The Big Gun (Dusty Fog's Civil War Book 3) (28 page)

The soldiers surged forward as their officer
appeared, pulling the struggling woman behind him.

‘
Here,
men,’ Lyle said, trying to swing Monica forward. ‘Take Mrs. Cable
to the Rebs.’

‘
It
ain’t
her
they wants,’ the corporal replied. ‘It’s you.’

‘
And
you’re coming!’ shouted a private, advancing with his Spencer lined
at waist level. ‘Like it or not!’

Furious at
Monica
’s
refusal to co-operate, Lyle had given a harder heave. He exerted
all his strength and was propelling the woman towards his men when
the meaning of what was being said struck home. Releasing his hold
on Monica’s arm, he allowed her to blunder helplessly by him.
Starting to spring aside, it was his intention to make a run for
the workshop and attend to the fuse before being compelled to
surrender.

Unable to halt herself, Monica
stumbled on to the barrel of the soldier
’s rifle. With his nerves already
strained to breaking point, he involuntarily completed the pressure
of his forefinger on the trigger. Down lashed the big side hammer
and the Spencer hurled its .56 caliber bullet into the woman’s left
breast. The soft lead cone smashed its way through her as she was
flung backwards and it narrowly missed Lyle.

Ignoring
Monica
’s
fate, Lyle began to run. One of the soldiers, remembering that the
Rebels wanted his officer alive, hurled his rifle. It struck Lyle’s
legs, tripping him and sending him crashing down. Before he could
recover, several soldiers leapt upon him and he was dragged bodily
towards the bridge.

Major Kade F. Lyle
watched Sergeant Major Billy
Jack placing the mahogany gun box on the table and opening its lid.
Then he turned his attention to the only other occupant of the
room.

The time was shortly before
sundown and Gable
’s island was in the hands of the Confederate States’ Army.
Or had been, for all but the three men had retired across the
bridge and were awaiting the completion of the work which had
brought them so deep into Union-held territory.

On the surrender of
Lyle
’s men,
Captain Dusty Fog had led his party to take charge of the island.
In accordance with their orders, the remainder of Company ‘C, apart
from a couple of scouts out on the flanks, had hurried to join
their commanding officer and help prevent the Yankees from causing
trouble.

Having recovered from his fall, Lyle had had
the humiliating experience of seeing the horses, arms and equipment
which he had purchased to have used in his scheme being taken over
by the enemy. From the comments he had overheard, the Texans were
confident that they could deliver their booty safely to their own
lines beyond the Ouachita River.

Instead of caring about his
unarmed,
defenseless men’s possible fate, Lyle had been furious to
discover that he had been wrong regarding Cable’s feelings for
Monica. Going by the engineer’s remarks, he had known about his
wife’s infidelity. Lyle had also realized that he was wrong on
another matter. Apparently Harriet Cable had told her father of the
true state of affairs between his wife and their captor. Having
found Harry’s door locked, Lyle had not suspected that she had been
at liberty on the night of Blucher’s death. So the major had
assumed that nothing more than coincidence had prompted her to
leave when she did.

Although distressed by
Monica
’s
death, Cable had not been grief-stricken. He had arranged for two
of his Negro employees—who had joined him after their escape from
the island—to prepare a coffin and dig a grave in a grove far from
the island. Then he had taken the remainder of his staff’s male
members to the workshop. There, they had dismantled such of the
machinery as Cable had wanted to save. It and many of the tools had
been taken to a cave a couple of miles from Nimrod Lake, to be
stored and cared for by the Negroes until such a time as Cable
could return and resume his work.

With everything completed, Lyle
had been brought to the mansion by Billy Jack and had found Dusty
Fog waiting. Everybody else had been told to leave the island, for
Lyle
’s
explosives were to be used to destroy Big Minnie.

‘
What’s this all about?’ Lyle demanded, although he could
guess.

‘
I
think you called it a duel at other times,’ Dusty Fog
replied.

‘
You
mean that
you
expect
me
to fight a duel with
you
?’
Lyle growled.

‘
That’s just what I mean,’ Dusty confirmed.

‘
And
if I refuse?’

‘
Then
I’ll take you back with me to stand trial for the murder of Conrad
Blucher. I’ve a witness to prove you did it. Mr. Cable’s butler was
watching from the garden. And, even if we don’t get you for that,
you’ll hang for the people who were killed by your gun at
Arkadelphia.’

‘
I
don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Lyle stated, so vehemently
that Dusty sensed he was telling the truth. After the small Texan
had explained, the major spat out, ‘That bastard! Damn it, Stabruck
wasn’t supposed to—’

‘
Do it
until after Big Minnie was ready,’ Dusty finished for Lyle, when
the other’s words died away. Then you’d have
had the big gun shell women and
children, to make our Army cross the Ouachita.’

‘
If
that’s what Stabruck told you—!’ Lyle began.

‘
He
told us nothing,’ Dusty interrupted. ‘We saw through your scheme
right from the start. It’ll never work now. When we leave here,
I’ll set off the explosives you had set in the workshop and Big
Minnie’ll be finished.’

‘
You’re sure
you’ll
be leaving, if we fight?’ Lyle challenged.

‘
If I
don’t, I’ve told my sergeant major that you’re to be set free and
allowed to rejoin your Army,’ Dusty answered.

A faint sneer came to
Lyle
’s lips
at the words, for he doubted that the lanky, mournful-faced
sergeant major would obey in the event of the captain losing the
duel. However, the major had no intention of refusing the
challenge. While the Rebels could not, in all probability,
substantiate their charges of murder, the trial would ruin any
hopes Lyle might harbor for the future. Word of the duels would
reach the North and were certain to arouse undesirable questions
about how his first pair of victims had met their ends. What was
more, if mention of the traction engines was to leak out, he would
not be able to ensure that he controlled the marketing and
production of similar machines.

All of Lyle
’s present problems were the
result of that short, insignificant young Rebel’s efforts. Lyle had
heard enough during the day to realize that Dusty Fog had been the
organizing and driving force behind the capture of the Parrot and
its use to bring about the surrender of the island’s garrison. He
had also smashed into the dirt Lyle’s carefully hatched scheme to
make a fortune. So, no matter what happened to him after it, the
major was determined to take his revenge on the small
Texan.

‘
All
right,’ Lyle
gritted. ‘I’ll take you on.’

‘
I
thought you might,’ Dusty drawled. ‘Billy Jack, let the major pick
his weapon and show him that it’s still loaded and capped. Then go
and put it at the end of the table.’

‘
Yo!’
answered the sergeant major, but without making any of his usual
doleful comments. There was a job of work
to be done, one too serious for the
levity which always lay behind his assumed pessimism. ‘Have
whichever ’n’ you fancy, major. Only don’t try to take it out of
the box.’

‘
I’ll
take the one at the top,’ Lyle stated.

It was a matter of complete indifference to
the officer which revolver he had selected. He knew them both
equally well and could handle either with complete confidence.

Everything, Lyle told himself, appeared to
be going as it had on the previous occasions; except that he was
being granted the first pick of the weapons. He was allowed to see
that the designated Tranter had not been tampered with and followed
Billy Jack to the end of the table.

For all Lyle
’s confidence, a nagging train
of thoughts started to bite at him.

Why was the small Texan, who
had apparently been told about the duels with Blucher and
‘Schmidt’, allowing
the affair to be conducted in a similar manner?

C
ould it be that he was rashly trying to
impress the men under his command with his courage, gun-skill and
how he was a better
man
than ‘Schmidt’ ?

A short, insignificant
youngster might easily adopt such tactics without thinking of the
consequences. If he should win, he would rise in his
men
’s
esteem. Or so the small Texan might imagine would
happen.

And yet, Lyle remembered, the
hard-bitten veterans of his captor
’s Company had moved smartly enough when
the small Texan had given them orders. There had been no derision,
indiscipline, or lack of respect in their attitudes. Rather they
had treated the captain with a deference which Lyle had never
managed to extract from the men under his command.

Obviously there was
more,
much
more, to Captain Fog than met the eye.

So why was he taking such an apparently
reckless chance?

Turning at the end of the
table, Lyle found that Dusty had not moved. Instead of taking the
second Tranter to the other end, he remained where he had been all
through the conversation. Only about ten feet separated him from
Lyle, not the twenty-five feet over which the previous duels
had
been
fought. What was more, the gun box’s lid had been closed and the
small Texan stood with empty hands thumb-hooked into his
Western-style
buscadero
belt.

‘
Why
haven’t you taken the other Tranter?’ Lyle inquired.

‘
You
use your weapon,’ Dusty answered. ‘And
I’ll
use mine.’

‘
Very
well,’ Lyle assented, but could not hold down a twinge of
uneasiness as he realized that he had lost one of his greatest
advantages. ‘If you’ll go and take your place—’

‘
This
time it’s
my
rules, Major,’ Dusty interrupted. ‘I’ll stand
here.
My sergeant major
will count to five, then we start shooting.’

‘
Put
your revolver on the table—’ Lyle commenced.

‘
Like
I said, major,’ Dusty answered quietly. ‘It’s
my
rules. I’ll draw on five, or before
if you make a move.’

‘
I
don’t need that kind of advantage!’ Lyle snorted, watching Dusty’s
hands lift from the belt and point, with fingers slightly hooked
and thumbs extended, inwards at the white handles of the Army
Colts.

‘
Major,’ Dusty replied. ‘This way,
you
don’t have any advantage. Start the count,
sergeant major.’

‘
They’re your rules,’ Lyle declared and hoped that he
sounded more confident than he now felt. He raised his right hand
about eight inches above the Tranter’s
butt ‘I’m ready
and on your own head be
it.’

‘
One!’
Billy Jack commenced.

Despite having had numerous
examples of Dusty
’s capabilities, the lanky sergeant major wondered if he
might not be biting off more than he could chew. Billy Jack knew
just how fast his young officer could draw and shoot, but he was
facing a man who had already killed at least twice in duels. The
second time had been when matched with a skilled fighting man.
Captain Staunce had been all of that, yet he had fallen before
Lyle’s revolver in similar circumstances.

‘
Two!’
the sergeant major continued and saw Lyle’s right hand quiver as if
it was on the point of being set into motion.

At that moment, Lyle was
contemplating making a grab
for the Tranter. Even as the notion occurred to
him, he became aware of the change which appeared to have come over
his opponent. No longer could he think of Dusty Fog as small,
young, or insignificant. Such was the strength of the blond Texan’s
personality that he seemed to have gained size and heft. Lyle knew
that this was purely imaginary, but he could not shake off the
illusion.

There, disregarding pure feet
and inches, stood a
big,
competent and
very
dangerous
man.