The Floating Outfit 44

by J. T. Edson

  The sheriff’s hands moved from near his gun butt, the fingers working stiffly. He chose to ignore the big man’s remarks and once more spoke to Just Smith. ‘You tell your boss I ain’t having any more killing in my bailiwick. You’re too handy with your gun.’

  ‘Man has to be. You tell Lanton the same thing.’ Clenching his fist, Lynch growled, ‘One more crack like that’ll buy you a pistol whupping.’

  Just smiled bleakly. ‘Any time you feel like it whup ahead.’

  The sheriff was once more compelled to revue his actions. He knew Just Smith was handy with a gun. Lanky Kline had been no slouch and he went under in a fair fight. That put Just Smith almost in the same class as the two Texans there or Speedy Slinger. It was a class the sheriff did not intend tangling with unless he was full backed by at least half a dozen deputies. Before he could speak again, a tall, leathery old-timer came through the batwings. He halted by the sheriff’s side, hand on the butt of the old Spiller and Burr cap and ball revolver in his holster. Looking down at the body he gave the wolf howl of delight.

  ‘I knowed it. I knowed all along ole Just here could handle that short growed misfit there,’ he whooped in Lynch’s ear. ‘Now the boy’s gone and proved it.’

  ‘Easy Brazos,’ Just barked, for he knew the old timer would take a lot of pleasure in annoying the sheriff.

  Before Brazos could say any more the door of the men’s bathroom was opened and the third Texan made a more leisurely appearance. Now he was fully dressed, a black Stetson on his head, black bandanna, black shirt. In fact the blackness was only relieved by the walnut grips of his old Colt Dragoon, laying butt forward in the holster at his right side and the ivory hilt of the James Black bowie knife at his left. For a moment he stood at the door, then advanced to stand by his two friends. He looked at the sheriff with hard, sardonic and mocking eyes.

  ‘You bunch work for KH?’ Lynch asked, knowing Lanton would wish to be informed if the KH was hiring three such hard and handy looking young men.

  ‘Don’t know about this gent here.’ the small blond once more spoke for the others. ‘We don’t, we’re only passing through on our way to Texas.’

  Lynch gulped, he did not like having to ask the next question, but he knew he must. ‘No offence meant, mister. But just for the record, who are you?’

  The small blond smiled, and indicated the tall, handsome blond. ‘This is Mark Counter. This is Loncey Dalton Ysabel —’

  Again Lynch gulped, his face working under the strain he was feeling. Those two names meant something to him.

  ‘Then you’re !’

  ‘That’s right, mister,’ there was open mockery in the black dressed boy’s soft said words. ‘He’s Dusty Fog.’

  Three – Just Smith Explains the Trouble

  Dusty Fog. The word, soft spoken, ran through the crowd and everyone knew how Speedy Slinger came to die. Dusty Fog, segundo of Ole Devil Hardin’s mighty OD Connected ranch in the Rio Hondo country of Texas. Leader of Ole Devil’s floating outfit, two members of which were with him right now. Dusty Fog, a name that ranked with Wes Hardin, King Fisher and Bill Longley as an exponent of the art of triggernometry. A name which ranked with Charles Goodnight, Gil Favor and Stone Hart as a trail boss. A name which ranked, in the war when he rode as a cavalry captain at seventeen, with Turner Ashby and John Singleton Mosby as a raider in the finest Dixie tradition. That was Dusty Fog, the small, insignificant man, the Rio Hondo gun wizard who might go overlooked in times of peace but never in war.

  Mark Counter, the tall, handsome blond was a rangeland dandy, yet still a top hand and if anything even better with cattle than Dusty. Mark was known as the Beau Brummel of the range country, his dress dictating cowhand fashions throughout Texas as once it was copied by the bloods of the Confederate Army. Mark was known as a skilled bare-hand fighter yet his skill with his Colts was hidden by Dusty Fog’s. If Mark had ridden alone his skill would have been better known, for Dusty said Mark was at least the second fastest man he knew.

  The last of that trio, the Ysabel Kid, was a legend in his own life-time down on the Rio Grande. He was still discussed by U.S. and Mexican Customs officials as a one boy crime wave, even though it was several years since he retired as a smuggler. He was the son of an Irish-Kentucky father and a Comanche-French Creole mother. From each of these breeds he gained something invaluable. From his father came a love of fighting, the sighting eye of an eagle and the ability to handle a rifle with almost magical skill. From the Comanche came his horsemanship, the ability to read sign and follow tracks where others would be lost. From the French Creole strain came his love of cold steel and the skill with his bowie knife which would have gladdened the heart of old James Bowie himself. .

  These were the three men who stood facing Sheriff Lynch, faces showing no expression, eyes unfriendly. Lynch was pleased he did not have his three deputies with him, that gave him a good excuse not to make any further moves against the Texas men.

  ‘All right.’ Lynch turned to the men who stood around. ‘Some of you lend a hand to get the bodies to the undertaker’s.’

  Some of the crowd moved forward, lifting the bodies and carrying them out of the Eating House. The rest of the crowd hung around, waiting in the hope that there might be some fresh developments. They all saw Lynch was in a tight spot, for they knew he owed his post as Sheriff to the good offices of Lanton. This could put Lynch in an awkward spot, for Lanton would expect him to make something of the killings. There was little he could do unless he could shed some light on the fairness of the fight. He wanted to do this but not at the risk of his own skin.

  ‘Were there any witnesses to the shooting?’ he asked.

  Gloria saw Henery open his mouth and shook her head. She did not want him involved in this and knew it might go badly for him if he did get involved. She stepped forward, glancing again at Mark Counter, wondering if he recognized her. ‘I saw it all. Just Smith was in town to meet me.’ For some reason she did not want to let the sheriff know about Rene. ‘We came in here, for a meal, then Slinger arrived with two men. They tried to force a fight on Just but he took it. Then they insulted Texas which brought Mark and Dusty into it. Slinger made his play first and Dusty coppered it. Mark got the other gunman and Just wounded the third. Those two dudes tried to cut in and the Kid stopped them. When the smoke cleared Speedy Slinger just hadn’t made it at all.’

  Mark grinned at the girl, winking, but she kept her face straight and expressionless. She met Lynch’s gaze without first flinching, her eyes on him making him look away first. Lynch did not like this, for he wanted to try and make the girl look a liar, but knew if he tried he would have Smith, the three Texans and the crowd against him.

  ‘Who might you be?’ he growled.

  ‘Gloria Knight. Just works for my pappy.’

  The sheriff knew that here was a chance to discredit Gloria’s statement on the grounds that she would be biased in favor of her father’s man. To do this would mean facing the wrath of those young cowhands and that he did not mean to do. He glanced at the three again then asked, ‘Is your pappy taking Cap’n Fog at the KH?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t he?’ Gloria countered.

  Lynch could see he was going to get nowhere with the girl. ‘How did them two dudes get into it?’ he asked.

  It was Dusty who answered. ‘Way I read it they were working for, or with Slinger. They were there either to take a hand if Just here was too much for Slinger, or to say it was self defense when Slinger killed him.’

  ‘If anybody got round to asking was it Just here got killed,’ Mark went on, looking pointedly at the sheriff. ‘It sets just like a gun trap from where I stand.’

  ‘But they didn’t work for the S Star.’

  ‘So you keep telling us,’ Dusty replied, his tones mild yet mocking. ‘I still don’t see how you know that without going close enough to see.’

  ‘That’s a fool question.’ Lynch said moodily, wishing he was away from here, away from those grey eyes which se
emed to bore right through him.

  ‘It’s a real good question, friend.’ The Ysabel Kid made his last word sound anything but friendly. ‘Happen a man looks long enough he can turn up a real smart answer to it.’

  Lynch’s hands clenched. He was not used to being treated in this way for he was known to have the backing of the S Star. However, he knew the Ysabel Kid gave respect only where it was merited and no amount of hired guns would make him change his manner. He knew that unless he got away from here fast he would lose even more face and endanger his position here in town. Turning on his heel he growled at the crowd, telling them to get about their business, watched them leave, then turned and followed. He did not look back, but his face and ears were red as the batwing doors swung closed behind him.

  Henery came over to Gloria, shaking his head worriedly. ‘This will cause trouble, Miss Gloria. I am willing to go into a witness box and tell the truth about what happened here.’

  ‘I know that,’ she replied. ‘But I don’t want you getting mixed up with this if we can avoid it. Thanks Henery. Just, I’ll get Rene and we can head for home.’

  Mark watched the little girl walking towards the bathroom door and remarked, ‘I remember when I was a button back home, there used to be a red-haired lump of perversity, fat as an Arkansas Christmas shoat. come to see us. Took her hunting one time and she caught a skunk. Don’t allow she ever got over it.’

  Gloria swung back, her face lighting up with a smile as she ran to throw her arms round Mark’s neck and kiss him. ‘Cousin Mark!’ she whooped. ‘I thought you’d forgotten me.’

  ‘Why?’ Mark replied, holding her back at arm’s length and looking at her. ‘Do you reckon I go around winking at strange gals?’

  ‘If you don’t I’d surely be surprised.’

  Mark laughed, introduced her to his friends then went on. ‘I wasn’t sure you recognized me. Of course I know I’m a whole lot better looking now, having grown up all tall and handsome.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that. I used to like you in that lil ole velvet suit and with long curls hanging down your shoulders.’

  Mark saw his two friends giving him speculative glances as they heard this blatant falsehood and spluttered out an angry denial. Before Gloria could think up any more disparaging details, true or false, the old timer interrupted. ‘Huh, goes round kissing near strangers and forgets an ole friend like me. It—’

  ‘One thing for sure,’ Dusty put in. ‘That gent who hired those guns won’t be forgetting his friends any. One of them got away wounded, leave us not to forget. He left town like he was going someplace.’

  ‘And that someplace could be home,’ the Kid went on, with hope rather than worry in his voice. ‘Likewise sending back some help, mebbe.’

  ‘So the sooner we see ole Redtop here back to her pappy the better it’ll be,’ Mark finished.

  ‘I got the buggy outside,’ Brazos remarked. ‘We can head out when you all finished whittle whanging.’

  ‘All right.’ Gloria felt joy in her heart. The three young Texans were going out to the KH with her. If there was trouble they would be a tremendous asset. ‘I’ll fetch Rene and pull out.’

  Returning to the bathroom Gloria found Rene standing at the part-opened door. The English girl’s face was paler, aloof and yet there was no sign of either panic or hysteria on it. Her voice was cool enough as she asked, ‘Is Just all right?’

  ‘Sure, it’s all over now.’

  ‘Didn’t the sheriff, or whatever you call him, arrest Just?’

  ‘No. Just shot in self defense. He didn’t kill any of the men. He tried to avoid the fight. Rene. Those men were out to kill him.’

  ‘I realize that. I know Just would never kill unless forced to do so. I also know that if a man wears guns he may have to use them. Who are the other three men who helped Just?’

  The tall one’s my cousin, Mark Counter. The other two’re his good friends. The small one is probably the fastest man with a gun alive. But they’s all like Just. None of them would draw on a man unless he was forced into it. They’re going to escort us to the ranch. Do you mind?’ Rene’s hand dropped lightly on to Gloria’s head, ruffling the hair gently, a smile on her face. ‘I don’t mind. It will be safer for us. Would it be all right to thank them for helping us?’

  Gloria hugged the other girl, looking up at her. ‘You’re all right, Rene. Just like your pappy. But don’t bother to thank them, they don’t appreciate kindness. Come on, we’re going home.’

  The two girls left the bathroom and crossed to the waiting men. Gloria introduced Rene, then led the way out of the Eating House. There was a fair crowd lounging around but no one said anything as the party went to the horses. Brazos was last out, glancing at the buggy, then at the cow horse fastened to it.

  ‘Can you still drive a buggy, Glory gal?’

  ‘Why sure.’ Gloria went past the buggy seat and unfastened the horse, swinging into the saddle. ‘And ride a hoss, too.’

  Brazos grunted something about the danged females of today having no respect for age or dignity. Rene, aware the Texans were giving her approving glances, came alongside Just. On an impulse she took his hand and gently squeezed, their eyes met for an instant. Rene’s cheeks were flushed as she accepted Brazos’ hand to help her into the buggy. She watched the three young Texans take their horses, Dusty mounting the paint, Mark the bloodbay, then the Ysabel Kid gripped his saddlehorn and vaulted up astride the big white. There was something wild and alien about the way he did it which made her wonder what sort of man he was.

  Brazos started the buggy team moving forward and the men formed up around it, riding easily in their saddles. They stopped at the stage station to collect the girls’ baggage, loaded it on to the buggy, then went on again, leaving the town.

  Lynch stood in the door of the jail and watched the party leaving. One of his deputies standing by him grunted. ‘They don’t look so much at all. I could sing any of them to sleep.’

  Lynch grunted, his mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘Any one of them could take you and think nothing of it. Get your hoss and head for S Star. Tell the boss what happened to Speedy. Tell him KH looks to have three new hands.’

  Gloria sat on her horse with ease and grace, she looked at Just Smith, then at Brazos and could restrain her curiosity no longer. ‘What’s it all about, Just?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s not for me to say, Gloria.’

  ‘I’d rather leave it for your pappy to tell it. All right, I’ll tell you what I know, which same isn’t much. Like I said, I only came in for the spring roundup and stayed on. Lanton was already here, been here about six months before that. He bought up that old S Star, brought a partner in with him who took on the Lazy F. The partner’s name is Santone but he doesn’t talk or act Texan. He’s a mean, shifty eyed hombre, Lanton’s big and hawg fat. They’ve got upwards of forty men working for them although there is barely enough for half that many. They don’t do much range work and I reckon they’d be better with a gun than a rope. Kline was like that, I don’t know if Lanton told him to steal KH stock or not.’

  ‘That all of the S Star bunch?’ Gloria went on as Just stopped.

  ‘Well, Lanton formed what he calls the Azul Rio Cattle Syndicate. He got Painthoss from the Flying P to join. Painthoss’s boys are all right. They’re hands from the Pecos mostly, but a good bunch and don’t mix with the S Star guns. Then Miss Estradre’s joined up with the Syndicate since her father went down into Mexico for a vacation.’

  ‘Estradre! You said Juanita Estradre joined the Syndicate?’ Gloria snapped. ‘Why Neety and I are like sisters, she’s grown up with me. She wouldn’t go against us.’

  ‘Well, she’s been and gone and done it,’ Brazos growled. ‘Allus said you can’t never trust a greaser.’

  ‘Juanita’s no greaser, you flabby jowled old goat,’ Gloria yelled. ‘She’s Spanish Creole and her ancestors were Conquistadores. She wouldn’t go against me.’

  Brazos grinned. His little gal hadn’t ta
med down while she’d been in that Eastern school. ‘Waal, she’s done it. She’s with Lanton near on all the time now, and what I say still goes. Why, when I rid with Old Devil Hardin in the Mexican—’

  ‘If this is about Uncle Devil and the Mexican War it’s probably all a lie,’ Dusty interrupted, ignoring the spluttering Brazos and turning to Just who was riding alongside Rene. ‘What’s the trouble, isn’t there enough land or water to go round?’

  ‘Sure, there’s plenty of water and land in the Azul Rio basin for the four spreads. There always has been,’ Gloria put in.

  ‘Lanton’s a land-hawg. He wants all the range around here in his hands and the KH won’t have it any,’ Just went on.

  ‘What’s a range-hog?’ Rene inquired, for most of the conversation was going over her head.

  ‘It’s a disease.’ Mark answered. ‘Affects some men.’

  ‘Sure,’ the Kid agreed. ‘And there’s only one cure for it.’

  ‘What is that?’

  ‘The old one, ole Colonel Sam’s point forty-four cure.’ The Kid’s voice was mild and deceptively innocent. ‘When a man gets land fever the only cure is to kill him.’

  ‘How bad’s the trouble?’ Dusty asked.

  ‘Just been talk at first. We did start to lose some stock but I put a block on the game. The hands out at KH aren’t fighting men and they won’t stack up against gunmen. Won’t be many of them stand if it comes to shooting. The KH don’t run much to fighting men these days.’

  Gloria snorted. She could read the tone in Just’s voice. ‘Just Smith. I might be fresh back from the East but I’m nowhere near blind. I could see you straining back to stop ramming Slinger’s words down his throat. You only held back because Rene and I were there. Backin’ down like that was probably the bravest thing you ever did.’

  ‘I saw it that way myself, amigo,’ Mark agreed.

  ‘Sometimes it takes more courage to back down than to stand and fight,’ Dusty went on. ‘You did the right thing there, Just.’