The Code of Dusty Fog

by J. T. Edson

  ‘And so he should be, the lousy son-of-a-bi—!’ the youngster interrupted, but was not so filled with righteous indignation over what he considered great leniency being shown to the attempted killer of the man he admired more than anybody else in the world that he entirely forgot the presence of the beautiful Englishwoman.

  ‘I don’t agree,’ Freddie stated gently, guessing and approving of the reason for the outburst. ‘Oh I know he shouldn’t have got involved with the ambush, but I’m convinced he let the other two lead him into it rather than doing the leading himself. Now he’s had a very bad fright from seeing his two friends killed and being wounded himself. What happened at the jail has shown him that, no matter how he might have felt before, he isn’t smart enough to be a successful outlaw and it could make him willing to consider honest work is best. But if he stands trial and goes to the Penitentiary, he’ll be ruined for life. With the treatment he’ll get and the company he’ll be keeping, he’ll come out either so broken in spirit that he’ll be useless for anything, or he’ll have become hardened enough to start on the owlhoot trail.’

  ‘I reckoned he’ll be way too smart to try coming after Dusty again once he’s loose,’ Waco commented, being willing to accept the decision as the beautiful Englishwoman and the small Texan were obviously in favor of it. Then a hopeful tone came into his voice and he continued, ‘How’s about it happen I’m waiting ’round the back of the jailhouse when he’s turned loose and sort of whomp him on his lil ole pumpkin head a few times to make sure he has learned his lesson?’

  ‘And you talk about us Injuns being mean!’ the Kid sniffed, amused as were the others by the display of loyalty.

  ‘Hasn’t he got a brain? Mark seconded, having similar emotions. ‘Or should that be has he got a brain?’

  ‘Don’t let those two bully you, dear boy,’ Freddie said and crossed to pat Waco’s blond head. ‘I think you’re simply wonderful.’

  ‘Time had to come when somebody did,’ Dusty declared. ‘I only wish it hadn’t been my wife. Anyways, you fellers’d best go back to whatever you was doing and get on doing it. I’ll be going out to the railhead comes morning and, knowing you, I figure you’ll be wanting to come with me.’

  Nine –I Thought You’d Never Ask

  ‘Whee-Dogie!’ the Ysabel Kid ejaculated, bringing his horse to a halt. To anybody who knew him as well as did three of his audience, it was obvious that the news that had just been imparted to him was causing considerable perturbation. ‘You mean we-all’ve got to go on this?

  ‘It’ll get us to the railhead a whole heap quicker than riding,’ Dusty Fog replied, although he could see the difficulties which might arise if they adopted the means of transportation under consideration. Glancing at the small crowd of railroad employees, and the usual loafers with nothing better to do, who had gathered and were watching, he went on, ‘Ray says they’ve got a railroad car fixed up specially for carrying horses.’

  Taking dinner with Raymond Sangster in a side room at the Fair Lady Saloon the previous evening, while the other three members of the OD Connected’s floating outfit were celebrating with their respective favorites amongst his wife’s girls in the bar-room, the small Texan had learned something of how the construction work was carried out and about the various problems which had led to the delays. He had been too polite to say so, but he considered most of the latter were caused by poor organization and leadership rather than bad luck. However, he knew that he could not decide whether this was the case until he had seen the work being carried out. Stating he and his amigos would be ready to go to the railhead the following day, he was informed they could travel by the supply train in which the New Englander would be returning. Dusty had pointed out one major difficulty with this means of travel, but had been told there were special facilities available which offered an answer to the problem. Joining his wife, Mark Counter, the Ysabel Kid and Waco at the conclusion of the meal, Sangster having declined his offer to do so, Dusty had put the matter from his mind after he had told them of the arrangements he had made. He had noticed the youngster in particular looked pleased by the possibility of having such a novel experience.

  That morning, at Freddie Fog’s suggestion, the Texans had packed such of their belongings as they thought would be needed while at the railhead, and had left the remainder in her quarters until they returned. Going to the livery barn where they had accommodated their horses and stored their saddles, they had made ready for setting out. Assuming they would be going on horseback as usual and without noticing that Dusty did not have his with him, the other three had strapped the war bags containing those of their ‘thirty years’ gatherings’ they felt might be required and bedrolls—wrapped in waterproof tarpaulin ‘tarps’ as protection against the elements—to the cantles of their low horned, doubled girthed saddles. Nor, after having controlled the friskiness shown by the animals as a result of a period of good food and light exercise, did the arrival of Freddie and her maid in a buggy cause them to revise their opinion. However, on reaching the sidings near the railroad depot, they had discovered they were wrong in their assumption with regard to the way they would be making the journey.

  As usual, the train which was waiting was comprised of— from the rear—a caboose—the domain of the brakeman and conductor—a comfortably furnished Pullman Pioneer car converted into combined office and living quarters for Sangster, a less luxurious ‘day coach’ for passengers not considered important enough to ride with him, three flat cars loaded with rails and other equipment, three trucks carrying coal, and a fuel tender. However, having been told that Dusty and the other Texans would be taking their mounts, the New Englander had had inserted between the goods and passenger sections what a later generation would call a ‘horse box’ which was constructed to specifications he was given on reaching Mulrooney. The train was drawn by a standard American Type engine built at the Grant Locomotive Works in Paterson, New Jersey. Described as a 4-4-0 in the American Whyte formula, it was four-coupled with a leading bogie truck supporting outside cylinders and equipped as a wood-burner. While not the latest and most modern of its class, it showed signs of having been well maintained by its driver and fireman and was capable of doing all that was required.

  ‘I’ve seen inside it, Lon,’ Freddie said, descending from the driving seat of the buggy while the maid was dismounting with an equal ease. Without explaining it was she who had given instructions for the way the car was fitted for its purpose, she went on, ‘It’s quite well equipped, considering we’re over here in the “colonies”, [24] and we often send even valuable hunters and race horses in such boxes back in England.’

  ‘Well now,’ Waco drawled, after dismounting and making sure he was beyond the reach of the beautiful Englishwoman. ‘Whatever you Lime-Juicers can do over there, us Texans can do a heap better.’

  ‘You watch what you’re saying, mate,’ Barbara “Babsy” Smith warned in her strident Cockney voice, looking around from where she was securing the buggy’s horse by attaching a rope with a heavy lead weight at the bottom end to the bridle. ‘Blokes’ve had all the hairs pulled out of their chests for saying things like that.’

  In her own way, the speaker presented just as attractive an appearance as her employer. Barely over five foot in height, roughly the same age as Freddie, she had tightly curled blonde hair taken in a pile on top of her head. Her face was pretty, with an expression indicative of a vivacious nature and a love of life. Although she had put on less revealing clothes than she wore when working in the barroom, they were far from being as decorous as the uniform she wore in her capacity of maid. A trifle more brilliantly colored than fashion dictated for a ‘good’ woman, the attire fitted so snugly it did nothing to hide the rich curves of her firmly fleshed close-to-buxom figure. Having formed a regular twosome with Waco, because of her volatile spirits, their relationship had become a source of considerable amusement to Freddie and the other members of the floating outfit.

  ‘And it would serve you righ
t, too,’ Freddie asserted, then gestured towards the horse box. ‘Why don’t you lead the way, darling?’

  Despite the horse’s owners having been raised around the animals almost from the cradle like most Texans, the beautiful Englishwoman knew that loading and persuading the animals to accept such unaccustomed conditions while traveling was far from a sinecure. They were bred for traveling long distances at a high average speed, rather than working cattle, and none was much under seventeen hands. In the peak of condition, due to having been resting and grain-fed for most of the time the men were acting as peace officers, each was powerful enough to cause serious trouble should it become disturbed or alarmed. If that was true of Dusty’s and Waco’s paints—the latter bearing the CA brand of Clay Allison’s remuda and having been selected on leaving that outfit because his hero rode one—and Mark’s slightly larger bloodbay, it applied all the more to the Kid’s magnificent white stallion. Biggest of the quartet, caught and trained by him, it still possessed much of its manadero herd stallion’s wild nature.

  However, Freddie realized her husband and his companions had one thing in their favor. Accepting that railroads were going to spread all over the country and wanting to be prepared for that day, they had regularly taken time from their duties at the town marshal’s office to bring their horses around the depot. By doing so, they had allowed the animals to grow accustomed to the sound of trains and none were now particularly perturbed when near one. On the other hand, she appreciated that getting them aboard the car and keeping them under control while it was in motion could prove a very different matter.

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ the small Texan assented, Freddie’s last words having been addressed to him. Dismounting, he continued, ‘Let’s get them on ready to go, amigos'

  ‘We could allus ride out a ways to kind of work some of the bedsprings out of their bellies afore we get on, Dusty,’ Waco suggested, rubbing the sleek neck of his big paint, but refraining from dismounting.

  ‘That’d be a right smart notion, ’cepting for one thing, boy,’ Mark commented, tossing his right leg over the saddlehorn as a preliminary to dropping to the ground. Thinking the sturdy wire rope on either side was there to help hold it steady, he waved a hand to the wooden ramp which slanted from the ground to the entrance of the car and went on, ‘We wouldn’t have this dingus to help us was we to do it.’

  ‘You would,’ Freddie corrected, ‘it hauls up and forms the door while you’re moving.’

  ‘They’ll likely be easier to handle here than out on the range, anyways,’ Dusty estimated, having already considered and discarded the proposal made by the youngster while thinking of the transportation problem on his way to the depot. He noticed the somewhat anticipatory way in which the spectators were watching and listening, and realized that he in particular was being subjected to a test. It would hardly enhance his authority if word spread that, although going to be gang boss in charge of the building crews at the railhead, he could not even take his horse into the car. ‘Let’s get our rigs off and take a look inside.’

  Having removed and carried their saddles up the ramp, leaving the horses standing ‘ground hitched’ by allowing the split-ended reins to dangle from the bridles, the Texans looked around and approved of what they saw. The car had excellent ventilation, and on either side of the entrance were three stalls which were fixed parallel to the line of the rails. Each was just wide enough for the horse to stand in comfort and yet be restrained from moving around. Offering a more secure footing than would either the bare boards or a layer of straw, sand covered the floor to a depth of two or three inches. The dividing walls and the wooden bar serving as a gate were lined with straw-padded burlap. Although there was a sturdy manger, no trough for water was provided. However, there was an adequate supply in a barrel and several buckets in which it could be taken to the horses. A wooden rack upon which the saddles could be hung instead of laid on the floor or hung by a stirrup iron was supplied and a couple of benches for the men who would be accompanying the animals.

  ‘Give Mr. Sangster his due, ’though I wouldn’t’ve expected him to have so much savvy,’ Mark drawled, hanging up his rig with the bed roll still attached and the Winchester Model of 1866 rifle pointing forward in its boot on the left side. ‘He’s fitted this out pretty good.’

  ‘I’ll float my stick with you on that, amigo,’ Dusty admitted, noticing how the blond giant had employed the word, “mister” instead of using the New Englander’s given name, thus making a statement which would not have been uttered if there was a liking between them. Instead of commenting on the matter, having placed his saddle on the rack, he reached up to unfasten his bandana and went on, ‘But I reckon we’d best cover the horses eyes before we make a stab at it getting them in.’

  Although Mark and Waco duplicated the actions of their leader on leaving the box, the Kid had no need to do so. By drawing down the three inches wide browband of the hackamore he preferred instead of a conventional bridle, he dispensed with the need to use his black bandana as a blindfold for the white stallion. Of course, he could not allow the opportunity to pass of commenting upon the advantage he gained.

  ‘I allus said you fellers should use the right kind of rig,’ the black dressed Texan announced. ‘But you never listen.’

  ‘What did he say, Mark?’ Waco inquired, looking around from where he was using his opened out bandana to cover the eyes of his paint.

  ‘I dunno,’ the blond giant replied, ensuring his bloodbay—its coat the rich deep red color of old mahogany—would be unable to see while it was being taken into the car. ‘I never listen to anything he says, nor you for that matter.’

  Smiling at the exchange of comments between the other three, knowing it was made partly to relieve a tension similar to that he was experiencing, Dusty accepted one of the lead ropes his wife had brought in the buggy. Then, taking the reins, he led his big paint stallion towards the ramp. Despite the blindfold, being well trained, it followed him without making any resistance while on level ground. However, feeling the planks beneath its hooves and hearing the different sound they made, it showed signs of nervousness. Speaking in a quiet and soothing tone, he kept it moving upwards and into the car. Taking it to the right hand stall at the left side of the doorway, he persuaded it to enter and removed the bit. Having tied it short by the head, using the lead rope, he withdrew and lowered the padded wooden bar into place behind it. By the time he was finished, Mark arrived and, putting the bloodbay next to Dusty’s horse, secured it in the same fashion. Nor, because of their skill in matters equestrian and the rapport established with the white and other paint, did the Kid and Waco have any greater difficulty in getting them aboard and accommodating them.

  On leaving the car, after removing the blindfolds and spending a few seconds helping the horses to become accustomed to their unusual surroundings, the Texan found the distaff side of their party talking with a burly white man in a peaked cap and bib-overalls and a shorter, heavily built Negro dressed in a similar fashion.

  ‘Dusty, boys,’ Freddie said. ‘This is Tom Riordan and Moses Jones, the engineer and fireman of the train.’

  ‘Glad to know you, Cap’n Fog, gents,’ the white railroad man declared and his companion nodded a cheerful greeting, ‘Being a right law-abiding and upright sort of a feller—and knowing my wife’d whomp me over the head with a broom handle should I have got tossed in the pokey ’n’ fined—our paths never crossed while you was marshal. Anyways, Mose’ and me’ll get you to the railhead a heap faster’n you could ride there.’

  ‘Why sure,’ Dusty drawled, although he observed with some amusement that the words were directed more to Mark than himself. It was an error people had often made in the past and, he did not doubt, would continue to do so. ‘After what I’ve told the boys, I’m counting on you to do that or I’ll never live it down.’

  ‘Tom says he’ll go easy on the whistle and try not to do too much jerking until those fool horses of yours get used to riding
the car,’ Freddie said, after the brief moment of embarrassment had passed due to Riordan discovering the mistake in identification he had made. He and the fireman then shook hands with her husband. She did not mention the suggestion had come from her, but glanced away and continued, ‘Here comes Raymond Sangster.’

  ‘We’d best be going to the Colonel, Mose,’ the engineer announced, darting a look in the same direction, his tone suggesting to Dusty that he too was not enamored of the New Englander.

  ‘The Colonel?’ Waco queried, before the men could leave. ‘That’s what we call our old engine,’ Riordan explained. ‘’Cause you Johnny Rebs took the General back from our boys in the War.’ [25]

  ‘Those Southern gennelmen’d never’ve got him back had me ’n’ you been on the foot-plate, boss,’ Jones asserted with a grin, but watched carefully for any resentment on the part of the Texans that might be caused by his comment.

  ‘Likely not,’ Dusty drawled amiably and the others also showed no animosity. ‘’Course, Jim Andrews didn’t have the Texan Light Cavalry after him, or the chase he led would’ve been some shorter.’

  ‘And shorter still had it been ole General Bushrod Sheldon’s boys,’ Mark supplemented, having served with the outfit he named.

  ‘He wouldn’t’ve even got near the railroad had Colonel Mosby been around with pappy and me riding scout,’ the Kid boasted.

  ‘Danged if we’re not surrounded by Johnny Rebs,’ Riordan informed Jones in mock horror. ‘Let’s get to the Colonel afore they takes it prisoner’s well.’

  ‘Glad to see you’re all here,’ Sangster greeted, striding up and glaring after the departing engineer and fireman. ‘We’re due to be leaving in a few minutes. Shall I have your gear put in my Pullman, Dusty?’