Ole Devil and the Mule Train (An Ole Devil Western Book 3)

by J. T. Edson

  Having had a grave dug, Otis had requested that Ole Devil perform the burial service over the dead Prussian. Wanting to convince the Dragoons that he had no doubts about them, the young officer agreed. With that task completed and having nothing further demanding his immediate attention, he was looking forward with eager anticipation to the commencement of the journey. Not only did he want to have the consignment on the move, he wished to learn more about the way in which the mule train was handled.

  In the past when Ole Devil had had occasion to make use of pack animals, they had always been horses. Mostly he had employed them singly and he had never had more than half a dozen to contend with.

  When conditions called for a number of horses to be used, they could be led individually or, providing they were trained for the work and traversing a good trail which had few obstructions such as fallen trees or deep streams, fastened one behind the other. The latter arrangement was carried out by either securing the lead rope to the ‘back buck’ of the pack saddle of the horse in front, or by ‘tailing’ them in line. Whichever method was selected, each led animal had to be far enough behind the horse it was following so that it could not be kicked, but sufficiently close to prevent it from stepping over a dangling lead rope and becoming entangled. This limited the number of animals which could be coupled up to form a string and it was inadvisable to secure more than four together.

  Where possible, ‘tailing’ was the more satisfactory method. This was carried out by having half-hitched a metal ring to the preceding horse’s tail, the next in line’s lead rope was attached to it by a short length of J-inch cord, or a double thickness of hay-bale twine; either of which would break easily in an emergency. On the other hand, wherein lay ‘tailing’s’ main advantage, if something happened to startle a horse which was being led by the ‘back buck’, its struggles might snatch off its predecessor’s saddle, or even bring them both down.

  Effective as leading by the ‘back buck’ or tailing method might be when dealing with no more than a handful of horses, Ole Devil realized that neither method was feasible when traveling with the large number of animals required to transport the consignment. However, as Di had explained, over the centuries packers had learned to take advantage of a peculiar trait in the nature of the creatures which they had found most suitable for their purposes.

  Despite being hybrids—produced by crossing a male donkey with a female horse xxxi—which meant that they were rarely able to procreate and never produced fertile offspring on the rare occasions when they succeeded, mules tended to find the company of a mare irresistible. Packers had discovered that, recalcitrant though they might be in some circumstances, they would follow a female horse all day without the need to be led or ‘tailed’. Furthermore, when a bell was carried by the mare, its sound apparently produced a soothing effect upon them. In fact, under its comforting influence, they were content to remain close to her through the hours of darkness while on a journey without requiring to be hobbled or secured in any other fashion.

  On receiving Di’s order, Joe Galton set about utilizing the mules’ obsession with the opposite sex. Starting his mount moving, a gentle tug on the hackamore’s lead rope caused the horse which was fastened to his saddle horn to accompany him as he rode towards the slope.

  The replacement which had been obtained by Di, Ole Devil and Tommy—at some considerable risk to themselves xxxii—was a much finer looking animal than the Brindleys’s original bell-mare. However, appearances and physical conformation were not of great importance in the performance of her duties. Her predecessor had been a most unprepossessing creature, unsuitable for either comfortable riding or even the lightest draught work; but this had never detracted from her worth as an essential part of the mule train. When on the move, her only burden had been the hackamore by which she was led and the bell that was suspended from the leather collar around her neck. Fortunately, the new animal was of a placid disposition and did not raise any objection to having the clonking of the bell’s clapper so close to her. In fact, she had already settled down to her duties in a satisfactory manner.

  Hearing the mare’s bell and having learned by long experience what to expect when the heavy loads had been placed in position, the majority of the mules began walking after the departing mare. One of the exceptions, a mean looking, washy brown animal bearing the number ‘28’ on its corona continued to stand as if engrossed in deepest meditation not far from where Ole Devil was passing. Wanting to find out what would happen, he came to a halt and watched. It was one of Prays Loudly, Sometimes’ string and the packer had clearly anticipated something of the sort would take place. Setting his riding mule into motion, he guided it behind the stationary beast. Swinging the doubled-over length of rope he was now carrying, he delivered a couple of hearty whacks to ‘Twenty-Eight’s’ rump and accompanied them with a couple of loudly spoken Anglo-Saxon ‘cuss-words’. Giving a snort and shake of its head, but showing neither alarm nor resentment over such treatment, the mule started to amble after its companions.

  Looking around, Ole Devil found that some of the other packers were engaged in encouraging such of their charges as were displaying a similar tardiness over joining the march. Not all of the laggards needed blows to stimulate a willingness to cooperate. A few responded to verbal abuse, either in Tejas or with English vilifications picked up by the user without his having troubled to learn more of the language. The means of physical inducement varied between those who shared Prays Loudly, Sometimes’ faith in a length of rope, to those who favored a barehanded slap or a kick. However, the Texian noticed that the target was invariably either the rump or the ribs. Nor, he also observed, was any punishment given unless it was warranted and in every case four blows at the most, backed where necessary by a volley of obscene threats, were required to produce the desired result.

  ‘It looks like most of them are as eager as I am to be getting under way,’ Ole Devil remarked, glancing up at Di as she lounged on the saddle of her big bay gelding by his side.

  ‘Shucks,’ the girl replied, without interrupting her examination of the way things were progressing. ‘They all know it don’t pay to lag behind so’s they’d have to run afore they catch up. Only, way some mules act, you’ve got to sort of jog their memories afore they remember it. Grandpappy Ewart allus allows it’s them long ears’s makes ’em go a touch absent-minded now and then.’

  For all the Texian’s lack of practical experience at packing, by studying the departing animals he could guess why it was essential to prevent any of them from being left too far behind at the start of the march. Once they had commenced moving, the mules adopted an ambling ‘fox trot’ gait which allowed them to travel without unduly rocking their loads. Any other pace, whether a fast walk, a jogging trot, or running, would transmit a troublesome motion to the packs.

  ‘I’ll say one thing, they weren’t any trouble to get moving,’ Ole Devil commented, recollecting all the stories he had heard about the awkward, stubborn and uncooperative natures of the species mulus. ‘I’ve always been told that the only treatment a mule understood was with a firm hand and that the hand should be used to take a grip on a good stout club.’

  ‘Not all of ’em,’ Di contradicted, looking at the Texian. ‘Mules’re like people. Some you can ask polite and they’ll do it, others you need to whomp a mite afore they’ll oblige. Only, happen you have to work with a club, wham his butt end and not over his head. Mules ain’t like you menfolks, you can hurt ’em bad and do damage by whomping ’em between the ears.’

  ‘My Grandfather Baines always told me that the only time a gentleman should strike a woman is when she’s not wearing corsets,’ Ole Devil stated, as if imparting very important information, meeting the girl’s challenging gaze without flinching.

  ‘Why?’ Di asked, before she could stop herself.

  ‘It’s dangerous to kick her in the stomach when she is,’ the Texian replied, his demeanor implying that the girl should remember the advice. ‘He claimed
that the one time he forgot and did it, he broke his big toe.’

  ‘If s a son-of-a-bitching pity he didn’t break his fool neck afore he met your Grandmammy Baines!’ Di snorted. Then, noticing Tommy approaching with Ole Devil’s line-backed dun gelding, she pulled a wry face and went on, ‘I’m going afore he gets to spouting some more of them son-of-a-bitching wise old what in hell he calls ’em sayings. Some folks around here’ve got better things to do than just standing jawing about nothing ’n’ looking pretty.’

  ‘Well,’ Ole Devil drawled, as the girl started to rein her mount around. ‘That’s one thing nobody could accuse you of doing.’

  ‘That’s for su—!’ Di commenced, but a sudden realization of how the comment had been worded caused her to bring the bay to a halt and glare at the speaker. ‘Just which son-of-a-bitch of ’em did you mean?’

  ‘I’ll leave that for you to decide,’ Ole Devil replied, his attitude conveying a belief that the matter was beneath his attention. He strolled over to meet the little Oriental.

  A smile came to the Texian’s lips as he listened to the profane prediction which followed him about his most likely future. The lighthearted exchange of banter had helped divert both Di’s and his thoughts from their problems. That was useful. In spite of believing that he was carrying out his duties in the best possible manner, he could not help feeling disturbed by the way he would be doing it.

  Knowing how anxious the girl was over her grandfather’s well-being, Ole Devil had the greatest admiration for her courage and the manner in which she was conducting their family’s affairs. She was different from any other member of her sex with whom he was acquainted. However, while anything but a misogynist, he harbored no romantic notions where she was concerned. He belonged to an age and generation which had sound moral standards and a sense of purpose, so did not need to use sexual prowess—which, after all, was within the reach of even the most primitive form of mammal—in an attempt to excuse or replace a lack of more desirable qualities. So, although conscious of her physical attractions, he was equally aware that Ewart Brindley had entrusted her into his care. As far as a man of his upbringing was concerned, that trust was inviolate.

  For her part, Di had a greater appreciation of the young Texian’s feelings than he suspected. She knew the heavy burden of responsibility he was bearing and realized that she had helped him to forget it, even if only for a few seconds.

  Watching Ole Devil striding away, the girl found herself considering how her feelings towards him had changed. Although she had had misgivings about him on their first meeting, they no longer troubled her. At that time, she had wondered if he might be nothing more than an arrogant and spoiled young man who held his rank by virtue of a wealthy family’s influence. Now she knew better. What was more, she had discerned the humanity beneath his grim and apparently ruthless exterior.

  Being a realist, despite Tommy having told her why Ole Devil had left Louisiana and could not return, Di had no visions of them falling in love and spending the rest of their lives in a state of marital bliss. She did not doubt that they would go their separate ways once the consignment was delivered and suspected how, no matter which way the struggle for independence ended, he would be unlikely to settle down in matrimony for several years.

  Giving a sigh, the girl nudged the horse with her heels. The time for levity and daydreaming was over. There was work demanding her attention. Maybe there was no immediate threat to the consignment, but she knew that transporting it was the task for which she was responsible. Leaving Ole Devil to his affairs, she rode after the mule train.

  Chapter Seven – They’re Smarter Than I Realized

  ‘Sergeant Smith said that I should tell you the Company is ready for your inspection, Devil-san,’ Tommy Okasi reported as his employer strolled up to him.

  Looking around the hollow, Ole Devil Hardin was once more filled with gratitude for being blessed with intelligent and capable subordinates who could draw conclusions of what was required and act upon them. Showing the kind of initiative which had earned him very rapid and well-deserved promotion (he had in fact been a private on his arrival at Santa Cristóbal Bay) the non-com had not moved out after the departing mule train. Instead, he had formed up the twenty enlisted men of the Texas Light Cavalry’s Company C in a single file. Each of them was standing holding his horse with the right hand and his rifle across the crook of his left arm. They were ideally positioned to counter treachery, if the remnants of the Red River Volunteer Dragoons should be contemplating it. Furthermore, the reason which had been given for their action would provide an excuse for them to stay behind until the consignment had passed over the rim.

  ‘Bueno,’ the Texian enthused, taking the reins of his line-backed dim gelding from the little Oriental. Conscious that he was being watched by the Dragoons, he went on louder than was necessary. ‘You can get going while I inspect the men, Tommy.’

  Leading his horse, while the little Oriental rode away, Ole Devil joined his men. He allowed his reins to fall from his grasp, ground hitching the animal, then walked along the file. By pausing before each man and subjecting him to a careful scrutiny, he contrived to stretch out the period of the subterfuge.

  ‘Look at the son-of-a-bitch playing soldiers,’ sniffed one of the survivors from San Patricio, watching the “inspection” without any inclination of its true purpose.

  ‘Mister,’ Sergeant Otis growled, speaking no louder but with savage emphasis. ‘He’s not playing. There’s the best goddamned soldier you’ll ever see.’

  ‘Happen you’re so all-fired fond of him,’ the survivor spat out, ‘maybe you should be going with him ’stead of us.’

  ‘You could be right!’ Otis stated.

  ‘Like hell you do, Otis!’ another of the Dragoons put in. ‘That could tell him we ain’t fixing to go back to San Patricio.’

  ‘They’ll do. Sergeant Smith,’ Ole Devil declared, unaware of the discussion that was taking place among the other party. ‘Mount up and move out in column of twos.’

  ‘Yo!’ the newly promoted non-com responded and gave the necessary orders, reading the unspoken approbation for the way he had acted in his superior’s tone and nod of approval.

  Instead of accompanying his men as they started to carry out Smith’s commands, Ole Devil swung astride but kept his gelding motionless. From this point of vantage, he turned his attention to the Dragoons. They were still all clustered around the grave of their deceased, if unlamented officer. Although a few of them tried to look defiantly at him, not one continued to do so when they found themselves the subject of his Mephistophelian-faced scrutiny.

  ‘I’ll leave you to take care of things here, Sergeant Otis,’ Ole Devil announced, satisfied that there would be no attempt at a last minute interference. ‘Adios.’

  ‘Adios, Cap’n,’ the burly non-com replied, stiffening to a brace and delivering the smartest salute he had ever managed.

  Riding up the slope after his men, Ole Devil saw that Diamond-Hitch Brindley and Tommy were waiting for him on the rim.

  ‘It’s allus handy to have a climb like this at the start,’ the girl commented, as the Texian reached her, knowing that he was interested in every aspect of the mule train’s operation. ‘Happen there’s anything wrong, it’ll show up a whole heap sooner than on level ground.’

  Ole Devil did not need to have the point clarified. Some horses and, he assumed, mules, developed an annoying habit of filling their lungs to capacity, which caused the body to expand, when being saddled. The subsequent expulsion of the air allowed the girths, belly-band and latigo strap to become slack. Of course, with packers of the Tejas Indians’ caliber, each man knew the habits of the individual members of his string too well to have been tricked by such a basic subterfuge.

  However, there were other problems that might result from the rig having been fitted incorrectly. Once on the move, particularly when climbing or going down a slope, any such deficiencies would soon become obvious.

  Befor
e the Texian could comment, he saw a further example of Sergeant Smith’s forethought. A number of horses belonging to the Arizona Hopi Activos Regiment, including several excellent mounts from the officers who had been killed, had been collected after the battle. Along with the reserve animals of Company C and the Dragoons, they had been grazing on top of the rim under the care of three cavalrymen. Without needing instructions from his superior, the non-com had caused the Dragoons’ horses to be cut out of the remuda xxxiii and they were being driven to their owners. As the mule train had already gone by, the remainder were set into motion to follow them.

  Not only had Smith dealt with the matter of the remuda—and removed a possible cause for the Dragoons to harbor resentment—but also, to Ole Devil’s satisfaction, he could find no fault in the way that the positioning of the escort had been arranged. Five men were going out on each flank, but all of the remainder were staying behind the remuda.

  ‘I had a word with Tom Wolf afore he lit out for San Phillipe, Cap’n,’ the non-com explained on reporting to Ole Devil. ‘He’s sent two of his boys on ahead and one out beyond our flank riders. But I figured, what with that bunch back there—’ he gestured with a thumb towards the rim, ‘and all, we’d best have a good strong rearguard.’

  ‘I agree, sergeant,’ the Texian answered, well pleased with his subordinate’s shrewd assessment of the situation’s needs. ‘If there should be any trouble, it’s most likely to come from behind.’

  Satisfied that all was under control, needing no further attention or action on his part, Ole Devil settled down to continue his study of the art of handling a large pack train.

  With each flank party varying their distance so that they were always just within sight and a Tejas scout further off beyond them, the concourse of animals and riders headed north. Under the ever watchful eyes of the packers, but picking their own routes along the line of march instead of being made to travel one behind another, the mules ambled at a steady pace that covered five to six miles an hour. There was, Ole Devil observed, little confusion and no jostling or pushing among them. Like all animals with well-developed herd-living instincts, they had acquired a hierarchy in which each knew and, unless capable of changing it by bluff or physical means, was kept in its place. For all their individual desire to get as close as possible to the bell-mare, only the most dominant of them could do so. Those lower down the social scale had learned by painful experience that it did not pay to try and usurp the places of their betters.