The Devil Gun (A Dusty Fog's Civil War Western Book 8) by J. T. Edson

Author:J. T. Edson
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Sample Book
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing
Published: 2017-07-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine - A Clash Of Wills

‘You must understand, ladies,’ Dusty told the girls. ‘I refuse to allow considerations of your sex to slow me down. If you come with us, it is on the understanding that you obey my orders and accept my conditions. We’ll be covering between thirty and forty miles a day and that’s rough on a man.’

Looking around her, Jill gave a shrug. Although Dusty had not mentioned the nature of his mission, she knew it must be very important for him to lay down such terms to a pair of girls. She decided that she could make a sacrifice for the Confederate States.

‘I accept your conditions, Captain Fog,’ she said.

‘Do you, Miss Chamberlain?’ asked Dusty.

‘Yes,’ Liz replied.

Something in the girl’s voice drew Marsden’s eyes to her and he felt puzzled by her mild acceptance. Although he did not know her too well, Marsden figured Liz to be an intelligent young woman. In which case she must know of the importance of the Texan’s mission—although not the details of it. He knew her to be almost fanatically loyal to the Union, due in some measure to the kind of friends she made among the intellectual Southerner-hating set of volunteer officers. So Liz should be protesting, demanding immediate return to her own people and relying on Southern chivalry to get her way; or at least trying to delay the party’s departure by argument. The manner in which she surrendered to the inevitable worried Marsden.

Taking advantage of the delay, Billy Jack and Sam Ysabel had cooked a meal from the bushwhackers’ supplies and the party ate well. After the meal, Dusty set his men to work. Jill helped saddle the horses while the men fitted the pack saddles on the baggage animals, but Liz stayed out of the way. Instinctively Liz knew the moment for defiance had not yet arrived and so remained meekly obedient.

Before moving out, Dusty saw that all the bushwhackers’ property was destroyed and their remuda scattered. He did not intend to leave them the means to reorganise should they return to their camp-site.

‘From now on you tend to your own mount, Miss Chamberlain,’ he said.

‘Of course, Captain,’ she replied.

‘Mount up, then. You’ll ride at my right, Miss Chamberlain, you at the left, Miss Dodd.’

Jill swung astride her spirited buckskin gelding and Liz mounted the kettle-bellied bay mare assigned to her, feeling just a trifle self-conscious and aware that she filled out her borrowed pants rather well. However, none of the men appeared to be interested in how she looked and she concentrated on handling her horse.

On moving out from the destroyed camp, Liz found herself with Dusty at one side and Marsden upon the other. She realised that she ought to be showing some interest in his presence.

‘May I ask how you come to be here, Mr. Marsden?’ she asked. ‘Are you a prisoner?’

‘No, Miss Chamberlain,’ Marsden replied.

‘Then what are you, a traitor?’

‘You might say that,’ Marsden agreed.

A low hiss left the girl’s lips and anger glowed in her eyes.

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