The sec men glanced nervously at the large hogshead barrel cushioned on a bed of dry straw to keep it away from the moisture on the floor.
“We just wait,” a sec man repeated, licking dry lips.
“The way soldiers always have,” the captain agreed. “We stand our post until Baron Cawdor gives us the signal to join the attack.”
In deliberate slowness, the officer placed an arm on top of the hogshead, his fingers only inches away from the primed pistol. “Or we send Overton straight to hell.”
A STEADY RAIN of bullets chattered from the palisades of Front Royal, the tattered leaves falling from the trees as Ryan and the other men retreated deeper into the forest until reaching a woody glen.
“We’ll be safe for a few minutes,” Ryan said, dropping the Steyr and a canvas satchel. On the parapet, he had noticed spare clothes inside the bags and wanted to double-check that the items were dirty. He lifted a shirt to find it sweat stained and horribly smelly, something worn by a man who had toiled in the hot sun all day. There was only one possible explanation for Nathan giving them dirty clothes to wear.
The one-eyed man glanced toward Front Royal and almost smiled. “You crafty bastard,” he said in praise. “Triple clever, nephew. Well done.”
“Safe enough for what?” J.B. demanded, retrieving his hat from inside his shirt. Slapping the fedora against his leg, he beat the water from the fabric.
“Until it’s safe enough to return,” Ryan said, “and finally chill Overton.”
“How are we getting back inside the ville?” Dean asked, vigorously shaking the water out of his blaster. The sealed brass cartridges wouldn’t be damaged by the brief soaking in the moat, but any floating debris in the water could impair the ejector mechanism, causing it to jam while firing.
“Drawbridge closed,” Jak stated, laying the other satchel on the ground. “Gotta be.”
“Indeed,” Doc stated, shivering slightly. “Unless the man is a complete fool, the ville is now sealed tighter than the proverbial drum!”
“Good. That’ll work in our favor.” Yanking apart the drawstrings holding the canvas bags tightly closed, Ryan started to haul out the dirty clothes.
“Strip and put these on,” he ordered, tossing the filthy garments to the others. “Socks, underwear, change everything.”
“Mine aren’t that bad,” Dean said, water pooling around his boots. The shirt and pants were reeking, stiff with dried sweat and even a few bloodstains.
“Do it, Dean,” his father ordered gruffly, ripping off his own shirt. “And do it quickly.”
“Better than nothing, I suppose,” J.B. said, exchanging his soaking clothes for the relatively dry items from the satchel. “Would have been nice if Nathan could have given us clean stuff to wear.”
“It’s the only thing that might save our lives,” Ryan countered, buckling an old worn belt. The pants were too big, the shirt too small and his skin itched from the contact with somebody else’s pungent laundry. Hopefully, it would be powerful enough. It was a dangerous plan, but a lot better than his idea of running on foot to the Ox Bow stables and stealing horses to ride back to Front Royal.
“Worried about pneumonia?” Dean asked, puzzled.
“No,” Ryan answered brusquely.
After getting dressed, the companions moved into the cover of some bushes and used the ammo in the bags to quickly reload their blasters. There were plenty of rounds for everybody, including a small plastic jar of black powder and cotton wadding for Doc’s huge LeMat.
“The copper nipples of the primers should be fine,” Doc said, purging the compartments of his revolver and stuffing in fresh powder and shot. He gingerly added the clean wadding on top, then pressed each compartment in the cylinder down tight with the built-in arming lever. A touch of grease from his soaked ammo pouch sealed each hole, and the monster handcannon was ready for use again.
“Nathan thought of everything,” J.B. stated, thumbing fresh rounds into a spare clip for the Uzi.
“That he did,” Ryan agreed, working the bolt on the Steyr to check the action. It was a little stiff, taking a fraction of a second off his firing time. Damn, some of the lubricant had to have washed off in the moat. He would have to watch for that in the coming fight.