Shatto's Way

by Roy F. Chandler

  Toby thought about that a little. Maybe Praying Mantis had been responsible for some of the valley's troubles. Well, with a little luck that would be soon over.

  Freet continued, "Most of the time they've got a guard in a tower they've built on top of the building,

  I guess he looks over the river. Then, yesterday afternoon, they sent one man out on the point between here and there, I suppose he was watching this road. Anyway, he came back in before dusk."

  "Everybody in that one building, John?"

  "Yup, groanin' an' gruntin' like a bunch of hogs.

  "If they do it like yesterday, they'll begin straggling around an hour or so after dawn. They get a fire or two going and cook whatever they've got. Poor pickin's are about all I saw so they aren't living very high in there."

  Toby grunted understanding and sat silent, letting his thoughts run.

  Freet interrupted once, "We can take 'em, Toby. We can slip in and shoot hell out of 'em just at dawn." Toby only grunted, so he too sat and waited.

  Chop loomed like a boulder in the night, only a dim glitter of shotgun shells in a leather bandoleer across his vast chest catching light. He always had waited for Toby to decide, and he was content to do so now.

  Finally Shatto stirred, stretched, and then sat down again. When he spoke, his plan was full blown and it sounded as though he had known all along what he intended to do.

  "Alright, we'll hit 'em as soon as it's light enough. You're right about waiting until then, John. Sleep is heaviest at dawn and we can see what we're doing in that light.

  "But we aren't going in on them. Even cornered rats fight hard, and we don't need to take chances.

  "We'll divide into four groups, Chop, Bill Long, young Askins, and you, John, will each have a team. We'll leave our packs here with one guard. You pick him out, Chop, and explain how important it is that we don't come back to an ambush.

  "We'll move out with enough time to be in place by four in the morning. Each group will move in separately so that we don't sound like an army thrashing around out there, and each leader will make sure his men are in good cover with clear fields of fire. Then everybody can rest on his guns until light comes.

  "Now I want everybody in close enough to use shotguns effectively. Your job will be to stop 'em cold when they run. If some don't run, the shotguns will raise hell with anything they show.

  "I figure most will try for the river as that side has the closest cover. That'll be your side, John. Bill will take the south and Terry Askins the east. I'll come in with Chop from the north."

  Toby hunched around a little getting more comfortable. "The way you describe the place, the windows are mostly out, that right, John?"

  "Uh-huh. Doors are off too. Probably burned 'em for firewood."

  "Ok, here's how we'll do it. Just at dawn I'll move in and toss a pair of dynamite charges in windows.

  "Chop'll cover me with the silenced gun in case someone appears while I'm closing in. Mainly though, he'll keep a bead on the guard in the tower. If the tower man gets nervous or seems to see something, Chop'll cut him in two before he can raise an alarm.

  "I'm going to make the dynamite charges big ones. Maybe I can kill 'em all. Assuming some survive they'll probably come into view. When they do, shoot 'em dead. Then shoot them again to make sure. Remember, we want 'em all.

  "When Chop thinks it's right, he'll raise a yell, and we'll go in and make sure no one is hiding. Now that'll be the most dangerous time but it's got to be done. Tell your men to go slow and careful and shoot into every body they see no matter how dead it looks. There's nothing worse than having some wounded animal with a gun rise up from behind—so make sure!

  "After it's over, each group leave a man on guard and the rest will go in and collect anything worth saving.

  "We'll leave the dead where they lie as clear warning. Then we'll go back to the bridge, pick up our gear, and go home."

  +++

  He had to be pleased with his men's approach. Listening intently, Toby occasionally detected movement, but there was not enough to arouse the tower guard. Irregularly Toby could hear the guard shift his weight but it sounded only like an uncomfortable man trying to sleep. Once the groups were in position, even the tiny disturbances ceased and they needed only arrival of the sun.

  The wait until light was itself an eon. Toby considered creeping up to the building and lying close until he could see, but if he was discovered, the plan would be ruined and they would be fighting a larger force in the dark that had thick walls for protection.

  He had made up two bundles of six dynamite sticks each. He had inserted two detonators with eight second fuses into each bundle and taped the fuse ends together. With double fusing, failure to explode was improbable.

  Chop caught his breath in surprise, "For God's sake, Tob', that's enough dynamite to blow up a town!"

  "I wish we had more, Chop. The bigger the blast, the fewer will come out. With all we've got stored we should have brought more with us."

  "Eight seconds is too short, Toby."

  "A hand grenade is only four and a half seconds, Chop. We can't give them time to throw the dynamite back."

  "Well, don't hold onto the damned things. Light 'em and heave."

  "Don't worry, on the way in I'll pick out a hollow and that's where I'll be when the charges go off. You just keep that guard off of me, Chop, and if you shoot, bore him until you can't see him anymore. An alarm could sour the works."

  Shooting light came slowly beneath still another gray overcast. Toby studied the grim outlines of the half-ruined building, trying to decide which windows he should throw into. He could only guess at the floor plan and decided the two end windows would be best. If the end walls blew out, the upper works should come down. Still, there might be brick or stone fire walls inside that could stand a lot. Without knowing, he had to guess and hope he was right.

  When the guard, slouched in his tower, became more than a silhouette, he judged the time was right. To be sure, he waited a few minutes more before signaling Chop to get ready.

  Chop nodded and brought the American 180 to his shoulder. He rested the forearm solidly on his hand and across a low tree limb. He settled his eye behind the scope and moved a little to get everything right.

  "Ok, Tob , let her rip—and don't hold those fuses!"

  Toby clutched both bombs under one arm as he would a football. His other hand held their best cigarette lighter, and matches were ready in a pocket.

  He rose, walking swiftly and silently toward the gaping blackness of the glassless windows. Above, the guard slumped unmoving, and knowing that Chop had him in the scope crosshairs, Toby gave him no more attention.

  Coldly opaque, the empty window openings stared back at him and he could imagine rifles and shotguns even now aiming at him from the safety of their darkness.

  His skin crawled and his belly knotted in anticipation of a bullet's strike. The urge to run, lighting fuses on the move, sent a tremble to his legs, and he could feel the lighter in his hand grow slippery with nervous sweat.

  The distance was less than fifty yards but the time seemed stretched beyond reason. He tried to blank out exposure and possible discovery by selecting a place to fall into after he threw the explosives. One spot looked good and he marked it in his mind then chose a solid place along the building wall to pause and light his fuses.

  Finally he was there. He leaned against the rough security of the wall and gathered the four fuse ends even and tightly together. With only eight seconds before detonation he had to do this right.

  The lighter was a throw-away type with fuel sealed in and they had adjusted it for pipe lighting flame. At Toby's flick the lighter's flame jetted long and satisfyingly powerful. He held the fuse ends to the fire and as the first hissing and sparking began he counted "one."

  On a late two count he lobbed the first charge through a window and ran for the further empty opening. He threw on five and stretched for the protection of his shallow hole.
He almost made it.

  Behind him the world erupted. He was grasped by a mighty hand and slammed forward into the depression. A blast wave roared silently overhead as his shocked ears lost their hearing. He dug into the ground with clawed fingers, his face pressed into reeking soil. He wished himself pancake thin even as debris began falling around him.

  The force of the blast threw Chop's aim off and he was able to watch flame and fire gush from every opening in the building. For an instant the building walls seemed to hold, then they blew away, bulleting planks, stones, bricks, and a million unidentifiable pieces outward in a hellish rain of destruction.

  Mostly protected by earth and his tree, Chop saw the watchtower and guard propelled violently skyward on a column of fire until it weakened and they fell separately into the collapsed and gutted ruin.

  As stunned as the rest by the awesome blast, Chop watched Toby's hole for movement. None came, and sudden fear shook him awake. He yelled the "Forward" and started out himself. Other figures slowly rose from concealment and marched weapons ready into the vacuumed silence of the destroyed building.

  As he neared Toby's hole there was movement, and a blackened and ripped Toby Shatto sat up gazing numbly at Chop's big form.

  He saw Chop's lips moving but there was no sound. He shook his head trying to steady his vision and force hearing but was only partially successful.

  Chop's broad face grinned down at him and an arm thrust forward his 180 rifle. Somehow Toby's hand reached it, and he struggled to regain his feet.

  He tried to form words of thanks and commands to move on but nothing worked right, and Chop was already going anyway. For a moment he sat on the edge of his hole trying to get his balance and force his eyes to focus together.

  His clothing was nearly torn off and the back of his neck felt burned. His hat had disappeared, but otherwise he seemed to have escaped serious injury.

  The building had blown out and then fallen in on itself. Already, small fires were licking the ruins, and he saw men fire downward and assumed they were making sure.

  Well, he had done better than he had hoped, but he wished he had allowed a second or two longer on the fuses. He had just about blown himself up.

  He fought to his feet and began a staggery walk toward the ruin. A bit of hearing was coming back to one ear and that helped his balance. Within his head a tremendous ringing continued but even its persistence lessened in volume.

  Movement caught his eye and he swung to it. Within yards, like a specter from a grave, a wild eyed figure rose into view. It saw Toby and uttered a mindless screech, hurling itself toward a tangle of brush leading to a deep ravine.

  Still stunned by the explosions, Toby was startled anew by the magical appearance. Recognition of the specter and its skin-crawling scream further confused him and he was slow getting his gun up. Clumsy fingered, he fumbled with the safety and got sighted just as the figure vanished into the brush.

  Aiming ahead he sprayed a long burst, fire hosing the rounds in lateral patterns at where his enemy had disappeared.

  There was crashing in the brush, and he adjusted his fire to cover it. The sound of a long tumbling fall ended in silence, but Toby lacked the immediate vigor to go hunting.

  The shrill screech had gone unnoticed, and the silenced rifle had disturbed no one. He stood alone, trying to organize his shattered senses and determine whether he had not imagined it all.

  Later he thought he detected running and scrambling sounds from down the ravine so he had probably missed.

  Still, maybe he had gotten a bullet into something vital.

  A single .22 long rifle did not knock a man down, but it might still kill in time. He surely hoped so.

  +++

  Kermit Mantis always slept lightly. Others might be crept up on and head knocked or robbed, but not he. His sleeping place against the basement wall was sealed off by some old metal he had dragged in, and a bit of plywood secured the small cellar window from easy entrance.

  Mantis heard the sounds of a man running outside and raised himself to listen. Even with the protection of a thick floor above, the dynamite blast drove him flat. A shock wave tore through his cellar, blowing out the window seal and hurling metal sheets all over him. The floor was smashed down, pinning his feet in rubble but leaving him unharmed.

  Stupefied, he lay choking amid darkness and whirling dust believing his end had surely come. Silence was complete but he could not be certain if it was loss of hearing or just lack of noise. Then he heard flames crackling and a few voices called from outside. Within moments, shots sounded within and Mantis suspected it wasn't survivors firing the guns.

  Panicked, he fought his feet free of entanglement and flung aside the metal that had landed on him. By window light he could see that the explosion had collapsed all but the ends of the floor joists and they slanted downward protecting him within a crude lean-to of beams and flooring. If flames had not licked among the boards he would have remained hidden until dark or until the unknown raiders moved on. With fire rapidly building, he could not wait. The cellar window appeared his best way out.

  He supposed Colonel Kellog had finally come against them. They had paid the Colonel's demands the best they could but pickings had been poor, and Kellog's complaints had grown strident. Mantis wondered if others had lived through the blast. The shooting had moved away so perhaps surviving companions were fighting a withdrawal.

  He peered cautiously from the window but high weeds obstructed his vision. Hearing nothing close by, he carefully slid through and gathered himself for a dash into a ravine he knew would give him cover.

  Rising, he came face to face with a figure so recognizable it staggered his mind. Only a few steps away, Toby Shatto stood holding a strange-looking gun and staring at him with eyes as cold as an arctic tomb.

  The scream of raw fear that ripped his throat exploded him into a frantic lunge for escape. He saw Shatto begin to raise his rifle and knew he had no chance. His mind had already surrendered to death as he reached the heavy brush, but strangely bullets did not come.

  He sprawled forward in a crashing dive and instantly the wall of brush was stitched with tiny bullets. Leaves and twigs sprayed him and certain spots on his person stung with sudden intensity.

  The bullets stopped and he crept cautiously forward.

  A little further he rose to move more quickly but tripped and again sprawled grotesquely. Another rain of bullets tore everything around him but quickly ceased. This time he waited like a trapped rabbit for approaching steps, but none came near.

  Again he gained his feet and this time made progress deep into the ravine. Then he ran wildly with his back crawling in expectation of bullets chewing into his flesh.

  When he was safely away and hidden in a thick growth of honeysuckle, he examined his stings. He had been hit a number of times and a trio of bloody grooves showed near misses. Two bullets lay in the muscles just behind his arm, and they stung like liquid fire. Another pair were buried in a thigh and the leg throbbed mightily. He picked a half imbedded and distorted bullet from a forearm and pressed hard against the small blood flow. He thought another bullet or two might be in his back, but he couldn't see and the agony might just be from imbedded splinters, like the ones he could see in front. Everything worked, he just hurt a lot.

  The only help he knew about would be in Colonel Kellog's Harrisburg camp. Dared he go there? There was no other choice. He crawled to his feet and started off. At the river he slopped water on himself and drank. Then cursing Toby Shatto, he kept going south.

  Cursing Shatto gave him his scheme. He would ask to see the Colonel himself. Then he would explain the threat to Kellog's security from Shatto's wild men.

  The story might buy him time, even a place in the Colonel's camp. Encouraged, he shuffled along, scheming far ahead to when Colonel Vance Kellog would be persuaded to go up the river and wipe out Toby Shatto and that whole boar's nest of Perry County hoop polers.

  ++

  Chap
ter 26

  Late in August, foul weather patterns finally broke and warm sunshine flooded the days. Fine drizzly rains fell about one night a week and laggard crops began bursting with growth.

  Since the destruction of Kin Kora, no outlaws had come to Shatto's Way and that alone raised morale many notches. The medical clinic was proving a boon to the community and the experimenters were enjoying increasing success with their alcohol engines.

  Already a few families were talking of moving back to their places, although, so far, Toby had convinced them to wait at least through the winter. He understood their wish to again live independently, but until a farm could be equipped with draft animals or an alcohol tractor (with sufficient fuel), living beyond the village would demand mighty efforts with small rewards.

  As Toby saw it, return to the farms should be a planned, progressive, outward spreading. Socially and culturally they could turn toward the village, and of course, the medical clinic would see to their physical well being.

  With the village as a center, equipped and prepared farmers could receive additional help, and as markets developed, they could sell their crops through village outlets. The movement from commune to community should not be hasty. Without caution and thorough preparation, failure lurked close, and a family could easily expend its strength in simply trying to exist and have nothing left to improve and progress.

  Toby was also aware of the buffer effect a ring of producing farms would provide. Surrounded by friends, their defenses, both military and economic, would be stronger. But to act too soon would weaken the farmers' chance for success and the village itself. He counseled patience and thus far, his people had listened.

  He had been inspecting the new school building and should have been content. The work had been well done and everyone else was pleased,

  It had been Toby's insistence that resulted in a four-room building. Dividing all grades into fourths was an improvement over a one-room school, and it made a sound beginning.

  Two of the classrooms had tiered seating with each arc of students rising higher so that even the back row could see the teacher—and so the teacher could see the back row. There had been grumbling, but now that the school was finished, everybody liked the plan and it would have been hard to find anyone who would have admitted to initial opposition.