Get Urrea! (An Ole Devil Hardin Western Book 5)

by J. T. Edson

  Measuring the separating distance with his eyes, Ole Devil estimated it to be about three hundred yards. A long range, but adequate for his needs.

  ‘Now!’

  Hearing his cousin’s word, Mannen stopped and settled the butt of the Browning more firmly against his shoulder. At his side, also having come to a halt, Ole Devil was taking just as careful an aim.

  Two forefingers tightened on triggers!

  When the rifles’ charges detonated, the Yaqui braves received what was to be their first shock. The Brownings’ mechanisms did not require an external priming pan, which meant there was no warning eruption of smoke. So both bullets were on their way before the Indians could think of taking the anticipated evasive action.

  A horse, inadvertently hit by Mannen’s lead, went down. Displaying great skill, its rider cut loose from its back as it fell and contrived to land on his feet without injury. One of his companions was less fortunate. Caught in the chest by the shot that Ole Devil had fired, the brave slid backwards from his saddle, dying.

  Brave as they were, a sense of alarm swept through the rest of the attackers. Nor did what happened next dispel their fears. However, it was reduced slightly when the two Texians continued to hold the rifles to their shoulders.

  Whatever thoughts the Yaquis might have regarding Ole Devil and Mannen’s apparent madness in not doing anything they could recognize as starting to reload, none of them even came close to suspecting the truth. Few of them had ever seen even a double-barreled weapon, and the idea of one that could fire several shots in succession was beyond their comprehension, particularly when it could be done with the ease of the rifles in the two young Texians’ hands.

  ‘What are those loco gringos doing?’ demanded one of the Lancers, having no greater appreciation than the Indians of the Brownings’ capabilities.

  ‘I’m damned if I know,’ Sergeant Moreno admitted, scowling at the two Texians. ‘Get ready to run for your horses after you’ve fi—’

  Oblivious of the advice that was being given to the escort, Ole Devil and Mannen were working their weapons’ simple mechanisms. Neither looked at the other, but they had worked together so many times that the rifles spoke practically at the same instant.

  The second pair of shots came completely unexpected to the Yaquis. This time, Mannen had held higher and his bullet tumbled a brave wearing a looted shirt from the back of a fast moving pony. Although Ole Devil’s shot only wounded a man in the shoulder, the effect was satisfactory. Startled exclamations, which were duplicated by the equally amazed Lancers, burst from the remainder of the raiders. To add to their consternation, they saw that the Texians still did not offer to lower the rifles.

  While putting the magazines through the reloading cycle, Ole Devil and Mannen selected their next objectives. Making sure of his aim, knowing that his life might depend upon it, the former killed a brave who was drawing back his bow ready to loose an arrow. Sighting with equal care, Mannen scored an impressive—if lucky—hit by knocking the flintlock musket which was being pointed at him out of its user’s hands.

  To have been fired upon twice was disturbing enough for the braves, but seeing the weapons discharged yet again increased their consternation. Brave as they undoubtedly were under normal circumstances, the unexplained always filled them with dread. Nothing they had ever come into contact with before helped them to understand how the two Texians could continue to shoot with firearms that ought to have been empty after a single shot each. To the Yaquis’ way of thinking, there could be only one explanation for the gringos ability to keep on dealing out death.

  ‘Spirit guns!’ the warrior at the right end of the line screeched, putting his companions’ thoughts into words and reining his horse aside as he decided that one of the magical weapons was being turned his way. ‘They’re magic! Flee before they kill us all!’

  ‘Spirit guns!’ echoed the other warriors. ‘Flee before we’re all killed!’

  Even before Ole Devil or Mannen could squeeze off another round, the panic-stricken Yaquis were swinging their mounts away. One of them scooped up the brave whose horse had been shot, but such was the state of terror inspired by the weapons that Jonathan Browning’s advanced mechanical skill and ability had produced, they fled without making any attempt to gather their dead.

  Keeping the braves between himself and their intended victims, the renegade was following about thirty yards behind them. Although he saw what was happening, he was no better informed than the Indians and was equally perturbed at the way in which the rifles were working.

  Even though he realized that the weapons’ repeated fire must be frightening the superstitious warriors, the Mexican was taken unawares by the speed with which the attack was turned into a rout. Instead of having a line of men ahead of him, shielding him from reprisals, he suddenly found himself completely exposed. He snatched desperately at the reins, trying to follow the braves’ example.

  ‘Get that son-of-a-bitch!’ Ole Devil snapped, lining his Browning.

  The command was not necessary. Like his cousin, Mannen took no pleasure in what they had been doing. So he would have been equally willing to let the fleeing Yaquis depart instead of trying to kill more of them before they were out of range. After receiving such a fright, they were unlikely to return and resume the attack. In fact, believing that their medicine had gone bad on them, they would in all probability call off their war trail and make for home as quickly as they could.

  The Mexican was another matter. Leading the warriors against his own people, having them loot, burn, pillage and slaughter for his own profit, he deserved no mercy.

  Aimed with deadly precision, the rifles cracked as the renegade’s horse was broadside to them. Throwing up his arms as two lead balls tore into his vital organs, he toppled out of his saddle and landed across the body of one of the braves whom he had sent to his death.

  Despite their belief that they had seen the last of the Yaquis, Ole Devil and Mannen continued to watch until they had disappeared over the horizon. From their rear came excited and puzzled chatter, suggesting that the soldiers were very impressed if unable to understand exactly how the attack had been broken and the braves driven off.

  When the Texians turned and walked towards them, the sergeant and the Lancers stared as if mesmerized at the rifles. White-faced, showing that she too had no idea of what had happened, Beatriz was gazing from the window of the coach.

  ‘How—How—?’ Sergeant Moreno began.

  ‘Our rifles are made so that they can fire more than one shot,’ Ole Devil replied, indicating the magazine that he had removed. ‘Have half of your men go to make sure that the renegade and the braves are dead. The rest can gather up your horses.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ Moreno answered, showing admiration and none of the animosity with which he had earlier scowled at Mannen.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it!’ Beatriz declared as the Texians crossed to the vehicle. ‘When you made us stop, I didn’t know what to think.’

  ‘It was the only thing to do,’ Ole Devil explained. ‘There was no way the coach could have out run the Yaquis, so we had to make a stand. I was counting on our two rifles taking them by surprise. They’d never have seen anything like them.’

  ‘I see,’ the woman said quietly, looking from the Browning rifle to the young Texian’s face. ‘You’re right about something else, Count von Richthofen. I’m sure that General Urrea can use your services.’

  Chapter Eleven – I Didn’t Think We’d Fool You

  ‘It’s clear to me that we owe you our thanks, Count von Richthofen,’ General José Urrea declared, after Beatriz Alvarez had finished telling him of how the Yaquis had been driven off. ‘You were right to make a stand instead of trying to run away.’

  ‘It wasn’t a decision that would have occurred to everybody,’ Colonel Sebastian Saucedo went on, throwing a meaning glance at Major Carlos Badillo.

  Standing before the massive desk in the study at Urrea’s hacienda, Ole Devi
l Hardin decided that the majority of the woman’s audience were in favor of his tactics with the Yaquis. Even Badillo was not displaying any great feeling of grief on having learned that his second-in-command had been killed. That was probably due to the General’s clearly expressed disapproval at Escalier’s behavior—as expressed by Beatriz—prior to his death.

  There had been no sign of the Yaquis after Beatriz’s party had resumed their interrupted journey. Nor, apart from there being a much more friendly atmosphere between the members of the escort and Mannen Blaze and Tommy Okasi, had anything else of note taken place on their way to the hacienda. From the way the soldiers had behaved, it was clear that if not forgotten, the way they had been handled in the fight at the Posada del Madonna was forgiven.

  On reaching their destination, the woman had invited Ole Devil and Mannen to accompany her to meet the General. Ole Devil had suggested that he would prefer to have Tommy along and she had agreed. Leaving their horses and bedrolls in the care of the escort, with Sergeant Moreno’s promise that all would receive his personal attention and protection, the three young men had carried along their rifles and other weapons. Beatriz had said that Urrea would be most interested in the Brownings and Ole Devil, who was hoping to make use of them to strengthen his position with the general, had been pleased of the excuse to keep the weapons in his possession.

  Obviously Saucedo and Badillo had known of the mission which had taken Beatriz to Matamoros. Both had arrived on the scene almost as soon as the coach had come to a halt in front of Urrea’s mansion. Although the major had been puzzled by Escalier’s absence, he had not mentioned it until the money was being transferred indoors from the coach. Nor had the woman enlightened him, beyond saying that the captain was dead, when he raised the question. She had promised that she would tell the full story in the General’s presence, and the major had had to be content with that. Like the Colonel, he had studied the Texians and Tommy. However, neither officer had been willing to make the first inquiries. So the reason for the trio being there had gone unexplained until they were all assembled in the General’s study.

  While waiting outside the room until Beatriz had handed over the money and made her report to the General, her husband, Saucedo and Badillo, the little trio composed of Ole Devil, Mannen and Tommy had, compared notes on what they had observed since arriving at the hacienda. Urrea appeared to have allowed his Activos and Militia regiments to either disband or to return to the areas in which they had been recruited. However, the Tamaulipa Lancers and the ‘Landero’ Line Infantry Battalion were camped in semi-permanent lines just beyond the wall which surrounded the hacienda. That meant he had the nucleus of a well-trained and armed fighting force readily available. In fact, after what had happened at San Jacinto, he had the strongest command in the Mexican Army.

  Called in to be introduced and hear Beatriz tell of their meeting and what had followed it, Ole Devil had examined the men who were responsible for him being in Mexico. Working in order of their military seniority, he drew his conclusions about each of them.

  Seen at close quarters, the young Texian did not form a favorable opinion of Urrea. While big, there was a dullness in his eyes and a complacent air that suggested a self-indulgent nature. That he had courage and some military ability could not be doubted. He had won his rank during the struggle for independence from Spain and the bitter civil strife which had followed when it was attained. Yet he had nowhere near as commanding an appearance as General Samuel Houston, or for that matter the man he sought to depose, Presidente Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna. In fact, to Ole Devil’s way of thinking, he did not have the aura of a natural leader.

  Which raised the point of who was the power behind Urrea?

  Whoever it was had, in all probability, masterminded the massacre of Colonel James W. Fannin and his command at Goliad.

  Watching and listening to Saucedo, Ole Devil judged him to be a hard and tough man who had attained the rank of colonel by climbing on the bodies of his erstwhile superiors. To have done so suggested that he must have more than his share of drive and ambition. Uncouth, boorish, yet undoubtedly brave and with higher than average fighting ability both individually and as a leader, he appeared to have the drive to aspire to even higher positions. His qualities totaled up to form a powerful combination. Against them, his background and general outlook were almost sure to deprive him of the very important support he would need from the influential dignitaries of the Catholic Church and the moneyed classes.

  Even if Saucedo was aware of his limitations, the young Texian wondered if he would be willing to act as the brains behind a more socially acceptable figurehead. Or if he would be subtle and tactful enough to prevent the man he selected from becoming aware of his manipulations.

  As Ole Devil saw it, there was one major argument against Saucedo. Such a man, consumed with the intolerant and class-conscious bigotry of his kind, would never have permitted Badillo—who stood for everything he hated—to have achieved so exalted a standing in Urrea’s eyes as to be allowed to attend a meeting of a confidential and possibly important nature.

  Where the cavalry major was concerned, the young Texian had more than personal observation and deductions to work upon. On resuming the journey after the abortive Yaqui attack, he had ridden ahead of the coach with Sergeant Moreno on the pretext of helping to watch out for further ambushes. Fired by his newly established admiration, the non-com had been all too willing to talk. After satisfying his curiosity regarding the Browning rifle, the Texian had turned the conversation to the Tamaulipa Lancers. He had established that Badillo was an officer of some merit. He would have to be before he could earn the loyalty and admiration of a hard-bitten veteran like Moreno. The sergeant had been voluble in his description of the feelings which existed between his superior and Colonel Saucedo. It clearly went beyond the traditional rivalry between a foot and a horse soldier.

  From a personal observation of Badillo, Ole Devil concluded that he would be everything that was calculated to arouse the infantry colonel’s ire. Of Creole xli blood, born into a wealthy and privileged strata of society far higher than Saucedo’s humble origins, a product of the Mexican Army’s Military Academy at Chapultepec, the major would not rest easily nor quietly in a subordinate capacity. That was proved by his presence in Urrea’s office instead of his regiment’s commanding officer.

  Undoubtedly Badillo would not be beyond aspiring to the presidency of Mexico. He would also be realistic and intelligent enough to have decided that his Creole birth and comparative youth might be against him in attaining his desires. There were many in the country who would not approve of a man of pure Spanish origin becoming Presidente, and others would expect to be governed by a person of more mature years.

  The question Ole Devil asked himself was would the major be content to play a waiting game and steer an older, more acceptable candidate into the position that he had set his heart upon attaining. While the Texian thought that he might, he would be unlikely to accept the continued existence of a dangerous rival like Saucedo. Of course, the opportunity to remove the colonel might not have presented itself.

  Despite appearances, Ole Devil did not ignore Major Alvarez. On the face of it the Paymaster did not seem like a seeker after high office. Standing to the right of Urrea’s chair, his whole attitude was that of a willing subordinate rather than one who hoped to improve his station. In fact, he put the young Texian in mind of something else. What it might be eluded Ole Devil for the moment.

  There was one other possibility and the Texian did not overlook it.

  From his first sight of Beatriz Alvarez, Ole Devil had felt that she was a woman of considerable personality and drive. Nor had later events caused him to revise his opinion. More than ever, she struck him as being ambitious, calculating and ruthless. However, she would know that no member of her sex could hope to become an accepted major factor in Mexico’s destiny. So she might be accepting second best by steering a man into the position which she craved. Her
husband would not do, so she might have settled for the General.

  Like many before him, Ole Devil could not help wondering how Beatriz had become involved with such a man as her husband. It could, he decided, have been the result of a marriage arranged by their parents where the Couple were not allowed any choice in the matter. Things of that kind happened, even in the United States, as Ole Devil had bitter reason to be aware. If he had guessed correctly, a woman of spirit would probably seek out some more promising material with which to achieve her desires.

  ‘Was it necessary for you to kill Captain Escalier?’ Alvarez inquired mildly, cutting into the Texian’s train of thought.

  ‘It was him or me,’ Ole Devil replied, looking at Badillo. ‘While I’ve no regrets, I apologize for having deprived your regiment of an officer, major.’

  ‘With his temper, it was only a matter of time before somebody did,’ Badillo answered. ‘And you more than made up for it by saving Senora Alvarez from the Yaquis.’

  ‘So you’re a Prussian officer, huh?’ Saucedo grunted, glaring in a hostile fashion.

  ‘I am,’ Ole Devil confirmed stiffly and shortly, with none of the politeness that he had employed while addressing the major.

  ‘From what I’ve heard,’ Saucedo growled, his antipathy towards the professional officer class being intensified by the ramrod straight figure before him, ‘I’d have expected to see dueling scars on your face.’

  ‘I’ve never met anybody good enough to put one on me,’ Ole Devil countered, and was conscious of Badillo watching him with less antagonism.

  ‘One thing puzzles the General,’ Alvarez remarked, nodding to Mannen. ‘My wife tells us that you are, or were, a sergeant major in the Prussian Army.’

  ‘I was,’ the burly Texian confirmed.