dusty had not expected an easy time during the attack and, as he lay in cover studying the valley, he knew he guessed right. Three log cabins, stoutly built and made for defense, curved on either side of the large building which faced towards Dusty across the valley bottom. From its appearance, the main building had been erected as a combination store and saloon. A lean-to stood at its right end and under this was a tarpaulin-draped object which Dusty could not identify, but felt looked vaguely familiar. At the other end of the main building, its reins fastened to a post, was a fine looking horse, saddled and ready for use. On the building’s porch sat a trio of bearded men, nursing muzzle-loading rifles, with revolvers and knives at their belts. None of them appeared to be taking their duties as guards too seriously, however; but they posed a serious problem.

  ‘Not many of ’em stirring yet, Cap’n Dusty,’ Kiowa whispered.

  ‘No,’ Dusty agreed. ‘If it wasn’t for that bunch on the porch, we could still’ve made our charge.’

  ‘There’s a couple by the corral,’ Kiowa said disgustedly. ‘Not more’n a quarter asleep either. No sneaking
up on them.’

  It had been Dusty’s intention to have Kiowa pass around the buildings and turn loose the guerillas’ horses. In the face of the guards that would prove an impossibility.

  ‘We’ll leave it then,’ Dusty decided.

  ‘How about having that sharpshooter drop them jaspers on the porch?’

  ‘I’d thought of it. But as soon as the first took lead, the other pair’d be up and running.’

  ‘Yeah,’ grunted Kiowa.

  ‘So it looks like we have to do it the hard way,’ Dusty said. ‘Let’s go.’

  Half an hour passed without any sign of stirring at the guerilla camp. A couple of garishly-dressed women appeared on the main building’s porch and stood talking with the guard, but beyond that Dusty could see no change in the situation. Putting aside his thoughts of a mounted charge as being sure to alert the enemy, Dusty brought his men in on foot. Darting from cover to cover, keeping out of sight as well as possible, the Texans and Yankees drew ever closer to their objective. Three hundred yards still had to be covered before they reached the more open ground over which the last part of their advance must be made. However if they managed to get that close undetected, they might bring off a surprise charge to demoralize the guerillas and throw any defense into confusion.

  Unfortunately that did not happen. Even as Dusty made his summing-up of the situation, the alarm was raised. Not by the guards. One of the women, looking out along the valley, saw signs of movement. Letting out a screech, she pointed and the guard looked up to see soldiers approaching. Lurching to his feet, one of the men threw up his rifle and fired a fast-taken shot. While it had no effect, the crack of exploding powder served to wake the guerilla camp.

  ‘Double march!’ Dusty roared, knowing there to be no further need for silence or stealth.

  In fact the sooner his men launched their attack, the less chance of an organized defense was given to the enemy. From a stealthy walk, the men changed to a fast trot, although the nature of the valley sides did not lend itself to quick movement. The soldiers spread across the floor of the valley had a better chance and the men from the slopes tended to drift downwards for easier going.