The Rushers (6 page)

Dusty threw a glance at the big man, noting the marks left when three chevrons went. He guessed Magoon’s identity and guessed the sort of man he dealt with, or would soon be dealing with. Then he looked across the room at Kete, saw the gun on the table and wondered what story lay behind it.

For his part Kete wanted none of either man. He might have chanced his luck with Dusty but some nagging doubt held him back and he guessed he’d be worse than a fool if he tried conclusions with the small Texan. Kete had a reputation for being a tough man, but he knew big Paddy Magoon to be tougher and nothing he’d so far seen led him to believe the small captain was any less tough than Magoon.

‘Not me, Magoon,’ he answered. ‘I was only fixing to help the boss.’

The Kid looked up at Kete, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

‘Mister,’ he said. ‘I done wronged you considerable. I thought you hadn’t the sense of a seam-squirrel, but you have.’

Given the right set of circumstances Kete might have objected to the words. However, the Kid was cold sober, armed and looked full capable of using those arms, so Kete passed up the chance. Studying the Indian dark face Kete knew that here was no boy but a man grown and a deadly dangerous man at that.

Silence fell on the room, every eye went first to Madlarn, then to the small figure in the captain’s uniform. This was their new commanding officer, the man whose bugle call they ignored. Something warned every man, sobering the drunks and worrying the sober, that he would not wave it aside as something of no importance. They were going to pay for their indiscretion in sweat and hard work if nothing worse. Yet the more sober men knew that this newly arrived captain would make sure the sweat was expended on useful work, not take his anger out on them uselessly.

‘This place is off limits until I reverse the order,’ Dusty snapped. ‘Now clear it, all of you!’

‘Yez heard the captain, darlin’s,’ Magoon bellowed. ‘Outside, every last son of ye. O’Brien, Klaus, take Dutchy with yez.’ He turned to Dusty and threw himself into a smart brace, with chest sticking out and arms tightly at his side, ‘Ye’ll have to excuse Dutchy, Cap’n darlin’. ‘Tis a touch of the grippe he had. It allus makes him ornery and there wasn’t nothing but medicine in that bottle. We puts it in a whisky bottle to make him drink it down.’

‘You’re Magoon, aren’t you?’ Dusty asked, ignoring the comments on Dutchy, other than to consider them the efforts of a sergeant trying to keep a good soldier from facing the consequences of his actions. It was also the sort of explanation a fighting soldier would make to an officer he liked and respected, one who could be expected to understand such things.

‘I am, sir.’

‘I thought so. A brawler, a tavern-loafer. I want to see you in my office as soon as I dismiss the assembly parade that’s coming.’

‘I thought you might, sir,’ replied Magoon.

‘Then get back and make yourself fit to enter your commanding officer’s office.’

Magoon threw a salute fresh from the pages of the drill manual. He made a rapid about face and hit the door on the double, urging the others back to the fort with lusty bellows and lurid curses. His popularity and respect as both man and non-com showed in the way none of them raised any objection to his ordering them around.

Mark and the Kid walked across the room to join Dusty. He grinned at them and asked, ‘How the hell do we get tied in with things like this?’

‘Just fortunate, I reckon,’ grinned the Kid. ‘You sure got that big mick on your side of the rope.’

‘Watch this bunch here, Dusty,’ Mark warned as they headed for the door. ‘The boss was sure trying to stir up those blue-bellies against you.’

‘I’ll watch him. I’d’ve thought he’d make a try at getting friendly with the new post officer,’ drawled Dusty as they left the room. ‘I’ll not be sorry to see the officers and sergeants learn what the situation is in camp. There’s more to Mr. Madlarn’s game than meets the eye. He wanted to keep the battalion disorganized and ready to bust at the seams.’

They strolled back in the wake of the soldiers who were being chivvied on like a flock of chickens by a farmer’s wife, although Magoon would not have cared for the simile. Such was the haste of the ex-revellers that they did not even notice an unknown sentry stood at the gates. They’d all but one idea in mind, get out of the new officer’s way as quickly as possible.

In this they did not have much success for no sooner had they disappeared into their quarters than they heard the notes of assembly blown. This time none of them sat around thinking about what they should do. With one rush they headed for the parade square.

Dusty found a much more satisfactory muster of men when he stepped from his office. Now only the third lieutenant appeared to be absent and that could be excused as he could hardly be expected to know the new commanding officer had arrived. So only Jarrow’s company had an officer and sergeant before it, Gilbey stood before his and a sergeant commanded the third. Beyond the third company, among the branch personnel, stood a tall, gangling sergeant who Dusty thought looked familiar.

With cold eyes studying the ranks before him Dusty saw much that did not meet with his approval. The men were untidy, more so than just with work and old uniforms. They looked untidy through lack of supervision like troops allowed to slacken and become inefficient.

‘Soldiers!’ he barked. I’ve seen better in a stinking Ya—border raiders’ camp.’

Just in time Dusty prevented himself saying Yankee border raiders’ camp. He knew van Druten would never say such a thing. While wanting the officers and men to know his name, if not his correct military standing, he wanted to do it in his own way. They would not think little enough about the change in regimental plans, some of them might even believe it to be an improvement.

‘Since I arrived at Fort Tucker I’ve seen enough to sicken me,’ he went on. ‘You’re supposed to be in the U.S. cavalry and as such the defenders of this section of the Dakotas. From what I’ve seen since my arrival you’d need help to defend yourselves. It’ll change. I want you to know, there’ll be changes made. Major Lingley didn’t leave you in this state and I don’t intend you to stay in it. From this day the Fort sutler’s store is off limits for the purchase of liquor. The town is off limits also, until such time as I decide you’re fit and capable of being allowed outside the Fort.’

Not a sound, not by a flicker of their faces did any of the men dare show their surprise at the words. They liked their drinking and it was the only entertainment in this lonely outpost, now they were being denied it.

‘Mr. Gilbey,’ Dusty concluded his speech. ‘I want a full inspection of the Fort tomorrow. And don’t tell me it’s Sunday, I’m fully aware of that. I also want every man paraded in review order at ten o’clock. Dismiss the battalion.’

‘Yo!’ Gilbey answered.

‘All officers and sergeants to my office in fifteen minutes, Mr. Gilbey, and send Private Magoon in now.’

‘Yo!’

Without a backward glance Dusty returned to his office and Gilbey dismissed the parade. The mutter of the men, discussing Dusty’s orders, complaining about the sutler’s and town being places off limits, rose as the parade broke up. The general feeling seemed to be they’d deserved what they got and likely things would be far different from now on. The sergeants were watching their men and Hogan came to suggest that Gilbey held the parade until they’d arranged working details.

One thing they all knew for sure. The full inspection meant every building, store and animal of the Fort as well as the men’s own kit, arms and mounts. On top of that the men knew they would find themselves with no time to go to either the sutler’s or town even if they could, for they’d much to do to be ready for a full inspection and the review parade.

Following Hogan’s advice Gilbey ordered the men to stay on the square. He mopped his brow as he saw the sergeants in charge of the veterinary, medical, blacksmith, quartermaster branches heading for him, all after men to help with the cleaning and general working of their departments. Sergeant Milt Granger ambled up with a request for a party to help groom his reserve horses. The young lieutenant groaned inside, while trying to avoid showing his feeling. He knew the laxness of the past few weeks was bouncing back on his head and he must work the men hard to putting things right.

So Gilbey began to do so. He told off working parties, sent men off to help in the various branches. The remainder felt little pleasure at not being called, for it would fall on them to prepare the barrack blocks. Gilbey snapped his orders, he gave the sergeants a brief time to organize before they would be taken to see the new commanding officer. In a few moments the parade square was bustling with men, and the centre of it Gilbey stood silently cursing the absent Second-Lieutenant Cardon for not having returned to help with the work.

‘Passing in two riders,’ called the sentry at the gate.

Wondering if some fresh devilment had come up to plague him Gilbey turned to see who the riders might be. He saw Cardon riding through accompanied by Joanna Lingley and noticed the way they both stared at the activity. With his hands behind his back, trying to look as much like Dusty Fog as he could manage, Gilbey strode forward to put Cardon to work.

oooOooo

* Told in
The Fastest Gun in Texas
, J. T. Edson.

CHAPTER SIX

In a way Dusty Fog quite looked forward to his forthcoming interview with Magoon. Since his earliest days Dusty had felt the greatest admiration for the tough hard-bitten, brave and often un-military type of sergeant represented by the big Irishman. His kind, rarely, if ever, held their rank at boot camp in the pampered east, where drill and spit-and-polish ruled the roost. Put them out on the frontier, with wild Indians to fight and they came into their own as natural leaders. Dusty had a shrewd idea he’d remember this interview for the rest of his life for Magoon did not strike him as a respecter of rank, unless he also held in respect the man with the rank.

Standing before the desk, rigid at a brace, with his chest puffed out and stomach held in, Magoon waited, not moving a muscle. Ten seconds ticked by and Dusty gave no sign of knowing the man stood there. With somebody he disliked, or did not respect, Magoon might have coughed, or even asked a question. With Dusty he did nothing, just stayed in his brace.

‘They tell me you’re an insolent soldier, Magoon,’ Dusty finally said, looking straight at Magoon, having noticed the big man seemed to have made an effort to tidy up his appearance before reporting. ‘Are you only insolent within the bounds of the
Manual of Field Regulations
?’

‘That I am not, Cap’n—sir,’ replied Magoon indignantly and sticking to the formal sir until more sure of his ground. ‘If I’m insolent I do it right out and I don’t hide behind any book at all.’

It took some doing to hold down a smile but Dusty made it. He knew Magoon respected his fighting skill and recognized another combat soldier, one who would be willing to toss aside the
Manual of Field Regulations
if he felt they impeded his duty. Dust thought fast, trying to decide just how he should give Magoon the three stripes back without endangering discipline or losing Magoon’s respect.

‘Would you like to be insolent with me?’ he asked.

‘That I wouldn’t, Cap’n darlin’,’ answered Magoon, clearly deciding Dusty was the sort of officer he liked and who would accept the slight relaxing of discipline from an efficient man. ‘Sure, I’m not a smart man, but any time I wants a busted jaw I’ll go to the hoss lines and let a mule do it. It’d be a lot gentler’n you. But wasn’t that the elegant right hand you had down at Madlarn’s. I’ve never—’

‘You’re at attention!’ barked Dusty as Magoon forgot himself enough to lift his fists and start to demonstrate Dusty’s technique.

Magoon slammed back into his brace once more. Slowly Dusty pushed back his chair, rose and walked around the desk, circling the man. Only by going around behind Magoon’s back could Dusty prevent the man from seeing his smile. Dusty might be able to make the rest of the battalion believe he was a grim, bow-necked officer who would brook no relaxation of discipline, but he couldn’t get away with it when in Magoon’s presence. Magoon could read him, tell he wanted nothing more than get the parade work over and have the men acting like a trained troop of fighting soldiers. The big Irishman stood rigid but tried to take quick glances over his shoulder to see what Dusty was up to, freezing back into his brace each time he thought Dusty’s eyes rested upon him.

Before Dusty could either return to the seat behind the desk, before he could even step from behind Magoon he heard the door of the office thrown open. Swinging around Dusty opened his mouth to bellow out a demand for an explanation from whoever entered why the hell they did so without knocking. The words died unsaid, for Dusty would never think of employing those sort of terms to a lady.

A lady stood just inside the office door, a young lady but one with the undefinable air that only birth and breeding could give. She came to a halt, her face suddenly reddening in a blush as her eyes rested on Dusty’s face. Behind her, looking very worried, stood Gilbey, clearly he’d been trying to stop her entering the room. Dusty studied the girl without speaking, guessing she’d be Joanna Lingley, daughter of the late Fort Commander.

‘Don’t say a word, Paddy,’ she’d been saying as she came in. ‘Don’t let h— You’re not Dandy van Druten!’

‘I don’t recollect I ever said I was, ma’am,’ Dusty answered. ‘There was a last-minute change of arrangements and I came instead of Captain van Druten.’

Dusty looked the girl over. Joanna Lingley was a tall willowy girl although she’d curves in the places where a lady might be expected to have them and the severe riding habit she wore did not hide the curves. On her head perched a black Stetson hat, her auburn hair combed neatly though not fussily under it. Her face, while not being out and out beautiful, had good looks of an enduring kind, the sort of looks which stayed when a more striking beauty would have felt the ravages of time. She appeared to be somewhat confused by his words.

‘But—I—what——’

‘You’d better present us, Mr. Gilbey,’ Dusty put in.

‘Yes, sir,’ clearly Gilbey was puzzled as he replied. ‘This is Miss Joanna Lingley, Captain—’

‘Fog, ma’am,’ Dusty introduced. ‘Dustine Fog.’

Joanna and Gilbey exchanged glances. ‘Fog?’ gasped the girl. ‘I haven’t met you, Captain Fog. I didn’t know you belonged to the—’

‘Fog,’ repeated Gilbey, also troubled, studying the way Dusty’s borrowed uniform fit. ‘Dusti—Dusty Fog. You’re Captain Dusty Fog, sir.’

‘Yes, mister.’

‘Then you took General Grant’s Moshogen offer, sir.’

‘I’m wearing the uniform, aren’t I, mister?’ answered Dusty evasively but it appeared to satisfy Gilbey. ‘Can I help you in any way, Miss Lingley?’

The girl’s face had turned scarlet and she made an effort to meet Dusty’s eyes. She felt embarrassed and did not wish to air her reasons in front of the two men, even though she’d broken a strict rule to try and help one of them.

‘You’re dismissed, gentlemen, wait outside until I’ve finished.’

Not until the door closed behind Magoon and Gilbey did Dusty even give a sign of knowing the girl was present. Then he drew up a chair and asked her to take a seat. Joanna sat down, studying Dusty and comparing him with the Dandy van Druten she’d known, not to the latter’s advantage. All her life Joanna had lived around and among soldiers, apart for the years of school in the east, then that had mostly been in garrison towns. She knew army officers, could tell glory hunters like the Custer family, a no-good trouble causer living on family influence like van Druten. She could also tell a real genuine career officer, a man with that rare flair to be a true leader. She knew Dusty Fog to be such a man. Even in the few seconds she’d known him Joanna had read Dusty’s character right. She’d seen the way Gilbey acted, the way the soldiers behaved outside and already could see the change the small Texan brought about.

‘Why’d you come dashing in here like Calamity Jane to the rescue when you heard I’d called Magoon in for an interview?’ he asked.

‘Well, I—’ The words floundered off, then Joanna stiffened slightly in her chair. Captain Fog must be fully aware of van Druten’s character. ‘I knew Dandy van Druten both as a child and as a junior lieutenant in Washington. He’d’ve brought Paddy in to goad him into something more serious than insolence, so he could use Paddy as an example.’

‘I could have been doing the same thing.’

‘I know you wouldn’t,’ she replied. ‘And do I apologize for bursting in on you like that. May I show how contrite I am by asking you to dine with me this evening?’

‘It’d be my pleasure, ma’am.’

‘May I ask the lieutenants?’

‘It’s your choice, ma’am,’ replied Dusty with a grin. ‘I’d like a chance to meet them in less formal surroundings. Mr. Jarrow seems to be avoiding me and I think Mr. Cardon or whatever his name is’ll be wishing he had when I see him.’

Joanna chuckled, thinking of the look of horror on Gilbey’s face when he heard her say she meant to go along and help out Magoon before his temper and tongue got him into worse trouble. She’d also seen enough, on returning to the Fort, to let her know Jarrow and Gilbey respected their new captain.

Knowing that she’d better not waste any more time Joanna rose to her feet and Dusty stood up, then strode to the door to open it for her. Gilbey, Magoon and the men wanting to see Dusty, stiffened into a brace as he appeared. Joanna could see Cardon looked worried and knew Jarrow had been filling him in with the details of the new captain’s behaviour since arrival. The girl smiled and passed along the porch of the building for she heard what Dusty said.

‘Sergeant Magoon, you’re out of uniform. I’ll excuse it this once. Get your chevrons stitched on as soon as you’re finished here then take over as sergeant of the guard—for a week.’

The look on Magoon’s face made Dusty’s day complete. The big Irishman stood at a brace and a whole gamut of emotions ran over his face, delight, surprise, relief, then the realization of what Dusty’s last words meant. Dusty heard the girl chuckle and knew she had not missed the point of the punishment. With Gilbey officer of the day for a week, he would be thrown almost twenty-four hours a day in contact with Magoon. If they could get along through that period they would manage for the rest of their time together.

‘I might add, Sergeant Magoon, that it’s by Mr. Gilbey’s recommendation I’ve struck the court martial from your record,’ Dusty went on. ‘Bring the gentlemen in, Mr. Gilbey.’

Sitting at his desk Dusty watched the officers, sergeants and scouts come to a halt in a group before him. For a moment his eyes rested on Sergeant Kallan but the man’s face gave no sign of his thoughts. Yet he looked puzzled and might at any time start to raise some point which Dusty would be unable to talk away. So Dusty did not give him the chance.

‘Introduce the gentlemen, Mr. Gilbey,’ he said.

Quickly Gilbey introduced the officers. Dusty gave Cardon a cold look which made the young officer consider his past sins. Then Gilbey went on to present the sergeants. Studying the non-coms Dusty decided they were all competent, reliable men who only needed shaking together and reminding of their duties. With men like them behind him he would find little difficulty in throwing the Fort into shape once more. There were the three company sergeants now Magoon was reinstated and the branch sergeants who attended to the maintenance and welfare of the fort. These latter would require tactful handling for they were the heads of their department and as such would want their own problems regarded as of being vitally important.

‘We’ll most likely get to know each other better, gentlemen,’ said Dusty at the end. ‘I don’t doubt Mr. Gilbey warned you that, due to a change of orders, I’ve taken command instead of Captain van Druten.’

From the look of the men’s faces Gilbey had not mentioned it, a point in his favour Dusty conceded. The men all looked interested, specially Kallan who served as drill instructor and would have been at West Point about the time a man Dusty’s age joined it. Dusty guessed what the man thought and went on:

‘My name is Fog, Dusty Fog.’

It is said much for the discipline of the men that they did not show their surprise at his words. Yet he could tell every one of the men, with the exception of Mark and the Kid, were interested in his words. He could also tell that not one of them thought anything other than he’d accepted the offer made by General Grant at the Moshogen court house during the war.

‘Now, gentlemen, let’s get down to deciding how we can bring the Fort and battalion back to efficient standards.’

After arranging for the tightening of discipline, Dusty asked for a map of their patrol area. Dismissing the non-operational men, he asked about the Indian situation.

‘I tell you Cap’n,’ said a leathery, white-haired old scout known as Sucataw Joe, showing more respect and politeness than Gilbey could remember since Major Lingley died. ‘Old Eagle Catcher’s getting a mite riled.’

‘More’n a mite,’ grunted another scout, known as Rowdy because he spoke very little. ‘Effen we can’t stop them rushers getting in there’ll be all hell to pay on this side of the Belle Pourche.’

‘Which same we’re here to prevent,’ Dusty replied. ‘You may have heard we ran into a bunch of Hunkpapa Sioux on the way here.’

‘Likely some of Crazy Bear’s lodge brothers,’ drawled Sucataw. ‘They’ll be back over the Belle Pourche now and talking war talk some, even though they got licked. That’d slow the war talk some, but them rushers getting in’ll keep the fire fanned until Crazy Bear can get up strong enough medicine to bring the rest out.’

‘Which same we’re going to prevent,’ Dusty told the others. ‘How’ve you been handling the situation, Mr. Gilbey?’

‘I’ve had a patrol out, sir. Changed its direction regularly, but there’s a lot of range to cover and the rushers seem to be able to anticipate our moves so a steady trickle gets in.’

‘The lootenant did think as how these rushers might be getting to know which way he was going, Cap’n,’ put in Magoon. ‘Which same was the cause of our little disagreement.’

‘Explain that, mister,’ said Dusty.

Gilbey stiffened slightly. It had not been his idea, but Magoon’s, that somehow or other the rushers learned which way the patrol might be going. He also remembered the big sergeant laid the blame for the information leaks on Madlarn.

‘The patrols always knew where they would be going the day before, sir. It allowed them to make arrangements for what supplies and gear to take along. Sergeant Magoon thought that the members of the patrol might be talking to somebody outside the Fort and they used their knowledge to help the rushers.’

‘You took no precautions against their hearing?’

‘I tried, sir, but the rushers still appeared to find out.’

Studying the map, Dusty asked questions about the lie of the land with especial interest in the course of the Belle Pourche River.

‘There look to be four places at most where rushers can get over fast and easy,’ Dusty finally said and the men who knew the river nodded their heads. ‘Which same’ll be the most likely places for them to make for.’

‘You called it right, Cap’n,’ grunted Sucataw.

‘But they are too far apart for us to be able to cover adequately with the men at our disposal,’ Dusty went on. ‘We need a garrison of at least one company for the Fort. So we’ll have a patrol of thirty men out at all times, under the command of one officer and sergeant. It’s not going to be easy, gentlemen, on any of you. The direction of the patrol will be my decision. I’ll hand it to the patrol commander in a sealed envelope which he will not open until at least a mile past Shacktown and sure he is not being followed. The patrol will split into two parts, officer taking fifteen men, sergeant taking fifteen and you’ll work the areas I’ve put in your orders.’

From that point Dusty went on to tell the men how they would make the patrols. Much to his concern, Cardon learned that he would be taking out the first party within thirty minutes of the review parade’s completion. To ensure complete coverage of their patrol area would not be easy; the leisurely days at Fort Tucker had come to an end.

‘It’ll be rough on the men, sir,’ Gilbert remarked.

‘They’re paid for it, mister,’ Dusty replied. ‘And it’ll be a damned sight rougher if the Sioux jump the Belle Pourche.’

Much as Dusty wished to ride out and study the ground, he knew he could not for some days to come. Not only must he stay in the Fort and continue to make his presence felt, but he would also be involved in the routine of assuming formal command. Not to do so would arouse suspicion. Fortunately the Confederate Army had modelled itself on the Yankee forces, so Dusty knew what he must do when taking over.

‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ he said when the last details had been arranged. ‘I won’t keep you from your work any longer. Mr. Gilbey, Miss Lingley has invited the officers to dine with her. We’ll all attend, you are permitted to come for dinner, although I don’t expect it to interfere with your duties. I warn you all, no word of the patrol must be allowed to get out. You will tell nobody, your wives, your company, not even your strikers. I don’t want anyone to know of the patrol until after the review. Dismissed, gentlemen.’