Free Ole Devil and the Caplocks by J.T. Edson Page B

managed to gather them again, were there so many as to
have a great numerical supremacy over Brindley and his Tejas Indian
employees.
    In spite of the latter
point, Ole Devil could not dispel his perturbation. He felt sure
that the two men who had met the mule train were acting under
Madeline de Moreau’s orders. In which case, she must have had a
good reason for sending them. Nothing he had seen of her led him to
assume she was foolish. In fact, he had found her to be intelligent
and unscrupulous. So, if he was correct in his assumptions, she was
planning mischief of some kind. He wished that he could guess what
it might be.
    Swinging from the dun’s
saddle near to the other horses, Ole Devil put aside his
speculations so as to give his instructions to his cousin and
Beauregard Rassendyll. Each picket was to be given a companion and
warned about the Hopis, with orders to report to the bay
immediately if any of them were seen. Fifty of the new Caplocks
were to be cleaned—all were coated in grease—ready for use and
would be loaded as soon as word was received that the Indians were
coming.
    “I’ll see to it,” Mannen
promised, after his cousin had explained the reason why he was
being left in command. “And I’ve got something that will help.
Uncle Ben Blaze sent me a Browning and three slides.”
    “That could come in handy
all right,” Ole Devil admitted. “But I hope that you don’t need
it.”
    “ Tell
you though,” Di went on. “You might not be able to stop them Hopis
a-coming, but with the Caplocks and your lil ole Browning, you
ought to be able to make ’em limp a mite going
back.”
    “Like Cousin Devil says,”
Mannen drawled, his tones suggesting that he was having difficulty
in staying awake, “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”
    While the conversation had
been taking place, Ole Devil was transferring his saddle and bridle
to the big, powerful black gelding which was his second mount.
Being fresh, it would travel at a better speed than the dun. As Di
was equally aware of the need to move fast, she had been making her
sorrel gelding ready instead of relying upon the mount belonging to
the dead picket.
    Satisfied that he had done
all he could to safeguard the consignment and confident he could
rely upon Mannen to do everything necessary, Ole Devil set off with
the girl. They made good time, but the sun was going down before
they arrived at their destination.
    Topping a ridge which gave
them their first view of the mule train, Di and the Texian could
sense that their fears had been justified. The animals, still
saddled and under the watchful gaze of the Tejas Indian packers, were standing
in a bunch just beyond some bushes on the bank of a small stream.
Forming a rough circle around them were a number of the Texian
soldiers, positioned as if waiting to repel an attack. However,
only half of Maxime’s detail were present. Nor was there any sign
of Brindley and his cargador. xxxiv A further suggestion that something had happened was given by
a gray horse which lay unmoving on its side a short way from the
other animals. The sight of it brought a furious exclamation from
the girl.
    “Hell’s teeth!” Di
bellowed, reining in the sorrel. “Something’s happened to ole
Whitey!”
    The words were directed at
Ole Devil’s back. Disturbed by what he was seeing, he signaled with
his hands and heels for the black gelding to increase its pace.
Nor, despite the shock she had received and appreciating what the
loss of the white horse could mean, did the girl delay. Even as she
stopped speaking, she urged her mount forward at a better speed and
followed her grim-faced companion. Galloping across the intervening
distance, they were almost neck and neck as they passed between two
members of his company.
    “Go in there, Cap’n
Hardin!” called one of the soldiers, pointing toward the
bushes.
    Acting upon the somewhat
inadequate advice, with the girl still at his side, Ole Devil went
in the direction