Under the shelter of the trees, he glanced back. Men were coming, but the one he had shot was still standing there. As he looked, the man fell.
Sam Hall's face was in the sand. He was choking, but not on sand. He tried to cough, and blood spilled over his chin. He struggled to sit up as men swarmed around him.
"Sam! Sam? What happened?"
"Ohio," Sam Hall muttered, "I always figured on goin' back. By this time they'd have forgot that man I ..."
He leaned forward, head hanging, hands on his knees. "Sam ... ?"
Butler touched his shoulder. "Sam?" Sam Hall turned over into the sand. Frank looked down at him, then commented, "Wherever he's gone, Butt, it ain't Ohio. I'd bet you on that."
Chapter Twelve.
The tall gray-haired man accepted the drink and dropped into the big hide-bound chair. "It was several days ago," he said, "in Victoria. But it bothered me, so I rode over. I had an idea you ought to know."
"Three of them, you say?"
"Right. The only name I got was of the man I spoke of. He told them his name was Major Mac Traven, and he said it like he expected it to mean something.
"Tall man, tall as you, I'd say, and broad in the shoulder. Very cool. Neatest thing I ever saw the way he dropped those sacks. No way the man could avoid falling, and when he looked up, Traven was holding a gun.
"My impression was that although he was not looking for trouble he was a man who could handle it. He gave them a warning and then left town."
Martin Connery strode across the room and dropped into a similar chair. He tasted the rum and lemon in his glass. "Thirty men, you say? Renegades, probably. And this man Traven, he said they had captive women? I wonder what Traven's interest was?"
"My hunch was that some of them were kin to him. I don't recall whether he said as much or not, but that was my impression. And they were headed south."
The gray-haired man looked into his glass. "Captain, I don't like to say this, but you know as well as I do that when there's trouble down here, people look to you. I mean, they believe you're involved."
"I'm not involved in this."
"The man said his name was Traven."
"Hell, Nick, I'm not responsible for everybody. I don't know of any Traven."
He paused. "Come to think of it I do have some kinfolk somewhere north and west of here. I met them but once or twice and then stayed clear of them. They didn't like me, and I just didn't want any kinfolk around. I've had troubles enough."
They sat silent. A big grandfather's clock ticked loudly. "You've got to understand. The Connerys always regarded me as the black sheep of the family. They were solid, church-going folk, hard-working and pioneering most of the time. Every time one of them seems to get to where he could have a decent living he picks up and goes further west.
"As for the Travens, we've no connection I know of except that I heard one of the Connery girls was sweet on a Traven. I don't know how I came to mention it to you. It wasn't that important, actually." He paused, sipped his drink, and said, "You've a good memory, Nick. That must have been years ago."
"It's an unusual name." Nick got out a cigar. "Captain, we've been friends for years now, but aside from that, you represent a lot of my business. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you, and that's a tough lot of men."
Martin Connery gave him a thin smile. "I've some tough men, too."
"But you were unwarned, unaware. Now you are alerted." Nick got to his feet. "I've business in Refugio, and then I'll be riding back to Victoria."
He paused. "Captain? Give it some thought. Why would such an outfit be coming down here? If they were escaping over the border, as some of the Confederates have been doing, there are more direct routes. I believe the answer can be but one of two things. Raiding or meeting a ship."
"I've been thinking of that."
"Slavers used to land contraband slaves on Copano Bay. You know that, and I do. Many a time when Lafitte couldn't get them to New Orleans through the bayous they were landed here. In fact, he used this for a rendezvous after he was driven off Galveston Island."
"It was one of his men who piloted me in here the first time," Connery said.
"Captain? Those kinfolk of yours up north? There were young women in the lot, right?"
Connery took his glass from his mouth. He swore suddenly, bitterly. "Of course there were! She was a little girl then, but by now she'd be a young woman. There might be others. I don't know. Still, that's highly unlikely that something like you describe could happen. They were conservative people and I imagine would be fairly well off."
"It can happen to anyone. Think of it. If the women were in the way and this renegade outfit was riding through?"
After Nick Chandler had gone, Captain Martin Connery walked to the side-board and placed the glasses there.
A slender Chinese came in. "Anything else, sir?"
"Yes, there is. Ask Ephraim to step in, will you?" He walked back and dropped into his chair. It was unlikely, but Nick was right when he thought such a group could spell trouble. They would be living off the country, but they were not going to live off his cattle nor steal his horses. If they wanted to go to Mexico they could keep right on going. He wanted no trouble. Ephraim Calder was a man almost as wide as he was tall, but he carried no fat. He was broad, thick, and powerfully muscled, and he had served with Connery for twenty years.
"Eph, I want you to have three men scout the country north of here. Send some men who can keep out of sight and out of trouble. I want to know what is going on."
Quickly, he sketched in what had happened and what he believed.
"Captain, one of our men who was riding along the north side of the bay heard a shot. Two shots he believed, close together. He was several miles out from the bay, hunting strays."
"All right, sentries and scouts, armed and ready. We don't know what may happen."
"Yes, sir." Ephraim stopped at the door and turning, smiled at Connery. "Almost like the old days, eh Cap'n?"
When Ephraim had gone, Martin Connery walked to his desk and took out a pistol, a Remington Navy. He balanced it in his hands for a moment, liking the feel of it, then thrust it behind his belt and out of sight behind the short jacket he wore.
From another drawer he took a carefully drawn map of the shore-line covering the area from Tres Paglacios Bay to Corpus Christi, studying it with care. It was an area he had ridden over countless times, and he had sailed along the coast almost as often. Yet he wanted a refreshing glimpse of it. Seeing a situation on a map was much different from being over the ground in person. Neither should exclude the other.
The map gave one perspective, the over-all view, while being on the ground itself gave one an immediate knowledge of terrain, plant life, obstructions, and whatever else might be encountered.
He added a bit more lemon to his rum and returned to his chair. That niece of his ... what was her name?
Kate ... that was it. Katherine, of course, but they had called her Kate, a feisty little thing with big eyes.
That fellow now? Colonel Ashford, was it? What would he be wanting? To meet a ship, no doubt some gunrunner or slave-ship. A lot of the old illicit slave traders had haunted this harbor in years gone by. He would have no part of that. Had he been active in the days when it was legal, he still would have taken no part in dealing with slaves. And the importation of slaves into the United States had ended, legally, in 1808.
To meet a ship, perhaps, but primarily he would be looking for loot. Lonely ranches close to the sea had always been vulnerable. He himself had often sailed in close and dropped his hook long enough to steal a few head of cattle or sheep for food aboard ship.
Thirty men? He had half that many, but Connery knew what he had and was not worried.
He was at breakfast on the terrace at dawn when a rider rode in and talked to Ephraim Calder. Then both approached him. He sliced a bit from his melon and listened.
Two wagons were drawn up on the sand this side of Copano Creek
. There had been some shooting, and through a spy-glass his man had seen them burying a man.
"One less," he commented.
"But now ten of them are approaching. They left camp shortly before daybreak and should be here by noon-time. There is one woman among them. She rides beside he who is their leader."
"Very well. When they arrive you may bring four of them to me, including the woman if she is one who wishes to come. Seat the others under the shed near the granary and have them covered by ten good riflemen from the bunkhouse. They are not to know they are watched. If there is any evidence of hostility, shoot them all. Do not hesitate."
He took out a cigar, looked at it thoughtfully, and added, "Better still, let Fraconi bring them to me. You stay in command of the men in the bunkhouse. I trust your judgement."
When Calder had gone he ordered coffee and sat down in the hide chair with a book. It would be some time before they arrived. He glanced around the room, once more appraising his situation. He had guns placed at various places through the room and was prepared for any eventuality.
Kate Connery had no idea what would happen once she reached the ranch of her uncle Martin. Her family had not liked him, but on the one occasion she had seen him he seemed romantic, adventurous, exciting. She remembered him only as a very tall man, slender and immaculately dressed.
The house was low, flat-roofed, and of plastered adobe. On either side were rows of buildings. One was apparently a store-room; another might be a bunkhouse. The barns and corrals were some distance away. There were hitching rails along both sides of the avenue leading to the house.
A stocky, powerful-looking man walked into the open space and stood waiting. As they rode up, he glanced at her, then at Ashford.
"There is something you wish?"
Ashford drew up. The man seemed to be alone, but he radiated strength and seemed in no way disturbed by confronting a column of armed men.
"I am Colonel Henry T. Ashford, of the Confederate Army. I wish to see Martin Connery."
"Captain Connery." Calder gestured toward the shed roof in front of what appeared to be a store-room. "You may leave your men there."
"I wish them with me."
Calder merely looked at him. "You will leave your men there. You may bring four people including yourself. If you do not like that, ride away."
Ashford was furious. Who was this man to speak so to him? Well, that could wait. After all, if he could get Connery's help it might save much travel and leave him a tower of strength when the ship arrived.
"Very well."
His men hesitated, then trooped toward the shade of the shed, tying their horses at the hitching rail.
Ashford turned in his saddle, looked around carefully, then dismounted. Only the one man in sight, but on a ranch of this size he would need many men. Where were they? He had an uncomfortable feeling they were not far off.
"Hayden, and Cutler. Come with me, please." He turned and looked at Kate. "You, also. We will hope for your sake that this uncle can help us."
"I did not promise that."
They walked over the hard-packed yellow earth to the steps, which led to the wide veranda that encircled the adobe house. Mounting the steps, they saw no one.
Cutler leaned close and whispered. "Colonel? We'd better be careful. I don't like this."
Ashford rapped on the door. After several minutes a slender Chinese appeared, dressed all in white except for a red sash.
"I am Colonel Henry T. Ashford. I wish to see Captain Connery."
"Show the gentlemen in, Lee." The Chinese stepped back, and they walked into the coolness of a wide room, sparsely but elegantly furnished, totally unlike the cluttered parlors done in velvet and panels that Kate remembered.
Captain Martin Connery was standing. He was tall, as she remembered, with a lean face, high cheekbones, and a slender but powerful body. He must be, she thought, sixty years old. He did not look more than forty,
"Colonel Ashford?" He held out his hand to Gushing.
"I am Colonel Ashford!" Ashford said, irritated.
"Of course! How stupid of me!" Connery's face was bland. "Will you not sit down? You must have had a warm ride."
"Captain Connery, I will be brief. General Lee has surrendered. I have not. Some of us believe the Cause can still be won, and we go to Mexico to gather our forces, to recruit, to acquire weapons, and to prepare for our victorious march to the north."
He paused. "Your niece, Katherine Connery, was kind enough to offer to introduce me."
Connery smiled, holding out his hand. "It is good to see you again, Kate. I scarcely expected you to have a military escort."
"Colonel Ashford has also been kind enough to escort several young women, including one of the Traven girls. I believe he thought we would be in danger if left in our homes and would be much better off protected by his soldiers. In fact," her heart was pounding, "I believe he intends to protect us all the way into Mexico."
Ashford's features tightened with anger, but before he could speak, Connery said mildly, "You are perfectly welcome here, Kate." He turned to Ashford. "It would please me if you would bring the women here. They could remain here until it is safe for them to go home."
"They are with me. They will stay with me."
"Ah?" Connery was bland. "I do not quite understand what a southern gentleman has to do with carrying off women from their homes. In a military action women can be nothing but an encumbrance."
Ashford was coldly furious, but he fought down his anger. "It was not women I came to talk about. For the move I hope to make, I shall need horses to mount my men. I understood you had horses and believed you were loyal to the Cause."
"I see. And who is at the head of this move?"
"I am."
"Have you considered the logistics of such a move? Of the arms and ammunition you will have to obtain and to transport? Have you considered the feeding of an army of any size? I fear you are approaching this move with too little planning, Colonel.
"You will need not only your immediate supplies but continual replacements. You forget that was one problem the South had. Most of the munition factories were in the North. The South had the arsenals in the beginning but they did not have either the food or the munitions to continue such a struggle."
Colonel Ashford had been a volunteer, elected to command by the men of his unit, as were many officers of both the North and the South. As such, his experience with command was slight. He had been, until near the end of the War, when he was leading what was virtually a guerilla outfit, entirely dependent on the supply system of the Confederate Army.
"We shall have no problem. We will live off the country." Ashford was uneasy, wanting to avoid the subject. Why had he come here in the beginning? This man was not going to help. What they wanted they would have to take.
"You amaze me," Connery was cool, smiling gently. "You would live off the very people for whom you are supposed to be fighting? I do not think they would appreciate that, Colonel Ashford. I am afraid you'd encounter much resistance. As far as that is concerned, I doubt if there is ammunition enough in all east Texas to fight one major battle. You are dreaming, sir."
Ashford placed his hand on his pistol. "No more of this!" he said sharply. "You have horses, you have supplies. We need them. If you will not volunteer them, we shall take them!"
Chapter Thirteen.
Connery took up his cigar and placed it in his teeth. He was smiling. "I think not, Colonel." He spoke quietly. "And do not try to draw that pistol. Blood discolors my floor. Right behind you gentlemen is Carlo Fraconi. He has held a gun to you, Colonel, for several minutes."
"My men are outside," Ashford said, "within a minute I could ..."
"I am afraid, Colonel, that you continually overestimate your situation. Your men are neatly arranged under the shed in front of my supply room. Opposite them are some of my men, one of them covering each one of yours. If a shot is fired in here, your men will be wiped out on the instant."
<
br /> Martin Connery drew gently on his cigar. "I would suggest you retire from the scene, Colonel. Take your little army and ride away."
"Kate," he said, "you may remain here until such time as I can send you safely home, with an escort."
"I can't, Uncle Martin. I have to go back to those other girls. They need me."
"Ashford, I want you to free those girls. Free them at once."
"Go to Hell!" Ashford was shaking with fury. "You have the upper hand now, but wait! Just wait!"
"Shall I kill him, Captain?" Fraconi asked.
"No, please!" Kate exclaimed. "Please, don't! He is the only protection those girls have! Please don't kill him!"
"Very well." Connery dusted ash from his cigar. "You may go, Ashford, but if any harm comes to those girls or to Kate Connery I will personally see you skinned alive. And I mean just that. Now get out! Get off my place! And stay off!"
As they reached the door he said, "My advice would be to free those women at once. We in Texas do not take kindly to men who abuse women."
Fraconi watched them go, saying, "You could have held some of them hostage."
"No, Carlo, for he would have sacrificed his men. Don't you see? He's completely without honor or loyalty. Whatever veneer there was on the surface has peeled off during the War. He is a man without a code, without a sense of honor. Probably he deluded himself that he was an officer and a gentleman. Underneath that facade he is neither."
"What will we do?"
"I want you to go into the woods and find the Travens. They are woodsmen, I understand, and they are very careful men, so be alert. Perhaps together we can do something."
When Fraconi was gone Connery walked to the sideboard and poured a drink. He had acquired a taste for rum, and although he often drank it was always sparingly. He had the feeling that whatever situation arose he could cope with it if sober, so he never intended to be otherwise.
There was every chance that Ashford would attempt to drive off some stock from his ranch or one of the others nearby.
Except ... suppose there was a ship coming? Suppose he took the girls off to sea?
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