by J. T. Edson
Louise looked from Maisie to Dusty, her face showing the horror she felt. It did not seem possible that two people could so calmly discuss murder. ‘Aren’t you going to do something?’ she gasped.
‘Just as soon as we know everything,’ Dusty replied. ‘She’s a smart woman, one wrong move and she’s off the hook. After Hammerlock, Maisie, they tried to play it with the cards they held. The gap was still their bet until the Kid called it. Even with the Apache attack she tried. Tossed an arrow with the message outside your wagon. You’d’ve seen her only you pulled that fake faint, why’d you do it?’
‘I heard a man saying about the shooting I’d done, how good it was. So I knew an eastern widow wouldn’t be expected to handle a gun well and thought if I pulled a faint they’d think either it was one of my boys, or just luck that I made the hits. I tried to steer suspicion away and only piled more on me. What was the message?’
‘Warning the Colonel to stay away from Backsight. On the back were marks left by someone writing on a sheet of paper which laid on the message, it had Terry Ortega’s address on, like another the Colonel received.’
‘Which’s how you came to blame Terry for it, Louise,’ Sue remarked. ‘I wondered why they picked on Terry.’
‘I don’t think they did in the first place,’ Dusty drawled. ‘I’m only guessing though and we’ll likely never know for sure. What I reckon happened was that Considine wrote the first note on a sheet in his office, after he’d been writing to Terry and the address was just there. Miss Considine claimed to have sent a telegraph message to her brother to learn about Terry.’
‘There’s no telegraph here,’ Sue pointed out.
‘No, it was a slip she made, didn’t expect us to get out here,’ agreed Dusty. ‘But we arrived and I reckon they were set to make their last try, burn out the wagons.’
‘Which you stopped,’ Maisie said.
‘I thought a chance might be taken so got the guard out. Considine used Fernandez’s gang for the raid, they’d likely take on to make some money before they lit out for the border,’ Dusty replied. ‘All the men we downed were Mexicans, except for the Yaqui Indian the Kid killed, but he was likely one of Fernandez’s gang. A lot of these Mexicans have a Yaqui or two running with them if they can, scouts, sneak-in killers, torturers for the gang. I don’t reckon Considine was using any of his own men on the raid.’
‘He hired Hammer and two more, they’re with him at the office now,’ Maisie replied. ‘They weren’t on the raid but stood back to give him an alibi. He was with the Mexicans.’
‘Can you prove it?’ Mark inquired.
‘Sure,’ agreed Maisie. ‘I can prove it. Last night I got friendly with Biscuits Randle—’
‘Last night?’ grinned Mark, for there was never a situation so grim that he couldn’t see the humor of it. ‘Why ole Biscuits and Eddy Last were sniffing around you like hound-dawgs when a bitch’s in season all yesterday afternoon.’
To the amazement of the others Maisie blushed furiously. The truth was that the hardbitten lady detective felt attracted to the big burly town marshal. Her tough exterior hid a woman’s heart and Maisie’s trip west softened the hard outer crust. For the first time in years Maisie lived with decent, ordinary people, instead of saloon workers of the lowest kind. She’s watched families living normal lives, husbands and wives sharing simple pleasures and Maisie yearned for such a life. The big lawman was not as smart as one of the Pinkerton men who had made attempts, not all unsuccessful, on Maisie’s virtue, but he was rugged, clean, gentle and would stand by her if she gave him one ounce of encouragement.
‘I only wanted to find out what sort of a lawman he is,’ she muttered, still blushing. ‘He might’ve been working with Considine and—’
‘Why sure,’ chuckled Mark. ‘We believe you, Mrs. Simons, ma’am.’
‘I reckon we’d better get back to what we’re here for,’ Dusty remarked. ‘I never had a harder job than stopping Biscuits raising lumps on my head when I said I wanted to question you Maisie.’
‘He’s a tolerable hard man to hold down,’ Mark agreed. Maisie noticed the way Dusty used her name. She knew the meaning, Dusty accepted and trusted her. So she fought down the embarrassment and carried on:
‘I was with Biscuits until I heard the first shot. You’d have passed for a drunk, Captain, but not many of the others. Guessed what it was and got out the back to see what I could learn. The Land Agent’s office was locked but I know how to open a lock and I went in to search. I was still in there trying to open the safe when they came back. Just got into a cupboard at the side of the office as the Considines and their men came in. I could see through the keyhole of the cupboard, it’s a big one built into the side of the wall, and hear all they said. Miss Considine was telling her brother just what she thought of him. She really laid into him. Then she told the men to go and fetch a new pair of pants from their house. After the door closed she started into her brother again. From what I could make out was that Bull Gantry had left the dance to tell you something and she fixed him.’
‘She fixed him all right,’ Dusty said gently. ‘I reckon Gantry wasn’t all bad at that.’
‘He changed after the fight on top of the slope. I watched him, he liked you after that night when you saved the train,’ Maisie replied. ‘Miss Considine said she left him in some bushes where he wouldn’t likely be found too quick, cleared up her sign as she came away from him and got back to the Arizona State without being missed by the other women. Her brother wanted to quit, to run, but she just said it would be the surest way to bring suspicion down on them. “Nobody can prove a thing, you fool,” I can hear her saying it now. “We’ll just have to cut our losses and find some other place to operate.” Lord, I’ve seen some cold-blooded ones but she beats them all.’
‘How’d he get out of the saloon without being noticed?’ Mark inquired. ‘I thought the Colonel was watching him and Maisie?’
‘He was, it made me rather uncomfortable. But Considine asked the Colonel to persuade his sister to sing, knowing everyone’s attention would be on her. She really can sing. The Colonel did and while he was talking to her Considine slipped out. His men would swear he never left the room and nobody could prove he did, not for certain.’
‘Then we can’t prove he was with the raid?’ Dusty asked.
‘We can prove it,’ Maisie replied. ‘I was set to jump them and take them to jail when the men came back. Miss Considine cleared them all out of the room while her brother changed his trousers, left the pair he wore at the dance over the back of a chair. So I waited until they left, locking the door. Came out and collected the pants, left the same way I got in, locking the door behind me. The pants are in my box. They’re what will hang Considine and his sister.’
Maisie lifted the lid of the box and lifted out a pair of trousers. She handed them to Dusty, indicating a stain on the left leg. He lifted the trousers to his nose, the stench of kerosene clung to them.
‘I saw the stain last night,’ he remarked. ‘This’s all we want. Let’s go, Mark.’
‘One thing, Maisie,’ Mark put in. ‘You said you were set to jump them and hand them over to Biscuits last night. That means you’d decided to throw in your resignation even before you arrived.’
‘You might say that,’ Maisie replied. ‘It wouldn’t do Biscuits any harm to be known as the man responsible for arresting the Considines and breaking their crooked game. Of course I don’t want him to be a lawman when—if—’
‘We can guess what that when or if means,’ drawled Dusty.
‘Where’re you going, Dusty?’ Louise asked, watching the way the two men set their guns straight.
‘To get the folks responsible for Tom’s death and make sure you folks can build your town and live here in safety.’
The girl looked at Dusty’s face. She could remember seeing it set in those same grim lines before, as he stood over the grave in which Tom Blade lay buried. Her eyes went to Mark, the big blond man no longer smiled as his powerful
hands thumb-hooked into his belt.
‘Can’t you let the law handle it?’ she gasped.
‘We’re the law in this town, Louise,’ Mark replied. ‘All the law there is, not counting Biscuits and he’ll be on hand when we need him.’
Sue’s face was set in cold lines. ‘You mean they, the Considines caused Duke to be wounded and Wade getting killed?’
‘Sure,’ Dusty replied.
‘Let me get the crew out to help you,’ she suggested.
‘No thanks, gal,’ Dusty answered. ‘There’s four of them and four of us. It comes out better odds than a lawman usually gets. You stay here. See she does, Louise. I wouldn’t want Cousin Red’s gal getting hurt.’
With that the two men walked from the tent. Sue’s face glowed with anger and she took a step forward but Louise caught her arm.
‘Dusty gave me an order, Sue,’ she warned. ‘I’ll stop you any way I can.’
‘You’re both stopping here,’ Maisie put in. ‘Don’t argue with me or I’ll crack your heads together.’
‘Reckon you would at that,’ grinned Sue. ‘Louise and I could take you, if you didn’t have something more important to do.’
‘I didn’t think it showed.’
Maisie opened a box of percussion caps as she spoke, taking the little brass cups and seating them on the nipples of the Navy’s Colt chamber. She moved fast and there was no trembling to her fingers even though she knew she might be using the Colt very soon.
‘Stay here, both of you,’ she ordered and went through the side entrance to the tent.
‘What’s Maisie going to do?’ Louise asked.
‘Help Dusty. Now sit down and make sure I don’t leave this tent while I do the same for you.’
Louise sat by Sue on the box. She felt a sudden cold fear, a premonition of what would soon be happening on the street. Louise hated the thought of more killing, blood had been shed to prevent their reaching Backsight. Tom Blade, the man called Collins, the people who died in the Apache attack, the Apaches themselves who fell, the Mexicans killed the previous night and Bull Gantry. They were all dead because the wagons came to Backsight. Louise wondered if the killings were worth it. Then she remembered the excited and delighted way the townspeople and the local ranch crews greeted their arrival. She remembered Terry’s eager talk of a school, a church, a town fit for children to grow in. Did it balance with the lives lost in coming? Louise did not know, only time would tell.
Dusty walked to the center of the street with Mark at his left and the Kid by his right. The few people on the street watched them, the westerners among them knowing what such a walk meant. The Texans used the gunman’s sidewalk, the center of the street, that told eyes which knew they were painted for war.
Biscuits came from his office, a ten gauge looking like a toy in his huge hand. He fell in to Mark’s right asking, ‘Is Maisie all right?’
‘Sure and in the clear,’ Dusty replied. ‘It’s the Considines we want.’
‘They’re in the office, got five men with them,’ the Kid drawled.
‘Maisie said three,’ Mark drawled.
‘Two are greasers, likely from the bunch last night,’ answered the Kid and stroked the butt of the rifle laying across his arm. ‘There’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight.’
Terry Ortega and Red Blaze came around a corner, halting on the side of the street and reading the signs. Both of them had their arm in a sling but Red’s gunbelt rode around his waist and he could handle a Colt with his left hand.
‘Trouble, Red,’ Terry said. ‘Do we—’
‘Nope, we stay here,’ Red replied. ‘I reckon I know where they’re going and we can cover this side.’
Terry Ortega glanced across the street. ‘Then it’s them after all.’
‘Looks that way,’ Red agreed.
They stood slightly below the Land Agent’s office.
Thirteen – The End of the Chore
Miss Considine watched her brother searching the office and a look of disgust came to her face. She made an attractive figure in her white blouse and divided skirt but was less interested in her appearance than in the utility of the clothes in case a sudden departure became necessary.
‘They must be here someplace,’ he said for the fifth time.
‘They’re not,’ she snorted, ignoring Hammer, the last of the bull-whackers, a gunman and the two Mexicans who stood by the wall of the office. ‘I told you to keep those trousers with you. If they fall into the wrong hands it’ll be our end.’
Considine looked at his sister. ‘They were on the chair at my desk last night. I’m sure of it.’
‘Then somebody broke in and took them. It’s that damned Maisie Simons. I’m sure it is. She’s no eastern widow. She’s a Pinkerton and she’s got those trousers. So we’d best put some miles between us and Backsight. One thing’s for sure, if she works for Pinkerton she’ll wait for word from him before she gives the local law anything she knows.’
With the instinct of a fish when the net closes around it Miss Considine felt herself being drawn into a trap. The time for a hurried departure had come and she meant to leave while she could. The money made in their scheme lay in a Prescott bank and they could withdraw it before word reached the Territorial capital for Backsight had no telegraph. In the office safe enough money remained to ensure the loyalty of these five men until their services no longer remained necessary.
‘Where’re we going?’ Considine asked.
‘East,’ she answered, not wishing the men to know too much.
‘Considine!’ the voice came from the street. ‘Come out, we’ve got the place surrounded and you haven’t a chance.’
‘It’s Dusty Fog and the other two,’ Hammer gasped as he looked out of the window. ‘They’ve got Biscuits Randle with them.’
Miss Considine’s face was hard. The horses stood before the building ready and she knew the Texans did not have their mounts ready. Once on her big stallion she was game to take her chances in flight. More so when she would have a lead on the pursuit and knew this country.
‘Get out and fight!’ she ordered. ‘It’s our only chance.’
Considine pulled a revolver from the desk and headed for the door. His neck would be in a noose if taken alive, so would the two Mexicans. Hammer and the other gunmen did not have much to lose, but they did not realize it. To them arrest might only mean Yuma prison but they knew what a hell-hole it was and preferred to fight rather than end up behind its grim walls.
Guns in hand the men made for the door. Miss Considine slid open the desk and took out her Remington Beals Navy revolver. Crossing to the safe she took out the saddle pouch which contained the money. The revolver in her right hand gave her a feeling of security for it ended the lives of Cultus Collins and Bull Gantry. Both meant to give the game away to that small Texan, Dusty Fog, Collins through fear and Gantry because he admired the Rio Hondo gun wizard. She shot both with no more thought than she’d give to dressing in a morning. Now she needed the gun and swore to end the life of Dusty Fog if given a chance.
‘Get out of it!’ she ordered.
Considine kicked open the door and plunged through. This was his chance to show his sister that not only she had the guts in the family. He saw the men before him and started to raise the revolver as the others of the bunch followed him.
Dusty Fog did not expect this, the rush and attack. For all that he was ready, prepared to draw and shoot. His hands crossed, the matched Colts coming out and throwing lead into Considine even as the big man lifted his gun. Considine spun around like a child’s top, smashed into the wall and slid down, his gun dropping from his lifeless hand.
Mark was second into action, even although the Kid and Biscuits only needed to bring their weapons from their arms. In a breath behind Dusty’s shots the ivory handled guns thundered and Hooks Hammer hunched forward, his Colt sending a shot into the wood of the sidewalk, cut down by Mark’s .44 bullets.
The two Mexicans plunged out, shootin
g fast as they came. One bullet tore the Kid’s hat from his head as flame blossomed from the barrel of his Winchester. Held hip high it was the old yellow boy’s flat-nosed Henry bullet smashed into the Mexican’s face and shattered the back of his head on its way out. The second Mexican tried to cut down on Dusty but was off balance. The others lay before him and he tried to get clear. The ten gauge in Biscuits’ hands boomed and the nine buckshot charge scythed across the fancy charro shirt, laying a bloody swathe and piling him on to the floor.
The gunman was last out, diving over the falling bodies of the others, his revolver flaming. Fanning was never a matter for careful aim and skilled shooting and so it proved this time. He lit down rolling on the sidewalk, his gun’s smoke partially hiding him from Dusty and the others. It did not hide him from Red Blaze who brought up his left hand Colt shoulder high, sighted fast and threw a shot. The gunman screamed as lead caught him. The revolver pinwheeled on his trigger finger as his grip relaxed and he dropped forward yelling he was done.
The powder smoke started to blow away as startled faces came to the doors and windows of the buildings.
Then Miss Considine burst from the building with her revolver in one hand, the saddlebag in the other. The men hesitated, holding their fire for she was a woman. The brains behind the organization she might be but she was still a woman, and no western man of Dusty’s kind would willingly fire on a member of the opposite sex.
The same did not apply to Miss Considine. She fired as her feet hit the sidewalk and only that she slipped on the slick blood which spread over the wood saved Dusty. The bullet went astray, caught Biscuits in the leg and dropped him to the ground.
Maisie Simons came around the corner of the building, her long barreled Navy Colt lining. She fired once and Miss Considine screamed. The bullet caught the big woman in the arm, her Remington fell to the sidewalk and she went to her knees with her left hand clawing for it. Maisie came forward, a hard look changed her usually pleasant face and she brought up the revolver then slashed it down. The barrel smashed on to the back of Miss Considine’s neck even as the woman’s hand closed on the Remington’s butt. She sprawled forward, landing face down half off the sidewalk and apart from the spasmodic jerkings of her fingers lay perfectly still.