Hell in the Nations: The Further Adventures of Hayden Tilden (Hayden Tilden Westerns Book 2)

by J. Lee Butts

  Our friend lit his match and was about an inch from setting her off when Barnes stopped him. “Carlton, hand that’n to Old Bear. Let’s give him a chance to shoot her this time. Soon as she goes off, it’s gonna put up a curtain of smoke, and hopefully scare the living hell out of those boys over yonder. While they’re ducked for cover, the rest of us will go like hell for the ammo box. When we get set to come back, you send another one their way, and we can sneak over behind more panic, confusion, and dust.”

  Well, everyone liked that suggestion a bunch. We dropped most of our personal artillery, except for a pistol apiece, and got down like runners about to start a footrace at Fort Smith’s Forth of July celebration. Billy counted off from three, and Old Bear jammed the match into the fuse hole. Behind a billowing cloud of burnt black powder, rattling rocks, and flying dust, we ran like hell. Big Eagle’s bunch, up on their little man-made hill, must have thought God himself had come to visit when that ball hit the front of their place. They didn’t fire a shot. Not one!

  Glanced their direction as I lumbered toward the caisson. There couldn’t have been more than 250 feet or so from the cannon’s muzzle to the front of the rustic log castle. Beulah’s present didn’t lose any of its velocity, and hit a spot dead center of the sixty-foot-long front wall about three feet above the ground. The resounding crack against the wood-and-rock-reinforced barrier echoed out and up in an ear-rattling umbrella of noise. The muzzle blast sent waves that vibrated along the canyon floor like the ocean sweeping in on a gale-racked beach. But the most surprising thing about the entire outlandish scene was, for all the accompanying noise, clouds of black smoke, and red dust, the damned ball bounced off that bark-covered barricade like a kid’s marble ricocheting off a board fence.

  Needless to say, I was disappointed with what appeared to be the final effect, but there was one positive result. Guess it scared the bunch of cutthroats inside bad enough. We managed to reach the ammo box with nothing more than a handful of poorly aimed rifle shots being thrown our direction. Lot of yelling, swearing, and hollering from behind their pile of logs and rocks while we got a grip on the caisson’s tongue, and moved it into a good spot to launch our sprint back.

  Once Billy had Beulah loaded and ready, he counted down on his fingers so we could see him. Got to one and set her off again. We jumped like a team of spooked horses, and managed to move the heavy wheeled chest to our natural fortress before Big Eagle and his boys even knew what happened.

  Billy and Carlton had a field day for about the next hour or so. They must have loaded and fired that thing ten or fifteen times. The barrel got so hot, Lucius lit smokes off it, and Carlton decided he’d better stop for a while and let her cool off. When the noise, dust, and general hubbub finally died down a bit, we were stunned with what we saw. All that blasting had barely made a dent in the place. You could actually count the spots where the balls hit. Splintered eruptions in those stacked tree trunks stood out like puffy white clouds against a storm-darkened sky.

  Carlton summed it up for all of us when he made clicking sounds between his teeth and mumbled, “Damn. I would never’ve believed we hadn’t done any more damage than that. Guess Barnes was probably right from the beginning. That front wall has got to be at least two, maybe three, logs deep.”

  Barnes chuckled. “Yeah, but can you imagine what it must be like inside that place right now? Bet them ole boys is messin’ they britches like a bunch of scared kids. Hell, I know I would be, if’n someone was blasting away at me with this leftover Civil War thunder boomer. Every shot you and Billy sent their way hit home. Rocked the entire canyon and house right down to its foundation. Might not look like we did much damage, but you can bet the farm they’re shaking in their drawers right now.”

  Billy snorted and said, “Hell, these ole boys never figured on anything like Beulah. When the last rock went up against them walls, I’d bet everything I own they felt like nothing could ever get at ’em. That’s why they let us in here without a fight. Way they had it figured, wasn’t nothing to worry about, as far as they could see. But Martin Luther Big Eagle, Smilin’ Jack, and all their sorry friends made a single, but serious, mistake in judgment. They didn’t come anywhere close to planning on the hardcase likes of Hayden Tilden and Carlton J. Cecil showing up with a cannon.”

  Carlton sat with his back to Beulah’s left wheel. “Well, fellers, we do have one surprise for ‘that even Tilden doesn’t know I brought along.” He grinned all around, crawled over to his mobile arsenal, fumbled about inside for a bit, and came back carrying two odd-looking cannon balls. “Cletis Broadbent slipped these to me on the side, Hayden. Said I might try ‘out just for the fun of it. Called ‘case shot. They’re filled with gunpowder and slugs. Thing screwed in on top is a timer. You punch a hole in it, light the fuse, ram her down, and shoot. Six seconds should be about right. That’ll give us time to get her loaded and ready to fire. We’ll elevate the barrel so the ball explodes above the roofline. So much lead’s gonna fall on those fellers, they’re about think they’re in an Arkansas hailstorm.”

  Don’t know about anyone else there, but it sounded a shade on the risky side to me. “You sure about this, Carlton? We never tried one of these things when Cletis taught us how to shoot Beulah. From the sound of it, if you don’t know what you’re doing, you could blow us all to smithereens while you’re trying to get her loaded.” I could picture the cannon scattered around on the ground in jagged pieces on top of all our mangled, broken, bloody bodies if he made a mistake.

  He cradled both balls in his left arm, pushed his hat to the back of his head, and winked. “Don’t worry, Hayden. You sissy boys can hide behind this stingy pile of rocks while I try the first one. If it don’t work, won’t damage nobody but me. If it goes off like Cletis said it would, I’ve got five more of these killer weevils, and we’ll send one their direction every so often to give ‘something else to worry about.”

  Well, naturally, Billy jumped in and offered to help him with what the rest of us felt bordered on a suicidal endeavor. Since Barnes had the most distinctive voice, Carlton selected him to count off the seconds so he could get the fuse lit and the gun fired at the exact right moment. Things got damned tense around our hastily made cannon bastion and fortress for a bit. Fire from Big Eagle’s bunch had died off to nothing more than some random sniping, if they thought they had a good target. Had to hand it to ole Carlton. It was a great time to come up with a plan like that. When I squatted down behind those rocks, hoped it would all shake out to our advantage, and I’d come up happy that he and Cletis had slipped something past me.

  With my fingers in my ears, I peeked from my shelter, and watched as they swabbed the barrel out and loaded the cartridge. Billy’s hand shook as he ran the pick in, poured some powder down the fuse hole, and got ready to fire. Carlton’s face was drenched with sweat and rivers ran from under his hatband. But he flashed a big grin, struck a lucifer, and pointed to Barnes, who ducked and yelled “One!” On his easily heard shout of “Two!” Carlton lit the fuse, rolled the ball into the barrel, and pushed it home on “Three!” Billy fired it on “Four!” We all jumped up and snatched a peek over our wall of boulders, whispered “Five” and yelled “Six!” at the same time.

  Damnation, it was something awesome to behold! That thing exploded about thirty feet above those bad boys’ nest and sprayed lead in every direction. Slugs splattered into the sandstone wall overhead and behind their hideout. Billowing clouds of dust kicked up in front, on top, and all around their well-made fortifications in a solid sheet of instantaneous devastation and potential death. Looked like five hundred deputy U.S. marshals with Winchester rifles fired on the place at the exact same moment.

  Needless to say, got damned quiet over in the Big Eagle camp. In fact, they didn’t throw another shot our direction for almost two hours. Guess they were talking the whole deal over at the time. That’s one powwow I’d really liked to have been able to sit in on. Those ole boys thought no one could take them ’cau
se of the way they had their den of thieves and killers built. They’d evidently been controlling the canyon, and the area for fifty miles around, for more than a year. Guess Billy was right. Martin Luther and his lieutenants never figured on anything like our bunch and Miss Beulah, showing up outside their door with a death-dealing invitation to come out and play with the big boys.

  Carlton and Billy acted like ten-year-old kids at a picnic. They giggled and slapped around on each other with their hats, then launched off into a deep and thought-provoking discussion about what they could do next with their toy. The jaw-wagging session finally ended when Billy said, “You know, Carlton, it’s a shame Cletis didn’t have any of that stuff they called canister shot. God Almighty, but I’d bet some of that stuff would get their undivided attention.” They sat next to each other with their backs against the carriage tail, laughed, and started slapping on one other with their hats again.

  Carlton finally stuffed his bonnet back on his head and muttered, “Canister shot. Son of a bitch! Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll bet Cletis had a pile of the stuff hid somewhere in that armory he called a barn. Hell, if we’d kept digging around, and asking questions, he’d probably have come up with a good-sized, flatcar-mounted field mortar or maybe one of them boats that can go underwater. Ain’t no telling what that man’s got hid out there on his place.”

  Billy looked confused and scratched his chin. “What the hell would we do with an underwater boat? Better yet, what the hell is an underwater boat?”

  Carl looked up at me and winked. “Forget the underwater boat, Billy. Let me tell you one thing for surefire certain and true, though. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere close to that battlefield pilferer of an Arkansas bootlegger’s hardscrabble farm if his barn ever exploded. Probably kill every livin’ soul for three or maybe even ten miles around, and leave a crater the size of downtown Fort Smith. Hayden and me came away from there with Beulah and some other goodies, but God only knows what else the man had hid. Bet he’s probably got a Gatling gun in his chicken house.”

  A wistful look swept over Billy’s face. “Damn. A Gatling gun. Now there’s one toy I’d love to get my hands on.”

  Didn’t take long after that for things to settle into one of those “You shoot at us some, you sons of bitches, and we’ll shoot back at you for a bit” kind of dances. “And, oh, by the way, if you make us mad enough, we might hit you really hard with another of these six-pound slugs or a cascade of lead from one of Carlton J. Cecil’s surprise case shots.”

  Once we managed to get at least some predictability built into everything, I sent Barnes back for Judith, Three Bones, and Bully May. They brought everything down, and set us up a fine camp and headquarters far enough back toward the entrance to be out of the line of fire. Stayed in a Mexican standoff for about four days.

  Then, the morning of the fifth day, Big Eagle and his bunch woke up and realized they’d made an incredibly stupid mistake. The closest spot to them in that sparkling, spring-fed creek was at least fifty feet from any cover. That’s when Smilin’ Jack came out front carrying a white flag, and waited till I got to about twenty feet from him before he started laying it all out the way he saw it.

  The evil son of a bitch had a ragged scar that ran across his neck from ear to ear. Looked like someone had tried to cut his head off with a hatchet. Man could barely speak above a raspy whisper. “Well, Tilden, you’re still alive. I had hoped someone would’ve kilt you by now. Tried my best back when we first met at Drinkwater’s Store.”

  The fingers of his right hand danced around the grips of the Colt pistol strapped high on his waist as he glanced over my shoulder. “See you brought that big nigger Barnes Reed with you. Actually, I thought I’d done for him and you at the same time. Coulda swore when I got away from Drinkwater’s, you was both deader’n Methuselah. Have to admit I’m somewhat surprised you badge-totin’ bastards are still amongst the living.” His ear-to-ear grin made that hideous scar look like a second mouth. Man obviously felt like he held the pot winner, and didn’t see any need to curb his tongue. That was the first time I’d been close enough to him to see the neck wound or that several teeth had gone missing from the front of his mouth.

  “Well, Jack, I’m gonna be sure and tell Barnes what you said. I’m certain he’ll find your reference to his heritage interestin’ and informative.”

  He might have been dumber than a snubbin’ post, and meaner’n a box of teased rattlesnakes, but the man knew an insult when he heard it. “Listen to me, you smart-mouthed son of a bitch, we’ve got a woman in here and not much water. So what we’re gonna do is send her over to the stream any time we need a drink. If you or any of your men try anything funny—we’ll shoot her right on the spot, and the deed’11 be on your head.”

  Had to do some damned fast-on-my-feet thinking right then and there. Only thing I could come up with was: “Well, we’ve got a woman with us too, Jack. I’d like to send her over when Birdie comes out, so the two of them can talk a bit. Want to make sure you haven’t mistreated your reluctant water-carrier.”

  “How’d you know my woman’s name?”

  “What difference does it make? Can Miss Karr come over or not? She’ll stand on our side of the creek so as not to pose a threat to any of the big, bad men you have escorting Miss Blackwell.”

  He thought that one over for almost a minute before he finally relented. “Send your woman, Tilden. But make damned certain of one thing. You law-bringers take a stab at something like trying to rush my men and steal Birdie, and I’ll have her guards cut ‘off at the knees. You git my more-than-obvious drift there, Marshal?”

  “Sure, Jack, I understand. Couldn’t get any plainer.”

  “Tell them others over there with you what I said. I mean it, Tilden. My men’ll be instructed to blast ‘to kingdom come if any of your marshals step out when the women are by the stream. Won’t be no mercy given.”

  When I got back and talked it over with Judith, she couldn’t wait. “Sure, Marshal Tilden, I’ll do anything you want. I’d do it anyway. God only knows what that poor woman’s had to deal with locked in with that bunch of murderin’ scum.”

  While the plan worked for me, and she couldn’t have been more willing to help, it didn’t sit well with Carlton at all. I understood. Hell, if it had been Elizabeth, I don’t think I would have allowed it to be considered for the first second.

  He elbowed his way up between us and said, “Wait just a damned minute there, Hayden. This whole idea’s nutty as hell. You can’t be serious about sending Judith out there. Ain’t no way to predict what might happen with this bunch of cornered barn weasels. Some of those men are nuttier than a bag of circus peanuts.”

  She took him by the elbow, and kind of guided him off to the side. Don’t have any idea what she said, but after that he gave up on the thing. I mean, you could actually see it on him. He had this kind of sunken, defeated look. Know it was just because he fretted for her safety, but she wasn’t to be denied, and tried to soften her stony resolve about the whole thing with a tender kiss on the cheek. Don’t think it helped him much, but personally I admired her for the gesture. No way around it, Judith Karr proved herself a woman with an impressive well of strength.

  After the first few days watching poor Birdie Mae scamper back and forth under the guns of her hairy, rough-as-a-shucked-cob escorts, I got to worrying that she could easily end up with less in the way of a pulse than a pitchfork. Then, the hard-as-nails Judith strutted back from one of their meetings with a rescue plan that shocked all of us right down to the soles of our boots. When Carlton heard what she had in mind, his cheeks turned a color you could have only duplicated on the face of a corpse and, honest to God, I thought he would pass out. Poor man swayed on his feet, and stumbled away like he’d had a stroke or something. Made garbled mumbling noises, flopped down on a rock, and cradled his head in his hands.

  Billy shook his head. “It could work, but do you really want to do this, Hayden?”

  “No! Ha
ve to admit I’d rather not. But the truth is we don’t have any choice, Billy. Way things have gone so far, we could be here when the leaves fall if we don’t do something—and damned soon. It’s riskier than dancin’ with Beelzebub’s girlfriend, but I can’t see any other way.”

  Billy’s eyes narrowed down to slits. “Who the hell’s Beelzebub? Or maybe I should have said what the hell is a Beelzebub?”

  “Man from England wrote a poem ’bout two hundred years ago named Paradise Lost. Satan’s right-hand man was a devil named Beelzebub. My mother used to read to me from that poem when she wanted me to behave myself. Scared the hell out of me.”

  “That’s the reason I never miss a chance to go out on one of these tea parties with you, Hayden. I always learn something I never knew before. You’re a walking, talking education all wrapped up in one man.”

  Judith’s gaze swung from Billy to Carlton, and back to me. So I said, “If we could figure any other way, your offer probably wouldn’t get the first consideration, Miss Judith. But I think we need to get Birdie away from that den of snakes as soon as we can. So, we’ll try it.”

  Looked like someone put steel in that girl’s already stiff spine. She stood ramrod straight with her shoulders back and said, “Good, now hand me two pistols and get everything ready. When the shooting starts, I don’t want anyone back here making the kind of mistakes they’ll end up regretting somewhere down the road. Does everyone understand?”

  Gotta tell you, a pretty solemn bunch of tired, wrung-out marshals muttered, “Yes, Miss Judith.”