The Big Gun (Dusty Fog's Civil War Book 3) (27 page)

‘
The
big gun!’ Lyle repeated and stared to the south. There was nothing
to be seen, but he knew the range of the weapon in question. ‘Send
somebody to fetch my field glasses, corporal!’

Before the order could be carried out, a
soldier rushed up. He had come from the bridge and was in a state
of wild excitement.

‘
Riders!’ the man yelled. ‘There’s a bunch of ’em
coming!’

‘
What
kind of riders?’ Lyle demanded.

‘
Soldiers of some kind,’ the enlisted man replied. ‘They’re
too far off for us to know more than that.’

‘
Come
on!’ Lyle barked at the corporal.

Followed by his men, in an untidy rabble
rather than as a disciplined outfit, the major ran to the bridge.
Looking across the water, he studied the approaching party. They
were still too far away for details of their clothing to be
detectable.

‘
Who
are they?’ asked one of the soldiers.

‘
Rebels,’ Lyle stated, knowing that the answer would bring
about the kind of response that he required. ‘They may be dressed
in our uniforms, so don’t trust them.’

Even as the major spoke,
another shell plunged down. It
exploded nearer to the workshop and caused
some consternation among the soldiers.

‘
They’re Rebs for sure!’ the corporal growled. ‘You’re not
armed, major.’

‘
Get
the men into position and be ready to fight,’ Lyle barked,
accepting the comment. ‘I’ll fetch my weapons and join you. If they
attack, open fire no matter how they’re dressed.’

Hurrying towards the house,
Lyle was deeply perturbed by the turn of events. Perhaps Harriet
Cable
’s
story had been accepted and the Union Army believed that a force of
Rebels were holding the island. It seemed highly unlikely that
Confederate States’ soldiers would be so deep in Union-held
territory, especially with a weapon capable of throwing a
projectile large enough to make such a crater.

If it came to a point, Lyle
doubted if there was any Artillery piece
—other than his Parrot—large enough
to do it in Arkansas at that time.

Could it be that Stabruck had betrayed
him?

Perhaps the captain had been
captured by
‘Schmidt’s’ escort and, having failed to convince them of
his
bona
fides,
was
compelled to help them take the island.

Lyle believed that Stabruck would do so to
save his own skin.

That and other matters churned
through Lyle
’s mind as he approached the main entrance to the mansion.
Monica was there, gobbling incoherent questions, but he thrust her
aside without answering. Followed by the frightened woman, he
entered and made his way upstairs. While he meant to arm himself,
he did not intend to rejoin his men until after the shooting had
started. In that way, he might be able to confuse the issue when he
was called upon to answer for his actions.

Maybe Lyle
’s men were badly disciplined,
but self-preservation had caused them to take up their defensive
positions. Sending only a token force to watch the other side of
the island, the corporal held the remainder at the bridge. He had
collected the field glasses from the guardhouse and was examining
the approaching riders.

‘
They’re Rebs all right!’ the corporal announced, then
stared harder. ‘But they’ve got two of our men. Least, two of ’em’s
wearing our uniforms.’

By that time, the riders had covered about
half a mile. They halted, still beyond accurate shooting range,
sitting their horses in a line. Through his field glasses the
corporal saw the small Rebel captain address somebody to his
right.

‘
One
of ’em’s coming!’ yelled a soldier.

Turning his field glasses, the
corporal watched a man leave the
gray-clad rank and gallop
forward.

‘
He’s
one of us!’ warned the non-com. ‘Hell’s fire. It’s Willie Grombech
from the other Company. Don’t shoot, none of you!’

Waving his hat over his head and yelling
identical advice, Grombech did not reduce speed as he approached
the edge of the lake. He galloped over the bridge and brought his
horse to a sliding halt.

‘
What’s up, Willie?’ the corporal wanted to know.

‘
You
boys’d best get off the island,’ the newcomer answered, almost
tumbling from his saddle in his eagerness. ‘Those Rebs have the big
gun. It’s on the other side of the lake—’

‘
So
that’s what’s been shelling us!’ the corporal interrupted, swinging
on his heel to gaze in a southerly direction.

‘
Yeah!’ Grombech confirmed. ‘And it’ll keep on doing it
until you surrender ’n’ march across the bridge.’

‘
Surrender?’ repeated the corporal, ignoring the
undisciplined roar of conversation that arose from the listening
enlisted men.

‘
That’s what Cap’n Fog, him being their boss, said for me to
come and tell you,’ Grombech answered. ‘There’s a company of Texas
Light Cavalry and a Reb mountain howitzer battery to back up the
big gun. I’d best go and tell Lyle.’

‘
Where’s the rest of your crowd?’ a man demanded.

‘
The
Rebs took ’em prisoner, then turned them loose again,’ Grombech
replied. ‘That’s what I was told and I believe ’em. They’ve treated
Gus ’n’ me good enough since they catched us.’

‘
They’re not shelling us no more,’ the corporal
remarked.

‘
Happen you’ve not started across the bridge in ten minutes,
they will be,’ Grombech warned. ‘Cap’n Fog said for me to make sure
you all knew
that.
’

Looking around, the corporal
saw panic rising among the other men. Not only had they seen
examples of the results of the Parrot
’s shelling, while Stabruck had been
training his crews, but they had been fed on stories of its
accuracy and lethal capabilities. So they were fully conversant, or
thought they were, with the big gun’s potential.

‘
Come
on!’ one man shouted. ‘Let’s do like the Rebs want!’

‘
Sure!’ another agreed, discarding his rifle. ‘That’s all we
can do.’

‘
Hold
it, damn you!’ the corporal bellowed, staring about him and finding
that more of the men were putting or throwing down their weapons.
‘We’d best hear what Lyle’s got to say about it.’

‘
To
hell with Lyle!’ yelled one of the men who had already disarmed
himself. ‘We don’t aim to get killed by his damned gun. And that’s
what staying here’ll mean.’

Going by the rumble of
agreement, the majority of the soldiers felt the same way on the
subject. At that moment, the potential threat of the big gun was
fully justified; although not in a manner which would have met with
Lyle
’s
approval.

Faced by the whole of Company
C, even when backed by the mountain howitzers, the Yankees would
have been ready and willing to fight back. The little
guns
’ range
did not exceed half a mile, which would have brought the crews
within the distance over which the Spencer rifles could make hits.
The Parrot was so far beyond the capabilities of their weapons that
they felt a complete, helpless impotency that was frightening and
unnerving.

That was what Dusty Fog had
been counting upon happening, his reason for being so determined to
capture and bring the big gun to Nimrod Lake. He had laid his plans
carefully and the fortunate capture of the two soldiers had
presented him with
a safe way of delivering his ultimatum. Before dispatching
Grombech, the more intelligent of the pair, the small Texan had
given him detailed instructions as to what he must say.

‘
Hey!’
the message-bearer put in, recollecting a point which the
big
blond Texas captain
had stressed. ‘We’ve got to hand over our officers
alive.’

‘
How
that’s?’ growled the corporal.

‘
It’s
what Cap’n Fog told me,’ Grombech stated. ‘We have to fetch our
officers over with us when we surrender.’

‘
Let’s
go and fetch him, then,’ suggested one of the listening
soldiers.

‘
Come
on,’ a second continued. ‘Time’s a-wasting.’

‘
Don’t
forget they want him alive!’ Grombech warned.

‘
We’ll
see they get him that way,’ the corporal promised, drawing the
revolver from his holster.

Followed by most of the
enlisted men, the non-com stalked determinedly towards the mansion.
He held his weapon concealed behind his back, knowing
Lyle
’s
temper and being sure that the major would be unwilling to yield to
their demands.

Watching the soldiers heading in the
direction of the house, Lyle stepped back from the bedroom window.
He held a pair of field glasses, with which he had been studying
the situation. Already he had assessed the developments and had
drawn conclusions from what he had seen.

With two exceptions, the riders
on the northern shore wore Confederate Cavalry uniforms.
Perhaps
‘Schmidt’ had been a Rebel in disguise. That would explain
why his Union escort had failed to put in an appearance. It also
suggested that his whole story had been a tissue of
lies.

Harriet Cable must have gone
looking for her father and had fallen in with the Confederate
Cavalry in the course of her search. Probably she had alerted them
to the danger posed by Cable
’s machines. They had captured Pulling Sue and the
Parrot, probably also preventing Stabruck from killing the
engineer. To make matters worse, they obviously had men capable of
using the big gun.

Seeing
Grombech
’s
arrival over the bridge, Lyle had
guessed why he was sent. He would be
bringing a demand from the Rebels for the surrender of the island.
From all appearances, the soldiers had been all too willing to
accept. After listening, some had thrown aside their rifles. Then
the majority of them had set off towards the house.

They must, Lyle surmised, be coming to fetch
him.

Or would it be Monica?

Remembering
Cable
’s
reluctance to put the traction engines to martial use, Lyle also
recollected how he had made the engineer obey. Possibly the price
Cable had extracted from the Rebel for his assistance had been an
assurance that Monica would be delivered safely to him.

Crossing the room, Lyle tossed
his field glasses on to the bed. He took his weapon belt and was
strapping it on as he went to the door. While descending to the
entrance hall, he concluded his plans. Capture seemed inevitable
and with it, the ruination of his scheme for aggrandizement.
Knowing the kind of men he had under his command, he doubted if he
could reason with them now that they had decided to surrender. It
would be dangerous to try, going by the expressions he had seen on
their faces as they approached the mansion. So he would give Monica
to them and tell them to hand her over, while he destroyed some
imaginary secret documents. His real reason for wanting to be left
alone was something quite different. Nobody else was going to
profit from his work. The workshop was mined and he needed only a
couple of minutes
’ grace to set off the fuse, making sure that his
brainchild did not fall into the Rebels’ hands.

‘
What’s happening, Kade?’ Monica inquired querulously, as
the major joined her by the front door, ‘Some of the men are
coming.’

‘
I
know that,’ Lyle answered and took hold of the woman’s left bicep
with his right hand. ‘We’d better go and see.’

‘
I
don’t wan—’ Monica protested, trying to free herself and hold
back.

‘
Come
on, damn you!’ Lyle growled.

With that, Lyle started to haul
the protesting Monica
through the door. She held back as best she could,
striving to avoid being taken outside. As always, resistance to his
desires caused Lyle’s temper to boil up and he increased the
pressure he was exerting.

Seeing his men at close
quarters, Lyle felt a surge of impotent fury building inside him
against the Rebels who were responsible for destroying his scheme.
All his expectations regarding the effect of the Parrot had been
correct. Used as he had intended
—and as it had been turned against him—it
would have been close to the ultimate weapon. There was a raw fear
on every face that came close to the panic he had envisaged once a
bombardment was commenced by the big gun. Yet he knew the men to be
tough and brave enough under normal conditions. The fear of being
shelled without having any means of replying had wrought the change
in them. If he had been able to use the big gun as he had hoped to
do, he might easily have brought about the South’s
defeat—