Young Ole Devil (6 page)

A small figure appeared in the
main entrance.
Bareheaded, he had short-cropped black hair and sallow,
cheerful, Oriental features. He wore a loose fitting black cotton
shirt, which was hanging outside trousers of the same material that
were tucked into Hessian boots, and he was unarmed. Apart from the
lack of a pigtail, he might have been a typical Chinese coolie, one
of those who were already to be found in the United
States.

‘
Devil-san!’ the new arrival began, hurrying across the room
and passing between Stone and Jolly. ‘General Houston says for you
to co—’

‘
Hold
hard there, you yeller-skinned varmint!’ Stone bellowed, shooting
out his right hand to grasp the back of the small Oriental’s shirt
neck and starting to tug at it. ‘Get the hell out of-’

As either Hardin or his cousin could have
warned the burly man, such an action was ill-advised to say the
least. While Tommy Okasi was undoubtedly of Oriental descent, he
did not belong to the Chinese race. He was, in fact, Japanese and
possessed a sturdy fighting spirit which the Chinese coolies, with
whom Stone had been acquainted, only rarely exhibited.

Five years ago, a ship
commanded by Hardin
’s father had come across a derelict vessel drifting in the
China Sea. The only survivor had been Tommy Okasi, half dead, and
with no possessions other than the clothing on his back, a pair of
swords and the bow and quiver of arrows which were now leaning
against his saddle. On recovering, he had proved to speak a little
English. However, when questioned, he had given no explanation for
his presence aboard the other vessel. Nor had he evinced any desire
to return to his native land. Instead, he had stayed on in Captain
Hardin’s ship attaching himself to his rescuer’s son. What was
more, while he had a very thorough
knowledge of his nation’s highly effective
martial arts, he was content to act as Ole Devil Hardin’s
valet.

Even before the events which
had caused Hardin and Mannen Blaze to leave Louisiana and join
other members of the Hardin, Fog and Blaze clan in Texas, Tommy had
been of great service to his employer. Since arriving and becoming
involved in the struggle for independence, he
had taken a full part in their
activities and had shared their dangers.

All in all, Tommy
Okasi
—even
without his two swords, which for some reason he was no longer
wearing—was not the kind of man to be treated the way Stone was
doing.

Feeling the hand take hold of
his collar and himself being jerked roughly backwards, Tommy
reacted with devastating speed. Instead of allowing himself to be
flung by his captor and out of the door, he contrived to go towards
Stone. The loose fit of his shirt did nothing to impede his
movements. Twisting his torso to the left, he bent his right arm in
front of him. Then, at exactly the crucial moment, he reversed his
body
’s
direction and propelled the arm to the rear.

‘
Kiai!’
Tommy ejaculated, giving the traditional spiritual cry as
he struck at his assailant.

To Stone, who had not expected
such a display of aggression from a member of what he had always
regarded as being a passive and easily bullied race, it seemed as
if he had been kicked in the
solar plexus
by a mule. Releasing the collar, as all the breath
was rammed from his body by the force of the impact, the burly man
clutched at the stricken area and folded over. He retreated
hurriedly a few steps, trying to replenish his lungs, before
tripping and sitting down.

Having liberated himself, Tommy
continued to move with rapidity and deadly purpose.
Jolly
’s head
had swiveled around as he heard Stone’s agony-filled croak on being
struck and the pistol’s barrel wavered out of alignment. Before he
could return it to its original point of aim, the small Oriental
turned his unwanted attention upon him.

Around and up whipped
Tommy
’s left
arm. He did not strike with his clenched fist, but the result was
just as effective. Keeping the fingers extended and together, with
the thumb bent across his palm, he drove the hand so its edge
passed under Jolly’s chin and chopped into his prominent Adam’s
apple. Jolly might have thought himself fortunate had he known how
effective the
tegatana,
hand sword, blow of
karate
could be, for
he was just too far away to take it at
full power. As it was, the result was not to be despised. To Jolly,
it seemed that his windpipe had been assaulted by a blunt axe.
Reeling backwards, making a sound like a chicken being strangled,
he involuntarily tightened his right forefinger on the pistol’s
trigger. The hammer swung around, propelling the flint in its jaws
against the steel frizzen which hinged forward allowing the sparks
to fall on to the priming charge. A spurt of flame, passing through
the touch-hole, ignited the powder in the chamber. With a crash and
cloud of white smoke, the weapon fired. As its bullet flew
harmlessly into the wall, the recoil snatched it from Jolly’s
grasp. Not that he gave its loss any thought Staggering towards the
wall, with hands clutching at his neck, his only interest was in
trying to breathe.

‘
Get
the bastards!’ yelled Bellowes, the stocky townsman who had ‘asked’
for Duke’s advice at the
cantina.

‘
Know
something, Cousin Devil?’ Blaze inquired, sounding almost
plaintive, as he watched two of the quartet reaching for the
pistols in their belts as they all moved forward. ‘I don’t reckon
they’ll listen to reason.’

‘
I
never thought they would’ Hardin answered.

To give
Lacey
—the
big, burly, buckskin-clad man who had ‘protested’ against Duke’s
criticism of Houston’s policies—and Bellowes their due, they
intended to use the firearms as clubs in accordance with Jolly’s
instructions. However, they found that doing so was far easier to
plan than to carry out

Timing his action perfectly,
Hardin demonstrated his
savate
training by kicking Bellowes’s hand as it was
dragging the pistol free. Having done so, while Bellowes yelped
with pain and dropped the pistol, Hardin turned on his second
attacker, who was called Tate and who was dressed in a similar
fashion to Stone. Ducking beneath the man’s hands as they reached
towards him, Hardin caught him around the knees and, straightening
up, tossed him over to crash to the floor. Even as Hardin disposed
of Tate, Bellowes retaliated by delivering a right cross to the jaw
which sent him across the barn to collide with the
burro.

Employing a rapidity of motion
that was vastly different from the slothful manner in which he had
been behaving up to that moment, Blaze gave his attention to
Lacey.
Bounding into range, the red head flung forward his knotted
right fist. Carrying the full weight of his body behind them, his
knuckles made contact with the centre of Lacey’s face. Despite
having almost reached the end of its flight, the blow was still
hard enough to make its recipient release the pistol, which had
just come clear of his belt, and he lumbered backwards a few steps
with blood flowing freely from his squashed nose.

Although the smallest of
Duke
’s
party, the fourth attacker did not hesitate to try to avenge Lacey.
Dressed in the fashion of a French Creole dandy, McCann was a cocky
young man who considered himself to be very tough. Catching Blaze’s
right shoulder, McCann tugged and, as he turned, drove a punch into
his stomach. While the blow landed fairly hard, it made little or
no impression upon the solid wall of muscle with which it had
connected. Startled by the lack of distress which he had expected
to cause, McCann sent his right fist after the left, and with as
little effect.

Looking almost benevolently at
his assailant, who seemed diminutive in comparison with his own
bulk, Blaze shot out his hands. Alarm came to
McCann
’s
face as he felt the lapels of his jacket grasped and he was lifted
from the floor as if he weighed no more than a baby. Then, as
Lacey—who matched the red head in size—came back with the intention
of repaying him for the blow to the nose, Blaze gave a heave and
flung McCann aside. Although he alighted on his feet, the young man
had no control over his movements. Unable to stop himself, he
rushed onwards until he collided with and disappeared over the
bales of hay behind which the two boys had hidden while
eavesdropping upon Duke’s instructions.

After having struck and
disarmed Jolly, Tommy watched the attacks being made upon Hardin
and Blaze. He was ready to go to cither
’s aid if the need arose. Behind him,
Stone lurched erect breathing heavily. Rubbing his torso where
Tommy’s elbow had impacted, the burly man moved forward. Hearing
the other approaching, Tommy turned. He was only just in time, a
huge hand was reaching for him. Before Stone’s fingers could close
on the small Oriental, he felt his wrist gripped with surprising
strength and given a peculiar jerking twist. Just how it happened,
Stone could never imagine, but the barn suddenly seemed to revolve
as his feet left the floor and he sailed over Tommy’s shoulder to
land heavily on his back.

Still croaking hoarsely and
having trouble breathing, Jolly had started to move in when he saw
Stone rise. He was amazed to see his burly companion thrown with
such ease, but, hoping
to take Tommy by surprise, he charged forward. He
met with no greater success than Stone, being treated to a
similar
kata-seoi
shoulder throw and deposited almost on top of his
companion. Having done so, Tommy darted away to help Hardin who was
being attacked by Bellowes and Tate.

The fight continued to rage. It
was fierce and hectic, but, despite their numerical superiority,
far from satisfactory where Jolly
’s party were concerned. They had come to
the barn expecting little difficulty in dealing with Hardin and
Blaze. Instead, due to Tommy’s intervention, their victims were
able to turn the tables on them.

As when dealing with the
Winglow brothers, Hardin relied upon his speed, agility and
knowledge of
savate
to defend himself. Blaze lacked his cousin’s qualities, but
was stronger and just as able to take care of himself, using skill
instead of relying upon brute strength. By far the smallest of any
of the combatants, even McCann being taller, Tommy Okasi was
anything but the least effective. His use of
ju jitsu
and
karate,
which were all but unknown in the
Western World at that period,
^vii
more than off-set all the advantages
his opponents had in the matter of size and weight.

Matched against three such
talented performers, Jolly and his companions found themselves
outclassed. In eight minutes, it was just about over. Having
returned to the fray, McCann was put out of it when Hardin kicked
him under the jaw
. Shortly after, Blaze removed Lacey and Tate by coming up
behind them while they were attacking his cousin, catching them by
the scruff of their necks and banging their heads together. He had
been free to do so because he had knocked Bellowes towards Tommy,
who had deftly applied the finishing touch. A
nukite,
piercing hand-thrust into
Bellowes’ stomach folded him over so that Tommy could follow up
with a
tega-tana
chop to the base of the skull which dropped him as limp as
a back-broke rabbit.

With all their companions
sprawling unconscious, Jolly and Stone found themselves faced with
the uninterrupted attentions of the two young men who should have
been their victims, Both of them were soon being knocked around the
barn, driven by Hardin
’s and Blaze’s fists. While his cousin delivered
a
coup-de-grace
to Stone, Hardin caught Jolly with a left uppercut
which flung him backwards through the door. Going out to make sure
that the undertaker was finished, Hardin heard shouts and running
footsteps. Halting, and ignoring Jolly as he lay supine and
motionless, Hardin—who looked anything but tidy or dandified at
that moment—turned to see who was coming.

In the lead, striding out
angrily, his face registering extreme
disapproval
,
was Colonel William Barrett Travis.

‘
With
respect, sir,’ William Barrett Travis said, after having read the
contents of the dispatch which had been received that afternoon and
heard what the General Samuel Houston intended to do about it. ‘I
don’t think that Captain Hardin is a suitable man to carry out such
an important assignment.’

‘
Why
not, Colonel?’ Houston inquired.

Seated behind the desk of the
big Spanish colonial style mansion which had been donated by its
owner as Houston
’s headquarters whilst in San Antonio de Bexar, the
commanding general of the Republic of Texas’s army was an imposing
and impressive figure. Big, thickset, with almost white hair, he
had blue eyes that seemed strangely young in such a seamed,
leathery and deeply tanned face. Although he would have preferred
less formal garments, he was wearing the kind of uniform which the
enlisted men expected of one with his exalted rank. The dark blue,
close-buttoned, single-breasted coat had a high, stand-up collar.
It was ornamented by gold shoulder scales, bearing the triple star
insignia of a major general and by two rows of nine blind
buttonholes in a ‘herring-bone’ pattern. He had a red silk sash
around his waist, but his leather belt with a saber hanging from
its slings was on the hat-rack by the door, as was his black,
bicorn chapeau. His tight-legged fawn riding breeches ended in
black Wellington leg boots with spurs on their heels.