They did and all whistled at the total.
“A big three thousand, four hundred, and seventy two dollars from the bank. A hundred and eighty from the café, and three hundred and ten from the general store,” Sully said putting down a pencil. “Makes a total of three thousand, nine hundred, and sixty two dollars.”
“Real money we can spend?” David Donnelly asked.
“Good as gold coins up north and now in the south as well,” Sully said. “Not the way we wanted it, but that’s what happens when you lose a war.”
“Sure as hell would like to find us another bunch of damn Yankees in their fancy blue uniforms,” Curley Johnson said.
“Won’t be many Yanks over here in West Missouri,” Sully said. “If we see any we lay low and let them move away. I don’t want to lose any of you men in a heavy fire fight with the Yanks.”
“Maybe we find another camp and take them by surprise,” Hirum said. “I still got an itch to kill me some more Yankee blue bellies.”
Sully frowned. “On this kind of an operation we just watch and wait and find ourselves some nice soft targets. If we get spotted by some Yankees, we fight. But have an idea they have orders not to get into fire fights with straggler Rebels.”
“Dammit I still owe them about twenty dead Yanks for wiping out my family and my ranch. That’s what I’m living for right now.”
Sully nodded. “Know what you mean. We all have a debt to be collected on. But the best way is to take it slow and steady, take what we can get, and cut down those who challenge us. We can get our vengeance burned out that way.”
He handed out fifty dollars in the Yankee bills to each man. It was more cash than they had seen in three years.
“Just in case you need to buy something in a friendly town ,” Sully said. The men whooped in delight.
“Now, let’s get some sleep. Hard telling what we will run up against tomorrow.”
Chapter Three
They saw the small town from about a mile away and approached it at a walk. About a hundred yards from the first house a sturdy six foot wide sign greeted them.
“Welcome to Broken Bow Missouri. Population 568. THE WAR IS NOT OVER, NEVER WILL BE. All rebels welcome here. Yankees stay clear.”
“Well now, first one of those we have seen,” Curley said. “Might get some new clothes here and a big dinner.”
It was near ten o’clock and Sully nodded. “Looks good so far. We go into town in pairs. If it looks right we check out the general store for you men who need civilian clothes. You other three put on your home cloths this morning. Then we get a good dinner. We can all eat at the same place. Let’s do it.”
Sully needed clothes. He had discarded his rebel jacket, tied his great coat on his saddle, and went into the Broken Bow Mercantile in an old uniform shirt. He and Hirum went in first.
“Morning,” Sully said to a middle aged clerk behind a small counter. “I’m in need of some clothes.”
“More than glad to show you what I have,” the man said. “You be a Rebel I’d guess wants to go back to being a civilian.”
“Right as rain. Looks like my war is over but I appreciated the sign at the edge of town.”
“Lots of us feel the same way. Let me show you what will fit you.”
Sully wound up with two brown shirts, two pair of sturdy brown pants, and a low crowned town hat with a wide brim. The whole thing cost him four dollars and twelve cents.
Hirum got two sets of blue shirts and pants and a dark brown cowboy hat.
They found Johnny Joe and the others sitting outside a good looking café.
“When do we eat?” Bill Carter asked when Sully walked up.
“Soon as we can get inside,” Sully said.
“Friendly town,” Curley said. “Two men stopped by and shook our hands. One said he was glad to see some real men for a change. Said the war would never be over here in Broken Bow.”
Inside the man behind the counter ginned. He was fat, about forty, and almost bald.
“Hoped you gents was coming in,” he said. “Ex cavalry I’d say on the Rebel side. Good to have you here. How can I feed you gents?”
They all had favorites. Southern fried chicken led the choices with grits all the way around.
When each man paid his bill, the owner cut the price in half. “Do what I can for our boys,” he said. “Oh, if you’re heading west take care in the next town over. “Pleasanton is the name but it ain’t. Bunch of damned northern sympathizers there and ten or twenty blue bellies just moved in from what I hear. Might want to ride around the place.”
Sully nodded. “Thanks for the advice. We don’t go looking for trouble but we sure as hell don’t go out of our way to avoid it either.”
Outside they sat in the chairs in front of the café, tilted them back, and relaxed. For the first time in weeks Sully felt at ease.
“You guys want to stay here tonight at the hotel?”
“Mean sleep in a real bed?” Donnelly asked. “Don’t think so. Don’t want to get used to a bed after all this time on the ground.”
“Rather head out for that next Yankee town,” Hirum said “Got me some more notches I need to cut on my six-gun grip.”
“Could be a nest of rattlers in there still wearing their blue uniforms,” Sully said. “The north discharged thousands of men same way our side did.”
“Why don’t we go take a look,” Bill Carter said. “Then we can decide what to do.”
Heads nodded. Sully stood. “Guess that’s what we’ll do. Can’t hurt to take a look, send in one man as a spy to check out the place. Let’s ride.”
They did.
It was twenty miles to Pleasanton, described by men in Broken Bow as a nest of northern loyalty. They had bought some two day food at the general store on their way out of town and figured they would eat it up before it spoiled. Bacon was the big prize. They rode the rest of the afternoon and were on a high rise about four o’clock when they looked at the scratch of a wagon road ahead of them. Down the long slope to a large valley they saw a good sized cloud of dust kicked up by some riders.
“How many?” Sully asked. Curley stared a minute then nodded.
“Oh yes. A squad of about ten or twelve and an army freight wagon. Just wonder what the Blue Bellies have on board.”
The riders were about a half mile away but Curley had the best eyes in the squad.
“Yep, one freighter and an escort. Must be something important to put that many men with it in peacetime.”
“Figure that we should take a look and check it out,” Sully said. He stared at the land leading down to the valley. “We keep on this ridgeline we can swing around the road and work hard at getting ahead of them in the brush and trees so they won’t know that we’re coming.’
“With a heavy rig like that they must have four draft horses pulling it,” Curley said. “Which means they have to slow down and stop for the night when the nags get tired out. Depends on when they started today but my guess is that they will make camp anytime now. At least by four thirty, say in half an hour.”
“Could it be a civilian freighter?” Bill Carter asked.
“Don’t seem likely,” Curley said. “Not with a dozen cavalry men escorting it.”
“So let’s move,” Sully said. “We stay under cover in those trees and check their progress when we can.
They rode.
In just half an hour Sully moved cautiously to the lip of the ridgeline and looked down at the valley road below. No sign of the army unit or the wagon. He frowned, then worked back the trail a quarter of a mile and saw the smoke coming from a patch of woods near a small stream. They had landed for the night. He rode back to his team and told them.
“So we will move in, get as close as we can with good fields of fire. We all have Henry repeaters now so we can cut down most of them before they know we’re there. Then we pick off the live ones and take down the wagon. Remember we move slow and quietly. If we can get within a hundred yards of them on horseback we do it, t
hen dismount and move up on foot as close as we can get.
Sully led the men forward cutting down the slope, staying in the trees, and watching the camp below for any scouts out. No, they would not have any need for scouts. The war was over. No danger on this milk run with an army freighter. At least that’s what Sully hoped they figured.
At two hundred yards the trees thinned out and Sully called a halt in a little swale which would hide the horses.
“We move up from here,” he told them. If we can get within fifty yards of them we check for the best field of fire we can find. They will be about ready for chow so that should make it easier. Stay about ten yards apart in a lose line moving forward. Let’s go.”
It was slow but quiet as they worked through the thin trees and scant brush trying for as much concealment as they could find. At forty yards, Sully held up his Henry. The line stopped and he moved from one man to the next checking his firing line to the camp, changing positions to make it better. When he was ready he signaled them with a wave of his new hat, then all five of them fired the first shots.
The camp below roared into action. Three men went down, others dove for weapons spilling mess kits full of food on the ground. Two more of the blue suited Yankees took bullets and went down. A few rounds of return fire came.
Sully saw a man lift up and yell at the Yankees. Sully brought him down with two quick shots. He hit the ground hard and never moved. Sully figured the man was the officer with the detail. Two Yanks below sprang up and raced away from the camp into heavier timber. A dozen shots followed them but they vanished without being hit.
Sully had been counting. He figured six of the ten or twelve were down and wounded or dead. Two more got away, that would leave maybe six left. Sully saw a good sized tree ten yards ahead. He lifted up and sprinted for the tree, zigzagging as he ran. He dove to the ground behind the tree and peered around it. He heard a rifle round hit the tree in front. Now he could see more of the camp. Two men crouched behind a fallen log but their legs were exposed. Sully brought up the Henry and fired six times at the legs. He saw hits on both sets of legs and they then were jerked out of sight.
Four to go.
One man lifted up, bent over, and ran toward the heavier woods. He never made it. Three rifle rounds jolted into him and he died before he hit the ground.
Three to go.
A rifle lifted from behind another log. On the end was a white flag.
“Cease fire,” Sully bellowed. The Henry’s went silent.
One man holding the white flag stood.
“We give up,” the Yankee screamed. “The damn war is over. Haven’t you heard about that?”
When the flag man wasn’t shot down, the other man stood with his hands over his head.
“Any more of you?” Sully barked.
“Just three who are wounded bad,” the white flag man said.
“Anybody else fires at us, you two are down and dead,” Sully brayed.
“We give up. You even killed the freighter.”
Sully stood, waved at his men who came upright but with their guns aimed at the pair of Yanks. They walked forward cautiously, eyes sweeping the whole camp for movement. When Sully was ten yards from the Blue Coats he could see one of them was wounded.
“Where are the other two who ran away?” Sully asked.
“Don’t know but not far away. They will be watching, then hike out to report back to our unit what happened.”
“How far away?”
“Maybe thirty miles.”
“What’s in the wagon?”
“Not much. Some army goods to trade for food at the town up ahead.”
“How much money to buy with?”
“Not sure. Heard the lieutenant talking about three hundred dollars.”
“We’ll find it. How many wounded you have?”
“Not sure. Three, maybe as many as five.”
“You take care of them. We’ll put them in the wagon come morning. If any of you touches a weapon he’s as good as dead. Understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Do it.” Sully looked at his men. “Strip all the guns and ammo from the camp. Don’t miss anything. Any of you hit?”
“Got a graze on my arm,” Curley said. “Just a damn scratch.”
“Bring it over here.”
Sully looked at the wound that cut through an inch of Curley’s left arm three inches below his shoulder.”
“Hirum, wrap it up for him. Any more scratches?” There were none.
A half hour later the camp was cleaned up, the weapons in a pile, the wounded wrapped up the best the Yankees could do for them, and the cash found in the freight wagon. It was three hundred dollars in twenty dollar bills.
“Who are you guys?” the man with the white flag asked.
“Six southerners on a ride of vengeance. We lost families, ranches, livestock and buildings to your rampaging Yankee army. Now we want some payback in Yankee blood, money, and misery.”
“Our unit…”
Sully cut him off. “I know, you had nothing to do with it. That don’t cut no cotton with us. We take what we want where we find it. Now shut up and stay alive.”
In what light was left they checked out the goods in the wagon. Nothing of much value. Some new army blankets, a few tools, six cartons of rifle rounds, and then they found something they could use: two cases of dynamite. Sully grinned. Yes, they would make up two stick bombs and keep some with each of his men.
They found the horses, ten riding mounts, and the four dray horses. So there had been twelve of them.
With darkness they built up the fire and Sully talked to the flag man. He was a sergeant.
“You want to be tied up all night or will you be here in the morning if I don’t tie you?”
“I’ll be here. I want to get my wounded into town to a doctor.”
“What’s your count?”
“Two men escaped, four are wounded, four are dead and two of us not hurt.”
“No ropes. Get to sleep. We’ll have a guard on duty all night.”
Sully took the first watch until his Waterbury told him it was midnight. Then he woke Curley for the twelve to four shift, and Carter the four to eight. Sully gave his pocket watch to Curley when he went on guard.
It was a short night for all of them.
Chapter Four
In the morning everything was as it should be. Sully got up, washed his face in the stream, then looked at the food supply the Yanks had brought with them. A minute later Hirum was at his side checking things out.
“We can make hot cakes and they even have some bacon left,” Hirum said. Sully nodded and turned the cooking over to Hirum. He went out and looked at the prisoners. The two not wounded were there still sleeping. The wounded were hurting. He felt a tinge of pity for them. He would see that they got into the next town as fast as the dray horses would pull the wagon.
He found the Army horses on a picket line not far away. Still ten of them, but in the daylight they didn’t look any better than the ones his men were riding. He brought three back for the Yankees who could ride. The rest of the mounts he took off their bridals, cut them loose, and sent them running into the brush. They would find some wild horses somewhere and bet better off.
When he got back to the camp, Sully found that Hirum had the hotcakes and bacon ready for the men. He loved to cook and did it for the Rebels.
“Eat up, you guys. This is Yankee grub so how can we lose.”
“Maybe it’s poisoned,” Carter cracked.
“Not unless they want to kill their own men,” Hirum said. “Besides, I already tested it.”
After all had eaten, they got ready to move quickly. The wounded were bedded down on the blankets in the wagon. They threw out some of the trade goods in the wagon then one of the Yanks got up on the wagon to drive.
“How close are we to this next town?” Curley asked. “They must outnumber us ten to one in there.”
“Get us within a mile of the
place,” Sully said. “Then we cut out to the north a ways. Want to find some smaller Yankee towns without any army in them.
Two miles from the town they spotted a mounted group coming. Curley said they looked like Yankee cavalry.
Sully went to the flag sergeant.
“Some of your people are coming to meet you. So this is where we cut out. Tell them what happened and that for the six of us the war ain’t over, ain’t never gonna be over.”
“At least some of us are still alive,” the sergeant said. “Thanks for that much. Burn out your hate fast, soldier. Get back to being a real human being. It’s easier that way on everyone.”
“You got a name, Yankee?” Sully asked.
“Yep. Jeff Brittany. This is my country. Get my discharge soon as we hit this next town.”
“One fewer Blue Bellies for us to hunt down,” Sully said.
The sergeant saluted Sully who saluted back then he whirled his mount around and led his men at right angles to the road heading due north to see what they could find.
They rode cross country, going around farms and ranches and after two hours found a road of sorts heading northwest. It was a wagon track with grass and weeds growing in the middle between the wide spread of wagon wheels.
“We’ll take it and see where it goes,” Sully said. “Must be a town of sorts around here somewhere.”
Two hours later they topped a small rise in the road and looked ahead. They could see smokes of a town, but less than a mile away they saw what could only be a marching column of Yankee troops.
“What the hell they doing way out here?” Johnson asked. “Must be three hundred of them Yankees.”
“At least,” Sully said. “Want no part of them. We cut to the east and see what we can find there.”
It took them until almost dark to find a road that went generally east and north. They rode for an hour then just as they came around a curve in the road and out of a grove of hardwood trees, they ran head first into a small cattle drive coming straight for them. They got off the road in time not to get trampled to death. Three cowboys kept the herd of about fifty steers on the road and a fourth with a tall Texas hat rode over to the strangers.
The Devils Gunslinger Page 2