Title: The Death of the League, Part 2
Author: Sherry Thornburg
Author's Email: Thornburgs77 a gmail
Feedback: Yes, please
Permission to Archive: Privately only, with notice and location.
Category: Suspense
Rating/Warning: K+
Disclaimer: SAJV and original characters copywrite Tailsman/Promark/etc., no infringement is intended.
Characters: Phileas and Rebecca Fogg team up with Jim West and Artemus Gordon Jules Verne, and Matthew and Mark Ridgemont and Dr. Loveless from the Wild Wild West.
Summary: Phileas's personal crusade to put an end to the League of Darkness has led him to America, where he finds both the Ridgemont brothers and Jules Verne in trouble. To help them and deal with the League, he partners with Agents James West and Artemus Gordon against a ruthless League scientist, Dr. Loveless.
Chapter 1
Jules Verne had come a long way from his small garret in Paris. Once again, the League had put him in peril. But this time, after his rescue, the Foggs had insisted he stay behind. Now, after traveling to America with his new friends, Matt, and Mark Ridgemont, he was in trouble again. Yet, despite the Ridgemont's mysterious imprisonment, and him on the run from the occupying federal army, he once again had a benefactor.
His first day with Captain Jason Singleton was chilly but getting warmer by the hour. Jules Verne sat in Matt and Mark's uncle's company, dozing on an eastbound train crossing rivers and swampland heading for New Orleans. At least the train headed that way. Jules and his companion would leave the train ahead of the small town called Liberty, not to be confused with West Liberty. Somehow, they were going to get Matthew and Mark out of jail.
Jason Singleton picked up his saddlebag from the seat as soon as the train stopped, heading out the nearest door without a word. By the time Jules could get through the crowds to the station boards, the Texan was already halfway to the baggage car and their horses. Jason had brought six with him from home. Two to ride, two would carry supplies, and two others were for the twins.
Jules looked at the packs, remembering what was in them, and how his morning had started. After a breakfast of eggs, ham, and coffee, Jason wanted to find out just what Jules knew about weapons. They had gone section of the pasture fence for target shooting. Jason had pulled out a rather impressive looking pistol from his belt and handed it to Jules. It had a brass frame and lean, nice lines. Something Fogg would want, Jules considered, smiling at it.
"See those cans on the fence, son?" Jason said of the targets fifteen yards away.
Jules checked the loads in the pistol, took careful aim, and hit four out of five. He looked at his results, feeling rather proud of himself. His practices with Fogg were paying off.
The man had given him a nod of approval. "I like a man that places his shots well." Jason then handed him a rifle.
Jules accepted it, his first rifle ever, but had been determined to do well. If he could handle a pistol, how hard could a rifle be?
For a moment, Jules remembered balking at what the man had been implying with this weapons exhibition. Jules had never considered a gun to be the best way out of a problem. However, this man was a veteran of a recent war and not likely to agree with that view. Understanding that, Jules knew better than to voice his opinions.
Besides, after the town of Liberty and its jail would be the League of Darkness and its dangers. I've been captured and suffered their treatments too many times with no hope other than Fogg and Rebecca coming to my rescue. They never accomplished that without some form of firepower.
"You may not have seen one of these in Europe," Jason had said, interrupting hesitation. "It's a fifty-six Spencer. I've got it fully loaded with seven shots. It's a lever action." Jason showed Jules how the action worked. "Aim for the bucket down in the pasture."
Jules had looked down the improvised firing range, seeing the bucket, about one hundred yards away. He aimed down the long barrel and fired. That first shot felt like it had taken his shoulder off. The big weapon's kick pushed him back several steps. Looking out into the pasture, Jules couldn't tell where his shot went. The bucket stood in its place, mocking him. Being more careful to set himself, Jules tried again, four more times, with the same results.
"Not much for distance, are you?" Jason said.
He took the Spencer away and handed Jules a shotgun to replace it. "This is a ten-gage coach gun," he said. "It won't shoot as far, but you there's no worry about results. Just pull back the hammer aim in the general direction and shoot." He then walked down the range, picked up the bucket and placed it on a fence post where the cans had been. He called Jules to move closer, about halfway. When Jules was positioned right, he crossed his arms, waiting.
Jules looked down at the weapon. It felt heavier than the Spencer rifle, but the barrel was shorter. Taking his instructions to heart, Jules did exactly as told. There was a double set of hammers on the frame, so he pulled them both back. Noticing there were two triggers, he frowned–a two-fingered weapon?
Jules aimed, squeezed back the double trigger, and after a tremendous roar, landed on the ground hard after the weapon went off like a cannon. Sitting up, he looked toward the fence. The bucket was gone. He did not see the upper part of the fence post either, just a stub of splintered board.
"Well, that bucket will never hold water again," Jason said, deadpan. He reached down to pull Jules back to his feet. "I forgot to mention," he had said, grinning. "Only shoot off one barrel at a time."
After his firearms test, Jason gave Jules one of his Griswald and Gunnison pistols and the coach gun for his use from the weapons he had packed, picked out horses, and headed for the train.
The ride to the station had been another lesson. Texas Mustangs were not like the horse Jules had ridden at Shillingworth. They were half wild. The saddle had not been what he had used before, either. It was larger and had a handle on the front. Jules took the reins of the brown and white horse mounted. He gave the mare a gentle coax, as he was used to giving Cloud. The stubborn animal did not budge, even after repeated tries. Jules took the horse more firmly in hand and pulled sharply to the right. The animal did several pirouettes in the coral in response before Jules got it to face the gate and walk through. Once on the road, Jules had been rocked and bounced near to death before reaching the station.
Angrily, Jules said, "Where did you get this horse, from gypsies? In France, it wouldn't be acceptable, even as a cart horse."
Jason laughed at that remark. "Son, I don't know what you rode in France, but in Texas, we ride animals made for endurance and stamina. Now, if you want to survive this trip with your manhood intact, you better stop sitting in that saddle like you're taking a walk her through a park. To ride long distances, you put more of your weight in the stirrups. Hug the horse with your legs to keep her in line and guide the turns like this." Jason showed him the way and made several turns, showing Jules the proper way to use the reins to give the horse her instructions.
Hours later, Jules mounted the Mustang again and followed his guide down the road. They took the dirt road at a trot for over an hour before slowing down to cross a bridge. Jason turned, saying his first words since leaving the train station. "From here, we ride through the woods. We will cross the riverbed off and on. The Trinity twists and turns like a snake. Keep behind me and keep alert. There are panthers and bears in these woods."
With that warning, they left the road, taking a slower pace, mercifully slower. Despite the improved handling of the animal, Jules had still taken a beating on the long, quick ride. He was growing to hate his mare.
Hours passed. Jules played follow the leader with Jason through the forest and over the riverbed. In the uncertain footing of a forest floor, the animals settled into a calm, careful gait. By late afternoon, the men rode up to the north side of Liberty town.
Jason sprinkled information on how to live and survive in the forest as they went. He told Jules about tree moss and which side of the tree it grew on. A good thing to know if you did not have a compass and as neither the horizon nor the sun's position was visible in this dense forest. He also pointed out poison ivy and oak and warned Jules not to lean on trees with such vines on them.
At another, they had watched a herd of deer cross the water to the right of them, further downstream.
"We are upwind of them," Jason had observed quietly. "If I were free to hunt, we would have fresh venison for dinner." Instead, he pulled cold biscuits and dried beef strips from his saddlebag, handing part of it to Jules.
Jason pointed out bear scrapings on an oak tree during one river crossing.
A mile short of Liberty, Jason had stopped his horse, holding them in one spot for several minutes. Jules walked his horse up beside him to see what had caught his attention. Jason pointed down into the leaves. Verne didn't see anything immediately. He scanned the leaves over and over before he had finally noticed movement. Slowly, under the leaves, a fancy colored snake worked its way across their path. It had black, red, and yellow stripes.
"Pretty snake," Jules said of it.
"Pretty deadly," Jason corrected. "There are five kinds of poisonous snakes in North America, I'm told, and Texas has every one of them. That's a coral snake. If it bit you, you would be dead before nightfall. They live here in the woods near the rivers. There's another one that's not poisonous that looks similar, but you just keep away from anything that looks like that. There's another snake, the rattler, that you need to watch out for too. It's more plentiful and isn't as easy to see. They warn you if you get too close."
He picked up strings of fringe that dressed the side of his saddle. On the end of the long row of hide strings were little ivory-colored beads. On closer inspection, Jason told him they were the ends of a rattler's tail. Jason took up one of the tails and shook it, mimicking the sound of a frightened rattler. The demonstration had sounded like a baby toy.
"If you hear anything like that, you stop dead in your tracks and look around good," Jason said, dead seriousness. "Slowly back away or wait for the snake to go by. Only the big ones will kill you right off. A small one will just make you sick and do a lot of damage to the muscle where you're hit if you don't get the poison out fast. There's more than one reason cowboys wear tall boots."
Through a break in the trees, Jules finally saw the town of Liberty. It wasn't small, but a fair-sized town with a business district, a busy river port, several churches, a few schools, with dozens of homes. All was quiet, as most residents would be home at their supper.
"We will wait until after dark before heading for the jail," Jason said.
They headed back to the north by the river to wait. They had little to do before dark. Jason took out a pipe and settled in the leaves after watering his horses and tying them to nearby trees.
Jules followed suit, sitting by the bank leaning against a tree for some time thinking over his adventures. He felt well pleased with how he had done. He had avoided all dangers, with the help of his new friends, and was learning much from Jason Singleton.
If I'm forced to stay much longer, I might correct the deficiencies Mark mentioned about woodsman skills.
Jules looked around, looked at the horses and the long row of rattle-tasseled fringe again and said, "Why are you collecting snake rattles?"
"They have a trade value," Jason had said, pulling away his pipe. He grinned and said, "Rattlers are good eat'n, too."
Jason stood and said, "Here, take one." He cut one of the strings loose and gave it a shake, mimicking the rattler's warning again. Before sitting again, he handed it to Jules. "Get used to the sound so you'll know it when you hear it."