Fire in the Wind by JD Sandon

Author:JD Sandon [Sandon, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Gringos, Angus, Wells, Cowboy, fiction, Mexican, Revolution, Piccadilly, cowboys, Western
Publisher: Piccadilly
Published: 2022-08-31T23:00:00+00:00

They moved out from the storm drain and began to belly across the flat ground separating them from the sheds and the sidings. The flickering lanterns danced shadows over the earth; alternately hiding them, then illuminating their passage.

A second patrol, again of two men, passed within ten feet of them. The Gringos flattened against the ground, hands tense on their guns. The federales were too busy complaining to notice the three dark humps huddled into a fold in the cinder-spilled center of the rail depot: they went by with cigarettes glowing in their cupped hands and their rifles ported back over their shoulders.

The Gringos moved in amongst the sheds.

The buildings were mostly windowless, their doors fastened with heavy padlocks. Trying to get inside would have been a pointless exercise, so Onslow led the way down to the sidings.

The bulk of the crates stacked under heavy tarpaulin wraps—at least the bulk of the ones they checked—contained ammunition in several calibers, or artillery shells. Three of the flatbed wagons were loaded with howitzers or nine-pounder field pieces. A fourth bogie carried an armored car, its solid tires protected by flaps of heavy steel, the cab built up into a metal turret with slits at the front for the driver and a ring-mounting for a machine-gun on the top.

It was a huge shipment, amounting to many tons of ammunition and sufficient ancillary gear to blow Villa’s trains right off the rails. If it could all be gotten south fast enough.

But there still wasn’t enough to justify the frenetic activity Onslow had seen, or the complaints of the guards he, had heard. It was dangerous; sure. But not so much that the mystery man in the black car should come up to order the local commander around and double—treble—the patrols.

There had to be something else.

He found it twenty minutes later.

It was loaded on two flatbeds draped with tarpaulin and shunted off between a trio of the larger sheds.

The tarpaulins had letters painted onto the canvas, and a facsimile of a flag.

The flag was black and yellow and red. The letters were stark black: C.A.B.

The canvas covering the two wagons was low and narrow, and it was only that curious lettering that prompted Onslow to lift a flap and peer underneath.

When he looked, he risked calling the others over to heave the loose flap higher. Then gasped and murmured for Jamie to cut the retaining ropes so that he could take a closer look.

Jamie cut the ropes and Jonas swung the tarpaulin back. The light was dim here, faded out by the sheds, but it was strong enough to pick up the outlines of the load.

There were two wide spreads of fine linen strung over a bracing of wood maybe twenty four feet long by nine across. They were tied to a short, stubby frame that ended where the tarpaulin lifted up into a kind of hood. Towards the forwards end of the frame there was an opening with a seat inside and a panel of tiny dials and several levers.

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